Mudblood and Pureblood.

A Secret Friendship.

Their next class, Herbology, was cancelled due to the downpour of rain outside. Now was their chance to talk. The class was dismissed and the Griffindors and Slytherins filtered out. Draco saw Hermione looking at him during class. He knew that she wanted to talk so when they were out of class, he slipped into an empty classroom and was closely followed by Hermione.

"You got my letter then?" He looked down at his shoes in embarrassment.

"It was lovely... Thoughtful... Thank you..." She walked closer so he was forced to look at her, "And maybe with that attitude, we might have a shot at being friends...?"

He looked into her kind eyes. She was different to any other person he had called friends. Crabbe and Goyal were like his father, no respect for feelings. She was different. She was sincere. She was trustworthy. She was friendly. He would have to earn her trust but he knew that given the time, he could do so.

Malfoy talked about his father and how he didn't want to be a Deatheater, nor did he want to be disowned. Hermione talked about how she was left out and was always the one responsible for other people's homework.

"That's why I have to say these things... If I don't keep up my reputation, he could disown me and I may never be able to see my mother ever again..." Hermione had placed a gentle hand on his shoulder as he finally let go of all that he had bottled up.

He smiled at her before they left for the Great Hall to get lunch. They left separately so as not to cause suspicion.

***

The few months left of their third years went by pretty quickly. In that time, it was surprising to both of them, how much Draco and Hermione had learnt about each other. They were actually quite alike in many ways.

They would talk during their flying lessons and they would send letters to each other at breakfast. They couldn't be seen together otherwise Draco's parents would find out that he was friends with a mudblood and punish him.

Soon enough, Harry and Ron were curious as to the person who kept sending her letters. They ended up writing to each other using nicknames, Hermione was Bookworm and Draco was Sleekhair. They usually just wrote about how their day was and anything that they found amusing in class, but they told a lot about a person. Draco had even been helping Hermione with her potions project, knowing that Professor Snape would only take the very best, and he had a talent for potions. Soon, they were packing for the train journey back to King's Cross.

Hermione managed to convince Draco to talk to his parents about the whole Deatheater business. His mother would back him up. The least he could do would be to postpone his entry by a few years.

Hermione was going to France with her parents for a few weeks. Then she was going to stay at The Burrow with Ron and Harry. They both promised to write to each other, and Hermione promised to keep practicing on the broom.

Before they left from the train, they gave each other a warm and friendly hug in an old classroom.

When she went to join up with her two best friends they saw that she was pink in the face. Most of the time, when she was reading Draco's letters she would blush. She didn't know what was wrong with her, but Ron and Harry knew she had her eye on someone. It was impossible for the letters to be anything else.

Ron, obviously, began to get annoyed every morning when her letter came, but Harry had just told him to let it go as they had no proof of what it was about.

***

'Bookworm,

I hope you have a lovely time in France. I will talk to my father tomorrow and hope to get this matter solved. Wish me luck. Maybe after that, I can try and get us tickets to watch the Quidditch World Cup in a few weeks time, unless the Weasley's already have tickets. I'm so lonely here at the Malfoy Manor. I wish I could come with you...

Love from, Sleekhair.'

Hermione read the last few words over and over again. 'Love from'. Did he mean to write that? Did he actually mean it?

"Darling, we are going soon!" Her mum called up to her room.

She put the letter down and grabbed her bag. It was full of quills that didn't need ink and a large stash of parchment. She still had Harry's copy of 'Quidditch Through the Ages' which she had also put in there, along with her wand and a purse full of gallions and knuts.

***

Draco was pacing up and down his room. Why had he written it? Why did he have to put, 'Love from,'? She would have been perfectly happy with his usual ending of his name. Why did he have to write that?

He continued to pace, unsure of what she was going to make of it. Suddenly, an owl came to his window, a small note on it's leg.

'Dear Sleekhair,

I wish you luck with your father. I also wish that I could be there with you so that you don't have to spend your holidays bored. Ron's father has a ticket for me.

Love from, Bookworm.'

Draco's heart skipped a beat.