"Draco! Come quick!" 

Hermione heard Draco walk hastily into the living room, and he tripped over his own feet once, "What is it?"

"Lion King," Hermione chirped happily, "sit down, it's about to start." She patted the place beside her on the carpet. He seemed to have been sleeping. She suppressed a giggle at his messed up hair, and he raised a hand to cover his mouth as he yawned.

"Who's the Lion King?" Draco tilted his head at an angle and sat down on the floor next to her, leaving a respectable distance between them. 

"Watch it, it's amazing," Hermione grinned widely.

They had gotten over the awkwardness over the "incident" surprisingly quickly. But they were both glad for it.

"That's not a real lion," Draco managed to sound horrified and scandalised at the same time, "it's-what's wrong with it?"

"It's an animation," Hermione explained, "it's made using a computer, programming and visual effects and graphics and such."

"Interesting," he listened intently as the theme song started up. 

"How are all the animals dancing?" Draco still seemed unable to process what he was seeing.

"It's to add to the dramatic effect," Hermione waved a hand through the air.

"What about all the other lions? Why's there only one?" 

"Do me a favor," Hermione rolled her eyes, "shut up and watch."

"Whatever."

He remained silent for precisely six seconds.

"What kind of bird is that?"

"That's Zazu, I'm not sure what kind of bird he is."

"The cub is Simba?"

"Yes."

"His girlfriend is Nala?"

"They're just kids, she's not his girlfriend," Hermione frowned, then added, "yet."

Draco watched silently after that. He called Simba a "disobedient twat" when he went to the elephant graveyard with Nala. Otherwise he was quiet. 

"Did Mufasa just fucking die?" he glared angrily at the screen as though it was at fault for Mufasa's death.

"Yes he did," Hermione said, "look at Simba all alone, poor thing."

They were silent again. That is, until Timon and Pumba began their signature song. Hermione couldn't stay quiet, it would be breaking a tradition.

"Hakuna Matata," Hermione sang along loudly with the characters, "what a wonderful phrase!"

"You're making my ears bleed, Granger," Draco looked horrified at her terrible singing.

"Hakuna Matata," she sang louder, "ain't no passing craze!"

Draco shook his head, a grin starting to lift up the corners of his mouth, "Honestly Granger, do shut up."

"It means no worries," Hermione threw her hands up in the air, "for the rest of your days!"

"Granger I'm going to hex you!" Draco threatened less than half heartedly.

Soon, they were both singing along. Draco trying his hardest to follow the lyrics, and Hermione singing like she had thousands of times before. When the song ended, they both collapsed on the floor, laughing and completely out of breath. 

After roughly another hour, the movie ended. 

"That was-"

"Amazing? Stupendous?"

"Fun."

Hermione smiled at him. He was grinning and staring up at the ceiling. Somehow, over the course of the movie, they had both ended up right beside each other. 

"Hey Granger?"

"Yes?"

"Why are you trying to help me?"

"Because it's the right thing to do."

Hermione felt like she should have answered along some other lines and not this one. Then she wondered why she felt that way. Besides, he wasn't expecting any other answer, was he? 

"Let's play a game," Draco said suddenly, his eyes lighting up like a child's on Christmas.

"What kind of game?" Hermione turned on her side so that she was leaning against the couch on her left shoulder and was facing him.

"Something to get to know each other better," Draco shrugged as though it wasn't a big deal, "we'll ask each other random questions."

"If you ask me anything even remotely indecent I will not answer," Hermione raised her eyebrows.

"Stop thinking like that all the time," Draco rolled his eyes, "I just meant normal questions."

"Alright then," Hermione agreed, "you go first."

"Where's your cat?" Draco asked, "You had one didn't you?"

"Yes, Crookshanks," Hermione smiled, "he's at my parents' place."

"How's that thing still alive?" Draco feigned wonder.

"Draco."

"Fine, fine, your turn."

"The most beautiful thing you've ever seen?" Hermione she'd after giving the question some thought.

Draco hesitated. The first thought that came to his mind was to say 'you'. But he wasn't that kind of person. He did not have that kind of courage. Coward. He looked at her quietly before he turned his head to face the ceiling, "I don't know, I haven't really thought about it."

"Come on, there must be some thing," Hermione prompted, "a place, or a thing, or a person."

"The Northern Lights," he said, "it's quite fascinating. It's-it's like light in the dark. It has some kind of sinister, solitary feeling about it, yet it's beautiful."

Hermione sighed involuntarily. When he explained it like that, it's beauty sounded much more amplified and underappreciated.

"Your turn," Hermione nudged him.

"Favorite subject at Hogwarts?" he looked at her sheepishly.

"I don't really have a favorite subject," Hermione laughed, "but, if asked to choose, I think I would choose transfiguration or potions."

"Transfiguration?" Draco raised a brow, "I never liked that subject. Never mind, your turn."

"Your preferred sweet from Honeydukes?" Hermione rested her head on her hand.

"I'm not into sweets," Draco said, "but I like chocolate cauldrons. What about you?"

"Licorice wands."

"Too stretchy and chewy," Draco said unnecessarily, wrinkling his nose.

"They taste nice," Hermione shrugged, "your turn."

"Your worst mistake?" Draco turned to her and looked. His eyes looked darker somehow. Maybe it was because of the lighting. 

Hermione baulked. She hadn't been expecting this. What was she supposed to answer? Was she supposed to tell him?

Draco could tell that she was contemplating on whether or not to tell him. For a split second, the darker, self destructive side of his brain chided him. She still didn't trust him. But he couldn't really blame her, could he? He had bullied her relentlessly for seven years. If he would be in her place, it would be his reaction as well.

"I've never really spoken about this to anyone before," Hermione said in a quiet voice.

"You don't have to tell me unwillingly, Granger," he said gently. He didn't want her to have a panic attack.

"I know," Hermione closed her eyes, "but I - I want to tell you. I think if I speak about it, I'll lighten its weight on my shoulders. Only, I cry a lot, I'll probably end up crying, you don't have to handle that-"

"I'll be here to help," Draco offered, "cry it out. Vent. Get all the anger and frustration and sadness out. It helps. It helped me."

Hermione gave him a watery smile, "It's related to Ronald. I- I think you know that we dated for a year after Hogwarts."

"It was all over the papers," Draco nodded.

"It started out good," Hermione shrugged, "we were happy, I think. We had good times, we made memories. We bought a small apartment, settled down. I thought I loved him."

"What happened?" his voice was laced with concern, and a tinge of what Hermione could place as jealousy.

"One night, I-" she broke off, choking back a sob, upset over her weak emotional control, "Blaise had come over. Luna was at work, and Blaise had come for dinner. Ron had gone out to get something, so he didn't know Blaise was there.

"Blaise had been talking about how he missed his mother, she had passed away right after the war. He'd been crying, and he missed Luna when she was away. He spoke about you as well, I remember. He said that even though everyone seemed to have forgiven him, he felt alone.

"Ron came back. He saw us hugging and threw a fit. He accused me of cheating on him. If Blaise wouldn't have been there, Ron would have done a lot more than just shout.

"Blaise left. I tried to make Ron see reason, and for the time being, he forgot that that night had even happened. 

"A few weeks later, I thought I'd take up a job at the ministry. I had finished my Healing and Potions apprenticeship, I wanted to work and do some good in this world. I discussed this with Ron, and he told me that I couldn't go to work. He asked me to wait a while. So I listened to him, because I knew he was still grieving Fred, I thought he'd need the support. So I waited.

"Then he stopped allowing me to go out alone. He didn't want me to meet anyone, always seemed hesitant to take me to places. Any sort of physical affection between us vanished. No more morning kisses, no hugs. He started going out and staying out late. He bad mouthed me and berated me. Called me boring and prude, said I wasn't really as good as before. It affected me so much, I began hurting myself. I hated it.

"I confronted him on one particular night. He had come back late and he was drunk, I could tell with the stench. I asked him where he was, he didn't answer. When I pressed on him to answer my question, he-" Hermione sobbed, pressing the heels of her palms into her eyes, "he hit me. Right across my face.

"He apologized immediately, said he was in a drunken fit and that he didn't realise what he was doing. I forgave him. But after that, every time I questioned him or asked him not to do something, he'd threaten me. He hit me on two more occasions. The last time was in front of Harry and Ginny. Harry stunned him, if I wouldn't have stopped him, he would have ended up hurting Ron.

"I couldn't forgive him anymore, so I left. I moved to my parents' house, and stayed there for a year. Harry came to see me regularly with Ginny. I lapsed into depression, and was on medication until the start of this year. 

"You asked me about my worst mistake. It was falling for him. I should never have fallen for him."

The tears streamed freely down her face. She did not try to stop them from falling. Her body shook, she felt as though she was being dehydrated. 

Warm arms wrapped around her. She didn't protest and let herself be held. 

"Weasley doesn't deserve you," Draco said through gritted teeth, "you're too good for him."

Hermione nuzzled her face in the crook of his neck, not really consciously. 

"You deserve so much more than him," Draco mumbled into her hair. 

"Do I?" Hermione said through her tears, "I couldn't even stand up for myself. I let him do whatever he did because I didn't say anything against it. I'm a pathetic excuse of a woman."

"Don't say that about yourself," his voice was furious, but Hermione knew he wasn't angry at her, "he is a git, and does not deserve even a day with you and your goodness. He did what he did because he was insecure. He took out his frustration on you, and he lost you. He lost you, and I bet he regrets it every fucking day because you're one of a kind. You shouldn't mind losing him. You deserve better."

"I loathe him," Hermione said, "I hate him, and I hope he gets what he deserves. I hope he feels all the pain that I felt, and I hope he regrets losing me. I want him to regret it."

All her sorrow converted to pent up rage. Her fury rose from the depths of herself, where it had been buried for so long. It rose higher and higher, like hellfire set loose at last. It rose without mercy, burning down any other feeling she had for Ron. She let her rage consume her.

"I hate him," she repeated. Her words were laced with venom, dripping acid. She needn't say anything else, these three words had more meaning than a speech would. These three words had all her rage and misery and love and friendship for Ronald. All gone, burnt. 

Never again would she cry because of Ronald Bilius Weasley.

They sat in silence for a long time, arms wrapped around each other. Her crying subsided. The moonlight shone through the open window, and there was a light breeze. Their breathing was the only sound to be heard throughout the whole apartment. It was a fragile moment, which could shatter with a single wrong move or thought. Hermione didn't want the moment to end. 

Her hair smelt like roses and strawberries. As he held her, he realised how much smaller she was compared to him. He subconsciously stroked her arm. Draco's brows were slightly furrowed, for he was extremely furious at Weasley. How could he have hurt her? He had literally destroyed her, shattered her, then left her alone. What kind of wanker does that? How dare he hurt Granger? 

"Draco?"

"Hm?"

"W-what are we?"

Draco pulled back to look at her, "What do you mean?"

"I don't know, I'm not sure," Hermione admitted, "I don't know what exactly my feelings are with regard to you. But I can tell that it's beyond just a friendship."

Draco was taken aback at her frankness. He could never have been brave enough to admit his feelings so openly like this. He scoffed. Typical. Gryffindor and Slytherin. Brave and a coward.

Hermione was looking at him with wide, expectant eyes, waiting for an answer. Draco found that he couldn't look away. Her hair was a mess, her face was tear stained. In no way did she fit into the general description of beauty. But in that moment, looking broken and sleepy and with her face covered with tears, she looked human. And that was what was beautiful.

"What do you want us to be?" Draco looked away and looked at the floor. He picked at a loose thread on the carpet.

"I'm not quite sure yet," Hermione admitted, "it's annoying, really. Sometimes I wish that I'd just stop feeling. But then feeling is what makes me-"

"Human," Draco finished for her. He looked at her again.

Maybe it was the fact that they'd just seen Nala and Simba in Lion King prancing about with 'Can You Feel The Love Tonight' playing, or because of the moonlight that filtered into the otherwise dark apartment, or because they were both emotionally vulnerable. They found comfort in that moment, in each other. 

Hermione didn't know how it happened. He had leaned forward, and she had done the same without meaning to. Their lips met in the middle.

Fireworks explode inside Hermione's heart. Her eyes closed of their own accord. Their lips moved gently together, it wasn't rushed. It was slow and hesitant. His lips felt warm, and were surprisingly soft. Draco lifted a hand to place it on her cheek and wipe away a few remaining tears. She leaned into his touch.

After what seemed like an eternity, they pulled apart. They rested their foreheads against each other.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that." Hermione tried and tried to subdue the rapid beating of her heart, but failed.

"I started it," Draco said. 

Silence.

"Granger?"

"Yes?"

"Don't ever cry over Weasley again."