Unsurprisingly, Draco was the one to initiate the conversation that Hermione so greatly wanted to avoid.

"Hermione, tell me what Weasley did," Draco says, once more interrupting their lessons.

It had only been a few days since he last asked, but no matter how hard he tried, the curiosity simply wouldn't go away.

Hermione stops in the middle of talking, reacting just as she had the first time he asked. Glassy eyes, shaking hands, lips parted in a gasp. The only difference is her recovery time is much quicker than before. Her voice picks up an emotionless tone as she attempts to continues on with the lesson.

How dare he be so intrusive on her life when she'd told him time and again to leave it alone. They weren't friends, not by a long shot, and even if they were, she still wouldn't tell him. Harry and Ginny didn't even know the whole story for Merlin's sake! They only knew about Ronald disappearing.

"I told you that it was none of your business," she says when he doesn't seem willing to listen to the lesson anymore. Standing up from the sofa, she walks outside to the back porch and sinks onto the wooden swing that hung. He doesn't follow, so she tucks her feet underneath herself and lets her mind drift away.

Hermione wished everyday that she could forget what Ronald did. It had been the worst day of her life, rivaled only by the day she had to erase her parent's memories. She was one of the brightest witches, and yet she was powerless to forget her own past. A measly heartbreak had rendered her useless.

It wasn't so measly, though, was it? No, not even in the slightest. To be betrayed by the one you love most was enough to shatter the best, but to have that person be your best friend of ten years and your loved for two of those? Death would have been a relief from the all-consuming ache she had felt immediately after.

She wished more than forgetting that Ronald had killed her that day. It would be far less painful than what he'd left her with. A shattered heart, tainted memories, and the inability to allow herself to trust anyone. Oh yes, death would have been much preferred over this, the unfeeling shell she is now.

He did this to her and she had to spend every second of every day acting like she was still whole, acting like he didn't take a part of her away with him when he left.

Draco was no help to the situation either. Not that she had expected him to be, but she hadn't realized he would be this bad. All she wanted was to forget, and Draco was making it near impossible to even make a futile attempt at it.

How dare he question about her past? He was the enemy, and a prisoner in her house. She'd never spill her secrets to him. He could never know about the heartbreak and loss that a single person caused her. He wouldn't care about what had happened. If Hermione ever were to confess, the person would have to care, because she would need them to understand what Ronald had done to her and be strong in the one area she felt she couldn't.

Something wet splashes on her hand, drawing her attention downwards. On the top of her hand sat a single, pea-sized tear. Frowning, Hermione reaches up and touches her cheek. A small gasp slips out when she finds that she is crying.

She looks about herself, half expecting someone to be watching and judging her for being so weak, but she was alone.

Shaking away the foolish thoughts, Hermione brushes at the tears. More come to replace the ones she chases away. No matter how hard she tries, she couldn't staunch the flow of the traitorous tears. There was an ache, right behind her breastbone, that made her press a hand to her chest and slide off the swing.

She runs inside, skimming right past Draco who was still seated in the living room, and going straight up to her room. When he calls her name, she chooses to ignore him and slams the door of her bedroom before he could follow and see her tears.

Muffling a cry, Hermione slips under her covers and curls up in her bed, turning her back on everything. Later, she'll call Harry and Ginny, desperate for a distraction from the draining thoughts in her head, but for now she just lays and pretends she doesn't exist.

Long after that day, Hermione sat up in bed and smiled to herself, already feeling the excitement bubbling up. She had talked to the minister again and gotten him to agree to another outing, the time one that was further away in order to celebrate the holiday.

She calls for Draco as she stretches and slides out of bed.

"Again with waking me up early," he grumbles, shoving her door open. "I thought we got over this?"

"Fine, if you'd rather sleep than go out into the city for a bit, then by all means, go right ahead," she says, gesturing towards his room across the hall. It takes a lot of effort to keep a grin off her face.

Draco light's up, eyes gleaming with his own excitement. "I would much rather go out! We haven't left the house in almost two weeks except to go to the market. I would take the library over being in here another day," he replies, smiling just slightly to show he had been joking.

Hermione laughs at his giddiness as he leaves to get ready, turning to her own dresser to change into proper clothes.

It was only a moment later that Draco reenter, shirt only half pulled down over his torso, and asks, "not to change your mind, but why are we going out today?"

Her brow furrows as she points to the calendar she has hanging on her wall, very pointedly ignoring his exposed chest. Draco looks at the calendar, then back to her, still not quite understanding. Hermione just rolls her eyes and says, "it's Halloween, you fool."

By the time they were both ready, it was well past noon and the sun was already high in the sky. Hermione was preparing to apparate them, but she pauses and looks at Draco. "I have a proposition for you," she reveals, putting her hands on her hips. He wasn't at all surprised to see that she perfectly executed a commanding posture.

"What would that be?" He's trying to remain serious for her sake, but all he wants to do is laugh at the situation. "Aren't you being a bit formal for the holiday? Isn't it supposed to be about tricks and treats and having fun, even in the muggle world?" So he wasn't exactly good at holding himself to staying serious.

With a small scowl, she says, "after what happened last time, I'm offering a truce, just for today. We won't argue, name-call, or act rude at all, understood?"

He pretends to ponder this for a while. In truth, he'd already decided that he had grown tired of their constant fighting and would make the attempt to play nicely with her. It was much preferable to see her laughing and smiling than to have her yelling at him.

"Well, it will be hard, but I suppose I can manage it," he sighs, looking put-upon.

Hermione rolls her eyes and grabs his arm, giving a warning before they are apparating to their destination.

Draco's P.O.V

We arrive in an alley of a familiar city, but I couldn't quite recall why I knew it. Shrugging the thought away, I turn and see Hermione brushing imaginary dirt off her clothes, then beam brightly at me. I return the smile, hiding a small grimace when my heart thuds a bit faster. Damn her and her smile, damn it straight to hell.

"Welcome to Paris," she says with glee. "One of my favorite cities in the world."

It clicks then, as we're walking out of the alleyway, why I remember this place. I've been here before, when I was young.

With wide eyes, I look around, noting how very little has changed. Sunlit streets and people milling about, smiling and laughing and enjoying the weather. A fountain sat at the end of the street, in the center of a small garden, the water clear and shimmering. In the distance, the Eiffel Tower stood tall and proud against the sun. Just as when I'd been here all those years ago, the sights were breathtakingly beautiful.

"Hermione, how did you convince them to let me come here?" I tear my eyes away from the view and look down at the girl beside me. Her grin, which hasn't hardly left her face all morning, grew impossibly wider.

"Never mind that! Let's go have fun," she exclaims. Snatching my hand, she drags me across the street and into a small market. If she wanted to have fun, then I would try my hardest to assure that she does.

3rd person P.O.V

"Come on, let's rest for a moment," Hermione says, collapsing onto a nearby bench. Draco snorts but sits beside her and leans back, closing his eyes. She follows his lead, relaxing against the bench. It didn't take long at all to find her eyes drifting to the man beside her.

He seemed so relaxed, a gentle smile gracing his face instead of the bitter scowl that usually accompanied it. The frown lines were smoothed out too, looking to have never existed in the first place. In passing, she notes that smiling suits Draco. With it came a flood of thoughts.

The light of the rising moon made his already blonde hair seem whiter and his pale skin as alabaster as fallen snow. He contrasted himself, with his dark clothing standing out starkly against his white complexion, but it was a good contrast. The only oddity were the grey pools of his eyes, hidden now that they were closed.

"Is there something on my face?" He doesn't open his eyes when he asks it, but Hermione looks still jumps out of her thoughts like those shocking grey orbs had been turned on her. "You've been staring for a good while now, I can feel it." Her cheeks flush crimson, but he doesn't seem to be angry. Instead, he bore a smirk that showed he was out to tease her.

"I was not staring. Besides, there isn't much to look at," she taunts, and then winces, remember their truce. "I didn't mean that to be rude, I apologize. But I truly wasn't staring."

He opens an eye and peers at me with a calculative look, before snapping it closed and settling back again.

"Your blushing cheeks tell another story. You can't lie very well." Hermione stares at him, slack-jawed and thinking silently to herself.

If he's such a skilled lie-detector, then how hasn't he seen through my lies already?

She almost says the words aloud, but she keeps them locked up and turns away with a small huff.

"We should go and have dinner now," he says, sitting up and stretching. Hermione nods and stands up, walking to a restaurant she had seen not far from where they were.

The food tasted wonderful and the service was kind, but the restaurant itself is what truly completed the dinner. It was a beautiful, little building that overlooked a small park across the road. Candles were at each table, giving a distinctly romantic feel that the duo pointedly ignored. It was all rather nice, and left them feeling sated and relaxed when they left.

After a beat of silence when they leave the restaurant, Draco asks, "fancy a moonlit walk by the river?"

"As long as you don't shove me in," she says with a smile.

He hums in consideration. "It'll be hard, but I believe I can manage," he chuckles. They continue on, walking along beside the glimmering waters of the river below. It's a long time before either of them speak, too content to just walk in silence. "Hermione, do you remember first year? That day we all got caught for being out past curfew and-"

"As punishment, you, Harry, Neville, and I had to help Hagrid in the Forbidden forest," I finish with a smile. "I remember you being so afraid, thinking that we were going to die and all." Hermione laughs at the memory of his frightened face, recalling almost as an afterthought, the sympathy she had felt for him.

"That big oaf shouldn't have been trusted to watch over us in there," her grumbles. "We could have died!"

Smacking at his arm, she says, "don't be so dramatic. We were fine. Besides, Hagrid would have protected us until his dying breath, had the need arisen." The need to defend her old friend was causing her voice to rise. For a quick shift in conversation, she asks, "what about when Buckbeak went after you? Do you remember how you moaned about it for hours?"

"That creature nearly took my arm off," he mutters, crossing his arms.

Hermione snickers and rolls her eyes. "You were as dramatic then as you are now," she says. "Buckbeak wouldn't have hurt you that bad, and you did provoke him." He pouts childishly, refusing to accept what she had said, but gives in a while later.

"I may be a little over-dramatic," he admits, albeit begrudgingly.

"A little?" She looks up at him as they come to a stop. "You milked the injury for days, Draco! That isn't just a little dramatic," she cries, but she's laughing all the while.

He huffs and looks down to hide the flush in his cheeks. "You're terrible and I don't know why I put up with you," he grumbles.

"Because you have to," Hermione reminds, staring up at the full moon above them. They don't speak for a long time after that, and the silence is a comfortable one. She doesn't even notice when Draco's eyes find her, and don't move away until they are leaving for him.