Three weeks pass and Hermione's night of weakness has not been mentioned, nor has it been forgotten. Draco continued his role as a selfish prat and Hermione threw herself into acting like a normal woman. Life went on for the pair, and that night remained little more than a memory

It's the start of the fourth week at Hermione's home when Draco asked permission to send a letter home. She granted it to him with only a warning that no plans of escape were made through this privilege or she would take it away. He accepted her terms with a roll of his eyes and sat at the small desk in his room to write.

Dearest Mother,

I hope you read this in good health. It's been nearly a month since we last spoke, so please do write back with how you've been. I apologize for taking so long to write, but I do have news. Whether it is good or bad is up to you to decide.

The ministry employee that they assigned to watch over me is Hermione Granger, who you of course have heard of. Honestly, I can't believe we didn't think of her when trying to figure out who it would be. Of course the Wizengamot would send me to her. It's little surprise then that these past weeks have been close to hell. We've barely stopped arguing for more than an hour, and it's tiring at this point. This punishment is insufferable, I can not wait until the year is over.

There is one light in this darkness though. A beauty that has captured my eye, though one that is rare. It saddens me to imagine that I won't see it again after this year, as we do not have any of the sort back at the manor.

Anyways, enough with the terrible ramble. I sound like you after reading those awful novels you love so much. Write soon, if only to distract me from my terribly dull existence in the muggle world.

With love, Draco.

With a small grin, he folds the letter and attatches it to Hermione's owl before taking it down and releasing it through the open kitchen window. When he returns to his room, he leans against the window sill and gazes out into the forest. It stretches miles out behind the house with tops that reach far over her two-story home. There was a peaceful silence that had settled over the house, one that often was in the manor after the war, and he found himself settling comfortably.

Of course, it only lasts a few minutes before a loud voice shatters the calm.

"Malfoy!" Granger calls from the bottom of the staircase.

He sighs. "What do you want?"

"Get down here so I can teach you something," she replies. He can hear the excitement in her voice, light and warm, like it so rarely was when she was talking to him. With a groan, he stands up straight and stretches before walking down to her.

"It's getting late you know," he points out. "People are typically going to bed at this time." She frowns at him and crosses her arms.

"Well pardon me!" she barks. "I thought we could watch a movie, seeing as you never have, but if you'd rather sleep, then go on back upstairs." She turns away and walks to the large black box with a glass screen on the front. When Draco had first gotten there, she had told him it was called a television, and though it had caught his attention, he never mentioned it again.

"Wait!" he shouts. She pauses and looks back at him. Draco bites his lip then sighs. "I'll watch your bloody movie, whatever it is." Hermione beams at him and snatches a small, circular disk off the coffee table, shoving it into a black box beside the television. "What are you doing?" he asks after a moment of trying to contain his curiosity.

"I'm putting the movie into the player," she says, glancing back to him, her brow furrowed. "Didn't I teach you about this yet?" Draco shakes his head and watches with interest. She fiddles a while longer with the player before standing up and sitting down on the sofa, commanding that he join her.

"What now?" he asks.

"I'm going to start it and then the television will turn on. Don't panic, just think of it like a photograph, except the scene isn't always the same," she tells him patiently as she picks up a long device with several buttons. He nods, albeit a little confused, and then she hits a button and the glass part of the television lights up.

Draco gasps, "what is this?" His eyes are wide as he stares at a frozen picture of a woman and man together, the words Play and Scene Selection off to the right a bit.

"A movie," she explains. "Like I said, it's a photograph that keeps changing. Sort of like a book, I guess, but with only pictures and people talk." She pauses and frowns, a small crease appearing between her brows. "Though the books are always better, but that's besides the point right now."

"Well it isn't doing anything right now," he claims, shooting a glare her way. "Did you break it?"

Hermione snorts. "No, I just have to hit play. Are you ready?"

"Yes, just go. I want to see the changing photograph." He ignores the way she hides a snicker behind her hand. A moment later, the screen starts moving, beginning with two women in a store, pointing at a tall man with dark hair across the room. He barely notices when the lights flick out, leaving the television to be the only source of light.

It's a full half hour before he manages to speak through his awe, and even then it's only a quiet whisper of, "amazing." Hermione catches it though, her gaze slipping to him in the dark room.

"So you like it then? I didn't think the big bad Slytherin would like a sappy romance." When he looks to her, her eyes have already returned to the screen and her lips were slightly parted as she mouthed the words of the characters. She wasn't paying an ounce of attention to him now, and as much as he wanted to stare, he forces his gaze back to the movie.

It's only when something lands in his lap that he turns to her again, only to find that she no longer occupied her side of the sofa. Instead, she had fallen across the space between them and laid in his lap, deep asleep.

He stares at her slumped form, the way her chest rose and fell with slow breaths, and her cheeks with just the barest touch of pink. It would truly be a shame to wake her, no matter how funny the immediate aftermath would be. If she woke, they would most likely argue, and he was far too tired for that. The best option was, of course, to let her sleep. But taking her to her room might also wake her.

Grumbling to himself, he carefully moves around until he is settled on his back with her on top, head rested on his chest. She mumbles something unintelligible, shifts her head to the side, then goes silent. When she is surely back asleep, he wraps an arm around her back to keep her from falling, and ignores the way that they seem to fit so perfectly together.

Draco closes his eyes and slips into unconsciousness, having the first night of restful slumber that he's had since the beginning of the war.