This didn't quite go as planned. It's quite long. But hey, I like it anyway – hopefully you will too!

Hermione's Seventh Year was nothing like how she had expected it to be.

Well, she supposed it wasn't really Seventh Year. It was her Eighth Year, she had just been too busy fighting against Voldemort to attend her Seventh. In fact, you could even call it Ninth Year, because Hogwarts had been closed for a year after the war for rebuilding and necessary alterations. Hermione probably should have known better than to think this year would be like all the others. She was twenty, having an early September birthday, a grown woman rather than a teenager. Not only that, but she was sharing her lessons with people ranging from seventeen to twenty, and from war heroes to pardoned Death Eaters. It was no wonder that things were a bit different.

The 'Eighth Years', which encompassed those who had returned from her year and Ginny's, had no houses. They were housed in a new wing which had been built where the astronomy tower had once been. The lack of houses was supposed to promote unity and get rid of old prejudices. In a way it had worked – Hermione certainly got on better with Blaise Zabini and Draco Malfoy than she had ever expected to – but that was more the result of the rebuilding process than this scheme. Furthermore, Eighth Years now had mandatory Muggle Studies lessons to try and eradicate 'Mugglephobia'. This was a school-wide initiative, and Hermione thought it was a fantastic idea... for Purebloods. As a Muggle born, it just ate into her full-to-bursting timetable – and after two years out and a new library system, she wasn't quite as good at juggling her lessons any more.

Currently, Hermione was sat in her favourite chair in the corner of the library, pouring over an Advanced Potions book. She needed two more inches on her essay on 'Collecting Basilisk Venom' for Professor Slughorn, and despite her best efforts, she just couldn't find the information she needed. It didn't help that all the good Restricted Section books on Basilisks had been taken out – there weren't enough books to go around Seventh year anymore, what with nearly three times the usual number of students taking it.

True, not every student had decided to return for an Eighth Year. Ronald (she refused to call that bastard Ron) had become keeper for a fledgling Quidditch team, Nottingham Narwhals. With his war hero money he wouldn't have to work for the rest of his life, so he could afford to do what he wanted and pursue his dream. It was a pity that freedom had gone to his head.

Harry, meanwhile, had been offered so many different jobs by the Ministry he had been spoilt for choice. (True, so had Hermione, but she felt it biased that she was being considered without proper qualifications, so she turned them down and went back to school). He was now in Auror training – his last year of Auror training, in fact, as the work he had done tracking down and defeating Voldemort was considered training enough. He seemed very happy there, although Ginny had been put out that her boyfriend wasn't returning to school with her.

Ginny had actually been offered the very competitive position of Chaser with the Wimbourne Wasps, but she turned it down. She had her eye on the Holyhead Harpies, and had decided to get her NEWTs first so she had a fallback if Quidditch didn't work out. Hermione strongly approved of the sensible plan. Despite what everyone seemed to think, Ginny was a very smart young woman.

Putting thoughts of her friends out of her head, Hermione sighed as she went over her essay again, looking for anything that she hadn't explained fully. At this rate, she was going to have to find Draco or Blaise and beg their essay off them. Not that she minded talking to her friends, but it was a tiny bit humiliating, especially as Draco was currently top of the class (Hermione hated being second).

Realising that writing any more without help was hopeless, Hermione closed her book and tucked it and her parchment into her bag. Nodding to Fleur Weasley, the new librarian, she wandered out of the library, casting a quick tracking spell to locate Draco.

Unsurprisingly, it pointed her in the direction of the dungeons. Whilst no longer a Slytherin, Draco had a soft spot for his old home. Smiling, Hermione went in search of the Second floor passage that provided the fastest route down.

When Hermione Granger and Ginny Weasley had become fast friends with Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini, the world had been shocked. The Gryffindor golden girls hanging out with notorious ex-Death Eaters? But both Draco and Blaise had changed – they were still sometimes annoying prats, but not in a bigoted, prejudiced way. Draco and Narcissa had donated a huge sum of money to the rebuilding of Hogwarts, after being pardoned by the Wizengamot. It was deemed to be Lucius's influence – and violent temper – that had made them act the way they did. Lucius had been incarcerated, and since then the weight that had been on Draco's shoulder for years seemed to fall away.

Blaise, on the other hand, hadn't been following his family – his mum was a black widow, but not a Death Eater. The Wizengamot had been all set to throw him into Azkaban for murder when a surprising revelation had come to light. For months before Voldemort fell, Blaise had been anonymously tipping off the Order via Snape. He had acted as a spy, only torturing and destroying as much as was necessary to realistically play his part. The Wizengamot had changed their mind, praising him for his bravery and letting him off without charge.

Both the Slytherin boys were cunning and intelligent, and without prejudice, Hermione had a feeling they would have all been friends from the start. Blaise had a wicked sense of humour as good as George's, and Draco was the only other person she knew who would pull all-nighters in the library.

It amazed her that she hadn't noticed him there before.

Finally reaching the dungeon, Hermione peered through a few doors and finally spotted Draco sitting alone in their old potions room. It was quiet, and the door creaked as she opened it, causing Draco to suddenly twist round.

"Hermione?"

"Sorry, Draco, I was just wondering if you had a copy of Practical Uses of Basilisk Venom for the Potioneer? The library copies have all been taken out."

Draco smirked. "A couple of inches short on your essay?"

Hermione huffed. "Just because you have access to an entire Manor of books doesn't mean we all have the luxury."

He was teasing her, and she knew it, but homework was a sore subject – especially in the one subject he was beating her in. (They were joint first in Arithmancy whatever he claimed).

"It's not like I can Apparate to the Manor from here. As it happens, I do have a copy, but it's in my room upstairs. You can summon it if you want."

Smiling in thanks, Hermione waved her wand and smiled as the book appeared in her hand a few seconds later.

"What are you doing alone down here, anyway?"

Draco shrugged, his pale skin almost glowing in the low light. "The tower's too noisy, I wanted a place to think. After three months I'm still not used to so much chatter."

Hermione could sympathise. Draco had been fully pardoned and many of her old classmates were now friends with him, but the Dark Mark on his wrist still had consequences. He wasn't actively sought out for conversation by many people any more. After the oppressiveness of Voldemort and then isolation by his peers, getting used to crowds again had to be difficult.

She herself had had problems after being nearly alone in a tent for a year. She actively withdrew from the limelight, throwing herself into the rebuilding of Hogwarts, where she had met Blaise and Draco. It was part of what had set her apart from Ronald, who loved the attention. Even at school there were too many admirers and fans, and it got a bit much sometimes.

"You know, after five years of being tortured by Snape in here, my memories make it seem much darker and colder. It's actually quite warm." As she spoke, Hermione shrugged off her robe, tossing it into the corner. Considering they were under the lake, it was strange how hot the dungeons could get. The Slytherins must have some kind of secret heating charm.

"We're not vampires, Hermione. We do use these things called heating and daylight charms." Draco was smiling.

"I know that," Hermione rolled her eyes, "But as a twelve year old, I was too traumatised by Snape's smell to remember. The man was a hero, but did he ever wash?"

Draco let out a laugh – a much softer sound than he had ever uttered before the war. It sounded quite beautiful and musical. "I have no qualms with declaring him allergic to soap, and he was my godfather."

"He always did favour you at school."

Draco scoffed. "Please, he marked me more harshly than anyone else. It's only now, with Slughorn and no missions for the Dark Lord, that my marks finally reflect that I'm better than you."

"You bribe Slughorn with crystallized pineapple."

"You bribe him by attending his parties and allowing him to introduce the 'Gryffindor Queen' to his friends!"

Hermione laughed, leaning back into the dungeon wall.

"Not that I can blame him for showing you off, mind."

Hermione blinked, the atmosphere in the dungeon changing instantly.

"I'm not some possession to show off!"

"Not what I meant," Draco protested, "Merlin, woman, I'm trying to pay you a compliment."

Hermione ignored the strange feeling inside at his words. "You may need to work on your strategy."

"See, this is why I stuck with Slytherin women for so many years. They're simple. If you have old money and a Manor, you're in. Bonus points for being the heir and having ties in politics."

"Slytherins. Scared of emotions." Hermione laughed at the expression of mock outrage on Draco's face.

"We're not scared of emotions, we're simply not ruled by them, unlike you reckless Gryffindors. Why do you think positions of power have traditionally been held by Slytherins? Gryffindors charge in shouting with only half a plan, whereas Slytherins wait it out, observe in the shadows until it's time to pounce."

Hermione glanced at Draco. "So you're saying that Gryffindors ask people out as soon as they have even a slight crush on them, without waiting to see if they're compatible, whereas Slytherins check out everyone first?"

"More or less. I know for a fact that you were the object of three different Slytherin men at one time or another, and you never even knew it. You didn't know the signs to look for."

"But I'm Muggle born!"

"That hardly mattered as much as you'd think. It's not like there are no Muggle borns in Slytherin. I only made such a fuss about it so it would get back to my father and he would lay off the beatings for five minutes."

Hermione gave a sympathetic look but Draco brushed her off.

"I bet you can't guess who liked you."

Hermione had to admit she was intrigued. "Please say it wasn't Crabbe or Goyle."

"Not both of them, no."

"One of them then? Eww. Just eww." Hermione cringed at the thought.

Draco laughed. "I have to agree with you there. Go on though, which?"

"Crabbe?"

"Wrong. Crabbe was hung up on Daphne Greengrass from second year onwards. Goyle was crushing on you through fourth. After the ball I think half the year at least was, plus some of the older students, but he liked you even before that."

Hermione cringed again. "Eww. I don't know what made me go to the ball like that. So many people started asking me out because of my body after that, and I'm not that shallow."

"Hermione, I hated you and even I thought you were beautiful. You made me rethink the entire theory about Muggle borns being dirty with how obviously gorgeous you looked. You'd be surprised what it did to the Slytherin perspective. I credit your legs for being responsible for at least half of the Slytherin side-changes."

The strange feeling was back. Hermione also felt quite bemused. "My legs."

"One of your best features. It's a pity they're hidden under robes so much."

Hermione swatted at Draco with the book, and he ducked out of the way.

"Don't attack me with my own book, witch, or I'll take it back and you can't finish your essay!"

"I'll ask Blaise."

"I'll tip him off."

"He'll just laugh at you."

"... Touché."

The pair laughed, before settling back next to each other, leaning against the dungeon wall.

"So go on then, who were the other two?" Hermione was surprised how curious she was about her ex-admirers. It was strange to think of the bigoted Slytherins that had existed pre-war thinking about a Muggle born in a sexual way.

"Who insisted on being your partner in Fifth Year Transfiguration?"

"No way did Theodore Nott like me."

"It was more than like. He was obsessed." Draco twirled his wand idly in his hand, and Hermione admired the dexterity of his fingers. "All year it was Granger-this, Granger-that. We all got quite fed up. You could have asked him what colour knickers you were wearing that day and he would know."

"That's just creepy."

"Nott was creepy. It still amazes me that he escaped Azkaban, he was the worst of us. But him and Padma seem happy, so what do I know."

Hermione had also been surprised at the relationship between the Ravenclaw Patil twin and the man known as 'Torturer', but then again it wasn't that different to her own relationship with Draco. Except her and Draco weren't having sex. Yet.

Yet? Where in Merlin's name had that come from?

To distract herself from her thoughts, she blurted out "And the third?"

"Guess."

"I hate guessing, it's not logical."

"You're a Gryffindor, you're not supposed to be logical. That's my job."

"So ask logical questions, smart-arse."

Hermione watched as Draco relented, setting his wand down on the floor.

"Fine. He started having a crush on you in Fourth Year but denied it until Sixth – although it was obvious to everyone else. He spent all Sixth going stir-crazy over you."

"One of your housemates liked me for that long?" Hermione was shocked. That was longer than Ronald had liked her. Longer than Krum. Longer than anyone.

"Still does, I reckon. He just does a very good job of hiding it."

Hermione racked her brains, trying to think of anyone who had paid special attention to her in Sixth Year.

"I have no idea. It wasn't Blaise was it?"

Draco laughed. "No, Blaise has his eye on a different little Lioness. He wouldn't dare cross Potter though."

"Blaise likes Ginny?" Hermione's eyes almost popped out of her head.

"Don't be so shocked. He's only been crushing on her since Sixth Year. They always battle it out on the Quidditch pitch and he loves her spunk. They had a fling, actually, while you and Potter were out destroying Horcruxes. Best month of Blaise's life."

"No way. Ginny wouldn't."

"Potter left her heartbroken and alone in a school controlled by the Dark Lord. She needed an outlet and Blaise was there and sympathetic. It's hardly scandalous."

Hermione couldn't believe it. Ginny, having a month-long fling with a Slytherin Death Eater during the war? She had to talk to her friend.

"I can tell you're dying to talk to her about it. Go on, go and gossip about guys for a bit." Draco smiled at Hermione, reaching for his wand.

"Not before you've told me who the third person was."

"Stubborn. Alright, he was in your Potions class."

Hermione blinked. "But the only Slytherin in NEWT level Potions aside from Blaise and Nott... that was you."

No. It wasn't possible. Draco didn't think about her like that. He couldn't have thought that all the way back then. They were only just friends – at school before, he had hated her.

"To quote the Muggles – 'bingo', Hermione." Draco looked lightly uncomfortable – it was an unfamiliar expression. It reminded her of the war, and she instantly wanted to get rid of it.

"But you hated me!"

"Of course I did! I had been raised to think of Muggle borns as scum, and there you were, beating me in every class, looking beautiful and confident and generally everything I wished I was. You were so free. I envied you and I hated you and more than that I grew to completely love you. Why do you think I hated Nott talking about you so much? If I was bored I would have tuned it out, but no, I was jealous. Jealous because I could never get that close to you without you hexing me. Jealous because he dared to try and claim the girl I thought I could never have."

Hermione was gobsmacked. This couldn't be happening. Her childhood enemy could not just confess that he had loved her the whole time.

Then she remembered something. "You said he still liked me. So that means... that means you like me."

"Love." Draco turned away. "I'm sorry."

Hermione's world stopped. Her sanity careered off the edge.

Then she leant in and took Draco's chin between her hands. She looked in his eyes for permission, then leant in towards his lips.

Their first kiss wasn't perfect. There were no fireworks. It was clumsy, and their noses bashed together once, and Draco tasted like Firewhiskey which Hermione had never been fond of. But there was more feeling in that awkward touching of lips and tongue than there had ever been with Ronald. Hermione moved in again, and this time it was smoother, the two falling in beside each other like roughly-hewn puzzle pieces. It wasn't perfect, but it was real, and that was good enough.

Hermione pulled away first, Draco's lips instinctually following, and she smiled as she gently pushed him back.

"I don't want to lure you into thinking anything. I don't love you, yet. But I like you. And maybe, one day, I can match what you're feeling."

Draco smiled. "Whatever you're comfortable with. I don't expect anything from you. It's your choice where this goes." He paused. "But may I please kiss you again?"

"You may." Hermione grinned.

Their third kiss might have lacked finesse, but it certainly didn't lack passion. Which was, really, what kissing was all about.