Archive of Our Own

“They’re at it again!” Ginny throws her book bag on the table in the library, garnering quite a few looks and glares for the noise.

“Ok, Red, who is ‘they’?” Blaise put down his quill and leaned back with his hands behind his head.

“Who do you think?! Your best friend and my best friend,” Ginny huffed. She pulled out some parchment, a quill and some ink. 

“I see,” Blaise replied, always calm and collected, the perfect foil for Ginny, who he now counted as his best female friend that he was snogging, but wasn’t sleeping with. Not that he didn’t want to.

“How can you be so calm, Iceman? This is getting ridiculous. Do you know what they are fighting about now?”

“No, but I’m sure you’re going to tell me,” Blaise said, now crossing his arms over his chest and settling in.

Ginny pulled out her chair with a thump and sat down. She ripped her hair band out of her ponytail and proceeded to shake her hair out. With a sigh, she said, “That’s so much better. Gods, my hair is so damn heavy, I’ve gone all day feeling like I’ve got a hippogriff hanging off the back of my head.”

Blaise shifted in his seat and cleared his throat. Ginny didn’t know this, but having her hair down was one of the many things that would chip away at Blaise’s icy persona.

“Well, are you going to tell me, or just sit there looking like Ariel from that muggle Little Mermaid —moving thing?” 

“Shut it, Blaise. So,” Ginny started, “I could hear them all the way from Gryffindor Tower - they were arguing down near the trophy room. I think it was something about her chopping instead of cutting a potion ingredient and it made their potion expand like a sponge and overflow the cauldron onto the floor. I don’t know, but it must have been the last straw because they were basically throwing each other’s mistakes at each other like hexes. I mean, they brought up shit that happened when they were stuck together last semester in arithmancy. Something about a mistake on a rune that cost them first place in the class. Then it was about the time Draco tripped over the Venomous Tentacula in the greenhouse and landed on Mimbulus Mimbletonia which in turn invoked its defense mechanism and sprayed stinksap all over Hermione. You’d think they were holding up the entire wizarding world and one of them tripped and knocked the other one over and shattered society as we know it.”

Blaise rolled his eyes. He’d hear about this from Draco he was sure. The boy was so fucking dramatic. 

“Honestly, I wish they’d just get over themselves and fuck already. It’s inevitable; just do it sooner rather than later and save us all the grief,” Blaise smirked.

“You and me both,” Ginny agreed.

“So what are we going to do about it?” Blaise cracked his knuckles, ready to get to work.

“Can’t we just lock them in a room and see who caves first?” 

“Maybe?” The wheels in Blaise’s head were spinning.

************************

“You are such a pain in the arse!” Hermione hissed. She said the password to the Head suite and flung open the door, and walked through, not waiting for Draco, not caring if the door hit him in the face.

“I’m an arse? I’m an arse?! Draco practically threw his satchel on the sofa. “You know you have to chop the asphodel so finely it’s almost a powder, not just rough chop it. Where is your head, anyway? Did you fight with the Weasel ?” He dripped with sarcasm.

Hermione stopped what she was doing and froze. Then she turned towards him and strode over to him with purpose driven fueled by anger.

“Why do you always call him that?” She yelled at him, punctuating her words with her fists on his chest. Draco backed up, hands up in defense.

“Because it pisses you off and,” he paused, trying to decide if he should tell her what he really thought, “and, he’s not worthy of you.” 

Hermione stopped mid-strike. “What did you say?” She honestly wasn’t sure if she heard him correctly.

He pushed past her and walked towards their shared kitchenette. He summoned two mugs and tea bags and with an aguamenti filled them with hot water. Waiting for the tea to steep, he ran his hands through his hair and then placed them on the island. 

“I said, ‘he’s not worthy of you.’ It’s true!” he exclaimed, seeing the expression on her face. He started counting off his fingers, listing the negative attributes.

“He’s a slob, has no manners, is lazy, no,” Draco stopped her as she started to protest, “hear me out. He only ever did the minimum amount of work to get a passing grade, and half the time that was because he got you to write or edit his essays. He used you, Granger. When will you ever get it through that thick skull of yours?”

Hermione really wanted to pick up her mug of tea and throw it at him. But, unfortunately, she knew he was right. So, she took the mug and plopped down on the sofa, conveniently with her back to him.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” Draco said a little more softly. “You did fight with him.” He walked over to the love seat that sat perpendicular to the sofa and sat. 

Hermione looked up at him with tears in her eyes. “We broke up.” 

Draco sat his mug on the end table and moved over to sit next to Hermione. He uncharacteristically put his arm around her and pulled her towards him. She laid her head on his shoulder and let the tears fall. 

They sat like that until Hermione was just sniffling; she pulled away from the embrace and took the proffered handkerchief Draco conjured from a bookmark and nodded her thanks. She blew her nose, rather loudly, and busied herself with her tea.

“We weren’t right for each other,” she said, ignoring the sarcastic 'No!' from her co-Head, “over the summer we discovered that our feelings were fueled by fear, and danger and a desperate need to help Harry kill Voldemort. Once that ended, it was like we were back in first year, before the troll in the bathroom. He was horrible to me.”

“And yet you still feel the need to defend him,” Draco pointed out.

“Well, old habits, you know,” Hermione gave Draco a watery smile.

“I could say the same of me, calling him Weasel. I’m sorry.” 

Hermione looked at him in shock. Never in all the years she had known Malfoy had he ever apologised. He’d asked forgiveness; forgiveness for everything that had happened at Malfoy Manor and prior to the war, but he had not out and out said ‘I’m sorry.’

Instead of ribbing him, Hermione simply thanked him.

An awkward detente reached, Draco said, “Are we good?”

“Until the next time you drop a cauldron on my foot, yes,” Hermione grinned.

********************

Ginny asked Hermione to go with her to Hogsmeade the next weekend. Hermione was only slightly suspicious that Ginny didn’t want to go with Blaise, but the redhead told her that Blaise had detention with McGonagall so he couldn’t go.

They left around lunchtime, bundled up against the early spring weather - cold, damp and windy. The first place they stopped was Honeydukes. Hermione bought several Cauldron Cakes, and a couple of Chocolate Frogs for the first year she was tutoring in Transfiguration, when she looked along the shelves for her favourite, sugar quills. When she turned to ask Mr. Flume about them, he shook his head.

“I’m sorry, Hermione, I got bought out by a squad of younger girls just about twenty minutes ago.” He really did look sorry about the candy; Hermione went ahead and paid for her haul and stood outside to wait for Ginny.

She left the warmth of the candy shop and sat on a bench just outside the main entrance. She looked around at the quaint village and sighed with contentment. Hogsmeade had recovered nicely from the war. Oh sure, there were a few boarded up windows and a for sale sign here and there, but overall, it was buzzing with activity.

“Well, what do we have here?” Hermione looked up at the sound of Blaise’s voice. “Granger, what did you buy? The store?”

“Of course not,” Hermione laughed, “just a couple of things. They were out of my favourite, though, and I am very upset about it. But wait,” she said, realising Zabini wasn’t supposed to be in Hogsmeade, “what are you doing here? I thought you had detention.”

“Blaise! What the hell?” Ginny had just walked out of the shop and handed off her bags to Hermione, who barely caught them, and threw herself into Blaise’s arms. He returned the embrace and Hermione felt a brief pang of jealousy.

Ginny had been through it. She had thought Harry was going to be her forever “person,” and when he sat her down and told her that he wasn’t who she thought he was, she was devastated. He had met someone while he was in Auror training and it confirmed what he suspected, he was more interested in boys than girls. He was deeply sorry that he had hurt her, especially on top of Fred’s death. The toll was hard on Harry as well. Ron wouldn’t speak to him and while the rest of the Weasleys understood, they were obviously protective of their baby girl. 

Hermione understood how she felt. Only she was the one who’d finally had it with Ron. He was content with the relationship that had sprung up between them after months on the run and then the final battle. He wasn’t happy when she said she wanted to go back to Hogwarts for the eighth year that everyone in their class was being offered. He couldn’t understand why she didn’t want to be an Auror with him and Harry. Hermione tried to explain to him multiple times that she was tired of always being stressed and Auror training was just going to contribute more to her PTSD. Ron told her to get over it. 

They hung on until the last time he had floo-called her. That call had come just a few days previously and once again Ron was complaining about never seeing her. Hermione had told him not to come to Hogsmeade, that she had too much work to do. In reality, she just didn’t have the energy to listen to him rail at her again about her lack of commitment to their relationship. The call ended with Ron telling her to rethink her priorities and not to call him back until she was ready to be a ‘real girlfriend.’

When Hermione first saw Blaise and Ginny together she couldn’t believe it. At first she thought it was just a rebound fling; Ginny was known for her stubborn nature and her ability to do a 180 and thumb her nose at everything her family held dear. But, Hermione had to admit that she was impressed with the way Ginny appeared to dote on Blaise and vice versa. 

Seeing unbridled affection that the odd couple had for each other in the middle of the high street made her happy and just a tiny bit resentful. She hadn’t told Ginny yet about her break up with Ron; she knew she would be supportive, but she just didn’t want the pity that she knew she would see in Ginny’s eyes, nor did she want to be subjected to Ginny’s notorious matchmaking.

“Easy there, Red, you’re gonna knock me over,” Blaise smirked. The couple broke apart and then kissed. 

“Oh, please, no PDA here,” Hermione joked. She stood up and gave Blaise a quick hug. “Now, would you mind telling us how you managed to talk your way out of detention?”

“I’m just that good, Granger,” Blaise laughed, “I transfigured all of the herbs McGonagall had laid out into a bird, a piece of parchment, a quill, a dirigible plum, and the piece de resistance,” Blaise stopped long enough to conjure a pale pink rose into his hand. “For you, my darling girl,” he said, as he handed it to Ginny.

“Oh, Blaise, it’s beautiful!” Ginny took the proffered flower and gave Blaise a hard kiss. 

Hermione rolled her eyes, both at the ridiculous display of affections going on between the two of them and at Blaise’s dramatics. 

“Well, I don’t know about you two, but I could use some lunch. Walk over to the Three Broomsticks?” She grabbed Ginny by the hand and started in that direction, ignoring the girl’s protests and Blaise’s shouts.

The trio walked into the tavern and found a table in the corner to sit at. Blaise went up to the bar to get three butterbeers, and the girls took off their coats and sat down.

 All of a sudden, a look of remorse crossed Ginny’s face. 

“I’m so sorry, Hermione, I can make Blaise go back to the castle after we have lunch, if you want me to. I know we were supposed to have this day for ourselves.” 

Hermione shook her head. “No, it’s alright, Gin. Who knew Blaise was secretly proficient and would make up his work in record time? Besides, I like seeing the two of you together. It’s fun to see a couple so happy with each other,” she said wistfully.

“Oh, Hermione, you just need to give him some time. Ron’s a massive pain in the arse, I know, but maybe being separated will make him realise how much he misses you,” Ginny looked hopeful.

Pushing down what she really wanted to say, Hermione just nodded and took the mug of butterbeer from Blaise, sipping it carefully.

“What are we talking about?” Ugh, don’t tell me the Weasel again?” Blaise rolled his eyes.

“No we are not talking about that tosser,” Ginny said vehemently. “We were talking about where we’re going next. Just me and Hermione. You,” she poked Blaise in the chest, “are going to go off on your own or go back to the castle and let the two of us have the afternoon, like we were supposed to.”

Before Blaise could protest, the door to the tavern opened and Draco walked in. He looked around and saw Blaise, who waved him over.

“What the hell is he doing here?” Ginny asked. “You said he couldn’t leave the castle.” She looked at Blaise accusingly.

“Yes, Malfoy, do tell us why you’re all of a sudden able to leave the confines of the castle?” Blaise asked. “And have a seat while you’re at it.”

Draco looked at the table and Hermione could see he was weighing his options. She figured it was between having to sit next to her or running out the door and back up the hill. She was pleasantly surprised when he sat down. 

Taking a sip of Blaise’s beer, he smacked his lips and said, “I’m special.”

The other three all protested in their own way: Blaise hit him in the arm, Ginny said, “Fuck you, ferret!” and Hermione scoffed and covering her mouth, said “bullshit” disguised as a cough.

“Tell us the truth, Malfoy, for once, the truth,” Hermione demanded. She sipped her beer and looked at the menu.

“What? It is! Slughorn finally let me demonstrate how to make veritaserum. It was perfect and so he let me go. Blaise, would you be a dear and get me a drink? Rosmerta may have forgiven me, but she will still hex me six ways to Sunday if I come within ten feet of her.” Draco’s expression switched from the usual cocky smirk to one of regret.

“Oh, I suppose so,” said Blaise. He got up and made his way over to the bar.

The foursome finally ordered food and talked about everything; the first years, the dramas between the third and fourth years - “Thirteen and fourteen-year-olds should all be shipped off to their own island and not be allowed to rejoin civilisation until they’re sixteen, am I right?” Draco looked at the table for confirmation.

“Hear hear, Malfoy,” Hermione raised her mug to him and drank. “I can’t believe we were like that at that age, can you?”

“Well, we did have a few more pressing things going on at the time, if you recall,” Ginny said. “They don’t know how good they have it.”

“Oh that’s rich, Ginny,” Hermione protested, “you weren’t trying to figure out how to survive the Tri-Wizard Tournament in order to keep Harry alive.”

“No, but I did have to wonder what in the world happened to my best friend, and my brother when they disappeared before the second task.” Ginny’s eyes flashed.

“Point taken. As one of the disappearing ones, I can confidently say we were in the dark the whole time. In the dark and unconscious I might add.” Hermione finished her salad and started to pack up her things. “I need to get to Scrivenshafts before they close. I’m running out of my favourite ink. Wait for me to walk back?” She looked at the three still eating.

“Sure.”

“Yeah.”

“Uh huh.”

“Well don’t get all excited about it,” Hermione huffed. “I’ll only be about fifteen minutes.” She left the tavern and made her way down the main thoroughfare.

Ginny looked at Blaise and said, “Merlin’s beard, I just remembered, I have to get back to meet Luna in the Ravenclaw tower. She promised she would find me a book on colouring charms.” She looked at Blaise, who nodded his head surreptitiously towards Draco. 

“I’ll walk back with you, if Malfoy doesn’t mind waiting for Granger.” Blaise met Draco’s glance. “Oh, come on, Malfoy, it’s not that bad. You’ll have plenty to talk about. Make sure you ask her about Ron again.” Blaise laughed.

“No thank you, I don’t need to hear anything about that waste of space,” Draco protested. “Besides, they broke up anyway.” 

Ginny dropped her spoon into the melting dish of ice cream, splashing Blaise with it. 

“What? How do you know that?” Ginny was stunned that Hermione hadn’t told her about it.

“She told me the other day, after we’d been fighting.” Draco looked a little discomfited by the continuing discussion. 

“Well, now you have to walk back with her,” Ginny said. “Obviously she’s heartbroken and she shouldn’t be alone.” She glanced over at Draco, hoping he would take the hint.

“Oh, alright, but you two owe me, you know that, right?” Draco said resignedly. He threw down his napkin and stood up to put his cloak back on. 

“Of course,” Blaise laughed. “We’ll name our firstborn after you. I think Malfoy Zabini has a certain je ne sais quoi, don’t you?” 

“Please, spare the child that horrific moniker,” Draco deadpanned. “I’ll see you later.” 

Draco left and started to walk towards the shoppe. He actually really liked that store. He loved the smell of the inks and the parchment, and enjoyed trying out all the quills.

He was just getting ready to open the door when Hermione pushed it open and jumped back when he saw Draco.

“Oh, Malfoy, you startled me! What are you doing?” Hermione tightened her grip on her purchases and started to walk past him. Draco turned around and walked next to her. 

“Hey, wait up! I was going to walk you home,” Draco said, hurriedly.

“I don’t need you to walk me home, Malfoy,” Hermione said tersely. 

“Ok, well, I’m going back to the castle myself, so we can walk together,” Draco replied, “no need to get your knickers in a twist, Granger.” And he offered her his arm. She sniffed and walked past him back up the street. He shrugged and caught up with her with little effort.

They continued side by side and had almost made it to the path back to the castle when two boys materialised in front of them. It was Jimmy Peakes and Andrew Kirke, both beaters on the Gryffindor Quidditch team. 

“Hi Jimmy, Andrew,” Hermione greeted them. They barely acknowledged her, instead pinning identical glares on Draco. 

“This Death Eater bothering you?” Jimmy asked. Hermione was immediately wary.

“Ex-Death Eater, and no, Jimmy, he’s not. We’re just walking back up to the castle.” Hermione said, moving just a bit in front of Draco. 

“Are you sure? He seems like he’s wanting to hex you,” Andrew said, “maybe you’ve been imperiused? Finite. ” He waved his wand, fully expecting Hermione to gain sudden awareness and realise her error in selecting her walking partner.

“Andrew, really, I’m fine,” Hermione reiterated, “Come on Malfoy, let’s go.” She pushed through the two boys but before Draco could follow her, the boys blocked his way. 

“You know I can dock you house points for this, right?” Draco straightened up and put on his famous sneer.

“There’s the high-and-mighty Malfoy everyone knows and hates, isn’t it, Peakes?” Andrew moved closer, until he was almost nose to nose with Malfoy.

“Yeah, I wondered if he’d lost it in Azkaban, but apparently not.” Before anyone could blink, Andrew drove his fist into Draco’s stomach, and then, before he could react, punched him in the face. As he doubled over, Andrew grabbed the back of Draco’s neck and drove him to his knees. He ground his face in the dirt before kicking him in the ribs.

“Andrew! What the hell are you doing?” Hermione tried to grab Andrew by the arm, but was stopped by Jimmy, who wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her away, keeping her from interfering. 

“Hermione, he needs to be taught a lesson,” Jimmy hissed into her ear, “he should have never been let out of Azkaban.”

Hermione tried to wrench herself away from Jimmy, but he was too strong so she had to watch Andrew continue to rain down blows on Draco’s ribs and stomach as he rolled to his side and curled up. Hermione was incensed that he was not doing anything to shield himself. 

“Malfoy, what are you doing?! Defend yourself!” She could not believe he was just kneeling on the ground taking Andrew’s onslaught of punches and kicks. All she could hear was a grunt here and there.

“He knows he deserves this, Hermione,” said Andrew, not even breaking a sweat, “he let the Death Eaters into the castle, he almost killed the Headmaster. Surely, you agree with us?” He looked at her briefly, seeking corroboration. 

“And he went on trial and was given what I believe is an appropriate sentence.” Finally, Hermione managed to wrench herself away from Jimmy and she stomped up to Andrew, and stuck her wand in his ribs. She sent an electrical shock through the wand and Andrew let go of Malfoy with a gasp. Malfoy continued to lay on the ground, clutching his stomach and grimacing.

“Yeah, well, I don’t think he’s appropriately penitent.” Andrew brushed off his hands and looked at Draco, still lying in the dirt. He kicked him once more in the gut and then gestured for Jimmy to follow him. “And if you were as smart as everyone says you are, you’d watch your back. He’s all yours, Hermione. Good luck.” The two boys laughed as they strolled into the village.

Hermione knelt down next to Draco. She gingerly rolled him over and hastily looked at his injuries. “Malfoy, I’m not going to ask if you’re ok, because it’s obvious you’re not. I think you need to go to the Hospital Wing. Can you make it if I help you?”

Slowly Draco made it to his hands and knees and spat in the dirt. Blood and dirt landed on the ground under him. He sat on his haunches and looked at Hermione’s outstretched hand. 

Scoffing, he said, “I’m sure you are laughing up your sleeve seeing me like this, aren’t you?” He took her hand and she helped him up to a shaky stand. 

“No, Malfoy, I am not,” Hermione said with an edge to her voice. “Not one bit.”

Draco begrudgingly let Hermione help him back up the hill to the castle, but when they got to the stairs that would take them to the Hospital Wing, he shook her off.

“I’m not going to the Hospital Wing, Granger,” he protested, “Let’s just get back to the room and maybe I’ll let you take a look.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. She damn well was going to check him out. If she had to stun him, she was going to take care of his injuries

“Well, come on, then.”

They barely made it to the Head suite before Draco stumbled to the sofa and collapsed on it. 

“Just kill me now, please,” he mumbled into the cushions.

“Oh, hush! You don’t need to be so dramatic,” Hermione chuckled. His histrionics, if nothing else, indicated that he was not in any serious danger.  “Let me get my bag. Take off your shirt.” She left the common room to go into her own to take off her cloak and grab her supplies. 

“If I’d known you wanted to see me shirtless, I wouldn’t have had to go to all the trouble of getting the shit kicked out of me, Granger.” Draco sat up and carefully started to unbutton his shirt. He winced and looked down at his torso. It was already starting to bruise, dark purple, blue, almost black marks along his ribs and chest. 

Hermione returned to the common room and positioned herself in front of Draco, sitting on the small table in front of the sofa. She took out of her bag a small bottle of dittany, some bruise paste and paracetamol. She grabbed his chin and looked closely at his nose.

“I think it’s broken, but hold still. Episkey. ” A crack followed by an “Ow! What the fuck, Granger!” echoed throughout the room. 

Draco reached up and touched his nose, expecting to wince, but looked at Hermione in surprise when he didn’t. “When did you learn that?”

“Summer before last, when I was planning on leaving with the boys. I had no idea what we might run into, so I taught myself some healing spells.” She carefully wiped most of the dirt off his face, then reached for the bottle of dittany.

“Of course you did, ” Draco smirked. “I would expect nothing less. Ooo, careful there.” Draco looked warily at the dropper full of the healing potion. "How did you get dittany? I haven’t seen any since before the war, maybe?” Draco asked, curious.

Hermione squeezed a couple of drops on an abrasion on Draco’s chin and watched it heal. 

“This is what was left over from what I took with us when Ron, Harry and I were looking for the horcruxes. You don’t need much. Here, lie down and I’ll show you.” She helped him lie down and proceeded to inspect his injuries. Carefully she moved her wand over his torso and looked at the diagnosis hanging in midair. 

“Malfoy, this is going to take some time to heal even with the bruise paste and the dittany. You really should be in the Hospital Wing.” She looked at him imploringly.

“No! I’m not going there!” Draco yelled at her. He sank back onto the sofa with a grimace. “Just do whatever it is you’re gonna do, Granger and leave me the fuck alone.” He turned his head towards the back of the sofa and closed his eyes.

Quietly, Hermione administered the dittany on any open and bleeding lacerations. Luckily there were few. Then she applied the bruise paste, studiously ignoring every wince that came from Draco. Finally, she bandaged the wounds that were open to the air, and then stood up.

“I’m going to get you a glass of water so you can take the paracetamol.” She left him and walked to the sink. 

“Why not a pain potion?” Draco called from the sofa.

“Because this will help with the swelling as well,” Hermione replied, coming back over to him with a glass of water. She handed him two small white pills and offered her hand for him to sit up. He took it and righted himself. Taking the glass, he swallowed the pills in one go. He started to get up and go to his room. She handed him a dose of Dreamless Sleep, but did not move. 

“Let me pass, Granger. I’m not in the mood,” Draco muttered.

Hermione looked at him, searching for any indication that he was not able to make it to his room unaided. Satisfied, she moved away and he brushed by her.

“You’re welcome.” She turned to pick up her supplies.

“Oh, should I get on my knees and thank you for piecing me back together?” Draco’s voice was dripping with sarcasm. “Or should I prostrate myself at your feet in gratitude for your saintly help?”

“No, I –” Hermione started.

“Stop, just – stop, Granger,” Draco interrupted. “I don’t need your Gryffindor self-righteousness defending me. You want to know why I didn’t defend myself? Because I could have, you know? I could have knocked him flat. But I didn’t. Because he was right, Granger,” Draco spit out.

He ran his hands through his hair, turned around to go to his room, but then thought better of it and turned back. 

“I did what he said I did, and yes I served my sentence in Azkaban and I am on probation, but – He. Was. Right. I deserved more and I don’t need you trying to absolve me, defend me, or stand up for me. So, as I said before, leave me the fuck alone.” With that, he turned and walked to his room and slammed the door.

Hermione just stood for a moment, taking in everything he said, head almost spinning at his changes in mood. Gathering her things, she just shook her head and went to her room. 

**********************

The next day, Hermione was sitting at her small desk in the common room, working on an essay for History of Magic, when she heard Draco’s door open.  Hermione briefly glanced up and then back down. After his parting words the previous night, she didn’t want to do anything to rile him up. 

With that quick assessment, she could tell he hadn’t slept well. He looked awful, in spite of having taken the Dreamless Sleep. His eyes were dark with bags under them, his hair was a mess, which by itself was cause for a trip to the hospital wing given his obsession with it, and he moved very slowly towards the kitchenette. When he tried to reach into the cupboard for a mug, and couldn’t without groaning, she got up.

“Here, let me get it for you,” she said, reaching over his shoulder for the mug. 

“Thanks,” he mumbled. He turned towards the island and swayed for a moment. She grabbed his elbow to steady him, but he gripped the edge of the counter and brushed her off.

“I’m fine, Granger,” he said, teeth gritted, “I’m not one of your ‘boys’ who need you to take care of every little scrape and scratch. Merlin, just leave me alone.”

“Fine,” Hermione said, frustrated that he wouldn’t let her help him. He was like a hurt animal, only necessity made him leave his cave; he would have rather stayed in his room while he recovered, she knew. She sat back down and continued to work.

Draco fixed his tea and started to turn back towards his room, but stopped. Without turning around, he asked, “Got any more parcemeteoralickee… whatever that stuff is you gave me last night?”

Hermione looked up, surprised he was addressing her. “Oh, are you speaking to me now?” She couldn’t help but add some of her own snark.

“Just a simple yes or no will suffice, Granger,” he sighed. “Never mind.” He walked into his room and shut the door.

Feeling guilty that she had been sucked in by his prickly response, she jumped up and grabbed the bottle out of her beaded bag. She knocked softly on his door, and when she didn’t hear anything she opened it carefully, half expecting a stream of vitriol to hit her as she did. 

Nothing.

She opened it wider to find Malfoy passed out on the bed, looking like he just barely made it. He must have floated the mug to his nightstand as it hadn’t fallen victim to his collapse. She put a stasis charm over it to keep it hot and set two pills next to it. She then repositioned him on the bed and drew the covers over him. Smoothing back the hair that had fallen across his brow, she looked at him more closely.

Even in his irritable, hurt, and now unconscious state, he was beautiful. His lashes, darker than his hair, were impossibly long and fanned out over his skin like a curtain. His lips, even twisted in a slight grimace, were pink and full, but not too full. Briefly, her mind betrayed her as she thought of what it might be like to kiss them. His cheekbones, with traces of bruise paste still visible, were high and sharp, but she knew when he smiled they rounded, giving him the definition of “apple cheeks.” 

Her eyes trailed down past his chin and his neck, taking in his shoulders, which had broadened since the war. She wondered if finally being able to eat decent food that wasn’t from Azkaban’s kitchen was helping with that. 

And then his chest and torso. Sparse, fine, blond hair covered his pectorals and she allowed herself to marvel at his abs. He was well cut, and she knew immediately that he could indeed have taken down Andrew and Jimmy if he’d wanted to. 

She stopped before she let herself look any further down his body, not wanting to speculate on what lay under his trousers. Shaking her head to bring herself back to reality, she waved her wand to run a diagnostic. The injuries were greatly diminished from last night, but they still needed time.

Hermione closed the chart and quietly let herself out of the room. After cleaning herself up she slipped out of the suite and headed towards the Great Hall.

******************

Blaise and Ginny were finishing up breakfast when they saw Hermione enter the Hall. Motioning for her to come over, Blaise glared at the fourth year boy who sat across from them until he got the hint and removed himself. Hermione sat down and begin to serve herself some breakfast.

“Well? How was your walk back up to the castle?” Ginny waggled her eyebrows suggestively.

Hermione just rolled her eyes and poured herself some pumpkin juice. 

“Eventful,” she said, “but not in the way you think. Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing, you two.” She glared at them as she brought the cup to her mouth.

“Whatever are you talking about, Granger?” Blaise had the temerity to look affronted. “Are you accusing us of trying to force something?”

“If the shoe fits,” Hermione said, dryly. “At any rate, no, nothing like that happened.” 

At the look of their dual crestfallen faces, she laughed. “Merlin, you two can’t hide anything.”

She proceeded to eat some of the eggs on her plate, ignoring their pleading faces. Finally, she set her fork down.

“Oh, alright, I’ll put you out of your collective misery,” she said. “He got the shit kicked out of him.”

Mic drop.

Both Ginny and Blaise stared at her open mouthed.

“What?”

“What the fuck, Granger?” 

“Yeah, Andrew and Jimmy came out of the blue as we were walking back up to the castle and Andrew wailed on him for about five minutes. I tried to stop him, but Jimmy held me back. The worst part? Malfoy didn’t even defend himself. He just lay there on the ground and let Andrew kick him and punch him.”

“Seriously? That does not sound like the Malfoy I know,” Blaise said, still shocked.

“Yeah, me neither,” Hermione continued. “I yelled at him to defend himself, but he just… laid there like a sacrificial lamb. It was painful to watch.”

“Why?” was all Ginny could think to say.

“Why? Other than they’re self-righteous vigilantes who unfortunately call themselves Gryffindors?” Hermione was becoming self-righteous herself. “I wanted to take 100 points from each of them or at least make them have detention, but Malfoy said no."

“They said he deserved it, that he didn’t spend enough time in Azkaban. And you know the worst part?’

“What?” The couple across from her said in unison. 

“He agreed with them!” Hermione threw her napkin down in disgust. “Can you believe that? He won’t let me punish them. He said if I took points away, he’d give them right back. What happened to the Malfoy we all knew and hated, hmmm? The one that would have told his father about it and had them expelled?” Hermione realised the shock was finally wearing off as she was close to tears. 

“He’s changed, Hermione,” Blaise said quietly, “He’s not the same. The war, Azkaban, all of it changed him. Surely you see that.”

“Not really, but I guess, if I look back over the past year, I can see some things are different.” Hermione didn’t know what to think.

“How is he now? Where is he now? The Hospital Wing?” Ginny asked.

“No, he wouldn’t let me take him there either,” Hermione said bitterly. “We made it back to the suite and I healed him. Or at least I did as much as I could. There were no internal injuries so I think with rest, he’ll be fine. Oh, I episkey’d his nose,” she laughed, “that was fun. It was like I got to inflict just a little bit of pain on him myself. Served him right for not defending himself or going to see Pomfrey. Made me feel a little better, too.” She sighed. “He was less than grateful. I suppose he wanted me to just let him bleed out there on the path.” She crossed her arms and sat back with a somewhat petulant expression.

Blaise got up and started to leave.

“Where are you going?” Ginny asked, surprised at the suddenness of his movement.

“I’m going to go see him, of course,” Blaise said.

“Well, he’s sleeping right now, maybe you should wait,” Hermione suggested.

“Nah, I wanna see him in all his bruised glory. Rub it in a little,” Blaise laughed. 

“Great, leave him in an even worse mood for me when I get back,” Hermione glowered.

“You can take it, Granger. Ta!” And Blaise took off for the head suite.

Ginny looked at Hermione. “Are you ok?” 

“Yeah, I feel like I’ve got emotional whiplash,” Hermione huffed. “First I watch fellow Gryffindors attack another student and I can’t stop them, then I have to deal with Malfoy hurting and being prickly and pigheaded at the same time. Even this morning, he pushed me away when I was just trying to make sure he didn’t fall on his arse because he was lightheaded. I just can’t win with him.”

“Do you want to, though? It seems like you spend an awful lot of time pissing each other off on purpose. Maybe he doesn’t know how to handle the side of you the rest of us see…most of the time,” Ginny ducked before Hermione could reach over and hit her.

“The side…?” Hermione asked. “I don’t show different sides at different times!”

"Yeah, ok, whatever,” Ginny said. She sat back. “Tell me, you like him just a teeny, weeny bit, don’t you?”

“Who, Malfoy?”

“Who else would we be talking about?” 

“No, of course not. He’s an arrogant, cocky, eighteen-year-old boy who drives me barmy,” Hermione said. “I put up with him, because I have to, not because I want to.” 

“Methinks the lady…” Ginny tried to remember how the rest of the line went. “Well, I think you’re fooling yourself.”

“Come on, Ginny, enough. I need to go to the library for a while. If Blaise is going to hang out with His Highness right now, I can go and work on some assignments. I’ll go back to the suite in a couple of hours.” Hermione stood up, grabbed her book bag, and started to leave.

“Think about what I said, Hermione,” Ginny called out. 

“Later, Ginny!” Hermione walked out of the Great Hall.

************

Blaise knocked on the door to the Head suite, and hearing nothing, said the password and opened it. Only Blaise and Ginny knew the password besides the heads themselves. 

“Malfoy?” He stepped into the common area and looked around. It certainly looked lived in; neither Hermione nor Malfoy were the neatest people to live with and sharing a common space only made it worse. The desk at one end of the room was covered with papers. The pillows on the sofa were akilter and there were dishes in the sink. Shoes, mostly women’s, were scattered throughout, left apparently where they had been removed. 

Sighing, Blaise pulled out his wand and set everything to rights with just a few waves. Then he knocked on Malfoy’s door. 

“You in there, mate?” Hearing a groan, he took that for a yes, and went in. 

The room was dark, but not pitch-black. He cast a lumos and made his way over to the bed and could make out the shadow of the lump under the covers. He lit the lamp on the nightstand and sat on the edge of the bed. 

After shaking him, Blaise whispered, “Malfoy - hey wake up. It’s me, Blaise.”

Another groan and then the lump rolled over. One eye opened and then closed again.

“‘S’fucking bright. Turn i’off. Head hur’s like a sonofabitch.” 

Blaise lowered the lights and said, “OK, it’s darker. Open your eyes, Malfoy. Tell me what happened.”

“Got bea’ up by s’ fuckin’ lions,” he slurred. “Feel like shite.” 

“Let me look at your eyes, Draco. I need to see if you’re concussed.” Blaise prodded him to do what he told him.

With herculean effort, Draco opened both eyes. Blaise flicked the light from his wand at him twice and then set it back on the table.

“You seem to be ok, maybe this is just the aftermath.” 

“Where’s Gran’er? She’s got pills…they help,” Draco said. He tried to sit himself up, but flopped back down on the bed.

“Take it easy, mate,” Blaise warned him. “Granger’s with Ginny in the Great Hall, eating. I just wanted to see how you were doing, and keep you company for a while.”

“Ugh, di’ she tell you?” Draco sounded as disgusted slurring as he did when he was coherent. “I di’n’t ‘fend m’self?”

“Yes, she did. And we’re going to talk about it later, but you need to go back to sleep. I’ll be out in the other room if you need anything.” Blaise got up and started to leave.

“Blaise?”

“Yeah, mate?”

“She’s good frien’,” Draco said, and he drifted back to sleep. Blaise chuckled and left the bedroom.

***********

An hour later, Blaise woke up when he heard the door open. He peeked over the back of the sofa and saw his best friend, leaning against the door frame, bewildered.

“How did you get in here?” 

“Well, hello to you, too,” Blaise got up from the sofa and walked over to Draco. “I’ve been here for an hour. I talked to you when I first got here. Don’t you remember?”

“Uh, yeah, ’course,” Draco scoffed. “Excuse me, gotta pee.” He stumbled to the loo and shut the door.

Minutes later, he came back out and leaned against the island. “Where’s my mug? Did she hide it?” The accusatory tone was not unfamiliar to Blaise, but the context was surprising.

“Who, Granger? No, I cleaned up this pigsty of a suite, if you must know,” Blaise sneered. “Why don’t you sit down before you fall down and I’ll make you a cuppa.”

Too sore and tired to argue, Draco merely nodded and made his way to the sofa. He carefully sat down at one end, gripping the arm and wincing. “Ohhh,” he groaned.

“I can only imagine,” Blaise said, as he brought the steaming tea to Draco and sat next to him. “Now, tell me what happened that made you decide not to defend yourself, Malfoy.”

Draco rolled his eyes and took a sip of the tea. “Are there any more of those pills Granger has? I think I need one.”

“I’ll get you one after you tell me about it,” Blaise decreed.

“Bugger,” Draco snarled and he ran his hand through his hair. “I was walking Granger home, at your suggestion, I might add, when two boors from Gryiffindor appeared out of nowhere and decided I needed to be “taught a lesson” and started punching me.” He stopped and drank some more of his tea. 

“So why the martyrdom? I’ve never known you to shy away from a fight.”

“Blaise, you have no idea,” Draco said. He put his head in his hands and looked at the floor. “Every day since classes started, I have been bumped, tripped, hexed, spit on, insulted. You name it, it’s happened to me. And I get it. Really, I do.”

He looked up and straight at Blaise. “But it’s exhausting, trying to not let them get to me. Yesterday was the worst so far. As soon as I saw Peakes and Kirke, I knew it wouldn’t be pretty. But I made the decision that, if it would make Granger change her mind about me, I’d submit.”

“Malfoy, being a martyr does not look good on you,” Blaise smirked. “Why didn’t you let her take you to the Hospital Wing.?”

“And have everyone know what happened? It would have been open season on me. Every snivelling, drooling, barely out of nappies kid would think it was their Merlin-given right to make me bleed. And, I may have wanted Granger to see how I was different, but I’m not stupid. Now, about that pill?” Draco’s head was starting to feel as if an axe was cleaving it in half, but not cleanly.

“Do you know where she keeps them?” Blaise got up and started to look at her desk, then the island. 

“I think she put a couple on my nightstand. I vaguely remember her saying something when I went back to bed this morning. Check there.”

Blaise came back a minute later with the pills and handed them to Draco, who took them with a gulp of his tea. He sighed and laid his head back, waiting for the medicine to work its magic.

“So, Hermione took care of your injuries?” Blaise asked, after a minute.

“Uh, yeah. She episkey’d my nose, used dittany, and checked to see if there was any internal bleeding.” Draco smirked. “I think she took great delight in the episkey. A bit of revenge for herself, maybe.”

“Can’t say I blame her, but do you really think she would be that vindictive? This is Hermione bleeding-heart, everyone deserves a second chance, Granger.”

“So why were you so horrible to her, then? Embarrassment? Did she prevent the suffering you oh so deserve?”

“I wasn’t horrible to her!” Draco protested. “I just didn’t want her to see me like that, I guess.” 

He got up and unsteadily went to the kitchenette and grabbed an apple from the bowl sitting on the island. Polishing it, he took a bite out of it, but then groaned and put his hand to his jaw.

“Shite! I think my jaw is bruised, may have a tooth loose,” he said, grimacing. He opened a drawer and pulled out a paring knife and proceeded to quarter the apple and placed the pieces on a plate.

After sitting back down, he looked sheepishly at Blaise. “I know I was nasty. Can I blame it on being in pain?”

“Did it occur before or after she episkey’d you?” Blaise smirked.

“Well, no, I guess not. It was as I was going to bed. I think I was afraid she was going to follow me to my room and tuck me in,” Draco said, with a cheeky grin. After a moment he said, ruefully, “I suppose I should apologise, no?”

“I think that would go a long way. It never hurts to show that you’re repentant.”

“But that makes me vulnerable. To her. I can’t let her see that, don’t you understand?” Draco asked.

“Any more vulnerable than yesterday when you might have been left for dead if not for her? No, I don’t really see that. What’s wrong with being authentic? Telling her the truth? I know you like her; Ginny knows you like her, what’s wrong with letting her know? She might even surprise you.”

Draco was silent. Then he dropped his head on the back of the sofa and sighed. 

“I suppose I could apologise. Do you think she’d believe me?”

“If you do it right. Of course, you have to mean it,” Blaise quipped.

“I do mean it, Zabini! It’s just not something I’ve had a lot of experience in,” Draco replied.

“You can say that again,” Blaise laughed, then yelled, “Ow!” when Draco punched his arm.

“You must be starting to feel better, Malfoy, that was uncalled for,” Blaise pouted.

“I guess,” Draco replied, “I think I might need to go back to bed for a bit. Plan my strategy, you know. Cuz, Slytherin,” he laughed.  

Blaise joined him in laughter. “All right, my friend, you go back to bed and get well. I’ll come by again later. Or tomorrow. Depends on my plans.”

“With Ginny?” Draco smirked.

“Who else?” Blaise retorted. “We haven’t talked yet, but I’m assuming she’s up for something.”

“Well, don’t let me stand in your way, Zabini,” Draco gestured towards the door, “Far be it from me to keep a man from his woman.” He smiled and headed towards his bedroom. “Forgive me if I don’t see you out.”

“I know the way by now.” Zabin quipped and quietly left the room.

*****

The next few days were mostly spent with Draco recovering in bed and Hermione checking in on him periodically. She brought him his homework and food, and pretty much left him alone. She redid the Prefect schedule and told the Headmistress that he had a come down with Black Cat Flu. She reassured McGonagall that she’d had it when she was on the run during the war and therefore immune.

After a week, Draco felt well enough to leave his room for classes. He did not go to any meals, so Hermione continued to bring them back for him. He was terse with his thanks, preferring to eat them in his room and all in all avoiding his suitemate.

One afternoon, Hermione stormed in the room and threw her bookbag on the couch, threw herself on it as well, and grabbed her head with both hands. She yelled in frustration and Draco threw open his door, wand in hand.

“What?! What!” Draco responded. “What’s going on?” He looked wildly around the room, lighting finally on Hermione, who hadn’t moved since her vocal assault on the room.

“Granger, what’s going on? Are you hurt?” He quickly made his way to where she was sitting and stood over her, eyes narrowed, trying to see if there was anything physically wrong. 

Slowly, she raised her head and looked at him, peeking between her fingers. 

“Ron, who else?”

That was a minefield Draco was sure he didn’t want to enter. But…

“Oh?”

“He sent me a howler and I got it in the library. Enough said?”

Draco grimaced. “Sure. But I did want to talk to you for a moment. If you have the patience for me, that is.”

She nodded.

“Ok, hang on.” He turned and went back into his room. Hermione picked up the books and supplies that had fallen out of her bag when she threw it on the sofa. She couldn’t begin to think what it was that Draco wanted to talk to her about. They had been cordial to each other while he was recovering. She had let him know that she told McGonagall that he had Black Cat Flu so to ward off any curious questions about his disappearance from school life. She never said anything when she brought him food and work; the food just seemed to appear under a stasis charm and the classwork was always on the table in front of the sofa. 

Draco, for his part, did not question the food or the homework, nor did he acknowledge it other than to eat and read. He knew he needed to talk to her, but he wasn’t sure how to go about it, and he didn’t want to break the fragile balance between amity and solitude.

He returned and sat down on the sofa and turned towards Hermione. He cleared his throat and looked around the room, trying to figure out how to start. 

“Out with it, Malfoy,” Hermione said, her impatience getting the better of her.

“OK. Look,” he began. “I know I was horrible to you right after the, well, you know, and I want you to know that I am grateful for everything that you’ve done for me. From healing me, to covering for me, to bringing me whatever I needed.”

“Malfoy—” Hermione started, but Draco held up his hand.

“No, let me keep going, or I’ll never get it all out,” he explained. When she nodded, he continued.

“I was embarrassed. Pure and simple, and while it doesn’t happen often, when it does, I want to run away and lick my wounds." 

“I still believe I deserved it. All of it. But you didn’t deserve my outburst after you patched me up. You deserved my gratitude, my thanks and for not giving you that, I apologise.” He paused, thinking. “Yes, that’s twice now I’ve apologised to you. Don’t get used to it,” he smirked.

Hermione snorted. “I would never,” she laughed. Then she grew serious. “Malfoy, I knew why you were acting out the way you did. You were hurting, humiliated and for some reason decided that you merited the beat down. I shouldn’t have snapped back at you with the expectation of a thank you at that moment. You were in no condition to think about anything beyond your injuries and your mental state and I should have taken that into account.”

Draco nodded, not quite accepting what she said about him. He put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a small white box with a purple bow on it and enlarged it. 

“These are for you.” He handed her the box and she looked at him in surprise.

“Draco, you didn’t have to… oh!” Hermione opened the box as she was talking and her eyes grew wide. 

Inside was an assortment of sugar quills from Honeydukes. Hermione looked back at Draco with an expression of wonderment.

“Sugar Quills?!” she exclaimed. “They were out of them the last time I went to Hogsmeade; that was the day you got hurt.”

“Yeah, well they were still out; apparently third year girls are turning them into candy necklaces. One of the muggleborns told them about a muggle necklace made out of candy and they liked using the sugar quills because you can drive a hole in them without them shattering. Mr. Flume says he can’t keep them on the shelves.”

“So how did you get them?” Hermione raised an eyebrow as if she was expecting some sleight of hand on his part.

“I owled my mother,” Draco said, feeling his face flush from embarrassment. “She sent them to me.”

“Did you tell her who they were for?” Hermione laughed. She could only imagine the look on Narcissa Malfoy’s face when he told her who the candy was for.

“She didn’t ask and I didn’t tell. She knows my sweet tooth.” Draco grinned. He reached for one of the candies. Before he could grab it, Hermione slapped his hand.

When he looked at her like she’d hexed him, she said,” What?! They’re mine aren’t they? Just ask me first.” She pulled one out of the box and handed it to him. “Tosser,” she muttered. He took it from her and she picked out one for herself.

For a couple of minutes, they said nothing to each other, just enjoyed the sugary candy. 

“Draco,” Hermione said, suddenly serious, “thank you. But you really didn’t have to do this.”

“I know I didn’t have to do this, Granger,” he said, “I wanted to. And did you just call me Draco?”

“No, I absolutely did not,” Hermione said without missing a beat, “I can’t believe you would say such a thing.” Then she turned her head so he wouldn’t see her smile.

“Hmmm, I don’t know Granger, I’m pretty sure I heard my first name come from your lips,” Draco said, not quite ready to let it go. “Just admit it, I’m growing on you.”

“Ha! Like that mould that keeps appearing under the sink in the loo,” Hermione laughed. She was trying to keep the conversation light, but her mind was racing with possibilities. The possibility that he more than just tolerated her, he actually liked her. The even scarier possibility was that she liked him, too.

“Fine,” Draco pouted. He finished his sugar quill.

*****************

After Draco’s apology and surprising gift of sugar quills, Hermione sought out Ginny. She found her on the quidditch pitch, riding her broom.

“Hey, Hermione! Did you need something?” Ginny waved to her friend.

“Yeah, got a minute?” Hermione shielded her eyes from the sun. 

“For you? Always!” Ginny slowly drifted towards the ground, hopping off at the last second. She trotted over to where Hermione was sitting in the Gryffindor stands. 

“What’s up?”

“Um, well, now you’re here, I’m not quite sure where to start,” Hermione said sheepishly.

“I can start for you,” Ginny said with a gleam in her eyes. “How are those sugar quills you got recently?”

Hermione’s eyes widened. “How did you know? Wait, don’t tell me, Blaise knew about it.”

“Of course he did,” Ginny laughed. 

“Well, the other day, Draco confronted me and said he wanted to talk to me. Ginny, he apologised for being such a wanker after he was attacked. He said he was embarrassed and he just wished he could have run off by himself and lick his wounds.”

“Oh wow, really?” Ginny was astonished, but not surprised.

“Yeah, he said he was grateful for my help in healing him. He still feels that he deserved the beat down, but I didn’t deserve his anger. And then, he gave me a box of sugar quills.”

“He did? How did he get them? Weren’t they out at Honeydukes?”

“His mother. He asked her for them,” Hermione giggled, “He didn’t tell her who they were for, said he’d always had a sweet tooth.”

“That’s amazing, and kinda sweet, too.”

“Yeah, I only have one question, though,” Hermione said, peering at Ginny suspiciously, “how did he know they were my favourite?”

“Hmm, now how would I know? Maybe a little bird told him,” Ginny replied cheekily. 

“A little bird on a Nimbus 2000, maybe?”

“I’ll never tell,” Ginny laughed. “So, have you forgiven him?”

“There was nothing to forgive, I did accept his apology, though and we may have shared a sugar quill or two.”

“Well, good,” Ginny said emphatically, “he’s not a bad guy, you know. I know you live with him, but you were always predisposed to not like anything he does or says.”

“I’m beginning to see that more and more. I’ve noticed some things that I don’t think I would have been aware of otherwise.”

“Such as?”

Hermione told Ginny about the time that a first year couldn’t reach a book in the library and he got it down for her. Then there was walking into Potions early and seeing him sweeping up some glass, using a broom. And finally, she noticed him in Hagrid’s garden, helping the caretaker roll the pumpkins over so they didn’t rot on the bottom. 

“There are others, but those were the main things. I don’t understand him anymore. When he’s not being a perverse wizard, it throws me for a loop. The world feels like it’s tilted on its axis, you know?”

Ginny gave her a small knowing smile. “Oh, I know, believe me. I felt the same way when Blaise first asked if he could help me with a runes problem. He saw me almost breaking my quill in frustration and came over to the table. Then, he was getting ready to take the last croissant and reached for it at exactly the same time as Michael Corner, and he let him have it.”

“Oh, oh, I forgot one!” Hermione practically jumped to her feet in excitement. “This I know you won’t believe. He was teaching someone to ride a broom! Can you imagine? I think he must have been imperiused. The student was abysmal, a second year, and beyond frustrated. Draco helped them up when they fell off, scourgified the dirt off her knees and actually patted her shoulder. I couldn’t believe it!”

“Wait, why were you in the field?” Ginny narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Were you spying on him?” 

Hermione blushed. She should have known that Ginny would pick up on the fact that she was borderline stalking Draco.

“Well….” she trailed off.

“You do like him! I knew it!” Ginny clapped her hands in delight. “Oh, Hermione, trust me, he is a much better person than you knew two years ago. I saw him during school last year when the Carrows were torturing us in the name of training. He was just like Neville - he took Crucios for students, was constantly in detention, and Merlin knows what they did to him in there; he healed first and second years and helped them fake crucios so the students casting them didn’t have to do it. It was like he had something to prove to the rest of us, or, or, or,” she stammered, “he was trying to make up for letting the Death Eaters into the castle.”

Hermione had nothing to say to this. She’d had no idea Draco had done all of that for other students. She’d heard how horrible it was under the Carrow twins and was actually grateful that she wasn’t at Hogwarts last year. 

“Well, what are you going to do now?” Ginny wanted to know. 

“I’m going to think about all of this,” Hermione. 

Ginny’s shoulders slumped. “But Hermione, you’ve seen it yourself—”

“I know, I know. I just,” she paused, “after Ron, and his continued harassment, I don’t really want another potentially disastrous…” she let it fade away. “I don’t want to say anything that might come back and bite me, “ she said, but when she saw the crestfallen look on Ginny’s face, “Don’t worry, you’ll be the first to know.” And she left it at that.

***********************

Later that night, Hermione and Draco were sitting in their dorm, each working on their own homework. It was unusual for Hermione to not be studying in the library, but after all of the revelations she’d heard from Ginny, she found that she wanted to be in the room. In his presence. Maybe if she saw him up close again, something would give him away and she wouldn’t be forced to see him in a completely new light.

Draco finished his arithmancy homework and was sitting in silence when he heard a growl. 

“Granger?”

“Hmm?” Hermione barely answered she was so engrossed in her second sugar quill.

“I think your stomach is trying to tell you something. You hungry?” Draco looked over at Hermione.

She thought about it for a moment. “I guess I am a little. I skipped lunch so I could work in the library, but when Ron’s howler came, I completely forgot about food and missed supper.”

Draco jumped up, took the box of candy from Hermione and set it on the coffee table. He grabbed Hermione by the arms and pulled her to her feet.

“Come on, Granger!” He pulled her towards the door, all the while Hermione tried to protest.

“Wait, Malfoy! Where are we going?” She tried to pull back and stop Draco’s forward momentum but was unsuccessful. 

“Just shut up and come with me, you’ll see,” Draco said, continuing to pull her towards the door. 

“Oh, alright, but it better be good; I still have some studying to do.” Hermione let herself be dragged through the portrait.

Down they went, past the classroom hallways, past the Great Hall, almost to the Slytherin dungeons. Draco stopped before a picture of fruit and tickled the pear in the middle of the arrangement. Hermione watched, wide-eyed as Malfoy opened the door and led her into the kitchens.

“Granger, don’t tell me you’ve never been down here? With the Weasel even? Surely he knew how to get into the kitchens.” Draco was surprised that she’d never been down there.

“Of course he did, I did see them once, but I didn’t really look around. I just saw all the elves and wanted…well, you know what I wanted.” Hermione walked further in and saw a couple of house elves sitting at a table. They jumped at the sight of the two students.

“Oh, I’m sorry, did we disturb you?” Hermione walked towards them, hoping to put them at ease. They walked right past her to Draco.

“Master Malfoy, can we help you?” This was posed by a small female elf wearing a green pinafore.

“Why is she with you?” The male elf gave Hermione a less than pleasant glare.

Hermione didn’t know what to do. She sort of remembered that the elves were very upset with her during fourth year when she tried to free so many, but she thought maybe they would have forgotten. Apparently not.

“Dusty, watch your manners,” Draco admonished the elf, whose ears drooped. “Miss Granger is a friend of mine and you are to treat her the same way you treat me.”

“Yes, Master Malfoy, Dusty, will be kind,” the elf replied, then muttered, “even if she wasn’t.”

Draco started to say something again to the elf, when Hermione stopped him.

“It’s ok, Malfoy, I understand.” Then she knelt in front of Dusty and looked at him, eye to eye.

“Dusty, will you accept my apology for assuming you needed freeing? I understand the dynamics of elves much better now and I want to make amends.” She held out her hand.

With a bit of hesitation, followed by a throat clearing by Draco, Dusty took Hermione’s hand begrudgingly.

“Alright, Miss Granger, but promise you will stop freeing us. We likes it here.”

“Of course.” She stood back up and looked at the second elf. “And what’s your name?”

“I is Jancy, Miss Granger, and I likes you,” Jancy said, shaking her hand and looking back at Dusty with a smirk. 

Dusty rolled his eyes. “Jancy wasn’t here back then,” he harrumphed and crossed his arms. 

Hermione laughed and looked at Draco.

 ‘Well? What did you bring me down here for? I don’t see any food.”

“Just you wait, Granger, just you wait,” Draco said. He turned to the two elves. “What’s there to eat, you two? Any leftovers?”

“Leftovers? We would never give Miss and Master leftovers. We’ll have something ready for you in no time.” Dusty took Jancy by the arm and walked back towards the table. The two of them snapped their fingers and the table was immediately laden with just the type of food meant for a late night kitchen raid.

Bread, cheese, pumpkin juice, fruit, and ice cream kept cold by a stasis charm were displayed like the most exclusive wedding buffet. The two elves gave each of the students a plate and gestured for them to help themselves.

Hermione was gobsmacked. She knew her stomach growled, but she didn’t realise how hungry she was until she saw the spread.

“Nice, isn’t it?” Draco whispered in her ear. “I can’t believe you don't remember being in here.” He started loading up his plate.

“Uh, yeah,” she said, “what? Not everything I did with Harry and Ron was against the rules. On the contrary, I’m usually a very by the book person.” She sniffed and started with two pieces of home made bread, some cheese and fruit on her plate, and poured herself a cup of pumpkin juice.

They sat in companionable silence while they ate. Draco had told Dusty and Jancy that they could go to bed; he and Hermione would clean up when they were done.

“So, Malfoy, I noticed you down at Hagrid’s the other day. Were you really rolling over a pumpkin?” She hid her smirk behind her napkin, enjoying watching Draco squirm just the slightest bit.

“Yeah,” he said sheepishly, “I saw him struggling and just thought that maybe he could use a hand.” He began to eat to cover up his embarrassment.

“And I also remember that time I walked into the potions classroom early and saw you sweeping up some glass using a broom and not magic?”

“What are you getting at, Granger?” He slowed his eating and looked at her closely. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were stalking me.” He winked and went back to his food.

“Oh no, no, no!” Hermione exclaimed, even though she had admitted that very thought to Ginny. “No, I just happened to see them and it made me wonder if there was some sort of motive behind it. Other than altruistic, of course.” Realising it sounded like she was suspicious of him, she tried to backpedal.

“But, Ginny told me something about last year that I’m curious about. She said that you helped the younger students fake being crucio’d so the ones who were casting it didn’t have to actually do it. Is that true?”

Draco cleared his throat. Delaying his answer, he took a big swig of pumpkin juice and tried not to look at Hermione. Unfortunately he couldn’t look away.

“Um, yeah. It was just so wrong for the Carrows to do that to everyone. It certainly separated out the sadists from everyone else. My aunt had forced me to learn the cruciatus curse the summer before seventh year and told me the ins and outs of faking it and what casting dark magic does to a person. I just couldn’t see letting those monsters ruin the lives of the students who were forced to cast it and those who had to receive it. I knew what it felt like and I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.”

Hermione looked at him with soft eyes. She was thinking back to when she was on the floor of his drawing room when Bella was torturing her. She remembered looking over towards him and seeing the look of what she at the time had thought was disgust but now realised had been despair in his eyes. She scooted closer to him.

“That was a very Gryffindor thing to do, you know? You were taking a risk that the Carrows would catch you out. I can only imagine how they would have so enjoyed punishing you.”

Draco laughed. “I think that’s the first and probably last time anybody has compared me to a Gryffindor, you know.”

Hermione smiled beatifically. “Oh, I don’t know, you might surprise yourself.”

“Yeah, right. Can I let you in on a little secret?” Draco asked her shyly.

“Sure,” she replied.

“So sweeping up in the potions room? That is a condition of my probation. I’m supposed to perform so many hours of community service, so the Headmistress let it be known among the staff and they’ve reached out.”

“How many hours do you have to perform?”

“2500. It doesn’t all have to be here. When I graduate I’ll have to find somewhere in London to continue it. They have to be completed by the time my probation ends.” He looked down at his plate.

“Wow, Malfoy, that’s quite a lot. How many have you already performed?” Hermione’s mind was already spinning with ideas for him to continue after school.

“About 750 so far. I do about 15-20 hours a week.”

“So, whenever you’re not in the dorm, you’re working on this?”

“Pretty much,” Draco said. “I figure if I get in as many as I can before leaving Hogwarts, I might be able to finish them up during the summer and then start a career, or whatever, free and clear.”

“Oh, Draco,” Hermione said, grabbing his arm. “Ginny was right, you really have changed.” She looked him in the eye and said, “I’m glad to get to know this Draco Malfoy.”

Hermione looked at Draco looking at her. His face was frozen in a kind of wary surprise. She could tell he wasn’t sure he believed her, so she threw caution to the wind and leaned in and gave him a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth, unsure as to how he would take it.

She let it lay there, waiting for his response.  Either he wouldn’t move a muscle and wait for her to back up and then tell her to get the hell away from him. Or he would pull away, look embarrassed and ask her to pretend it never happened. 

It was not what she thought it was going to be. 

She felt his arms go around her and pull her to him. He shifted his mouth so that it was on hers fully and turned his head just the slightest. Then he returned the kiss. 

Hermione’s eyes flew open in shock. Draco’s were closed and so she did the only thing she could do, she closed them again and kissed him back.

When they finally pulled away from each other, Hermione looked at Draco with mischief in her eyes. 

“So, the girl who was falling off her broom? Was that part of community service, too?”

Draco looked at her in shock as he realised what she was talking about. Then he rolled his eyes and dropped his head on her shoulder.

“Merlin, were you there too? You were stalking me!” He seemed angry, but she could tell he wasn’t, not really.

“I swear I wasn’t, Draco,” she laughed. 

“You know that’s the second time tonight you’ve called me Draco,” he said. 

“Well, it is your name,” she flounced, “Malfoy just sounds like the name of a nasty person, spoiled, quick to point the finger, ‘wait 'til my father hears about this’,” she said, imitating him, “Draco is the name of someone I’d like to get to know better. Someone who cares and works hard and wants to redeem himself.”

“Well, Hermione,” Draco said, enunciating every syllable, “Granger is the name of a know-it-all, insufferable, bossy, big-haired Gryffindor. Hermione, now that’s the name of someone who is perceptive and notices the small things, who gives others a chance. Still has big hair, though,” he laughed and moved out of the way just in time to avoid a swat. He came back to her and pulled her into his arms. “I like Hermione.”

“Good, because I’m expecting to hear it said much more often,” she declared. Then, with a serious expression, she looked at Draco and asked, 

“Will you teach me to fly?”