Author: Meltha
Rating: G
Feedback: Yes, thank you. Meltha
Spoilers: Pretty much AU here
Distribution: Fanfiction.net and the Bunny Warren. If you're interested, please let me know.
Summary: Draco and Hermione have an uneasy truce.
Disclaimer: No profit is made from this fanfic, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Author Note: Written for the second round of Dramione_ldws, challenge 7 (I used my skip on 6): apples and hard cider. The drabble needed to be based around autumn without using Halloween and had to be exactly 400 words.

Knowing

“I don’t really know you,” Hermione said, shattering the silence.

Draco smiled lazily, and she was reminded of a tiger, lithe and beautiful, but ultimately dangerous if he chose to be. The comparison made her uneasy, and he seemed to sense her discomfort, his features becoming less smug.

“What do you want to know?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” she said, staring down at her hands, embarrassed and desperate to avoid the temptation of looking at him. “We’ve been meeting here for over a month, but I still don’t know anything about you.”

“Such as?” he said, leaning against the tree at the edge of the Forbidden Forest that had become their rendezvous point.

Neither could explain why they came here, only that the time spent in one another’s company was necessary in the insanity of their slowly dissolving world. Usually, they simply sat, silently watching the lake, content in knowing they weren’t alone. It was strange, she thought, depending on his presence so much but not being able to define it or the change that had crept over them since the beginning of autumn.

“I don’t know,” she repeated, sounding frustrated. “Silly things. Whether you like mornings, if you have a pet, what your favorite color is, just… things.”

He sat beside her, and she let herself look at him again.

“I loathe mornings, Mother has a Persian cat named Hebe, and my favorite color is brown,” he said.

Hermione couldn’t help laughing.

“What?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No one’s favorite color is brown,” she said, still giggling.

“Mine is,” he said firmly. “It’s the color of autumn leaves.”

“But they’re… dead,” she said, confused.

“I prefer to think of them as completed,” he explained. “They change the world around them. They can’t stay forever, but before they’re gone, they have a chance to fly.”

“I suppose,” she said, glancing at the canopy of brown above them, but suddenly his face blocked her view.

He’d never touched her before, and the single finger he drew down her cheek sent shockwaves through her. Draco rested his hand gently under her chin, turning her face towards him and looking into her eyes with an expression that was less like a predator and more like prey.

“As brown as leaves in autumn,” he said, holding her gaze. “Always my favorite.”

And when he kissed her, Hermione felt like she was flying.