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Seventh Year, October, 1998

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''Granger… Looking a tad… unfinished today. Maybe I can help…'' a voice called from behind Hermione as she was waiting to enter her Ancient Runes class. It dripped with both sex and taunting; he had always confused her, but even more so in the past few weeks. Since the war had ended, house boundaries and rivalries had largely dissipated, though the Gryffindor-Slytherin animosity still held some sway, creating tension at the most inopportune times. Turning around to face the owner of the voice, Hermione steeled herself; she would be cordial, nothing more.

''Thank you for the offer, Malfoy, but I'm comfortable with how I look.'' She replied curtly, stepping into the classroom as Professor Babbling poked her nose out from behind the doorframe, beckoning her rather small cohort into the room.

''Seriously? I would've thought by now you'd have learnt how to brush your hair at least, Granger. Who knows, it might change how certain people may see you... '' Malfoy finished vaguely, brushing past her as he made his way to his seat at the back of the classroom. For the remainder of the lesson, Hermione sat struggling to pay attention to what poor Professor Babbling was saying on the importance of translating correctly between dead languages; instead, she was lost in thoughts of actually being seen as attractive, of being pretty and 'regular', by none other than a certain blond-haired ferret.

She sighed to herself, and knotted her fingers in her hair, trying to shake away any trace of odd hope. He doesn't really see you like that, 'Mione, he doesn't know… Plus, it's Malfoy. Just leave it...

But, try as she might to push those thoughts out of her mind, Hermione's stomach began to flutter, before slowly settling down into heavy, sickening guilt.

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Being asked to stay behind at the end of class was nothing new to Hermione now. Her nightmares, memories, of the death of Harry at the hands of Voldemort kept her up at ungodly hours, and Merlin, the guilt she felt for the way she had broken up with Ron… None of it made sense anymore. She was struggling to keep her focus on her studies, instead finding herself often revisiting the site of Harry's death in the courtyard, or staring out of the window, watching clouds roll by. She often contemplated her transition, the likelihood of her being accepted in Wizarding society as a transgender woman, of being able to maintain her relationship with the Weasleys, or anyone by this point. Everyone had a meaning once more, piecing their own space and life back together; Hermione, however, was stuck in the past.

Trying to progress her studies, or indeed her transition, seemed aimless. What was the point if she couldn't share her life with the two people who mattered most to her?

''Miss Granger? Did you hear anything I just said?''

Hermione snapped back to reality, having been lost in her memories once more.

I need to stop doing this…

''Sorry Professor, you were recapping something on translating the Arabic to Greek…?'' she asked hopefully, knowing full well that was not what Professor Babbling had been discussing.

The teacher sighed and beckoned someone over from behind Hermione. He came in far too close, once more brushing against Hermione, his hand tracing from her shoulder to her back, finishing a little too close to her arse for her comfort.

''I never thought I'd have to say this, Miss Granger, but I'm very concerned about your ability to pass your NEWTs at the end of the year. Even during… During those… troubling times, you were still infinitely more capable than you're demonstrating now, and so I'd like for you to spend a little time with Mr Malfoy, just to get yourself back on an even keel. There's only so much I can do, after all- the onus is on you now, Miss Granger.''

The younger witch groaned inwardly; although Malfoy didn't spend time with any of his old cronies in Slytherin, he was still unbearable to be around, especially if he was going to be a confusing fuckwit! Hermione's pelvis tingled as Malfoy brought his hand back to her hip, squeezing her waist brazenly in full view of the sadly oblivious Professor. She tried to ignore it, refusing to respond to Malfoy's persistent perversions. His hand once more met her arse, running over it gently over her skirt; he smiled at her knowingly, all the while maintaining a veneer of reformed helpfulness that easily convinced the unwitting Professor.

''So, it's decided! I'd appreciate it if you went now, please- straight to the library! Can't let my lesson go to waste!'' the Professor beamed, bidding the two young adults goodbye and strolling out, down the corridor, blissfully unaware of her erroneous conclusion.

''So…'' Malfoy began, stepping toward Hermione, hands in his pockets, forcing her to move closer and closer to the desk until she was almost sitting on it. ''It seems we're study partners again, then, eh? I'm sure you've missed me since asking to be paired up with someone else in Potions.'' He commented, smiling at her unsettlingly.

That smile...

''Yes… N-No…'' She curled her hands up into fists and began to ball at her skirt, determined not to show her discomfort.

''C'mon, Granger, cheer up- you've got brains, beauty and charm to look forward to, much better than Weasel and Pot-''

''Malfoy, I'm… I'm really not in the mood. Let's just go to the library, I'll copy your notes, take a book or two out, and then you can fuck off until the next time I need you.'' She sighed, smoothing out her wrinkled skirt and finding a point of interest in her shoes.

If I don't spend time around him, I won't feel guilty for wanting to get to know him. No, Hermione, you can't! Just… Just get the notes and go back to the Common Room! Not that he'd want to get to know you, anyway…

Malfoy tutted, admonishing Hermione for her lack of enthusiasm. ''Honestly, anyone would think you didn't like me…'' He paused before stepping toward the door again, looking back over his shoulder and addressing her with a serious, almost caring tone. ''Look, Hermione, you're a bright girl. I'm serious, do this for you, alright?'' he said shiftily, before walking away slowly, a bewildered Hermione following promptly, still staring at her shoes.

The fuck did he mean by that…? Jesus, Hermione, you need to start censoring yourself. You're turning into Ronald.

Ron…

She sniffled lightly, wiping away her tears with the sleeves of her cardigan, hoping Malfoy wouldn't notice.

They reached the library and decided upon a study table in a discrete corner; not that one would be difficult to find. Many students, male and female alike, had transferred to Beauxbatons, still unsure of the safety of Hogwarts post-war. Hermione herself had considered it, before deciding it was in her best interests to stay in a setting and amongst staff she knew already. Not that she couldn't complete the International NEWTs, of course. That would've been a breeze for her. But the loneliness? She was barely coping with that in Scotland, let alone the Pyrenees.

Hermione smiled to herself, a brief happy memory of her holiday in France several summers before, writing letters to her boys and joking in the editions to Harry at how hopeless Ron was at understanding her hints at her feelings. But then, it all went away in an instant. She didn't have either of her boys with her.

Get a grip, girl, come on… Once you've finished with the Ferret you can go back to the dorm, and if you're lucky you might catch Ginny, maybe even Luna…*

''Granger?'' Malfoy turned back to face Hermione and shot her a quick half-smile before his face returned to its usual statue-like hardness.

Shit… He's seen…

''I get it.'' Malfoy told her, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. Hermione gave him a quick nod, and then walked past him quickly, taking the seat at their table nearest the former Restricted Section. Not wanting to appear vexed, The Ferret cleared his throat, then joined Hermione, throwing himself into his work, and began to recite his notes to her, explaining the various linguistic cross-overs, the importance of having a shared root language, and shared characters, all the while Hermione bewildered and engaged.

''And so you see, after the Egyptian and Greek empires began to pool their magic, a new form of script emerged, but it was lost until about a century ago'' he informed her, the Gryffindor hanging onto his every word and looking up only to read his lips as the next tidbit of information was revealed.

She chewed her lip softly as she wrote, only worsening the cracks from the frantic worrying she paid to her lips in the months following Harry's death. Her whole appearance was more ragged than even her regular presentation, but this did not seem to faze Malfoy.

''You know Granger, your hair doesn't look too bad all mussled like that…'' He mused.

''It gets a guy wondering… thinking…''

Hermione was unaware of his leaning over the desk toward her, reaching out to stroke a stray curl behind her ear as to wrote. By the time she'd noticed his action and felt the brush of his manicured hand across her cheek, Draco had sat back into his own chair, looking at her with a mischievous yet charming smirk. ''What?'' He asked innocently, slinking back into his chair, arms resting on its back, deliberately flaunting his physique through the paper-thin pure cotton shirt.

Her heart sank a little; did he mean to do it, or was he just playing with her, as he did with every Hogwarts girl who would be good sport to prey on?

''Oh, don't look so sad, Granger'', he cooed. ''I really did mean it… Not every girl carries a mop as messy as yours nearly as well as you do… Though I'm sure it'd look much better from behind… Is that how you get it so unruly?'' He smirked, pressing Hermione's buttons slowly. ''Does little Miss Butter Wouldn't Melt bloody Gryffindor like taking it from behind…?''

Hermione looked down at the desk, trembling with anger.

Just breathe, then walk away, Hermione. You can catch up from someone else.

''But then, maybe you haven't had any for quite some time, Granger. You do look like you're gagging for it. Maybe you're a chronic masturbator… Now wouldn't that be dirty?''

She hadn't even noticed Malfoy's hand on her thigh under the desk, creeping slowly further up and up her leg, teasing at her long socks.

''Maybe the Mudblood should just accept the help she's being offered…'' He drawled, snapping the band of Hermione's sock with a finger, inching ever closer to her deepest secret. ''I'll bet Weasel never even managed to hit you from the front, never mind anything more adventurous...''

''W-Wait…!'' Hermione finally yelped, throwing her own hands over the Ferret's, looking into his eyes pleadingly, begging him to cease his torment. ''Wait… I-I wanted to get the work done, nothing more, and we've… we've done that now, Malfoy, so I'll just go no-''

''What's the matter? Don't tell me you got wet just from me stroking your thigh, Granger? Going to go flick the bean while it's still fresh in your mind?'' Malfoy continued, adding to the flush filling Hermione's face.

''No, it's not- I mean… No!''

''You did. Admit it. You got horny over the thought of me… Fuck me, Granger- not that I'm offering, you understand. Though I'm flattered if I'm a part of your fantasies''. He chuckled, and quickly caught her chin with his hand, leaning into Hermione's face. ''From what I've heard, though, you are on the market… And I have seen you, looking at me from across the Hall, ever since fourth year…'' His breath cooled her wet lips, making them tingle and long for contact, for warmth; for his lips to be on hers.

That feeling was rising again in the pit of Hermione's belly; desire, embarrassment, arousal, all coming together, confusing her.

Does he really want me? D-Do I even want him? Merlin, Hermione, it's Malfoy! What would Harry say? Or Ron?

No, fuck Ronald! He had his chance!

Hermione snapped back in her chair quickly and swatted his hand away from her face. ''I'm going now, Malfoy. If there's anything else you need to pass onto me, either owl it or come up to the Tower. Don't forget there are no House boundaries this year.'' she informed him, packing her bag (such a useful item, with its Undetectable Extension Charm) and finally standing up to walk away.

''Oh I'll see you, Granger...'' Draco purred to himself, setting his feet up on the desk and folding his hands behind his head. ''I'll see you in every way possible, and you'll never be satisfied.'' He watched Hermione walk away, trousers tightening at the flash of her thighs when her skirts blew up slightly in the autumn winds.

Fuck me, Granger. I'll have you yet.

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