Author's Note: Thank you again to the awesome Mrs. Ren for being my fabulous Alpha. It was originally supposed to be a one-shot but it's too good to fit all into one chapter. All characters belong to Her Majesty, J.K. Rowling. Any unfamiliar spells or products are of my creation along with the help of the fabulous LittleSixx. Please note: This is a slow WIP so your patience with my muse is greatly appreciated!
8th year Hogwarts:
Hermione Granger walked down the corridor and into the Transfiguration classroom and sat down on a stool near the middle of the room, five minutes early as per usual. Her hair was bushy because the humidity was unbearable; she blew her bangs off her forehead to try and cool herself off, to no avail. Other students filed into the classroom slowly, Draco being the last. He swaggered in, per his usual style. He took a seat two tables over, the entire table to himself.
Professor McGonagall swept into the classroom, a bit frazzled herself from trying to juggle both Deputy Headmistress and Professor duties. She clapped her hands twice to bring the class to attention.
"Now, today we will be working on transfiguring a pillow into a house cat. The information you need can be found on page one hundred in your textbook. You have until the end of class. You may begin." she finished.
She turned with a flourish and seated herself behind her desk, knowing her students were capable of doing this alone. They were 8th years after all. She took a stack of parchment and began grading some 4th years' essays while they worked.
Draco eyed Hermione, being careful not to attract attention to himself. He slid his wand out from his robe and flicked it, wordlessly accio-ing Hermione's stool with her still on it over to himself smoothly. The stool slid across the classroom quickly, coming to a halt beside him. Hermione let out a shriek as her eyes narrowed, fixing him with a dark glare. Thankfully no-one had noticed, and the blond sat on his stool, laughing quietly and mentally patting himself on the back.
"How… what?" she uttered, thoroughly shocked.
"Just practicing my non-verbal— " he smirked.
She smacked him on the arm before he could finish his sentence.
"Oi, woman! What was that for?" he hissed.
"That was for being a show-off!" she seethed, biting her lip to keep up the act of being angry with him. In her mind, she was cackling like the witch she was, but was highly impressed with his skills.
When the chime sounded to signal the end of class, Hermione packed her school bag, made weightless by a featherlight charm because Merlin she had a lot of books, and exited the classroom. Draco had already left a few moments prior to keep up appearances. He was waiting for her at their usual spot, a solitary wooden bench in a secluded alcove on the same floor as the Transfiguration classroom.
"Hi," she smiled as she approached him.
The corner of his mouth lifted in a slight smile, warming her inside and out. This was a new thing for him, but she'd take what she could get. 8th year had not been easy for Draco, alienated by his family & friends for choosing to fight for the Light and he was struggling. Today seemed to be a good day though.
I'm so glad he's not sullen today, Hermione thought, quirking an eyebrow at his smile.
"You're in a cheerful mood," she mused.
"That I am, Granger," the blond drawled, smirking.
"Does it have anything to do with that little wandless show in Transfiguration?" the brunette witch mused.
"Maybe." he supplied.
Hermione rolled her eyes, but said nothing. She was highly amused, yet miffed all at once and had no idea how to repay him for his little show.
"May I take your bag, Miss Granger?" he asked smoothly.
Her mind snapped out of its reverie and plan-making to nod and smile at him, allowing him to take her school bag. They walked in companioned silence down the staircases to the wing where the eighth year dorms were located. He paused at her door that bore a striking painting of Morgana. He handed her the bag and smirked at her.
"Well, Granger, I guess I'll see you at dinner," he mused.
"Bye, Malfoy!" she chirped and whispered the password to gain entrance to her dorm, not wanting Malfoy to hear.
Draco arrived at his portrait-guarded door next two doors down from Hermione's, who happened to be King Urien, Morgana's husband.
He uttered the password and stepped over the threshold into his common area as the portrait door swung open, which had been regally decorated on his behalf. It felt like a home, a safe place, something the Manor had lacked. He made his way across the dark coloured floors, his finger running along the cream walls as he tossed his school bag onto a familiar, well worn sofa. It felt like a home, a safe place, something the Manor had lacked. Taking a moment to himself, Draco stood before the roaring fireplace, the flames snapping into place as they raised and the embers crackling. On the mantle, he took in the meticulously placed photographs. Some were of his friends, but one was of his new family—the Order. Fifth year and after, they had taken him in at the convincement of Hermione.
He strode over to the far wall and peered out the high arch windows at the Quidditch Pitch, leaning slightly across the long wooden desk beneath them to get a better look.
Draco shed his outer robe and hung it on the hook by the bedroom door. But he left his shirt sleeves rolled down because he still couldn't stand the sight of the Dark Mark, even though it was fading. He may have fought for the Light, but he still bore the reminder of the poor decisions he made. He plucked a pair of light charcoal reading glasses from his pockets and slid them on then grabbed his current read The Lord of The Rings from his school bag. He sank into one of the cosy chairs and opened the book and began to read.
Back in her dorm, similarly decorated to Draco's, Hermione laid stretched out on her plum-coloured sofa, mind at work on how to repay Draco for his little prank. She held a pen between her fingers, absently chewing on the cap while staring at the list in her spiral bound notebook she'd begun working on as soon as she sat down. The wizarding world may still be stuck in the last century with quills and parchment, but Hermione being raised in the Muggle world preferred pens and notebook paper to the other writing instruments.
"He may have matured, but he still can be a git sometimes," she mused aloud. She scratched a few more ideas onto the paper before giving up and going over to the fireplace. She scooped up a small handful of floo powder from the pot on the mantle and threw it into the fire to floo-call the Weasley twins, her favourite pranksters, then knelt down before it.
"Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes," she called loudly into the fireplace. Moments later, George's head popped up.
"Well, well, well, if it isn't our favorite prankster," George noted humorously.
"Move over, Forge," his brother shouted from a distance.
This statement caused Hermione to laugh and roll her eyes as she waited for Fred's head to appear in the fireplace next to his brother's.
"How can we help you this fine day," Fred asked mischievously.
Hermione grinned at the two brothers before answering. "Well, for starters, hello you two. Secondly, I need a favour. Draco Malfoy, ferret extraordinaire, thought it would be hilarious to summon me wandlessly and silently to him during Transfiguration," she huffed.
George guffawed loudly. "Malfoy can perform wandless nonverbal spells? That's a riot."
Hermione snorted and replied, "Yes, I was surprised as well, but it was totally unexpected and a tad embarrassing so I need your help to return the favour," she wiggled her eyebrows mischievously, not unlike Fred had taught her when she was a first year.
This time, it was aforementioned twin {Fred} who chortled. "Merlin, 'Mione!" he wheezed, laughter echoing in the fireplace.
"Don't worry, mi'lady," George answered, "I know just the thing and he'll never suspect it was you," as another Weasley-esque mischievous glint twinkled in his eye.
Hermione stretched, stiffening from being on her knees for so long, plotting further with the twins.
"Thank you for your help oh great prank masters," Hermione grinned.
"Any time, young grasshopper," George returned mirthfully.
She disconnected the floo-call and stood up stretching. She strode to the ceiling-height bookshelf near her desk and selected her favorite tome Pride & Prejudice. She stretched out on the couch again to read until dinner.
After dinner, when Hermione arrived back at her dormitory, a large tawny owl bearing a purple ribbon around its neck with a bronze WWW tag was perched on the special ledge designated for all owl posts. A small box tied with the same coloured ribbon was clutched in its talons, patiently waiting for Hermione to retrieve it. She grinned and walked over to the ledge and petted the owl's feathers gently before taking the package.
"Thank you, Pigmy," she cooed, eliciting a soft hoot from the owl. He nibbled her fingers affectionately before taking off into the night.
She sat down at the desk and untied the box then opened it. She pulled out a small tube with clear liquid and looked at it, puzzled.
"Hair gel, George?" she mused aloud. "How am I going to repay Draco with hair gel?" A trademark purple card dropped on desk with gold emblazoned writing on it:
Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes proudly presents:
Comb-A-Chameleon: Rainbow Edition™
Colourless, odourless gel that ensures your favourite wizard or witch sports a colourful 'do, and stand out from the crowds. Just simply squeeze half the tube into hair gel or shampoo, and voila. Your work is done. Washes out in one month.
She finished perusing the card, mischief evident on her face.
"George this is perfect," she whispered to no-one. She wandlessly summoned her notebook and pen over to her and began to write out her plan of how to get the special gel into Draco's own hair gel jar.
A few hours later, she was finally satisfied with her plan "Operation Colour Draco" and closed the notebook. Stretching, she yawned and made her way to her bed chambers to get some sleep.
Armed with her plan the next morning, she strode confidently into the Great Hall for breakfast. She sat down in her usual spot and pulled a pen and piece of thick paper out. She jotted a note to Harry that read:
Harry,
Might I borrow your cloak? I would tell you why, but if all goes to plan I won't need to. Hope you're well.
-Hermione
She rolled the thick paper up and tied it with a maroon ribbon then attached it to her owl, Archimedes, and sent him on his way. She smirked in satisfaction as she ate a hearty breakfast. The bells chimed a while later, signalling it was time for classes. She rose from the bench and closed her school bag, slinging it over her shoulder.
The bells chimed, signalling the end of Double Charms and Hermione stretched liberally, causing her shoulders to pop. She stood and gathered her things and made a mad dash for her dormitory, eager to see if Harry had written her back. Much to her delight, Harry's new barn owl was sat perched on the window sill, a brown package clutched in his talons.
She crossed the room determinately and put her bag down on the desk. She reached and stroked the tawny owl and freed the package.
"Thank you, Archimedes," she cooed. The owl hooted softly in response, nipping her hair affectionately before sailing off into the afternoon sun. She unwrapped the package, the feeling of silk calming her racing heart. A note fluttered out in Harry's scrawl:
Hermione,
Glad you're well and glad my cloak could be of service. Har-har. Stay out of trouble, witch!
-Harry
She smiled, rolling her eyes at his dry sense of humour and shook the cloak out. She wrapped it around her and pulled the hood low over her face, and walked into the bathroom to see if it covered enough. She jumped in surprise when she saw nothing in the mirror then remembered her face was covered. Chuckling to herself, she dropped the hood but was equally as startled at the floating head she saw. She pulled it off and folded it carefully as she walked out of the bathroom, then dropped it in her bag after picking up the hair colour changing tube and doing the same with it.
She pulled the spiral notebook and pen from one of the pockets of her bag and flopped into her favourite chair to finalise "Operation Colour Draco" and double-check that her plan would be foolproof. Once satisfied, she closed it and tossed it back into her bag.