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Hermione was kneeling in a hallway, trying desperately to heal the wounds of one of the DA members that had come to their aid tonight, Hannah Abbott. She wasn’t the best at healing — she had only managed to teach herself the very basics so far — but it was the best they currently had, so she had to so as much as she could.
“Let me help,” a small, soft voice came from behind her.
Hermione turned slightly, still keeping an eye on her patient. “Greengrass. What are you doing here?”
“I’m trying to help,” the Slytherin replied softly, motioning towards Hannah and then to Justin and the other couple of unconscious students around them. “If you will let me.”
It’s not an accusing tone, Daphnane clearly understands why Hermione is hesitant.
“Why should I trust you?”
“You have no reason to,” Greengrass acknowledged. “But I was wrong, before. I know that now.”
Hermione scans her face for any dishonesty — a waste of time, considering the Slytherin’s mask — and then the hallway. She sighed.
“Alright,” she said before she fully knew what she was doing. “Help, then. I’ll keep an eye on you.”
“I’d expect nothing less,” Daphne responded, rolling up her sleeves and kneeling down in front of Hannah.
Hermione did not now how long they worked like this, but she knew that she would no have been able to achieve the results they had on her own.
“Thank you,” Hermione addressed Daphne once they were done. “But what made you change your mind?”
Daphne looked conflicted for a moment before she sighed. “You did. You’re smart and beautiful and ambitious and all the things I was told Muggles and Muggleborns could never be.”
Was she blushing? She couldn’t be, right? What reason could she possibly have to blush when she never had when she had made a mistake before.
“I’m not the only one,” Hermione pointed out.
“I know. But you’re the one who caught my attention.”