Title: Eighth Nights
Fic Word Count/Art Medium: 2,131
Prompt: #26 - Hogwarts 8th yr. graduation or University graduation. Saying goodbye to each other.
Rating: PG
Warnings (if any): none
Spoilers (if any): err, none?
Summary: She wasn't all that surprised to see him missing from their graduation ceremony.

Author's Notes: Went a bit A/U with the war, so I guess... post-HBP? Thanks to my beta, Rin! I tinkered a bit after she returned it, so final mistakes are mine. And because I forgot to put it in before: Thanks a bunch to RZZMG for hosting the fest! First fic ever for the ship (and a fest too), and I'm glad I participated.

Disclaimer: "Harry Potter" is the property of J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. This work of fiction/art was created entirely for fun, not for profit, and no copyright infringement is intended.

If she was to be honest with herself, Hermione wasn't all that surprised to see him amongst the ones returning to Hogwarts for a chance to finish their studies as 8th Year students. Well, between this or being a Ministry worker for two years, she could see his decision.

There weren't many from her year that had decided to finish their education first; mostly Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, with Gryffindors scattered around and even far less Slytherins. She could count them with one hand... and two fingers, yes, but it was more-or-less expected. Harry had decided to help the Ministry rebuild itself, and Ron had tagged along to support him, so both of her best friends weren't there.

As the oldest students currently residing in Hogwarts, they had their own table in the Great Hall and dormitories, though their House table and common room was always open if they ever felt the need to visit. Rules were also slightly altered for them, most notably the curfew hours, and Hermione was glad for it. At least she could spend more time in the library to escape the nightmares that plagued her sleep.

As for classes, they were given the freedom to choose what they wanted to, but one thing she noticed (because it was glaringly obvious, she reasoned to herself) was that Malfoy was to take one obligatory class - Muggle Studies.

To be perfectly fair, the other Slytherins also took the class, but not because they were ordered to (not directly, if the words flying around were true).

(But as far as she could see, Malfoy didn't seem to have any complaints about it - or maybe he was hiding his displeasure, which was most likely.)

Sometimes she came into the library at night only to find him occupying one of the furthermost table (and it was accidentally her favourite table, too - she didn't know if he didn't know or if he did know and did that just to spite her), so she had to find another empty table.

On the occasions that she arrived first, he would pause, and - if she happened to look up, would nod (almost impossible to see if she was less observant) - went to find another empty table.

Hermione didn't know whether the nod was directed to himself (okay, Granger's there, so I have to find another place) or an acknowledgement-slash-greeting to her.

Then - she had no idea exactly when - he would pull the chair opposite her and sat down instead of looking for another table. The first time he did this, she was quite perplexed, but Malfoy just raised an eyebrow and promptly started on his book.

The second, third and the next time, Hermione would look up from her book to nod at him when he arrived. He returned it after the third time, and it stayed as their silent greeting along the year.

They didn't speak to each other (…much), and outside the library they didn't even have to pretend to ignore one another. She would sit in the middle-to-front seats, and he would take one of the back ones. The only time they did talk was when the Professors gave them an assignment to discuss, which was an even rarer occasion.

Halloween feast came around, and she couldn't help but notice that he wasn't in the Great Hall. Maybe he was in the kitchen, avoiding the crowds and eating by himself, but Hermione wasn't sure. She hadn't known him well enough to be able to see how his mind works.

That night after dinner, she went to the Owlery to send her letters to Harry and Ron, but before returning to her room, her feet took her into the direction of Astronomy Tower.

When she saw Malfoy sitting on the spiral staircase, wand in hand and a pensive look on his face, she hesitated. No, they weren't friends yet... more of acquaintances, what with all the time they spent in the library, but if he decided to... do something immenselystupid like jumping off the Tower, she didn't want to feel guilty for not stopping him. And she couldn't possibly escape that quickly should the teachers come rushing if he did jump, which would make her the last person to see him alive.

She could do without the additional burden of being interrogated, thanks.

So she stepped in and called, "Malfoy."

That seemed to jar him back into reality, and he turned his head to her sharply. "Granger? What are you doing here?"

Yes, what am I doing here, really. "Have you eaten dinner yet?"

He paused, looking at her strangely, and his answer was slow. "I have." He continued to look at her like she was an Arithmancy problem written in another language.

Wanting to squirm under his look, Hermione distracted herself by asking, "What are youdoing here?" Before he had a chance to answer, she immediately added - without even thinking, "Because if you're thinking of jumping, at least do it without people noticing."

Malfoy stared at her for one second before looking away, muttering, "Like anyone would care."

No, really? "Malfoy, you were given another chance to start over, somebody must've cared enough. Why throw it now when you could've done it from the beginning?"

He smiled ruefully, shaking his head and staying quiet for some time.

After a short while Hermione thought that he wasn't going to say anything more, she had almost started to speak again when he suddenly said, "I wanted to be a Curse Breaker, you know."

Uh... "Pardon?"

"When they gave me the chance to finish my education, that was the only reason I took it." He had already returned to look at the sky outside, twirling his wand.

What was she supposed to say? She wasn't even sure if his statement needed her response or not. But ever a curious person, Hermione couldn't help but ask, "At Gringotts?"

Malfoy shook his head. "No. Somewhere outside England, probably on the continent. I need to escape," he waved his free hand around, "all this."

That, at least, she could sympathise with. The need to escape the place and just ignore the world for a while… but she had a responsibility, she had to help rebuild the Ministry first, because there was a lot of people who depended on her, Harry, Ron and all those who got the dub 'War Hero/Heroine' to lead the broken and battered Wizarding community.

In a way, Malfoy had no one that would need to depend on him... and she kind of,slightly, envied him for it... But then again, it would be selfish of her (not to mentionidiotic), because if she were to look from his perspective, his loss could easily push any mere people into the pit of insanity and depression. His father, killed by his own sister-in-law, and his mother, dead at the hands of her husband...

She recovered, barely, because what she said next had not been thought properly. "You're not returning to England?"

When he smirked at her with a raised eyebrow, she quickly corrected herself. "I mean, -"

"Maybe I would," he cut her in a contemplative, soft tone. "Aww, you do care, Granger."

She didn't need to see his face to know that his last statement contained a smirk. Huffing, Hermione crossed her arms and leaned against the doorframe. "I could care less about you, Malfoy."

The blond merely chuckled and patted the step below him. "Why don't you sit down, Granger? Except if you're going to go back now."

She eyed him suspiciously. This was the longest conversation they'd ever had from the beginning of the year... the longest, non-hostile one ever since they first met each other. Excepting assignments for discussion that could create a series of long rants from both parties. "Why?"

"I don't know," he shrugged. "Maybe you fancy standing up when talking to people. Humour me, Granger. You can't possibly sleep at this hour."

He was right, but she wasn't about to admit it out loud. "What if I wanted to return?" she bit out, "Maybe I have something more interesting to do there."

"Maybe," he admitted, "But you're still here, aren't you?"

"…Prat," Hermione muttered under her breath, but found herself walking to the staircase and sitting two steps below him.

And once they walked back to the 8th Year dormitories a bit past midnight and he dropped her in front of her door, Hermione wondered to herself just how she did manage to have a rather decent conversation with Malfoy without threats and hexes flying around.

When their graduation ceremony finally came, she wasn't all that surprised to see him missing from the student rows. He'd probably gone and asked Headmistress McGonagall for all his papers and left at the earliest possible time.

Hermione wasn't disappointed, per se (that was what she kept telling herself). She'd always known Malfoy would leave as soon as possible, but at least she wanted to congratulate him on the result of his NEWTs (Headmistress McGonagall wouldn't elaborate more on his exact score, simply saying that he was the second highest) and bid her farewell.

After that night many months ago, their routine in the library had shifted: light bantering and discussing random topics that just came into their minds, and Hermione (reluctantly) admitted to herself that Malfoy was, by far, the most intelligent discussion and conversation partner she'd ever had.

Except when he was being his usual snarky git self, in which her fingers always twitched to reach for her wand.

It was already dark when she made her way back from the library, returning all the books she'd borrowed, when a black owl landed on her shoulder.

There was a parchment tied to its leg, and Hermione paused to untie it. The owl flew away as soon as the parchment was taken off, clearly not expecting a reply.

She then started to walk again, unrolling the sheet and reading it as she continued her journey back.

Granger,
Congratulations on your NEWT result. That would set a record for the several next decades.

It wasn't signed and it wasn't a letter as much as it was a memo; but still, Hermione smiled to herself.

"I thought you'd already left."

"And you'd be the first person to know, yeah?"

Malfoy was leaning on the railing, a piece of parchment hanging from his hand (his NEWT results, she guessed), whipped around by the wind.

"How's your result?"

He laughed then, and Hermione walked until she was standing beside him, their elbows touching, a warm contrast to the cold steel. If he noticed, he didn't say anything.

"Figured that'd be the one question you'd be dying to ask," he said.

She merely chuckled, and tapped her fingers on the railing. "So?"

He glanced at her from the corner of his eye, and one corner of his lips turned up. "And if I didn't tell you?"

"You would," she stated with such confidence that he rolled his eyes.

Malfoy remained silent for a few seconds, and at that moment the only sound was the wind blowing around them.

"At least my Muggle Studies got an A, for the sake of the Ministry."

"That's... good," she whispered. Honestly, she was glad. That meant her effort in helping him wasn't useless, and that he had no more debt to the Ministry.

Silence descended upon them yet again as she pondered about her to-be place in the Ministry. Maybe she'd get into the Department of Magical Creatures before getting onto the MLE... she didn't want to be an Auror like Harry and Ron, but she certainly didn't want to end up with a boring desk job.

Hermione felt Malfoy shift beside her but paid him no heed, still lost in her own thoughts.

When she felt a hand on her shoulder however, she snapped out of it. Tensing slightly, she forced herself to keep looking forward and ignore the warm breath on the top of her head.

It was muffled by both her hair and the wind, and she couldn't explain how she felt it more than heard, but it was very clear to her as if he spoke directly to her ear.

"Thanks, Granger... Hermione. For caring, I suppose."

The hand on her shoulder tightened a fraction just before she felt his lips on the side of her forehead.

Then both his lips and hand were gone, and she was left feeling cold except for those two places and where their elbows were connected.

And from the place it all started going downhill, they stood side by side, watching the stars on their last night at Hogwarts, an unspoken apology and forgiveness hanging between them.

~fin.