The library is mostly abandoned as Hermione walks toward a distant bookshelf as a last ditch effort to discover something substantial for the Transfiguration essay she's currently writing. She's almost done and it's not due for another fortnight, but still she feels like it's already late. She heads down an aisle and then down another, her sleepy brown eyes searching the shelves for the volume she desires. If she could only find this book, it would complete her night and she could go back to the dormitory happy.
At last, she spies it, but it's way too high for her to reach and she left her wand in her book bag, which is still at her favorite table on the other side of the library. Hermione resolves to go for it anyway. First, she tries the tiptoes trick, but the one needlessly fails, as she knew it would. Then she tries simply jumping toward it. She wishes, not for the first time, that she resembled her best friend Ron Weasley in the height department. Jumping gets her nowhere. Finally, she tries anchoring her body to the bookshelf, standing on tiptoes, and reaching for it with her fingertips. She can almost touch it when she feels someone step up behind her and grab the very book she was aiming for.
"Looking for this?" a familiar deep voice breathes behind her. They take a step back so that Hermione can turn and face them. When she does, she can't help but gasp and immediately look away. "Well, was this the book you wanted?"
She looks up at him, surprised when he actually meets her gaze. "Yes, it is."
"Here," he says, handing her the book, before walking off down the aisle in the opposite direction. He stops before turning the corner and looks back at her. "Have a nice night, Granger." He disappears around the corner and Hermione immediately leans against the bookshelf, breathing out a series of seriously shaky breaths.
What just happened? She thinks to herself, trying to calm down a little. It was the first time in her extremely excellent memory that she could recall Malfoy ever acting civil to her, if not almost nice. Not only that, but he hadn't insulted her, not ever to call her a mudblood. It was all sending her into a bit of a frenzy. She quickly stands up straight, however, and shakes her head, getting rid of any more thoughts of Draco Malfoy, before heading back to her table with the ill-fated book in hand. You better be worth it, she thinks to herself as she looks down at the tome.
Hermione quickly gathers up her things, noting the late hour, and is glad that tomorrow is a Saturday that does not include a Quidditch match. After checking out the books she'll require, Hermione quickly exits the library and heads toward Gryffindor Tower, excited to climb into her warm bed and get some rest. She gives The Fat Lady the password and heads for the staircase to the girls' dormitory before spying Harry and Ron sitting on the nearest sofa obviously waiting for her. With a sigh, Hermione changes direction and heads toward them instead.
"Yes?" she asks them, sitting down in a chair across from them. That's when she notices the serious expression on Harry's face and the strained one on Ron's. "What is it? What's happened?"
Harry takes a deep breath before beginning to speak. "It's just that you know how I've been sort of tracking Malfoy since the start of term, because you know what I think."
"That he's a Death Eater, yes I know that you think that," Hermione says in a low whisper as there are still students milling around the common room. "Did you come up with any solid proof?"
"Not yet," Harry says with a disappointed sigh and a shake of his head. "But tonight after dinner I was up in my room watching him on the Marauder's Map, when he went into the library." For some unknown reason Hermione can feel her stomach involuntarily clench. "For a while he seemed to be zig zagging amongst the stacks until it seems he stopped to talk to someone. You being that someone." He ends giving her a questioning stare.
"Are you suggesting that I've been fraternizing with the enemy?" Hermione demands in her usual headstrong way. "That I've been messing around in the stacks of the library with a snotty, slick haired git who has made my life miserable since the day I met him? Is that what you could possibly be saying Harry?"
"No, of course not," Harry says, quickly holding his hands up in an act of surrender. "I was just worried that he had been mean to you."
"No, he was actually weirdly nice," Hermione says, relaxing a bit. "He saw me struggling to get a book off of a shelf and grabbed it for me."
"Oh," Harry says, relaxing as well, and sitting back in his seat.
"You wouldn't though, would you, 'Mione?" Ron asks, speaking for the first time.
"No, of course not," Hermione says blushing visibly. "Like I said he's a slick haired bully who I have no desire to even talk to let alone mess around with." With that, she gets up and goes to the girls' dormitory, leaving them to stare after her and exchange looks.
Hermione wakes up the next morning feeling refreshed and rejuvenated for the first time in the month that they had been back at school. She quickly gets up and makes her bed, preferring the house elves don't have to do any extra work. Then she hurries in the shower, drying her hair, and throwing it into a medium-high ponytail before heading down to the Great Hall for breakfast.
After eating a quick breakfast, Hermione waves to Ron and Harry before heading out of the castle. Luckily, today happens to be one of the few nice days left in the semester and Hermione plans to take advantage of it. She heads toward the Black Lake, humming a song with a spring in her step. She selects her favorite tree, which faces the lake, before setting her bag down and sitting against it. She reaches into her bag, pulls out the nefarious book of last night, and settles against the tree before opening it and beginning to read. It only seems like five minutes have passed when Harry and Ron approach her, blocking out the sun, which is now high in the sky. She looks up at them and then back down. She's finished nearly half the book.
"Hey," she says, closing the book and stretching her arms above her head. "What time is it?"
"Nearly lunch time," Ron says. "We thought maybe you'd want to head there with us."
"Sure," Hermione says, grasping Ron's hand for help up when he offers it. Harry grabs her book bag and hands it to her. She offers him a smile before slipping the book in, and slipping the bag's strap over her head before the three of them start the walk back to The Great Hall. They're almost there when Hermione notices that Ron and Harry have been exchanging strange looks. After about the fifth one, she puts both of her arms out to stop them.
"What's going on?" she asks, looking from one to the other.
"Nothing's going on." Harry says smoothly, although he doesn't meet her gaze.
"Why would you think something's going on?" Ron asks an air of innocence to his voice.
"You too must think I'm incredibly thick. That I wouldn't notice the looks you have been sharing. Now tell me before I either curse it out of you or have Ginny do it."
Ron gives Harry a panicked look. "We should probably just tell her."
"Yeah, you probably should," Hermione says, turning to glare at Harry. "Out with it. Now."
Harry lets out a deep, angsty sigh. "Well Ron and I were talking this morning, and a bit last night. About how you said Malfoy was actually nice to you."
"Yeah, and?"
"Well," Ron says nervously. "We thought that if he was nice to you again…"
"You could simply be nice back," Harry finishes lamely. "Maybe you could see what he's up to."
"See what he's up to?" Hermione says tensely, arching an eyebrow. "Last night you guys were upset that he had helped me retrieve a book and now you want me to befriend him. Do you forget who you're talking to? I'm only the mudblood who Malfoy has been hazing since the day I arrived at Hogwarts."
"I realize this is a lot to ask," Harry says to her. "And I know how you feel when it comes to Malfoy, but you know I wouldn't ask you to do this if it wasn't important."
Hermione sighs deeply and takes a minute to think. "I guess I could. However, I'm not going to seek him out. I doubt that he'll talk to me again, and if he does, he probably won't be nice about it. If he does though, I promise to be nice to him."
That evening after dinner Hermione heads to the library to attempt to finish her Transfiguration essay. After all, Ron and Harry will be asking her for help in about a week and how is she supposed to help them if hers isn't finished? She quickly finds her favorite table and notices how empty the library is. That's not particularly unusual for a Saturday night. Tomorrow night it would be packed with students of all ages hurrying to finish their assignments.
About an hour has passed when Malfoy walks in with Blaise Zabini. Hermione looks up as they sit at a table that is oddly very near her own. Malfoy glances at her in a way that probably would seem nonchalant to an outsider, but something about it triggers her curiosity. She meets his gaze for a second before looking pointedly at the stacks. Marking her place in the book she had been studying, Hermione gets up and heads for the nearest shelves. She pretends to browse the selection and waits.
Not even a minute passes by before she hears footsteps approaching from behind her. She turns to see Malfoy a couple feet away looking at her with a questioning stare if she's ever seen one. He's wearing his uniform but his shirt is wrinkled and the green and silver tie is nearly undone, hanging loosely at the collar. She meets his eyes briefly and it's all she can really stand. There seems to be something hidden there something ominous and dark. Hermione thinks to herself that he looks paler than usual and his hair isn't slicked back as much as usual.
"What do you want from me?" she finds herself whispering, momentarily forgetting that she told Harry and Ron she'd be nice to him.
"What makes you think I want anything from you?" Malfoy asks, taking another step toward her and shoving his hands deep into his trouser pockets.
Hermione sighs deeply before continuing. "You helped me yesterday."
"I got a book down for you, simple as that."
"You haven't called me mudblood since school started."
"School's only been going on for a month."
"You looked at me," she says finally. "Without any animosity. Without that senseless blind revulsion you always reserve for me."
"You're imagining things." He says, taking a hand out of his pocket and treading it through his pale tresses, not daring to look at her now.
"Fine," Hermione says sharply. "You don't need anything. There's no point in me standing here quarreling with you then." She turns abruptly and starts to walk the opposite way when a hand catches her wrist. Stopping she turns to look at him. He's so close now.
"I need help," he states urgently. "And I don't know who else to ask."
"You need help," she repeats lamely. "And you need it from me?"
"Look, I wouldn't ask if it wasn't urgent," he says, releasing her wrist and scratching his forearm. "I'm failing Charms."
"You want me to help you with magic?" Hermione says, studying him for a second. He did look very desperate and she could probably teach him.
"Please," he says, finally looking her in the eyes, allowing gray to meet brown. Hermione feels the last of her stubbornness dwindle away with that simple word.
"Fine," she says, crossing her arms. "Seven o'clock tomorrow night. Meet me in the abandoned classroom on the third floor. Do you know the one?"
"Yes, I know it."
"Then I'll see you there," she says, and starts to walk away before turning back. "Oh and Malfoy?"
"Yes, Granger?"
"Don't be late."