Chapter Text
“Good morning, class,” an entirely too awake Professor McGowan greeted her optional eighth years. A groan returned her greeting, not that she cared. She would make make the most daring go at Project House Unity. “Today, we will be starting a long term project.” Another round of groans. “As you all know, we have been reading muggle literature, relating what we know of their culture with our’s. Now then, if you could all open your books to page…”
Quills scratched all around her, though none quite so quickly or forcefully as Hermione Granger’s. The young woman leaned over her parchment, listening if not fully awake, as her quilled danced along the scroll before her. Intelligent brown eyes glanced from the board to her scroll and back, as her hand tucked a wayward curl behind her ear. Chestnut, fizzy hair over time became a tamed mane of regal curls. Just as her figure filled out in a most pleasing manner.
Life after the war had been a whirlwind of activity. Between rebuilding and roiling emotions, Hermione found herself as exhausted as before and during the war, if not more so. She never found time to take care of her hair, nor really mind it. As far as she was concerned, her body didn’t really feel that different, though the way boys stared at her now would prove her wrong.
Yet, here she sat, scant months after the last battle held here. She half expected several new ghosts to haunt her. Even if their semi-transparent forms didn’t follow her every move, their deaths never left her mind, nor did her nightmares. It didn’t surprise her, therefore, when a scant few students returned for their optional 8th year.
Honey eyes surveyed the room around her, taking in what was left of her Hogwarts year. She and Neville, the only Gryffindors, sat together at one desk. Padma Patil and couple other Ravenclaws came back, as well as a few Hufflepuffs; most notably Hannah Abbott and Ernie McMillan. Perhaps the most surprising return were the Slytherins. While the return Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini, or Theodore Nott left most wary, the honor of biggest surprise went to the return of Draco Malfoy.
Hermione couldn’t bring herself to hate the boy, not anymore, not when she saw him at his own home. Living with that everyday, unwitting and unwilling witness of so much evil and pain, Hermione couldn’t fathom the changes her classmate underwent during those times. She knew of her own demons, some of them brought alive by his own family. The amount that he must have now, the thought physically pained her.
She shuddered, her hand unconsciously gripping her left arm. However, Professor McGowan’s bright, sunny voice pierced through her foggy mood. How much bloody pepper up does this woman put in her tea, Hermione bitterly thought, trying to focus once more on class.
“Now then, time for my biggest surprise of the day,” the peppy blonde in front of her grinned at her catatonic class. “I am proud to announce a large project! For this project, I will pair each of you with a partner. You will each receive a genre of entertainment, be it literature, film, or television. Together, you will need to do a thorough research of what similarities and differences you find, think big and think deep, children! Not just ‘he can use a point me spell’ and ‘they use automobiles.’
“You will have three months to research, and write me an essay, at least three to four feet. Include what muggle devices, processes, or methods they would use in replacement of magic, as well as the pros and cons of each method,” the professor listed, ticking a finger with each objective.
“Finally, based on your genre and medium of choice, I will construct a situation reminiscent and influenced by your topic. Therefore, it would behoove you to seriously research your topic of choice, any and every theorem and idea beforehand. You will have a week to achieve your objectives that I will give to you before you enter. Your marks will come from a combination of your essay, and how many objectives you complete. There will be a bonus objective, naturally, as well as a main task. Any questions?”
The class stared agape at their professor. They knew that all the other teachers were becoming sadistic with their homework and projects, but Hermione hoped that this class would at least remain somewhat sane. Within moments, a buzz went through the students, some asking questions and others babbling happily to each other.
“What other work are we expected to do in addition to this project?” A ravenclaw asked.
“Ah yes, good question,” Professor McGowan nodded. “You will still be receiving normal assignments from me, as well as practice NEWTs. I will work to make your normal assignments little check points for your large project. Class time will be used as a research and consultation period. Each class period, I will make sure that every group is making satisfactory progress.”
Hermione’s hand began to cramp from all the writing. She had to do well, there was no other option. She vowed to do whatever it took to make it a success.
“Now then, on to your partners,” the cheery petite woman clapped. “You will work in pairs, and once it is chosen, there is no switching.” Her hazel eyes glinted with mischief, a look Hermione instantly mistrusted. “Let’s begin.”
Hermione half listened to the first few pairs, wondering why the woman looked so damn pleased with herself. After the first couple, a Ravenclaw she barely noticed and a random Hufflepuff, Hermione began to understand the exact reason why she appeared so happy.
“Neville Longbottom will work with Pansy Parkinson,” she recited with a smile. Neville squeaked and cast a worried glance at Hermione. Honestly, he could race up to Voldemort and chop off the snake’s head right in front of a horde of evil, but he panics at the thought of working with a Slytherin, her amused musing took her as she reassuringly patted his back. “Theodore Nott and Ernie McMillan. Hannah Abbott and Blaise Zabini.”
Hermione’s face began to pale, faint and dizzy. If they were already paired like this, there were very few choices left to her. The impish gleam in her eye left no doubt. She knew who her partner was before the professor in front of her even uttered a syllable.
“Finally, Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy,” she smiled. “Now then, the rest of your class will be spent choosing your genre. I will need your medium by the beginning of next class as well. Now then, pair up you lot!”
Slow shuffling echoed through the suddenly silent room. Hermione received many a pitying and understanding glance. How she kept herself from growling, she didn’t know, but at last, she stood up and walked towards the intimidating blonde in the corner of the class. She didn’t want or need their sympathy. It’s not like they were delivering her to a snatcher, for Merlin’s sake! She was a big girl war veteran, and Hermione knew she could handle a single ferret.
Her piercing gaze scrutinized the young man before her, for they weren’t children any longer. The gaunt, worn appearance he sported for most of the past year and a half began to fade away, and a more healthful countenance took over. He grew into his pointy features, appearing aristocratic and refined, and muscle tugged at his robes.
What shocked Hermione the most, though, were the expression in his grey eyes. She recognized them, because saw it every time she looked in a mirror. Dead. Tired. Done. Exhausted with the world, not caring what happened next. She couldn’t even muster surprise or disgust, because she didn’t have it within her anymore. They both saw things, went through events, that could never be undone.
At that moment, a spark of recognition and understand flared between the two. She noticed that, while she had been observing her former enemy, he examined her in much the same way. He knew as well as she that they shared important similarities. Few would be able to accept them as they were. She sighed and sat the chair across from him. They regarded each other for some time more, neither choosing to acknowledge the tense glances from the rest of class.
“Malfoy,” Hermione nodded.
“Granger,” he said, never breaking eye contact.
“Can we get through this without killing each other?” she asked, head cocked to the side.
“Most likely,” he smirked, though Hermione noticed it didn’t reach his eyes.
“I just,” she began quietly, leaning back slightly while pinching the bridge of her nose. “I don’t want to fight anymore, not even with you. I’m too damn tired to care that much right now.”
“I never really wanted to fight, either,” Malfoy shrugged across from her. “Truce?”
Hermione looked at him once again, a million memories assaulting her from all sides. From his taunting and teasing, to her punch, all leading to the past few months. She looked at his outstretched hand, and took it. With a tentative, firm shake, they came to an agreement.
“Truce,” she agreed. An eyebrow raised as both students heard the audible whoosh of the rest of the class. “Merlin, I’m tired of being a spectacle as well.”
She resisted the urge to slump forward and bang her head on the desk before her with great force. Settling for her forehead upon her hand, a throaty chuckle made her blush. Growls and unintelligible murmurs flew from her mouth, before Hermione decided to look up. To her great surprise, a small, almost smile graced Malfoy’s face.
“And here, I thought you’d be used to it,” he chuckled once more.
“Harry took the brunt of the publicity,” she replied, sticking out her tongue. “That one time in fourth year was more than enough for me. I just want people to leave me alone.”
“Well, speaking from experience, once you make the news for something huge, you never leave it,” Malfoy replied, stormy eyes looking far beyond the room. “You’ll just have to get used to it, Granger.”
“That’s what Harry said,” she made another face at the memory.
“Remember, class, you need your genre by the end of class,” Professor McGowan reminded the obviously distracted class. Her eyes twinkled at the sight of the two former rivals speaking so civilly together. Professors McGonagall and Dumbledore will be more than excited to hear about this development.
An excited buzz ran through the class once more, as students began to work upon their projects in earnest. Hermione cast a calculating glance around the class before her. She knew, once Neville and Pansy were announced as partners, that Professor McGowan’s project meant to further Project House Unity. Indeed, their very pairing assured the brunette as much.
“So, any ideas of what you want to research?” Hermione asked, trying to avoid over analyzing her current situation.
“Honestly, Granger, I don’t care,” Malfoy responded with a sigh. “As long as it’s not something so Hufflepuff as romance, I think I will live.”
“No romance then,” she chuckled softly, seeing that the snarky side of Malfoy still existed. It somehow comforted her, as she caught herself thinking maybe she could become more like her self, too. Her parchment contained the list of applicable genres, scratching out those unfit. “I don’t want any drama or slapstick comedy. I’ve never been the wittiest in that department.”
“Hey, I like comedy,” Malfoy said, leaning over to see her list. “And really, Granger, not witty?”
“I would point you towards Harry or Ron to tell you about my jokes, but knowing you, it wouldn’t matter,” she rolled her eyes as she tried to suppress a blush. “What about mystery?”
“I think that could work,” he slowly responded, thinking as he spoke. “It certainly would keep even your mind occupied.”
“Don’t try and tell me you wouldn’t like a nice challenge every now and again,” she smirked at the blonde before her.
“Oh? And how would you know that?” he replied in kind, a strange sparkle in his eyes.
“How else would you be second in our year otherwise?” she retorted.
“Ah, you know about that,” Malfoy titled his head in thought. “I thought it would be because I beat you out in potions every year. Except for sixth year, where Potter beat us both.”
“One subject, Malfoy, and by what, one or two percent,” she resisted the urge to stick her tongue out once more. “And Harry didn’t beat us. Snape’s notes in Harry’s potions book did.”
“I knew he was cheating,” the blonde exploded, standing up from his chair. A clatter brought the class’ attention to the pair. “Wait, is that were he got that damn spell from, too?”
Hermione could barely keep herself from laughing at the uncharacteristic outburst. Her hand covered her mouth keeping most of the giggles and snickers to herself. He shot her a withering glare, picking up the displaced chair before seating himself once more.
“Where else would Harry learn something that dark?” Hermione retorted once able.
“Bloody hurt like hell,” Malfoy grumbled as he averted his gaze from the girl before him.
“Yeah, I scolded Harry after that. Haven’t let him live it down, to be honest,” Hermione cringed at the memory of her best friend’s shocked face. “You’d think he’d learn after second year, really.”
“Second year? What does the Chamber of Secrets have to do with magical books,” he asked, inquisitive and interested. Hermione grinned as he quickly put together the dots, something she knew neither Harry nor Ron could do on a consistent basis. “I heard something of a book, but could that…?”
At that moment, their petite professor sidled next to Hermione before taking a seat. She smiled, far too wide and pleased for Hermione’s liking. Hazel eyes regarded the two students before her, noticing their sudden stiff posture and wary stares. The woman held her hands up in surrender, hoping to appease the pair.
Rumors throughout the open wartime raged in her ears. While she may be an adult and authority figure, her fellow professors had made her all too aware of their abilities. Draco Malfoy, former Death Eater, the boy who sat before her, was said to be trained in the Dark Arts by his deranged aunt and her dark lord. Second in his year, Headmistress McGonagall and Professor Flitwick warned her of his apparent skill with a wand.
Across, sat the Golden Girl, Hermione Granger. Known as the brightest witch of her age, the Headmistress practically gushed with pride about her proficiency with magic. Indeed, she knew very few who could challenge her in a duel within the school, perhaps only the boy across from her now. Together, McGowan knew that they made a formidable team. She also realized that the scrutinizing stares they gave her were less than encouraging. To be honest, they were down right terrifying.
“Well then, what have you two chose to do?” she asked, attempting to hide her fear with cheer.
“Mystery, professor,” Hermione politely answered, her gaze never dropping or changing.
“Magnificent, quite a wide array to cover for your project then,” she smiled, her mind otherwise occupied. Yikes, kids shouldn’t be this damn intimidating, she gulped. “And what medium would you two like to pursue? I know you don’t have to choose today, but just in case…”
“Literature,” the boy answered, tone indifferent.
“Excellent, marvelous,” she clapped, hoping that neither noticed her sweat under their intense study. “I am so happy you two chose this particular avenue! I will be most excited to prepare your tasks and situation.”
As she walked away, Professor McGowan watched Hermione and Draco surreptitiously. Her hope to glean more information to give to the Headmistress proved fruitful enough, but what she saw surprised her even more. The pair turned back towards each other, talking quietly. Instead of the tense awareness, alone they sat relaxed, even as the girl let her head slide to the table.
“Merlin, I scare most of the professors now,” she groaned, forehead firmly against the wood of the desk.
“Really Granger?” Malfoy sniggered across from her. “You went out, incapacitated, if not killed, quite a few people, who, might I add, were rather powerful and knowledgeable in the dark arts, while helping to bring down the darkest wizard of our time, and now have quite the intimidating stare.” She could almost hear his smirk. “It’s natural that people should fear you; it’s as intertwined with respect as any other emotion.”
“That doesn’t mean the professors have to be afraid,” she muttered. “I’ve been here since I was eleven, and only Professor Flitwick and Professor McGonagall can look at me with flinching. Even Sprout shies away from me!”
“Welcome to the club,” Malfoy smirked, obviously enjoying her current state of self pity.
“Your club sucks,” she retorted, finally looking up at her partner. A smile tugged at her mouth when she saw the mischief in his eyes and trademark smirk back in place. She observed that it no longer malicious, instead playful and teasing. “Although, it does have it’s perks. Filch doesn’t even speak to me, and Mrs. Norris runs the opposite direction.”
“Obviously. Something good has to come from all of this,” he drawled. “Now then, I think we were talking about a book and how it pertains to the Chamber of Secrets?”
“Now, that is a mystery for another day,” she replied, a mirroring smirk on her face.
~~~ | ELEMENTARY | ~~~
“Did you see that,” the black haired witch across from Neville hissed.
His eyes immediately followed her gaze to find the oddest, yet most cliché and obvious, pairing. Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger sat at a table in the corner of the class, well away from the rest of them. Moments ago, he watched with bated breath, along with everyone else in the room, when the announced their truce.
That did not prepare him for what happened next.
“A-are they laughing?” he whispered, glancing up at the Slytherin.
“I-I think so,” she murmured in response. “Sweet Salazar, I haven’t seen Draco that normal since the end of fifth year.”
“I know what you mean,” Neville nodded as he watched the oblivious pair. “Hermione’s been serious ever since Dumbledore… You know…”
All Pansy nodded in agreement. These two students, who had been at each other’s throats for years, appeared at ease around each other. Which really was funny, she figured, seeing as most people outside their immediate friend group couldn’t relax around them. Needless to say, they were quite unnerving now in their various stages of depression and ‘getting over it’ as she termed the mental state.
“Parkinson, you don’t think that they could actually get on, do you?” Neville asked in wonder, as he heard some chuckling.
“I never thought I’d say this, but I think they already are,” she glanced at the boy by her side.
“Why hello Pansy, Neville, how are you both doing?” the cheery professor interrupted their musings.
“F-fine, professor,” the startled Gryffindor answered.
Pansy rolled her eyes. How he could be sorted into Gryffindor in the forest place mystified her. She thought she knew, as everyone else, after the last year, when he single handedly led a inter school rebellion. Hell, the boy had the balls to kill the Dark Lord’s familiar and pet right in front of the man! Any time outside of battle, he shook like a leaf. Figures.
“And what genre have you chosen?” she smiled, sugary sweet.
“Romance, film,” Pansy shrugged at the professor, wanting the peppy woman away from her as soon as possible.
“Wonderful! I will take this down now,” McGowan nodded as she wrote on a scroll. “Thank you both, and I hope you will have an excellent project!”
Releasing a breath he didn’t know he held, Neville glared daggers at his partner.
“Romanic films? Really?” he huffed as indignantly as possible.
“What? I wanted that cow away from me as soon as possible. I’m allergic to her perky this early in the morning,” she retorted.
“Still, did have to be romance?” Neville grumbled as he watched the blonde professor leave Nott and Hannah only to make her way towards Draco and Hermione.
“Now this is going to be interesting,” Pansy smirked as she watched their professor slide next to Hermione.
“That was stupid,” Neville grinned. “Trying to sneak up on them, and not expecting anything to happen?”
“Daft, that one,” Pansy agreed with an answering smile.
In an instant, their relaxed and easy body language gave way to stiff and suspicious. Even from this distance, Neville would have wilted under their combined glare. Sharing a glance with his partner, he decided that Pansy thought much the same. It wasn’t a secret that several professors, especially the newest ones who didn’t fight in the war, were afraid of some of the upperclassmen.
While Neville’s bumbling clumsiness and ease of manner assured him that none of his teachers would fear him, the boy knew the same couldn’t be said for his friend. He watched class after class of professors, some new and others old, that could barely keep eye contact with her. A sidelong glance at the girl beside him made him realize that she, too, received the same treatment.
“Can you see how nervous she is?” Pansy breathed, leaning close to Neville. He answered with a nod. “She’s lucky they are restraining themselves. Can you see their faces, ready to attack, even as she retreats to her desk.”
“What do you want me to say?” Neville shrugged. “If someone sneaked up behind me and tried to scare me, my first reflex is to hex them.”
Pansy watched the boy in thoughtful silence. Regrettably, most of their year honed a new type of reflex recently, one she even possessed. She knew, without asking, that the particular curse or spell would not be pleasant, nor harmless. Too often she awoke from dreams where her bed had taken some spell damage.
“You’d suppose they would warn the new professors how to deal with us,” Pansy answered at length. “Perhaps, McGowan decided to ignore it, which is moronic.” She watched as her partner’s jaw dropped, before following his gaze. “Merlin above.”
The smirk was back, in full force. Impish eyes, mischievous face, arms crossed, the whole of it. Pansy’s breath caught in her throat, turning away before she broke out crying. She hadn’t seen that on her best friend’s face in over a year. She wanted to burst out in tears and hug someone or do something.
“Bloody hell,” Neville whispered as he turned towards her. “She’s smirking right back at him.”
They stared at each other in wonder and silence. Neville thought that only being around Harry or Ron would bring Hermione back to herself, but apparently not. An awkward hand patted Pansy’s shoulder, hoping to keep her from crying. He never really knew what to do with a crying girl other than be a human handkerchief.
“You know what this means, right?” Pansy said after a moment, wiping her eyes with the palm of her hand.
“That they’re good for each other?” Neville ventured, not quite trusting the gleam in the Slytherin’s expression.
“Exactly,” she leaned towards him, and, in a conspiratorial whisper added, “So, we’re going to get them together.”
“What about blood purity and all of that,” Neville asked, barely hoping to breathe.
“I assure you that Draco hasn’t believed in that for years. Ironically, it is Granger’s fault for that,” she grinned at the brunette across from her. “And really, if I can’t make him laugh or smile or smirk, and she can? He’s like my brother, I’ve known him since we were in nappies. I want him to be happy.”
Neville regarded her for a moment, thoughtfully rubbing his chin all the while. It is true that this is the most normal he had seen his friend in a long, long time. Even after the war, when she was seen with Ron, she never seemed truly happy or at ease. Oh, she smiled and laughed for everyone, but he saw through the mask even when no one else did. He understood it.
“I can’t say I’ve known her as long, but I want the same for her,” he agreed. “But how?”
“Is she still with that Weasel?” Pansy asked, thoughtfully gazing at him.
“Ah, I-I don’t think so,” he winced at her recent rants. “I mean, they are technically still dating, but he’s been a real arse recently. She’s trying to preserve their relationship, but I don’t think that’s going to be possible.”
“Oh? Trouble in paradise?” she arched a perfectly curved brow.
“You can say that,” Neville sighed. “And when she finds out what exactly is causing that trouble, paradise will be lost. Well, when I say ‘finds out’ I mean ‘confirms her theory.’ That’s Hermione for you.”
“Do tell,” she grinned at the boy in front of her.
“You can’t go gossiping about this, Parkinson. I mean it when I say that it is going to all hit soon, and hard. She’s going to need friends, and she can’t know I told you this to spread around the school,” he leveled a firm stare.
“Why, Longbottom, I’m impressed. You grew a spine during the war,” she smirked at his scowl. “That was meant as a compliment, by the way. Yes, I promise to not spread this piece of juicy gossip if you tell me what her theory is. Perhaps, I could even speed up the process.”
Figuring that to be the best offer he’d receive, Neville agreed. For the rest of class, he explained the current situation and they began to flesh out a plan of sorts. They didn’t stop their planning and plotting until Professor McGowan’s announcement of five more minutes, the board now displaying the groups and what they chose. How fitting that Hermione would chose mystery, Neville thought to himself.
~~~ | ELEMENTARY | ~~~
“Any group that doesn’t have a genre will need to come up before the end of class or I will randomly assign one,” Professor McGowan instructed from the front of the room.
Hermione reflected on the past half hour with a mix of emotions. On one hand, she enjoyed the time thoroughly. She couldn’t remember the last time she relished a conversation. She knew, of course, Malfoy to be intelligent and quick witted. Hell, he had been her verbal sparring partner for almost six years!
What she didn’t expect was the turn of conversation from hostile to civil all at a single truce. Could being friendly be so easy? She barely knew how to handle the revelation. Perhaps her past view of Slytherins were too harsh, too judgmental. A glance around the room revealed that Neville and Pansy seemed to get on quite well, an observation shared by the blonde across from her.
It felt surreal to be sitting here, musing and debating with Draco Malfoy of all people. Just this morning, she thought it impossible, yet here they sat. She realized something else equally startling; Hermione could relax in his presence. Maybe it was their mutual understand, be it the verbal truce or the implied recognition.
“Isn’t this weird,” she mused allowed. “Talking and not actually insulting one another for once?”
“It’s been unusual,” Malfoy answered, casting a sidelong glance at her through his pale lashes. “I can’t say I imagined sitting here and talking with you to be so…”
“Easy?” Hermione supplied with a wry smile.
“Yes,” he said. “I do want to apologize, though, for before. All of it, really.”
“I forgave you a long time ago,” she murmured, looking straight into his silver eyes. “It hit me when we escaped and were banged up. Laying in a bed all day, I had nothing better to do.”
“I can imagine,” he grimaced. “Nothing but Potter and Weasel for company? My brain would rot.”
“They aren’t that bad,” she chuckled, defending her friends. “Just… Passed out themselves for whatever reason. Let’s say, I did a lot of thinking about what happened and decided I couldn’t hate you for it.”
Honey met silver, their eyes assessing the other. Hermione held a carefully neutral expression, hands folded on her lap as she stared at Malfoy. She felt and meant what she said, and hoped that he would understand. His eyes searched her own, probing for any sign of deceit only to find none. With a great gulp, he turned his gaze away from her intense eyes. A hand ran through his blonde hair, barely able to contain what he felt.
“Thank you,” he whispered in a low, soft voice right as the bell rang.
For a moment, neither teen moved as the rest of the class scurried away from the room. He couldn’t make her out, nor was she having much luck either. She didn’t know exactly what he apologized for, nor how much, but she knew he bore her no ill will. At least, not like he used to.
“No, thank you,” she smiled softly at him, a real smile this time.
He stopped breathing as he saw it directed at him for the first time. How he had missed her, missed this, before, and just for blood, he never knew. However, Draco Malfoy promised himself to make the most of this opportunity. He vowed never to waste these precious second chances again.
~~~ | ELEMENTARY | ~~~