He remembers stories of Eden, of Adam and Eve, of the fruit she offered to him. The fruit was supposed to give Adam knowledge of world; it was supposed to show him the truth that he was blinded to because of his Father, his creator, God. Adam had taken the fruit Eve had offered him. He bit into it with barely a second thought, and he was cast from Paradise, from his home by the Father. Adam was never allowed to return, and all because he had accepted the fruit Eve had given him, which showed him Knowledge and Truth.

The only thing Draco doesn't understand about the story is why God had banished Adam from his home. Sure, he had told his child to not to eat the fruit; in fact, he had forbidden it. But why would he cast him from his home, especially if he loved him? Or did he love him? It is all too hard for Draco to tell.

He watches her during their next class. She is leaning over her cauldron, carefully stirring her potion. He cannot see her face at the moment; it is hidden behind the thick curls of her brunette hair. She gently tucks the tendrils behind her ear. Some of them stay. Others fall back. Draco thinks if Eve looked like someone, she would have looked like her. Her face would have been small and delicate with earthen brown eyes and framed in a mass of uncontrollable brown curls that reached to her elbows. Hermione looks natural, like Eve would have looked.

Draco scowls as Weasley leans forward, blocking her from view. He makes a mental note to insult Weasley later for that. Maybe something nasty about his mother will justify it.

The truth is, Draco has been obsessed with Hermione for many months now. He denied it at first by scolding her worse than before and thinking it would squelch the feelings that had developed inside him. It only served to make him angrier, though, because she would either ignore him or say he wasn't worth it. Such things had hurt Draco, but he knows now that they should have hurt because he had been hurting her.

The last time he had verbally assaulted her she was alone, without Potter and Weasley to help her cope or defend her, and her eyes had glossed over with tears. She only managed her escape thanks to an untimely encounter with Professor Dumbledore. Dumbledore asked Hermione if there was anything wrong. She told him there wasn't before pushing past Draco and leaving. Draco knows Dumbledore saw her crying, but the Headmaster said nothing about it, only asked Draco if there was anything he wished to tell him. Draco shook his head at that. "No, Professor." He left as quickly as Dumbledore had allowed him to. It wasn't very long. Dumbledore just gazed at him, as if trying to sort something out in his mind, then nodded softly.

He had wondered for a while why his words made her cry that time because she always seemed so held together as long as Potter or Weasley was around. He comforted himself for a short time with the fanciful idea that she used them as grounders for reality because she held the same burdening feelings for him and as long as Potter and Weasley were around she would remember that Draco was scum and not get lost in his cold eyes thinking there might be warmth beyond them. Yes, you might think that was deep thinking for Draco, but is it really so hard to believe? Draco didn't even believe it in the beginning. He had missed the simplified version of "Me Pureblood, She Mudblood". He still does. Draco had believed once upon a time that things would remain simple like that for him forever. After all, they still do for his father.

And though Draco is only sixteen years old now, things are different. Things are very, very different.

Draco cannot remember what he said to her that last time he had insulted her. All he remembers is that they were in the library, and he had seen her and cornered her in one of the aisles. He might have had his wand in his hand, but he isn't sure. Hermione tried pushing past him at first; he blocked her path. She threatened to scream. He said something nasty to her, he knows; something that isn't his usual style. It had nothing to do the word Mudblood. It had nothing to do with Potter or Weasley. It was something simple, something rude. Hermione's eyes had watered up fairly quick. He went on for a bit, on whatever train of thought he was traveling. He had suddenly stopped when the tears fell.

Draco hasn't insulted her since.

He thinks she looks very different now. She is smiling, laughing. Draco forces himself to forget that it is Weasley or Potter who is responsible for it because thinking that will only make him more bitter than he already is. He continues to catch looks at her throughout the class period. When he turns in a flask of his potion he is sure he has done horrible at it, but today he doesn't care. He has something else entirely on his mind. It is something that he has been thinking about doing for a long time. Draco wonders if it is the right thing to do. He doesn't care about ease or difficulty for once. Just right.

His mind returns to Adam again. Everyone thinks what Adam did was wrong and that he had committed a terrible sin. They believe that the right thing to do was to refuse Eve's offer of the fruit, but Draco still cannot figure out what was wrong about choosing knowledge over ignorance. Ignorance does seem like bliss. It gave Adam Paradise. It gave Adam innocence. Ignorance is what most people want; it is false security. Draco decides he would rather be in the midst of all the elements than locked up in a bubble. At least then he would truly experience, truly feel, and truly know.

As the bell rings, Draco comes to the conclusion that Adam did what was right.

Later that day, Draco sees Hermione go out onto the grounds with Potter and Weasley. He saunters up to the oak doors, but pauses only a few steps outside. He watches them from where he stands as they settle themselves under a beech tree. Hermione spreads out some of her books. They look like they're discussing something. Draco stiffens when he notices Hermione is holding a fruit. Across the distance he cannot make out what kind it is, but it does not really matter to him because all he can think of is it must be some sort of sign.

He continues walking resolutely in their direction. It gives him no relief that they do not notice him because he will be right in front of them in just a moment and they'll have no choice but to notice him. Draco reminds himself that a Malfoy is proud of himself and his choices, that a Malfoy is never ashamed of such, and that a Malfoy always gets what he wants if he wants it bad enough.

Draco wants her.

He stops in front of them. Draco is aware that they noticed he was coming a few seconds before he stopped. Potter and Weasley immediately rise to their feet.

"Get lost, Malfoy," Weasley says with a bite of contempt.

Draco merely glances between the two of them.

"Not until I do what I came here to do, Weasley," he drawls. Draco's eyes rest on Hermione. She is watching him with a guarded expression.

"You aren't doing anything but leaving," Potter replies.

"On the contrary," Draco keeps his eyes on Hermione as he speaks, "I have come to talk to Hermione."

Draco now looks back to Potter and Weasley. Weasley suddenly looks bewildered. Potter simply furrows his brows.

"Since when did you call her Hermione?" Potter asks.

Draco sighs and focuses his gaze on Hermione. He extends his hand to her. "Hermione, may I speak with you in private?"

She looks suspiciously at his hand before to his face and back. "Why?"

Draco feels more nervous now than he did a minute ago. He is not doing this in front of those two idiotic gits she calls friends.

"Because Potter and Weasley have nothing to do with it."

"Just go away, Malfoy, and leave Hermione alone!" Weasley orders.

Draco ignores him. His hand is still extended to Hermione. He feels like at that moment as he's gazing at her the desperation is written all over his face. "Please?"

The magic word indeed.

Hermione slowly takes his hand, and he lifts her to her feet. Potter and Weasley are protesting furiously, but Hermione silences them.

Draco releases her hand and leads the way across the grounds. Students are looking up to see them pass. It must be an odd sight, Draco thinks nonchalantly. He knows it is. They walk around the castle until they are beyond the sight of all the students outside. Draco stops and turns to Hermione. She suddenly pauses as well. He sees that her eyebrows are raised and she isn't looking at all fearful, but she is definitely curious. His gaze falls upon the fruit in her hand. It's a peach. He feels a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"What?" she asks.

He suddenly looks at her face again and realizes that he isn't sure what she is referring to.

"What?" he counters back.

Hermione lets out an exasperated sigh and rolls her eyes.

"What did you want to talk to me about?"

He finds his eyes reverting back to the peach in her right hand.

"And why did you call me Hermione?"

Draco meets her confused gaze and arches his eyebrows. "Well, that is your name, isn't it?"

"You know what I mean."

"Because it's your name and frankly..." Draco trails off. What is he supposed to say? He has to think of something and quick, but what? "Well...and frankly it's better than Granger."

Hermione now appears thoroughly perplexed. "Better than Granger?"

Draco notes that her voice has a hint of incredulity in it.

"Yes. Granger is rather a sharp sounding name. Hermione is quite soft."

She eyes him suspiciously and places a hand on her hip. "I bet next you're going to say it's better than Mudblood, too, I suppose?"

Draco does not rush to answer. He is silent for a bit to appear as if contemplating it. "Well, no, I wasn't. But since you mention it, yes, it is."

All confusion fades from her expression to be replaced with anger.

"What are you playing at, Malfoy?"

"I'm not playing."

"You expect me to believe that?"

"No." He hesitates. "I was more hoping than expecting you would."

Draco refuses to blink in the silence. He watches her body language. She stands as still as a board, wrings her fingers, and produces an array of flustered looks that flash across her face so fast Draco cannot help but begin to feel his cool and calm demeanor flicker more and more from the apprehension. He needs to say it. He needs to forget for a moment what pride means and tell her why he can't stop thinking about her, why he can't focus in his classes anymore, why he asked her over here in the first place, but he can feel his nerve slipping away from him. She isn't going to believe him. She'll never believe him. Why would she?

Hermione sighs suddenly, but it isn't an exasperated sigh like before. It's the kind of sigh someone gives when they realize they're trying to do a million things at once and need to stop and focus on one thing at a time before they wear themselves out. It shushes in an instant Draco's mental rampage of hopeless thoughts.

"What did you want to talk to me about, Malfoy?"

He cannot look at her. Draco fixes his eyes on the peach. Maybe it'll be easier if he isn't watching her face. At least by that way her openly displayed emotions won't have an opportunity to crush his throat and keep him from speaking his part.

Draco thinks for a brief moment that he smells smoke, but he quickly dismisses the thought.

"Have you ever heard of Adam and Eve?" he asks, still intently watching the fruit. This is the easiest way for him to explain it to her.

"Yes..." she trails off for a moment, "...hasn't everyone?"

"Adam lived in Eden. It was a paradise. His Father, God, told him that he could have anything he wanted. Anything but one thing: a certain fruit. It was forbidden. The Father told Adam that if he ever ate of the fruit that he would be cast from Paradise, the very home that the Father had fashioned for him. And one day, Eve came to Adam with the fruit. She offered it to him. It was supposed to give him knowledge, show him the truth…"

Draco grows quiet and stops talking. The hand that holds the peach rises to her chest, where it meets with her other hand. Draco's eyes follow. He risks a glance at her face. She is looking at him with an expression of genuine interest, her lips parted as if from slight bafflement. Draco swallows heavily. He's gotten this far already. He may as well finish it. There is only one thing left to say any way.

"Despite what the Father had told him, Adam chose to accept the fruit that Eve had offered him."

Hermione seems absolutely overwhelmed now, and her eyes are avoiding him. She is fidgeting again, though very nervously this time, and Draco notices the blush creeping up in her face. A sudden constricted feeling occurs in Draco's chest. She understands.

He doesn't know what to do, though. She isn't talking. She isn't looking at him. The tightness in his chest increases rapidly. This is a mistake. This is a big, big mistake...

Draco wants to say something else, but he doesn't. All he does is cause problems when he opens his mouth. She'll run back to Potter and Weasley, and they'll laugh about it. They'll laugh about it, and it makes him sick. Draco turns his back on her. He's walking away. It's more of a stalk, though, but he doesn't realize it. His cloak billows behind him as the wind catches against it. He's trying to think, but he can't. He's too angry. Angry and hurt. Hurt? Why, yes. But he'll never admit that.

"Mal-- Draco!"

You should stop, you know, a little voice inside his head tells him.

I'm not stopping! he replies to it.

Why not? She might have something to say that you'd want to hear...

NO - SHE - DOESN'T!

"Draco! Wait!"

And suddenly he does stop because after hearing the desperation in her words the voice in his head decides to scream like a banshee and tells him in a very rude way to quit being a git and freeze this instant or there will be hell to pay.

He stands perfectly still where he is and notices that he's made it to the inhabited part of the grounds. Some people are looking at him curiously. It takes him a moment to register how fast and how deeply he is breathing. He can hear footsteps falling heavy and quick behind him. Her footsteps.

The sound grows louder and louder until it finally halts. She must be right behind him.

"Draco?"

He does not answer. He said all that he is capable of. He is not good with explaining emotions. He never has been. Draco clenches his hands together, but it doesn't make him feel any better. He does not mean to snap at her, but he does.

"What?"

"Turn around."

It seems his mind is not connected to his body. He slowly turns around, almost afraid of what he may see, but there is nothing out the ordinary. Hermione stands there quite composed now. It looks as though she wants to smile, but she's holding it back. Draco instantly regrets obeying her words.

"I understand...what you said back there..."

"You're clever," he replies brusquely.

Hermione bites her bottom lip. She's nervous again. "Umm...you don't have to do anything or say anything in front of these people, but I just...I just...well--"

She holds out her arm. Draco glances down. In her extended hand is the fruit.

He looks up to her face. She is smiling softly. Genuinely.

Draco hesitates only for a second. Then he reaches out, enclosing his hand around the fruit and her fingers. She releases it carefully. It is a simple enough gesture, but Draco has never known anything as powerful as it. But he needs to ask, he needs a clear answer, because Draco is not as clever as Hermione is, nor as sure.

"What exactly are you saying?" he asks quietly, looking her in the eye.

"I'm saying if you want to...I'd...I'd love to try."

It is all Draco needs to hear. It is enough. He will not try to make a secret of something that he knows can never remain a secret. He will not try to pretend they can keep something like this between them and only them. Nor does he want to. He wants people to talk. He wants people to see. He wants people to know. Because in the end they will, and he will not appear a coward here and now. He will be proud, even if Adam was not. However, that was only because Adam was uncertain.

Draco is not.

He crosses the short distance between them and carefully takes her hand into his, admiring how small and delicate it is within his own. He lifts his gray eyes to her contrasting brown ones and finds that she is watching him closely, the slight apprehension readable in her gaze. Draco raises a hand to Hermione's face, gently caressing his thumb across the soft skin of her cheek. He doesn't notice the many students' eyes upon them. He isn't thinking about them. He isn't thinking about anyone right now except her.

Draco leans in and kisses Hermione as lightly as possible on the lips. She stiffens at first from the contact, but he is gentle and so she finds herself relaxing against him. Draco doesn't think his head has ever been swimming as violently as it is now. He deepens the kiss, unaware of the watchers, unaware of the fallen boundary between them, unaware of what will be said and what will be done.

But somewhere Draco knows Eden is burning, and he doesn't care at all.

END