A/N: Thank you, thank to all the folks who leave a review for this, I appreciate all of the feedback, and I can't tell you how motivating it is.

So… I made a continuity mistake: Earlier on I said that the first Quidditch game would be in November, but, as Ginny and Draco pointed out last chapter, it is in fact the first weekend of October. So… my mistake on that.

I would also like to make a note about McGonagall from last chapter: Yes, she was indeed harsh, and she certainly doesn't seem to be in Draco's corner. But, from her perspective: this is the student who let Death Eaters into the school, he was also indirectly responsible for Dumbledore's death. She gave him quite the second chance by making him a prefect, and allowing Viridian to name him as Quidditch team captain… her reasons for being that magnanimous remain her own for now, but those are pretty big steps. However, McGonagall is also watching Hermione essentially abandon Ron and Harry for Draco, and that is certainly cause for concern for her. She wants the best for her prize pupil… and the reasons why she thinks Draco isn't the best will become clear soon.


Another Chance

Chapter Eleven

Friday afternoon found Blaise, for once, on his own in his common room, stretched out on the couch and contemplating a nap. The seventh years not enrolled in Divination enjoyed a free period, and Blaise, Draco, and Granger were among the dozen or so students who had dropped the class early on. Blaise had found the class to be ridiculous, and while Trelawny was always good for a few laughs, it was a soft subject, according to Blaise's father.

Granger was in the library, no doubt burying herself somewhere in the Restricted Section as she worked on a project for her apprenticeships. Draco was in the dungeons, working in Prince's private lab. Thursday Granger had told them that she was dropping the Potions apprenticeship, and Blaise had expected Draco to be ecstatic – on the contrary, it had resulted in another day full of snippy remarks as the two continued to bicker. It was enough to drive Blaise mental, and he was grateful for the reprieve from their company.

As much as he appreciated them, their constant bickering and insulting had reached epically annoying proportions ever since the Weasley girl decided to make a nuisance of herself Tuesday morning. Blaise wondered if Granger and Draco would buy a clue and realize they were mad for each other, but he refused to interfere. At this point, anyway. If things continued as they were, he might be tempted to take drastic measures.

Defense class that week had been… very different than what Blaise expected. On Tuesday, Viridian had set them to casting patronus's, and Blaise had been shocked when a great deal of the class were unable to. Viridian, however, seemed to have expected it. Students like Granger and Weasley, who had been able to conjure a patronus for years were among the ones who were now unable. Viridian had assigned them a two-foot essay, challenging the class to formulate the reason for why so many of them were unable to cast a patronus.

Thursday he had given each of them a heavily warded object – layers and layers of defensive spells, privacy charms, trespassing hexes – and challenged them to remove all of the wards by the end of class.

Blaise, Draco, Granger, Weasley, Longbottom, and Eleanor had been the only students able to do it in the given time. The rest of the class was given the weekend to finish the assignment. Blaise had stayed after, hoping to arrange a meeting with Viridian, but the Defense professor had merely ushered him out with the promise to keep their Sunday afternoon appointment.

The fact that Neville Longbottom had now joined their table for lunch was…well, Blaise didn't know what he thought of it. Draco made it clear that he thought Blaise had gone off the deep end by even associating with the boy, but Blaise was actually pleasantly surprised by how well Longbottom was able to join in their conversations and intellectual debates. He was no match for the other five students, but he could interject interesting points every now and then, and when they turned to matters of Herbology or Astronomy, Longbottom was easily able to converse.

Weasley, thankfully, only sat at their table once more that week, again for breakfast, and again using Granger's plate as her own. Blaise despised poor table manners, and Weasley's made it seem as though she had been raised by cave trolls. Her presence did nothing to relieve the tension between Draco and Granger, either. She flirted with Draco shamelessly, and the fact that he even responded to her was driving Granger insane. Potter and the other Weasley didn't seem too pleased with their behavior either: they spent a great deal more time glaring across the hall at them, and Potter had spent the better part of Wednesday's Potions class trying to sabotage his and Draco's Potion.

Add to that the continuing mystery of Draco's stalker, Granger's still fragile – though recovering – state after confessing her father's death, and Blaise's own rather uncertain position with Viridian, and it had been a full week that he was glad to have behind him.

He had received a letter from home this morning. His father was requesting that he spend the Christmas holiday with the family in order to meet several witches his father viewed as prospective mates for his only son. Achille Zabini was aware of his Blaise's sexual preferences, but he had no intention of indulging his son. He had made it clear to Blaise that by his twenty-first birthday he was expected to have married a witch of good background and produced an heir, two if possible. After that duty was complete, Blaise was free to do as he pleased, with whomever he pleased.

The fact that Blaise's older sister, Gemma, was already married and the mother of twin boys did nothing to appease Achille. Their name and fortune had always been traced through the male line, and no amount of arguments on Blaise's part would change his mind.

It was a problem that Blaise had known he would face for the last three years, and yet he had always been positive his father would give up on him and allow Gemma's sons to inherit. His sister, too, had made it clear that she felt forcing Blaise to marry, just to have a son – when she had two – was medieval.

Family functions, as a result, were awkward at best. The thought of a parade of witches invading his life was more than enough to put him off the idea of going home for Christmas. He wondered what plausible excuse he could come up with to keep him at Hogwarts – better if he could convince Draco to spend the holiday with him. At least with Draco he would have an appreciative audience for his complaints. He wondered what Granger's holiday plans were, and if he could convince her to come home with him and pose as his fiancée. It would be entertaining, if nothing else.

Blaise checked his watch and saw that it was nearly five. Draco would be heading out to the Quidditch pitch for one last practice before tomorrow's game. He wondered if he could catch Granger in the library still. Thinking about his own life could only keep him occupied for so long, and he decided to go in search of the Head Girl. She, at least, had problems that were interesting.

On his way to the library he came across Longbottom in the middle of breaking up a fight between a third year Slytherin and two older Gryffindors. Blaise paused at the end of the corridor and listened as Longbottom gave the two boys a severe dressing down.

"… younger child, on his own. Your behavior is an insult to your house, and an insult to the memory of everyone that died during the war. You think that Graves is in any way responsible for what happened to your sister? He's a baby, and he's innocent of any wrongdoing his housemates, his cousins, or his other relatives may have taken part in. Fifteen points from each of you, and if I catch you at this sort of thing again I'll report you to Professor Weasley and Professor Viridian." That last threat had the two boys looking suitably terrified, and Blaise wondered how the younger years viewed the rather fierce Defense professor.

"Now get going," Longbottom gestured imperiously and the Gryffindors beat a quick retreat. Longbottom turned to the Slytherin. "Graves, I realize that you were outnumbered, but that gives no excuse to use a Dark curse. That hex you hit them with is pretty nasty. It's been known to cause permanent nerve damage. Was that your intention?"

Graves jutted his chin out, expression harsh.

"It was my intention to get them to leave me alone. They blame me for their sister, and this isn't the first time they've attacked me."

"Why didn't you go to a Prefect or your head of house?"

"I don't need to rely on others," Graves said. Blaise could see something of himself in the young boy, and he remembered his second year, when the Weasley Twins had cornered Draco and himself and cursed them with an embarrassing hex that had the Gryffindors and Slytherins alike laughing at them.

"Clearly you do. Graves, I have to take points off."

"Fine." The boy was mutinous and Blaise wondered how he and Draco had grown out of that stage of fury and distrust for anyone in a position of authority. He sighed, realizing that they hadn't grown out of it, they had just gotten better at hiding it.

"Five points, Graves. I strongly encourage you to seek out non-violent ways to resolve these kinds of conflicts."

"Tell that to your Gryffindors," Graves snarled and then stalked off.

Blaise watched as Longbottom's shoulders slumped.

"Rude little blighter," Blaise commented.

Longbottom jerked around at the sound of his voice. A faint smile spread across his face, and Blaise found himself responding to the look by walking closer.

"Rupert and Steven are… troubled kids. Their sister was an Auror, she died during the Final Battle as the Death Eaters were fleeing."

"So they take it out on younger kids? That's awfully… good of them."

Longbottom scowled.

"I really don't know what to do. This is the third time I've caught them at it – Graves isn't their only target."

"You Gryffindors really know how to project your anger onto innocent people," Blaise mused, furious that this had been happening and no one had told him. It was his house, after all, and as much as he thought the upper years could go to hell most of the time, the kids were victims and they needed protection and guidance. He realized he was starting to sound like Viridian.

"Not all of us," Longbottom argued.

"Mm. What are you up to?"

"Aside from rescuing Slytherins I had no plans for the immediate future."

"Care to walk around the lake? I've found it to be a prime spot for avoiding Gryffindors and Slytherins out to cause trouble."

Longbottom looked amused.

"Excluding yourself."

"Naturally," Blaise agreed with a smirk.

"Lead on, then."

They walked in companionable silence through the halls of the castle and soon found themselves outside on the grounds, the fleeting warmth of the late September afternoon making the climate mild and pleasant.

"I heard about your Herbology apprenticeship, congratulations."

Longbottom nodded.

"Thank you. I was surprised that you declined the Transfiguration apprenticeship."

Blaise smiled tightly.

"There really is no such thing as a secret around here, is there?"

Longbottom chuckled and shook his head.

"No, I've already got an apprenticeship arranged for after my graduation, back in Italy."

"Lucky."

Blaise shrugged. He didn't consider himself to be all that lucky – granted, Master Fiorello's reputation was unmatched in the contemporary Transfiguration field. But returning to Italy meant returning to his family. And that meant…

"I wouldn't mind the chance to get away from Britain for a while," Longbottom mused.

"Oh?"

"Lot of memories. And a lot of family expectations. Now that Gran doesn't think I'm a total failure I've… got a lot to live up to."

"Carrying on the family line and making a name for yourself?"

Longbottom's expression was sour.

"Yes. Exactly." He shot Blaise a considering look. "How is it with you? I mean, does your family know?"

"Do mean are they aware that I've slept my way through most of the sixth and seventh year boys here?"

Longbottom's face was a mixture of confusion and irritation, but he nodded.

"Yes, they are aware. My father… I am to produce an heir, and then I'm free to fuck whomever I want."

"Gran'd kill me if she knew."

"You faced Voldemort, Longbottom, one old woman can't be that much of a challenge anymore."

"You've never met her. Neither did Voldemort, not face to face. I think he'd have been intimidated."

Blaise snorted.

"Thought you Gryffindors were supposed to be brave."

"I'm taking you to the Halloween Ball, aren't I?" Longbottom seemed irritated.

"And how was the news of that taken?"

"It's no one else's business."

"You haven't told anyone."

"Why should I? They'll see for themselves, come Halloween. Besides, it isn't as though it will be more than the one night." This last was said quieter, and Blaise looked over at the Gryffindor.

Longbottom was staring at the lake, hands shoved in his pockets and stance wary.

"Neville, I'm… with someone."

Longbottom gave a harsh laugh.

"He already taken for the Ball, though?"

"Um, no… I can't take him."

Longbottom turned curious eyes on him, but after a moment an enlightened expression came over his face.

"Lucky bastard," he muttered.

"Thanks," Blaise said.

"I meant him, you idiot."

Blaise barely managed to mask his shock. He grinned.

"Don't tell me you've been lusting after me all this time, Neville."

Longbottom scowled.

"Yeah, well, I'm getting over it, don't worry." Longbottom turned and started to walk away.

Blaise frowned and reached out to stop the other boy, grabbing his arm. Longbottom looked at him, and the anger on his face faded.

Longbottom stepped closer and Blaise knew that the Gryffindor was about to kiss him. He had a second to decide what to do, and knowing he would regret it later, he closed the distance between them.

The kiss was nothing like what he had experienced with Viridian, but neither was it reminiscent of Blaise's other past encounters. Neville's lips were teasing as they caught at first his upper lip, and then latched onto his mouth. Blaise found himself responding to the kiss and opened his mouth to the other boy. Neville's tongue was just as light… testing in some way. They broke apart, Neville sucking just slightly on Blaise's lower lip before he released him.

They stood in silence, regarding each other, a new awareness between them.

Blaise shook himself and wiped a hand over his face.

"Fuck, Neville – that can't happen again." And he walked away, the temptation to turn around and kiss the other boy so great that he felt a physical need to do so. He cursed himself for letting it happen – cursed Longbottom for kissing him in a way that made Blaise forget all the darkness in his life. Fuck, he thought again, because he had been just that stupid.

He decided to walk over to the Quidditch pitch and wait for Draco to finish his practice. The time alone, outside, would give him the chance to mentally berate himself and limit the chance he would run into Longbottom again before dinner.

Draco had them flying passes, the Beaters trying to cause interference and the Keeper practices with the reserve Keeper at one end of the pitch. Draco was flying around them with practiced ease, and Blaise had to admire the way he was running the team. He wasn't being a tyrant, but his authority over them was clear. Draco seemed more at ease out here than he had been in ages, and Blaise was grateful that he had been given the chance to captain the team. It clearly agreed with him.

Blaise took a seat on the grass near the supply box and leaned back on his elbows, stretching his legs out in front of him. The practice ended a few minutes later and Blaise watched as the team trooped off to the locker room, exhausted. Draco landed a few feet from him and summoned the Quaffle and Bludgers to restore them to the supply box.

"What brings you out here?"

"Oh, just wanted to get a feel for how badly we'd be crushed tomorrow. Hopeless, really."

Draco rolled his eyes.

"Your constant support is all that keeps me going, you realize. I truly would be lost without you."

Blaise smirked and got to his feet. Draco levitated the supply case, hefted his broom over his shoulder, and started off towards the lockers.

"Where's Granger?" He asked.

"Library, I expect. Haven't seen her since Lunch."

"Hm."

"She was mumbling something about Krum and wedding robes… I think she went to go research pureblood marriage ceremonies."

Draco stopped short for a moment, then sent Blaise a chilling glare.

"Even Granger isn't daft enough to tie herself down to that oaf."

"Hm. Yes, I imagine it would be a terribly difficult life for her. Famous, international Quidditch star husband who moved to Britain for her… intelligent, good looking, rich, and obviously smitten with her. Perhaps she'd best go back to Weasley."

A muscle in Draco's jaw jumped, but he remained silent.

They arrived at the lockers just as the rest of the team were leaving. Draco stowed the equipment and stripped off his clothes.

"Tell me again why you're taking Weasley to the Ball if it's Granger you so clearly want," he prompted.

Draco threw his uniform shirt into his locker space and turned to glare at Blaise.

"I didn't tell you, Blaise."

"Oh, must be why I can't remember."

Draco drew in a deep breath and braced himself against his locker, looking down.

"He wants me to suffer, as he suffered. He said that… my family took away everything he had ever had, and he would return the favor. The Death Eater was just one, he said, of his many friends still out there."

Blaise was silent, waiting to see where this would lead.

"He's going to kill her. Said she looked so beautiful under the cruciatius that he's desperate for another opportunity, and he can't wait for the Ball. Said that he'll be able to slip in and out so easily no one will even know until they find her body." Draco looked over at Blaise and his expression was tortured. "You really think I need to spend more time with her? She'll be safer with Krum, anyway."

"Draco, that's depressingly noble. Pull yourself together – where's your inner slimy, self-serving git?"

His friend snorted a laugh and shook his head.

"Creepy bastard is just out there, somewhere, and I've no fucking clue who it is. And now he's threatening her."

"You know, she's pretty good at taking care of herself," Blaise pointed out.

"Not much defense against an Unforgivable, Blaise."

He shrugged, acknowledging the point.

"Still, she's a nice asset to have at your back."

Draco banged his head against the open frame of his locker.

"Blaise she isn't…she's ruining me. Why can't we go back to the days when she punched me and I called her a Mudblood? So much easier."

Blaise chuckled.

"I'm sure she'd still punch you, if you wanted. You grew up, Draco. You cast off your father's shadow and you're your own man." Blaise shrugged. "Still, it wasn't sporting of her to grow up into such a beautiful witch."

Draco shook his head in agreement, sighed, and pulled on his white button-up shirt.

"Course, you two keep up this ridiculous arguing and you won't have to worry about keeping her away."

"She drives me insane. One minute I'm insulting her and the next…" Draco shook his head. "Merlin I've cuddled with the girl twice – three times now. Pathetic."

Blaise could only smirk. He clapped Draco on the shoulder.

"Let's grab some dinner. It'll give you the chance to insult her again."

Draco shook his head but picked up his school bag and followed Blaise.

Blaise had to wonder at Draco's attachment to Granger – he had spent the past seven years tormenting her, and now, after a month of… pleasantries his friend was besotted with her. It was a very brief time to go from one extreme emotion to another, and Blaise wondered how much of it was because of Draco's estrangement from the house, and how much was an actual attraction to Granger.

He looked over and took in Draco's still furious expression. Draco had few people show him unsolicited kindness in his life, and Blaise feared that he had latched on to the first girl not out for his money or title.

"Stop thinking about me," Draco growled. "I can look out for myself."

Blaise smirked.

"You keep telling yourself that. You know, if you want to ditch the Weasley girl, I hear Megan's still looking for a date…"

Draco glared.

"I can't believe you're going with Longbottom."

"He's a better catch than Weasley."

"No question about that."

They entered the Great Hall and Blaise was surprised to see Granger at their table, along with Stephan, Eleanor, and Longbottom. Blaise groaned and debated the merits of eating in the kitchens.

Draco gave him an amused look.

"Your date seems quite –"

"Don't say it," Blaise growled. Draco smirked but kept silent. They walked over and sat down, Draco beside Granger, and Blaise at the last open seat, beside Longbottom.

Stephan nodded a greeting at them and then went back to his conversation with Granger.

"My cousin said that the MLE has pulled most of its resources from tracking down the rogue Death Eaters. Most of the worst have been captured, and they'e still got a lot of restructuring to do."

"Restructuring how?" Granger asked. She had propped her chin up on her hand and showed no interest in her food. Blaise looked over at Draco and saw that his friend was as interested in the conversation as he was. He wondered what Granger had found out before they showed up.

"Voldemort infiltrated the Ministry to a frightening extent. Between removing Imperious's, Memory Charms, and the like, it's really cut back the number of able employees."

"Not to mention losing the employees that were actually aware of acting for Voldemort," Blaise pointed out.

Stephan nodded.

"Exactly. So the Ministry wants to move forward and put the Death Eaters behind them."

"Stupid to leave them running loose," Longbottom muttered. Blaise refused to look at him.

"What else can they do? Go house to house searching? That wouldn't exactly inspire confidence in the masses." Draco shrugged. "Still, it'd be nice for them to acknowledge that they were still out there."

Stephan sent him a piercing look.

"Just how many are still out there?"

Draco went rigid and his gaze was cold as he looked at the Ravenclaw boy.

"I wouldn't know. One less, after Saturday."

Stephan looked down. Granger cleared her throat.

"Anyway, it seems like McGonagall is following party lines pretty well and doing the same as the Ministry."

Eleanor jumped in, obviously just as eager as Granger to smooth things over between Draco and Stephan.

"It's true – she even rescheduled the Hogsmeade visit for weekend after next, so that students can get their costumes together." It was clear that Eleanor thought little of the prospect of dressing up.

"She's going a long way to make everyone feel as though nothing happened," Granger muttered, and Blaise could tell she was about to work herself up into rant mode.

"Say – how about we head up to the common room and have a rematch for our poker game?" He suggested.

"Hermione – you taught them poker?" This was from Longbottom, and there was a note of exasperation in his voice.

Granger nodded and looked smug.

"Cleaned them out, as well."

"You didn't clean us out," Draco groused. "You just happened to win a few hands."

"You practically bankrupted the Gryffindor common room sixth year," Longbottom said.

Granger smirked, obviously enjoying her reputation as a card shark. Eleanor and Stephan looked intrigued.

"What kind of game is poker?" Stephan asked.

Draco rolled his eyes.

"The kind that Granger destroys you at, apparently."

"Want to join us?" Granger asked, putting on her best innocent expression. "It's really easy to learn."

Stephan and Eleanor exchanged looks and shrugged.

"Why not? We've got nothing else planned."

"Neville, care to join us?" Granger asked, smiling brightly.

"Of course, maybe this will be my chance to win back some of all that money I lost to you."

Blaise sighed.

"Very well. I think I'll make a run to the kitchens and then join you."

"You just ate," Granger pointed out.

"True, but I came across a wine cellar the other night when I was doing patrols. I'm desperate to find out what's inside."

Granger slanted a look at Stephan and Eleanor, but both seemed intrigued by the promise of alcohol, rather than offended.

"Anyway, catch you up in a bit."

"I'll come with you," Neville immediately volunteered.

There was no way for Blaise to get out of his company without looking like a heel, so he shrugged. The Gryffindor rose from the table, and together they left the hall.

They walked down to the kitchens in silence, and Blaise was both grateful for Longbottom holding his tongue and irritated. He knew the Gryffindor wanted to say something – he would prefer that he just get it over with.

The cellar that Blaise had previously found was in an annex just off the kitchens, and Blaise made short work of the wards guarding it.

"Have you been in here before?" Longbottom asked as he cast a Lumos.

"No. I overheard the Bloody Baron talking about it. Dippet was apparently quite the collector."

"Hm. Elderberry wine… Goblin wine… there's even some Muggle stuff in here." Longbottom was surveying the bottles with a practiced ease. Blaise rolled his eyes.

"Don't tell me you're some sort of wine connoisseur?"

Longbottom looked over at him and smirked.

"Why? Would that make me even more irresistible?" Instead of waiting for a response, Longbottom turned back to the wine rack he was examining and pulled out two bottles. "These are Muggle, actually, Hermione introduced me to this particular vintner. Anything you liked?"

Blaise shook his head and grabbed two of the Goblin wines.

"Right, this should do us." He walked past Longbottom and led the way up to his common room at a pace that did not encourage conversation. Apparently, Longbottom didn't pick up on hints too well.

"You're really torn up about earlier," he said.

"I am not torn up. I'm over it."

"So you won't mind if I kiss you again."

"Longbottom – I'm with someone. What about that don't you understand?"

"You aren't with anyone right now. Well, not anyone but me." Longbottom was smirking and Blaise scowled.

"Gryffindors. You think everything is so simple. I'm not available."

"But you're interested." There was a certain smug tone in Longbottom's voice that drove Blaise crazy.

"It was one kiss, Longbottom, and as mind-numbly good as it was, that's all it will ever be. Get it out of your system."

Longbottom was silent until they reached the portrait.

"It was a pretty good kiss, wasn't it?"


Hermione woke up early on Saturday. She spent a few minutes setting their common room to rights – Eleanor got quite exuberant when drunk, they had learnt – and then took a long bath, enjoying a chance to relax. She had had precious little opportunity so far this semester. Yesterday had been a good day for her – the chance to spend the afternoon in the library on her own had done her good, and the poker night Blaise had implemented had been surprisingly fun. Everyone managed to stay on good terms, and Draco had managed to win almost as many hands as she did before the Ravenclaws called it a night. Neville and Draco had both stayed longer, and the competition had grown quite a bit more intense, until finally, after two in the morning, Draco had left to get a decent amount of sleep before the game. Neville had left as well, and Blaise had insisted that he and Hermione finish off the 'liberated' wine – just one bottle, fortunately – before they too went to bed.

The bath put her in a very peaceful frame of mind, and she took the time to brush and straighten her hair, pleased with the smooth fall of it around her shoulders. She looked through her wardrobe, debating whether or not to dress sensibly or… with a mental shrug of her shoulders she pulled out a short, gray skirt and a lavender blouse that she knew Ron was particularly fond of. Aware that she was dressed in very house neutral colors, Hermione was rather pleased with her appearance. She looked nice, but not as though she had spent the entire morning deciding what to wear.

She went down to breakfast and noticed that Draco was already eating.

"Good morning," she said, striving for politeness.

Draco looked up and frowned.

"You're dressed up."

"Yes, well, I'm meeting with Professor Smith later, and I heard dressing up was the thing to do."

Draco shook his head.

"How do you think you'll do today?" Hermione could have cared less about the game, but since Draco wasn't immediately jumping down her throat, as had been the case over the last few days, she was willing to make whatever conversation she could.

"I've no idea," he admitted. "I don't expect much from my team – they're young, and Potter and his lot have been together for a while now. I imagine it will come down to the Snitch."

Hermione wondered how that would go. Harry and Draco had not been the friendliest of competitors in the past, and things were not much better between them now.

Draco rolled his eyes at the expression on her face.

"Don't worry. I'll be on my best behavior."

"That's what worries me," she shot back and he smirked.

"You're one to talk, corrupting uptight Ravenclaws and encouraging drunkenness in the Heads common room."

"I fear I've been hanging around with you and Blaise too much."

"Hm. I'm sure seven years of Potter and Weasel didn't encourage rule breaking at all."

Hermione shook her head.

"I always had to look out for them."

"They seem to be managing without you," he pointed out.

"Yes, well. I'm ever so glad."

Draco shook his head.

"Weasley's mental if she thinks taking her to the Ball is going to change Potter's mind."

"Then why are you taking her?" Even now, Draco's quick acceptance of Ginny's offer stung. Hermione wasn't exactly sure why she felt she had a prior claim to the Slytherin, but she couldn't shake the jealousy that crept up on her whenever she thought about them attending the Ball together.

"Seemed rude not to, since she asked." Draco was smirking, but it was smug and irritating.

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Because you care so much about being rude to people."

Draco shrugged.

"Maybe I've turned over a new leaf."

"Right. I just hope you enjoy dancing with her while dodging Harry's hexes."

"I'm sure I'll manage just fine," Draco assured her. "Not as well as you and Krum, of course."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. You and Krum get on famously, so I've no doubt you'll enjoy every moment of his scintillating conversation. Has he managed to learn to say your name properly yet?"

Hermione glared at him.

"He manages just fine," she assured him through gritted teeth.

"Hmm. As fascinating as it is to discuss Krum, I've got to get to the Quidditich pitch. Try not to get too emotional when Gryffindor loses."

"I won't. I'm looking forward to my team completely crushing you," she assured him.

"Of course you are." Draco turned and left without another word and Hermione stabbed her toast.

It seemed the two of them were back to being unable to have a decent conversation.

Hermione finished her breakfast hurriedly and made her way up to Professor Smith's office for her meeting.

"Enter," he called at her knock. "Good morning, Miss Granger. Please, take a seat. I will be finished with these papers in one moment." He gestured to the seating area by his fireplace and Hermione crossed over to it, taking the same chair as last time.

A few minutes later Smith joined her.

"I take it you didn't have a question about a class assignment," Smith said.

"No." Hermione smoothed down her skirt and smiled in what she hoped was a disarming way. "Actually, I wanted to discuss the first war with you."

Smith raised his eyebrows.

"As I told you before, I had little involvement in it."

"Yes, sir, I was actually more curious about, well, after. You mentioned that you started your seventh year after the fall of Voldemort. You also mentioned that many of your housemates had become Death Eaters."

Smith inclined his head, his expression closed.

"Professor Viridian has made it clear he thinks most of my year is struggling to cope with the after-effects of the war."

"Yes, he had been harping on the subject during staff meetings."

"Well, I wondered, how did students fair in your day?"

"You make me sound ancient, Miss Granger." He smiled tightly and then tilted his head. After a moment he shrugged. "It was a struggle, then as now, but I believe that many of the students were given a chance to redeem themselves, even if they had been pressured into joining Voldemort."

"What sort of chance?"

"Unless they had used an Unforgivable or participated in the killing of Muggles, they were more or less exonerated. Records were sealed at the Ministry, and people simply allowed it to pass as some youthful indiscretion. I believe the same is the standard for today."

"There aren't many books written on the subject," Hermione confessed, "so I hope I'm not prying too deeply with my questions."

Smith waived a hand. "I am always eager to accommodate the quest for knowledge. I can understand that, after Saturday's events, you have more questions than not."

Hermione bit her lip and considered the best way to ask her next question.

"Sir, did any of your peers… escape Ministry censure?"

He frowned.

"I'm sure I don't know, Miss Granger. If they did, I doubt they went about spreading that information."

"Of course. I, well, it's just disturbing that there are still so many Death Eaters out there."

"Hm. Without Voldemort, or any sort of leader, they can hardly do much damage."

Hermione did not agree with Smith's logic, especially in light of recent events.

"So, it's possible that a student who supported Voldemort, but did not commit any Unforgivables, could have continued on at Hogwarts and then secured a Ministry position."

"I suppose so," Smith agreed, but he was frowning. "What are you trying to suggest, Miss Granger?"

Hermione shrugged.

"Oh, nothing. I was just…wondering. I've finished nearly all of the books you lent me."

"And are you still interesting in working on your transformation during the break?"

"Yes, certainly. I've been doing the meditation exercises… and running a few Arithmatic calculations."

"I would expect no less of you."

"Most of it suggests that I am closely aligned with animals that fly. Which is ironic, considering my fear of flying."

"That is interesting. However, you must have some fascination for winged creatures, some sympathy that creates the connection."

"That's true. I've always admired falcons. My father was a bird-watcher, and we spend a great deal of time searching for interesting species of birds on our family vacations." Hermione managed to keep her voice even, and forced herself not to follow the logical train of thought that memory brought up.

"That makes a great deal of sense."

"May I ask… what is your form?"

Smith smiled and then stood.

"Allow me to show you."

He closed his eyes, and a moment later his body shifted, growing smaller and furrier.

"A hare." Hermione smiled, amused at the rather diminutive creature. Smith transformed back into his human form.

"A very useful form, though not terribly exciting," he said."Now, Miss Granger, I believe the Quidditch match will start shortly. I trust you planned to attend?"

"Yes, of course." Hermione stood.

"Miss Granger, if you find yourself still curious about the fate of potentially Dark wizards, I would direct you to speak with Professor Prince."

Hermione frowned and then acknowledge his point – as Snape's cousin and a close correspondent, Prince probably did know more than Smith. Still, she felt that Smith did know more than he was telling her, and wondered if he were somehow protecting his old schoolmates.

"Of course, I'm sorry if any of my questions offended you."

"Not in the least. I just find that my knowledge on the subject is rather limited. Shall we?" Smith gestured for them to leave his office.

Hermione walked with the professor down to the Quidditch pitch.

"I am glad that you came to no lasting harm last Saturday," Smith said.

"As am I. Draco and I were… lucky." She did not feel that way, but it seemed the most politic thing to say.

"You were also well prepared, and quite experienced." Smith paused. "The Headmistress is very pleased to have Viktor Krum escorting you to the Halloween Ball."

"Honestly, does everyone know?"

"She feels that it is an opportune moment for positive press – an international Quidditch star visiting the school is far more comforting than hearing that two students were attacked by Death Eaters. Many parents are still uneasy about their students attending a school so recently devastated. It is difficult to trust again, after the loss of so many."

"Yes, I imagine it is." Hermione sighed and shook her head. "I still don't think it's a good idea, allowing just anyone to attend."

"Mr. Krum is certainly not just anyone. Especially to you." Hermione frowned.

"He is an old friend," Hermione admitted.

"Nothing more?"

Hermione looked over at Smith and saw that he was actually… interested.

"No," she said.

Smith nodded.

"I imagine that, at your age, such attachments are unwanted. After all, you have a bright future ahead of you."

"I wouldn't view it as a hindrance. I just don't see Viktor that way."

They arrived at the pitch and Smith turned to her.

"Enjoy the game Miss Granger. I shall look forward to discussing your progress next week?"

Hermione nodded and watched as he made his way to the teacher's box. She was baffled by their conversation. Smith seemed to have little interest in the personal lives of his students, and did not strike Hermione as the type to indulge in gossip. As confused as she was about that, she was also unsatisfied with his responses to her earlier questions. Now, more than ever, she wished she could speak with Snape's portrait.

She joined Neville in the Gryffindor box and smiled at him. It was obvious that he was attracted to Blaise, and Hermione couldn't help but think that the Slytherin returned his interest.

"Hello," she greeted him.

"Morning. Still gloating after last night?"

She shook her head.

"You played well. I think you boys are starting to get the hang of it."

"It's impossible to get a read on those two, though. I've no idea when they're bluffing."

"And you've got me figured out?"

Neville smiled.

"I think so – you wrinkle your nose, just a little, when you don't like the cards you've been dealt. Of course, half the time you can still turn them into a winning hand, so it isn't that helpful."

Hermione laughed and nudged his shoulder.

"You're pretty good at keeping a straight face, yourself."

"Thanks for inviting me, last night."

"Of course, Neville. You're always welcome."

"I appreciate it. I… feel bad for the falling out you've had with Ron and Harry."

Hermione shrugged.

"They're being stubborn about Draco. They think he hasn't changed…"

"He has, at least where you're concerned. He's still a bit of an arrogant git," Neville said with a grin, "but it's obvious he's changed his opinion on blood status, and the Dark arts, for that matter. You two get on really well." Neville was looking at her closely and Hermione blushed.

"Sometimes. Not lately, I'm afraid."

Neville nodded and looked to the pitch as the two teams took to the field.

"Well, you seem happier, with them."

"I wouldn't say that. I just… it's nice to talk about something besides Quidditch." She smiled at Neville and he grinned back.

"What? You aren't on the edge of your seat to hear every single detail of every game plan Ron's come up with? It's the only thing that keeps me going."

Hermione shook her head and looked at the players. Harry and Draco were flying high above the rest of the pitch in long, lazy loops while the other players simply hovered in their starting positions.

There was a hush of silence, and then the balls were released. There was a mad dive as the Chasers angled for the Quaffle and the Beaters chased after the Bludgers. Hermione watched for five minutes and then lost all interest.

She pulled out the book Viktor had sent her on blood magic and started reading.

It was nearly two hours later when Neville nudged her shoulder.

"Looks like they're going for the Snitch."

Hermione looked up, and indeed, both Harry and Draco were in hot pursuit of what, from this distance, appeared to be an invisible object.

"What's the score?" She asked.

"Slytherin has ninety-points, Gryffindor has one-hundred and ten."

It was a closer game than Hermione had thought it would be. She watched as the two Seekers battled each other for the lead in their chase. Suddenly, Draco jerked his broom in a different direction. Harry followed, but it had been a feint, and Draco was now flying below the Gryffindor and seemed to be close to capturing the Snitch. Harry dove downwards, nearly colliding with Draco, and the Slytherin had to come to a near complete stop to avoid getting thrown from his broom. They appeared to be engaged in a shouting match, as Draco got back to speed, but the Snitch had been lost.

"Well, that was exciting," Hermione commented before going back to her book. She truly did not understand the appeal of Quidditch. Unless the teams were vastly unmatched and one outscored the other by more than one-hundred and fifty points, the contest was decided by the two Seekers. While she did find the frenzied chase for the Snitch interesting, the overall unbalanced nature of the game kept her from becoming very engaged.

"Let me know if they try to kill each other," Hermione told Neville.

"Will do," he agreed, and Hermione returned to her book.


The weather was starting to turn: the wind was picking up and Draco could feel the sting of rain as he dove towards the pitch again, hoping to throw off Potter.

The other Seeker didn't fall for it, and instead veered off in a separate direction to hunt for the Snitch.

During their first chase for the golden ball, Potter's team had been sufficiently distracted that Slytherin had scored another goal, and even now Slytherin was in possession of the Quaffle again. Draco was impressed that his team was able to keep the game as close as they had, but it was only a matter of time before he and Potter decided the outcome of the game.

Draco circled above the pitch, examining the sky. His gaze was drawn over to the Gryffindor box, and he wished he was close enough to see Granger. If she had even bothered to come to the game. He shook his head and forced his thoughts away from her.

He flew closer to the pitch and - there it was. A flash of gold against the darkening sky. He turned his broom and dove for it. Wind rushed past his face, stealing his breath and whipping at his clothes. He pushed forward, urging more speed out of his broom.

He saw Potter out of the corner of his eye as the Gryffindor Seeker joined in. Potter closed in on his trajectory in a matter of seconds, and they were neck and neck again as they sped towards the Snitch.

Draco angled under Potter, since it had worked so well before, but Potter immediately juked his broom downward. Draco took advantage of the maneuver and propelled himself just ahead of Potter. The Snitch was so close he could hear the rapid beat of its wings, and he reached out.

Potter crashed into his side, momentarily throwing Draco. He pushed back against the other boy, satisfied when Potter swore and had to scramble to remain seated on his broom.

Draco edged forward on his broom, shifting his weight into the dive. The Snitch was so close. He reached out, felt the flutter of wings against his palm and then –

Pain. Sharp and excruciating shot down his arm and to his brain, searing every nerve ending along the way. He swallowed the scream in his throat and gritted his teeth against the pain that was more brutal than cruciatius.

Draco jerked away from the Snitch, letting it escape his loose grasp.

Potter was instantly surging forward.

"No! Don't touch it!"

Potter ignored him and reached out for the Snitch, still just in front of their brooms.

Draco acted without thinking. He dove off of his broom and tackled Potter, sending them both hurtling to the ground.

"Malfoy!" Potter was enraged, and he pushed at Draco, sending the blonde careening off on his own.

The ground was approaching at an alarming rate, and Draco managed to cast a wandless cushioning charm at the last second. His control was off, however. He landed hard on the charm, then bounced into the air and fell again, crashing into the ground as the charm dissipated. He felt more than heard the crunch of bone in his right leg.

"Bloody hell," he muttered. Mud squelched under his body and Draco grimaced. He sat up, ignoring the pain in his leg, and surveyed the ground for Potter.

The Gryffindor was laying a few feet away, and he wasn't moving. Draco dragged himself over, wondering where the hell the Professors were when it was clear that the two of them were injured.

"Potter!" He screamed in the other boy's face and jerked his collar.

Green eyes opened and focused on Draco. There was a great deal of anger in those eyes. Draco dropped Potter back to the ground, but Potter threw himself at Draco, swinging his left arm forward and catching Draco's jaw.

"What the fuck?" Draco shoved Potter away.

"You son of a bitch! You could have killed us!" Potter was back, and he gripped Draco's uniform jersey as he punched him again, catching him square on the nose.

"That's it, Potter!" Draco didn't bother to shove him away. He landed a punch of his own, catching Potter in the gut. The other boy fell off of him with a grunt and Draco felt his nose. His hands came away bloody.

"You stupid –"

"Potter! Malfoy!"

Draco looked up at the sound of Viridian's harsh voice. Bill Weasley was hot on his heels, looking more furious than Draco had ever seen the man. Viridian didn't look too happy either.

"Foul, Mr. Malfoy. And detention. You could have killed Potter, not to mention yourself. It's a stupid game –"

"The Snitch is cursed!" Malfoy shouted over his head of house.

Viridian was momentarily taken aback.

"You were going to lose and you couldn't stand it!" Potter shouted at him.

Draco rolled his eyes at the Gryffindor.

"I couldn't stand the fucking pain from touching the thing is what I couldn't stand. And for some idiotic reason I tried to save your life." Draco sneered. "The urge has passed, I assure you. Go ahead back up there and try to catch the damn thing. You're welcome to it."

Weasley was scowling as he approached.

"How do you know it was cursed?"

"Because I felt the damn thing. It was in my hand." Draco shook his head. "Someone tampered with it."

Viridian and Weasley exchanged looks. After a moment Weasley pulled out his wand and cast a summoning charm.

The Snitch zoomed towards them, and Draco couldn't help but flinch as it swept past him. Potter was scowling, arms crossed. He was on his feet, and appeared completely unharmed. Of course Potter would escape without breaking anything, Draco mused, while he was facing yet another stay in the infirmary.

"Don't touch it," he warned as Weasley approached the object hovering in front of him.

Viridian passed a hand close by the golden orb and he swore.

"That thing has more dark enchantments on it than the Dark Lord's underwear," Viridian spoke in a low voice, but it nevertheless carried.

Draco choked on a laugh, and even Weasley looked amused.

Viridian looked over at him.

"You did well to let this go. It's got several layers on it – the first is a modified trespassing curse: it's designed to cause immense pain. Under that there's a few other nasty dark hexes – but if you'd held onto this long enough it would have killed you. There's a blood-boiling curse and an evaporation charm at its center."

"It would have drained my body of blood," Draco said.

"More or less," Viridian agreed. He turned to Weasley. "Can you see to the disposal of this?"

Weasley looked surprised but nodded.

"Certainly," he said and set about casting a series of wards around the Snitch before reaching out to take it.

Viridian cast a Sonorus.

"The game has been called on account of the weather." There was a groan of disbelief from the crowd and Draco rolled his eyes. Quidditch had been played in gale force winds, a bit of rain was nothing, really. "For now, the game will be marked as a tie. In the event that Gryffindor and Slytherin are tied at the end of the season, the game will be replayed."

"But we were winning!" Potter was back to looking furious.

Viridian shot him a scathing glare.

"Mr. Potter, your life was just saved by Mr. Malfoy, who, I should point out, was very obviously in possession of the Snitch before he released it. We can certainly consult a rulebook, but I do not think there is a minimum time that the Seeker need possess the Snitch in order to win."

"But he let it go!"

"It would have killed him, and you." Viridian was clearly on the verge of losing his temper.

Potter snarled.

"Probably put it on there himself."

Viridian turned away from the Gryffindor, and the look on his face was enough to have Draco feeling intimidated. Viridian looked at him.

"Fifty points to Slytherin, Mr. Malfoy, for selflessly risking your life to save another student's. However, as that is behavior unbecoming a Slytherin, I encourage you not to do it again. That is twice in as many weeks that you have put yourself at risk for Gryffindors."

Draco managed a weak sneer.

"They do seem to need rather a lot of saving," he said. Potter looked ready to attack him again. "Sir, if I may be excused?"

Viridian looked over his shoulder at the students rushing the field. The two teams had landed behind him, and everyone looked anxious for the real explanation for why the game was called.

"As you were," Viridian said, and the students started to disperse, grumbling amongst themselves. Draco was amused to see that Granger and Blaise weren't budging.

"It appears that Draco is injured," Granger said when Viridian directed his glare in her direction. "He obviously needs an escort to the infirmary."

Viridian rolled his eyes and stalked off, abandoning Draco to the tender mercy of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, with only Granger and Blaise for backup.

Blaise reached out a hand to Draco, and the blonde accepted it and stood, muttering a curse as he put weight on his leg.

"What the hell happened?" Ron Weasley demanded, stepping forward and looking ready to kill Draco.

Draco debated shooting off a glib reply, but the look of panic on Granger's face stopped him.

"The Snitch was cursed. Potter wouldn't listen to me when I told him to leave it." Draco glared at the still furious Gryffindor. "So I knocked him off his broom." Draco delivered a mocking half bow. "Forgive me for saving his life. It won't happen again."

Weasley opened his mouth, no doubt prepared to deliver a scathing remark of his own, but he was stopped short when his sister rushed past and threw herself at Draco.

He stumbled back and didn't bother to hide his discomfort as she hugged him and then kissed his cheek. She pulled away and smiled.

"Thank you, Draco. That's two of my friends you've saved now." She winked. "I knew you weren't irredeemable."

Weasley looked sick at the sight of his sister clinging to Draco, and Granger looked ready to cast an Unforgivable. Draco pulled her off of him.

"It was no trouble," he assured her. He wondered how ridiculous he looked – standing on a broken leg, blood streaming down his face from his broken nose, half his body covered in mud.

Weasley looked torn, but he eventually stepped forward and held out a hand.

"Thank you. That was decent of you."

Draco stared at the proffered hand for a full minute before he shook it with his own.

Weasley broke the contact as soon as he could and stepped back. Potter was still looking mulish, Ginny was still looking flirty, and Granger was actually crying at the sight of her former boyfriend shaking his hand. She rushed over and threw her arms around Weasley. The red head looked momentarily stunned, but then he wrapped his arms around her and held her tight.

"I told you he changed," Draco could hear her saying.

Weasley scowled.

"Well, once again, you were right."

Granger pulled back from him and then kissed him.

"Thank you, Ron."

Weasley looked ready to kiss her back, but Granger pulled free and turned to Draco, smiling brightly despite the glare he turned on her.

"Shall we make a trip to the infirmary?" She suggested.

"Why not, it's been a week since my last visit. I'm sure Pomfrey's just dying to have me back." After a moment's hesitation, Draco put an arm around Blaise's shoulders and allowed his friend to help him walk back to the castle. Granger fell in step beside them.

"I told you I'd be on my best behavior," Draco said as they walked.

Granger laughed.

"If I'd known that meant you'd go all Gryffindor and sacrifice yourself for Harry, I might not have encouraged you."

Draco raised his chin.

"I can be noble if I like. Besides, if I hadn't saved Potter I'd have been blamed for the Snitch. I was only looking out for myself."

"There's the inner slimy git," Blaise said from his other side.

Granger shook her head and then sobered.

"Draco – I have this strange feeling that that was a message from your secret admirer."

"You think?"

"I thought he wanted to torture you a bit, though. Looks like he could have ended the game with this Snitch." Blaise was thoughtful.

Draco nodded. "I know. It… doesn't seem to make since. I can't think of anyone else out to get me, though. Unless perhaps Megan Jones has given up and wants to exact revenge for my breaking her heart."

"Draco, I think we need to have a conversation with Professor Snape."

"Well, I think the time for that has rather passed us by, Granger."

She rolled her eyes.

"With his portrait."

"His portrait in McGonagall's office?"

She nodded.

"You want us to break into McGonagall's office?"

She nodded again.

Draco looked over at Blaise.

"Don't look at me. She came up with this all on her own."

"Look, I've already got it planned out. Actually, what happened today was perfect."

"Yes, I agree. Never a good day unless I've broken something and need medical attention."

She glared at him.

"I meant it's perfect that Ron's willing to give you a chance, and that he's talking to me again. Now we just need to convince him to borrow Harry's invisibility cloak…" she trailed off, clearly deep in planning mode.

Blaise was smirking beside him.

"What?" Draco demanded.

"I think you've just been made into one of her projects," the dark haired Slytherin said. "What's more, I think you like it."

Draco scowled at him and glared over at Granger. She had a look of single-minded concentration on her face, and Draco was confident she would walk into a wall without blinking. He rolled his eyes, but was forced to admit: having Granger go into crusade mode over him wasn't the worst thing that had happened to him. Not by a lot.


Sorry, a lot of Blaise that time around - but we're going to focus back in on Hermione and Draco, never fear.