AN: I just want to say a very, very, very big thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed, favourited, followed, all of that wonderful stuff. Your kindness is just so sweet. Another note is to say I do read your reviews! I also try to take them into account, and fix issues in the story should you note them. I realise that I've been posting a lot recently also, this may slow; due to work commitments in the very near future. I also have *every* intention of finishing this fic (I can't stand unfinished fics!) and I have another one planned for the future. Thank you once again; I hope Restoration continues to entertain!
Draco had sent her a short note via owl of where to meet himself and McGonagall, his script precise, neat and somehow very masculine informing her that a statue of a witch with a phoenix on the sixth floor was where they would meet. A short explanation that he was sending her the note and not McGonagall, due to the headmistress seemingly being swamped with work; and Draco…offered. Hermione had blinked with shame, realising that again, this was just another attempt of Dracos' to change, to be someone pleasant to be about. His snapping at her in the library had shamed her more than she cared to admit, but she struggled to find flaws in her character the way Draco had clearly found his and changed. She grudgingly admitted that she held prejudices, and decided to do her best to nip it in the bud; his comment that she'd be an awful Head Girl otherwise had hurt her deeply, the wish to do well in the position had been a thing she'd been looking forward to carrying out once the term started.
She pulled on her cargo shorts, the freshness of her new clothes still something she was getting used too, slipping on a t-shirt that she decided she didn't mind if it got ruined. Draco had only said they were building the dorms, and she'd realised she had little to no idea as to what that would actually mean. She walked out of the Gryffindor common room, looking it over fondly, and realising that where ever she lived next year, she very much hoped it looked a little like this place. The open, welcoming atmosphere had been one of the reasons she loved her house so much; even if they were party animals. The portrait swung open as Hermione charmed her hair up into a high pony tails, cursing the loose ends that swung free, framing her jaw line. The cut she'd had in Ottery St Catchpole had been inches too short, and despite it being faux dreadlock free; it was now constantly in her face. She smiled, turning into the corridor that lead to the stairs, realising it was nice to have such a petty worry for once.
A flash of bright red hair, and a stocky figure ambled in front of her, and she gasped as they collided.
"Bloody hell. Sorry Hermione." Ron apologised, grabbing hold of her as Hermione stumbled on the steps. "I came to get you, thought I'd surprise you." He explained, rubbing the side of his nose awkwardly, a redness appearing where they'd bumped together.
"You're helping today?" She asked him, shaking herself off and meaning to go down the stairs.
"Yeah, McGonagall sent a mass owl to the Order, asking us all for help whenever we can, I told her I'd be available, and she said to come along today. Word is, she hasn't asked the Ministry for help in the actual fixing and sorting of the castle, and Shacklebolt only sends people he knows are trust worthy to give offerings and help. Lots of suspicion still about in the Ministry; you wouldn't believe how corrupted the whole place was." He told her his voice low as they reached the sixth floor together. Hermione's face contorted slightly, her mind simply where she hadn't expected it to be, as she wondered if Ron knew about Draco helping out as well. Thankfully, the redhead seemed to have missed her expression as he smiled at her, swinging a friendly arm about her shoulders, guiding her to the witch and phoenix statue.
McGonagall was already there, Draco in yet another suit much to Hermione's amusement, his face a slight scowl as he registered Rons' arm about her shoulders, and a small thrill flared through her at the thought he could be jealous. She dismissed it, realising it was more her own hopes than reality, a disappointment replacing the thrill.
"Mr Weasley, Miss Granger," McGonagall greeted as Draco pushed himself off the wall, his sharp strong features carefully schooled to give nothing away, but a solemn nod of greeting towards the pair of them.
"Professor, Ferret." Ron replied his smile warm for his old teacher, and cold; hate filled for Draco, and Hermione sighed. McGonagall arched an eyebrow, her lips pulled together tightly, and she pulled her wand from her pocket.
"Professor Flitwick and Professor Vector were kind enough to stop by and actually create the rooms you are staying in, so we don't have as much to do as originally thought. However, it must be cleaned and decorated. Mr Malfoy, Miss Granger, pay attention especially." She turned to the witch and the phoenix, and with her wand, dragged the tip down the birds back. The statue shuddered to life, the witches face turning serenely to Professor McGonagall.
"Password?" the witch asked, her voice gentle, almost song bird like and Hermione realised this was the entrance to the eighth year common room and dormitory.
"Computer." McGonagall said in authoritive tone, and both Ron and Draco looked stumped, Draco seemingly sounding the word he'd just heard out in his head, his mouth repeating the word soundlessly. "The passwords will be something to do with the muggle world this year," she explained as the witch stepped to the side, the bricks behind her shuffling away like the entrance to Diagon Alley. Hermione stared with amazement, the portrait passageway she loved seemingly paled in comparison, as Draco looked slightly disappointed.
The wall stopped it's shuffling, and a short corridor leading to a much larger room opened up, McGonagall walked in, her usual swift strides clicking on the stones as Ron followed her curiously, Draco gesturing with his hand for Hermione to go first, and she smiled at him; following Ron.
The room was completely empty, but large. Two ceiling high windows were either side of a large fireplace, with two doors at opposite sides of the room much like the Gryffindor common room. With another swift sweep of the room Hermione realised that the window ledges were deep; obviously intended to be somewhere for people to sit, and that a large chandelier hung from the ceiling already. She looked at Draco questioningly, and he shook his head, as she noted the floor was still carpet less, a layer of dust over it.
"Each member of the eighth year will have their own room, not a shared dorm. I have been reminded one to many times that despite the fact you should have remained children; war has intervened." She sighed, weariness deep over her stern figure. Hermione nodded, holding back a sigh herself, as Draco seemed utterly uninterested. "Mr Weasley, if you would be so kind as to get Mr Filch please, he has the furniture for the room; you should find him on the third floor." Ron nodded, and left the room as Hermione and Draco continued to look about the room impressed with the size of it.
"Which side is the girls and which side is the boys?" Hermione asked suddenly, realising that she hadn't been told, and McGonagall smiled slightly; wistfully.
"You get to pick, the rooms are not with protective spells." She told her as Hermione gasped, Draco's slender brow rising curiously. "You are legally adults now. You are of age. You are simply returning to do a school year you were unable to do. I am also aware I cannot tell adults to not seek comfort after a war; whatever that comfort maybe. I don't like it, but I am not stupid. I will however say that if a student not belonging to the eighth year is found passing through the door to the dormitories; the punishment will be quite severe. I may be able to look over some rules due to your ages; but not for the whole school." She explained, a stressed and disapproving crease at her brow, and Hermione blushed as Draco looked at her with a mix of respect and amusement. "Now; for the Head's quarters." She continued, turning back on herself to the short corridor that they had just entered from. She looked to the left, her hand running against the wall until she found a brick. She gently pushed it, and then walked through the wall as if it wasn't there.
"That's a better entrance." Draco commented, copying her actions immediately, Hermione hurrying after him. The wall smothered her briefly, not unpleasantly, but it gave her the sensation of walking through a sheet of water with a warm temperature. She found herself facing a winding set of stairs, and she smiled immediately, realising she'd be high up like the Gryffindor tower once more. She climbed, chasing both Draco and her old professor eagerly, until the end of the stairs came, and a door faced her.
"Extra precaution, just in case someone finds this room and they're really not supposed to, you are to tap your wand onto the doors handle to enter. The handle will only respond to three wands. No more, no less, unless I tell it too. So, Mr Malfoy, Miss Granger, if you would be so kind as to tap the handle." She explained, as she tapped the golden handle with her own wand, Draco following suit immediately, intrigue playing over his features.
The door swung open at Hermione's wand touch, and a smaller, but somehow much cosier room greeted them. The room also had a window seat, and a small fireplace, two doors were next to each other directly opposite them, whilst a third door was tucked in the corner on the wall opposite the fireplace. It was a surprisingly homely room, even without furniture and decorations.
"Opposite you are your bedrooms, you can choose which ones, and the door to your left is the bathroom. I will be sending up your furniture later, and the noticeboard. The noticeboard is tied to each of the noticeboards in the house common rooms. When you announce something, simply stick it on to the board, and a duplicate shall appear on the house boards." She rattled off, as if she simply had too much to say in far too little time. "I will send you some house-elves to help with the cleaning, but I can't help I have a meeting to attend to. I will return later to check on your progress." She explained turning to leave as Hermione's brain went into over drive.
The door clicked shut, and the sound of footsteps left her quickly, and she turned to Draco, a stunned expression on her face.
"She must only be showing you this room if you're…"
"Surprise Hermione." He drawled an amused smirk across his lips as his eyes sparkled, and he rested on his heels, his hands in his suit pockets as he regarded her. She gasped her mouth working like she wanted to say something, delight coursing through her veins as she tried to hold back delirious laughter. She would be with Draco this year, living together. The idea of it made her ridiculously happy despite their recent conversations. She grinned at him, her eyes alight with her joy, and she reached out to take his hand like she would Harry or Ron's before catching herself.
"Congratulations!" She gasped out finally, as Draco laughed at her, clearly pleased.
"Happy?" He asked, this time curiously and almost concerned.
"Yes actually…I am." She admitted, and Draco looked relieved. "Look…" she continued a shyness she'd never quite experienced before suddenly smothering her like a blanket. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry about a lot of things, like assuming things about you; holding onto beliefs when you're clearly trying to be…what I should be. I would like…if it's possible…I'd like it if we could be friends." She admitted, gazing into his silver eyes with hope, and he smiled, softly, but genuinely. His strong pointed features became so happy that it melted her heart, the realisation he was so very attractive when he was happy making her squirm inwardly with thoughts she wasn't ready to admit she had yet.
"I'd like that Hermione. Start over?" He offered holding his hand out for her to take.
She took it, and a sudden jolt of electricity snapped through the pair of them. His long, soft fingers gripped her hand with a gentle firmness, encasing her hand like the warm glove she'd always needed. The callouses on his palm were rough, but somehow very soft; she wrapped her own fingers about his hand as best she could, but her hand was almost dwarfed by his. A blush began to creep up Hermione's cheeks, and she smiled softly, holding Draco's friendly gaze with her own thrilled one. He smiled back, another heart meltingly attractive smile that made her stomach flip, and she opened her mouth to speak.
"Hermione Granger," she introduced herself, "insufferable know it all."
"Draco Malfoy, foul, evil, loathsome little cockcroach." He replied, giving her hand a slight squeeze; as if he were about to drop it. He didn't, and Hermione made no move to pull her hand away. "We ought to go back down stairs and make a show of cleaning before Weasel comes back up here with our furniture." He commented, turning towards the door, her hand still within his. He squeezed it once more, and let go, copying McGonagall's actions moments earlier, his wand pulled out at the ready. A deep, startling sense of loss drenched Hermione the moment his hand left hers, and she blinked, attempting to pull herself back together; ignoring the desire to find a way to touch him again.
She followed him, still trying to smother her startled feelings as she stepped down the stairs, retrieving her own wand from her pocket; distracting herself with thoughts of how thankful she was Molly had adopted her into the Weasley clan and taught her house keeping spells. Anything to get her unexpected wish to hold Draco's hand again. Anything.
The stone was sparkling once more, and she smirked, knowing Draco had started to clean with his mysterious spell; going over as much area as he could before Ron arrived. She turned, entering the room she'd be spending her time in the months to come with her wand out; relief she hadn't expected to feel as she realised that Ron hadn't arrived yet. The house-elves popped into the room again, snapping their fingers in the way house-elves did, and as the room was smaller than the library she smiled to herself, realising she'd get to see how the room was to be decorated faster. She casually turned her wand to the windows, setting them to shine as she watched the house-elves absently; the words Draco had spat at her the day before coming to mind. He was right; they seemed elated, as if they'd never enjoyed themselves more. Everywhere they touched began to shine in a way she'd never seen before, her thoughts coming back to Kreacher and Dobby, who had reacted well to kindness. She wondered if this was what they were capable of when treated as well as Draco said they were when the door opened again, and Ron entered, followed by a disgruntled looking Filch.
"Hermione, you should see the stuff McGonagall has bought for your common room." He said to her, his voice filled with awe, and she flicked her eyes to Draco, who looked for the entire world like he wasn't amused at Ron's obvious adoration of the things he had supplied.
"Dopple" Filch grunted, gesturing to a house-elf who had scurried to meet him the moment he had stepped in the room. "Set the carpets down, and then finish cleaning the tower; Minerva needs you and your team in the Ravenclaw common room next." He told the elf who nodded, his fingers snapping away, and a large roll of fabric appeared. With a sudden burst of laughter and realisation, Hermione bolted for the door before the carpet could right itself, and land on top of her head. Catching on, Draco followed her, the carpet only just coming to a horizontal fit within the room as he tucked himself into the corridor, with a dull thud it dropped to the floor. It rippled, and spun violently, a burst of deep; sumptuous purple colour revealed as it settled flat on to the floor. Like liquid it expanded, reaching for the edge of the room. The carpet slipped underneath the doors each end of the room, slipping into the bedrooms that lay beyond, and she literally jumped, feeling the carpet snap at her toes. She heard the men behind her copy, and giggled, her eyes watching to see if it would slip through the wall, decorating her own rooms. It did, and she smothered a delighted grin; the house-elves popping out of the room as she turned back to see everything settled; shining and ready to be decorated.
"Your furniture is outside." Filch grunted, leaving them be; a soft meow trilling at his ankles, dark mutterings heard as he shuffled down the corridor.
"Get the beds in the rooms first, it'll be easier." Draco commented, moving to one of the doors and opening it, waving his wand to freeze it in place. He disappeared beyond it, the sound of him opening several doors following him. Ron seemed to look about the room curiously, as if he'd realised someone was missing.
"Where's McGonagall?" He asked Hermione, his brows furrowed, his blue eyes glittering with something Hermione couldn't quite place but didn't like.
"She literally just left before you got here." Hermione lied, the memory of herself and Draco hands entwined in a 'do over handshake', flooding to the forefront of her mind, the hope she wouldn't blush pouring out of her. Ron's eyebrows shot up, he turned, looking to where Draco had just disappeared too; his ears turning red.
"You were all alone with the Ferret?" He asked her, roughly gripping her hands, and pulling her forward. He began to check her over, forcefully pulling her sleeves up; as if checking for bruises. "He didn't hurt you?" he continued, pulling at her collar as Hermione struggled against him.
"Ron!" She exclaimed, placing her hands on his chest and pushing at him, leaning away from him; "get off me!" She gasped, as Draco's unamused expression appeared behind Ron's shoulder.
"I may have only had Parkinson as girlfriend, but even I know that's not how you treat a lady." He commented, the makings of a furious snarl upon his lips. Ron stopped his tugging at Hermione's clothes; releasing her the moment Draco's voice entered the fray. His ears became maroon, his cheeks following as his hands clenched into fists.
"I was simply checking to see if you'd harmed her." Ron retorted, "Considering your type should be in Azkaban." He spat, as Draco looked as though a feral snarl would rip from his throat. His eyes glittered dangerously; he tipped his head forward threateningly, as if gearing up for a fight, and his sharp cheekbones mirrored his jawline, giving him a lethal expression.
"I just said Weasel-King; I know that's not how you treat a woman." He said coldly, as Ron loosed a cold laughter.
"You don't even see her as a woman! You see her as less!"
Draco carefully and deliberately turned his gaze to Hermione; as Ron watched him furiously. Draco tipped his head down further, his eyes lingering on Hermione's feet, before travelling slowly over her legs. The force of his observation made Hermione tremble slightly, her eyes glued to his searching eyes as she felt them trace up over her hips, stomach, chest, staying there for longer than Hermione thought he should have, before continuing up; over her shoulders, her neck, lips and meeting her eyes. Hermione's jaw dropped when she realised he had a mischievous sparkle there once more.
"I dunno Weasel-King, now you mention it, she does look a bit like a woman to me." He spoke, his eyes still lingering on Hermione; almost interested, as if he really had only just realised she was of the fairer sex. Hermione looked back, curious and wondering. Ron roared, and the punch he'd almost given him the day of Tonks and Lupins' funeral was unleashed, his fist colliding with Draco's jaw out of nowhere. Draco stumbled back, as if he wasn't quite sure where he was, a small trail of blood slipping from the corner of his mouth. He brought his snow white fingers to his lips, dabbing at the blood curiously, before looking at it. Before he even had a chance to register the crimson stain, Ron tackled him.
Hermione stared in horror, watching the two men tangle on the floor, Draco attempting to push Ron off him as Ron rained blows down upon him murderously.
"You. Stay. Away. From. Hermione." Ron grunted between vicious blows with his fists; aiming for Draco's face as Hermione blinked dumbly, the shock of the actions sinking in. She lifted her wand up; aiming with a strong tremble, and fired a stunning spell at her oldest friend.
Ron fell, slipping off Draco as if he were a silk handkerchief left to blow in the wind; and Hermione slowly walked over to Draco who had rolled onto his hands and knees, carefully pushing himself back onto his haunches; his body marked with the red welts that would become bruises in time; blood streaming from his nose and mouth.
"Thanks," he grunted, not looking at her as he leant forward, letting the blood drip on to the fabric of his suit trousers. The red was a stark burst of colour against the white of his skin, and shame burst to life once more in Hermione.
"Sorry I didn't do anything sooner, I didn't-"
"It's fine." He interrupted her, pulling his wand out and aiming it at his nose. He winced in pain as his nose seemed to rearrange itself in front of Hermione; once again becoming the pointed nose she recognised so well. He cleaned himself up, and left the room; the sound of him levitating furniture in as if nothing happened sparked Hermione's worry, as her stunning spell began to ware off Ron. He rolled himself over onto his back, blinking in confusion, a hand going to his temple as a table floated above him. He waited until it passed, settling with a gentle thud into the corner and sat up, clambering to his feet; his memory catching up with him.
"You stunned me." He said looking at Hermione with such an expression of hurt and betrayal Hermione felt sick.
"You were beating the life out of someone."
"No, I was beating the life out of Malfoy; not someone."
"Malfoy is someone."
"No, he's a Death Eater." Ron replied, bringing his hand up to his head once more; his blue eyes searching Hermione's face with confusion.
"Leave Ron, you're not helping."
"But-"
"Leave." She repeated as her otter burst from the tip of her wand again. She watched it go, sighing as she realised she'd been having to use that spell far too much of late. "I've asked Harry to get here, to take you home. You need to work out your anger. I can't be friends with you when you're like this. I've too much going on myself. I said I'd support you; I said I'd always help you, I want to talk to you about how you feel with Fred, but…you won't let me. You lash out at me, at Malfoy, at…Go home. Go beat a bludger about the house, and I'll talk to you at dinner tonight." Hermione sighed, as Draco levitated a bed into a room behind her, pretending not to listen.
"But-" Ron tried again, dumbfounded; a lost puppy expression falling over his features.
"No, you know I'm right Ron; you're not the only one who is hurting." She told him sadly, unable to meet his eyes as she hung her head, the steady stream of furniture entering the room from behind them the only distraction.
"Fine." Ron spat, his features contorting into rage once more. "I'll stay until Harry gets here."
Hermione nodded, seeing it was her best option, as another bed floated into the room behind her.
"You ought to start putting the beds into rooms so I can get more of them in," Draco commented dryly, restrained threads of anger seeping into his tone. He put a bed down upon another, and went out to collect another bed.
"Bossy Ferret," Ron grumbled, as Hermione copied Draco's earlier action, moving to open and lock the doors in place with her wand on the other side of the room. Hermione looked to see how many doors there were; curious to see how many of her year group were returning. Five separate doors faced her, and she slumped a little, realising that there would only be a few eighth year women or men. She came into the common room; slightly disappointed.
"Five doors" She said to no-one in particular.
"Six doors," Draco announced, "Not a bad turnout," he commented, as Ron levitated a bed through the door he'd just come through.
"Considering you're coming back, I'd say that's a fucking fantastic turnout." Ron said dryly, the distaste evident in his voice. Hermione struggled to not roll her eyes.
"Well, I can't blame people for not returning, in the big wide world there is less chance of running into you Weasel." Draco shot back, and Hermione blinked, realising that as far as Malfoy's wit went, it was lazy, bored; and almost as if he wasn't actually trying. She stared at him, surprise seeping into her as she realised he didn't want a fight at all not after their tussle, but Ron was baiting him, and Draco was obliging him to keep Ron happy.
"Guess who is returning?" Hermione asked, attempting to stop the verbal jabbing between the men, and Draco grunted.
"I know Greengrass and her sister will be, so that's one. Parkinson has been ordered to return. That's two. For the guys, I'm guessing Zabini and Nott, Zabini is too smart to miss out on school, and Nott…he just likes it here." Draco replied as Hermione's heart sunk at the confirmation of two Slytherin girls, one of whom had enjoyed being as spiteful as humanly possible all year; and the other was some mystery to her.
"The Patil twins are definitely returning, that's all I know, "Hermione spoke for the women, realising she had absolutely no idea about any of the men returning at all.
"Five Slytherins?" Ron spat, as another bed clunked through the hall, dropping onto the floor with a heavy clunk. "I feel sorry for you Hermione, dealing with all of them this year. At least we know one won't be the Head Boy." He shot, scowling at Draco with such venom Hermione started to feel extremely protective of Draco.
"I dunno about that," Draco sniggered, looking at Hermione with a mischievous sparkle, and she bit back a smile, realising Draco was eager to include her in the teasing of her childhood friend. "I'm quite certain either Zabini will have it if Longbottom doesn't get it." He chuckled and Hermione looked away, hoping Ron wouldn't find out Draco was Head Boy immediately.
Fresh footsteps entered, and a messy raven haired boy slipped into the room; looking between the three gathered with a harsh expression on his face.
"Ron." Harry said, gesturing for Ron to come with him; he threw a questioning glance at Hermione; who shook her head slightly as Draco spoke up suddenly.
"Potter, can I have a quick word with you?" He asked, and Harry blinked with astonishment.
"Yeah; I guess." He replied, and Draco nodded, gesturing for them to both leave. "Back in a moment," Harry said to Hermione and Ron, following Draco out the room with a quizzical expression on his face.
"If he beats up Harry-" Ron began and Hermione laughed coldly.
"For goodness sake Ron." She started, sighing as she looked her friend over. "Not everyone wants a fight." She defended him; although she was curious as to what he was saying to Harry, but she knew somehow he hadn't gone looking to beat a bloody pulp of the faux brother she called Harry.
Moments later, the two men walked back in, Harry looking slightly stunned, and Draco as if a huge weight had been lifted.
"Let's go mate." Harry said, nodding to Hermione kindly. "See you at dinner." Hermione smiled brightly at him waving at him in thanks as she levitated a piece of furniture up; suddenly desperate to get the rooms all sorted. She caught a glimpse of Draco out of the corner of her eye, the red welts were beginning to bruise over and she sighed, guilt forming in the pit of her stomach.
"I'll be right back," she said, before fleeing from the common room and up to Gryffindor tower before Draco even had a chance to register what she had done. She entered her room, throwing her trunk open and rummaging through it, searching for a bruise paste she knew she hadn't managed to finish. Sighting it, she grabbed it in triumph, before running down to her new abode, skidding to a halt as she realised all the furniture had been placed inside the room somehow; not cluttering up the hallway until she saw house-elves trail out and she grimaced inwardly, trying to shed the feeling.
She entered the room and gasped, realising that the common room was completely decorated; black leather sofas were carefully placed about the fire, a coffee table in the middle of them; bookshelves were placed by the doors to the room, while high backed chairs were either side of chess sets. A large round table was placed in a corner, chairs all about it, with ink and quills in the middle, while cushions and blankets were stacked on the window seats. Everything was black, save the floor, and on closer inspection; the Hogwarts emblem was its decoration. The room was still missing decoration for the walls, and several lamps, but the décor stunk of wealth and comfort. Everything she'd come to assume from a Malfoy. She smiled, surprised with the lavishness but cosiness, and realised Draco couldn't be heard on the lower floor. She turned; facing the wall she'd walked through earlier, and carefully walked to the heads apartment, her heart beginning to race suddenly.
She tapped her wand on the handle and the door swung open; revealing a decorated room again. A large, curved sofa was in front of the fire place, a coffee table in front of it; but large ornate desks were behind it, pressed up against the wall an elegant chair tucked underneath. She stared in awe, realising that the desks were like Madam Pinces' new one as a door opened; and Draco stumbled out of it.
He looked at her, and she blushed, realising he was covered in slight swellings and she held up the bruise paste kindly.
"Thanks for decorating, it's beautiful," she smiled gently, as Draco continued to stare, "use this." She continued, tossing him the small tube.
He caught it, and looked at it curiously, raising a brow at her as best he could.
"What is it?" He asked, coming to throw himself down over the sofa.
"Bruise paste, it doesn't kill pain, but it helps with healing." She commented as he began to unscrew the top.
"Explains why some of your nasty bruises vanished faster than they should have." He grunted, wincing with the effort of lifting his hand to his face.
"Oh let me." Hermione sighed; stepping around to him and taking the paste out of his hands. He threw an irritated look at her, but fell back, leaning against the sofas back carefully, a great sigh unleashed from his chest. She sat next to him, squeezing a little paste from the tube and onto her fingers. With trembling fingers, she began to apply it to a welt above his brow.
His skin was just as soft as his hands, but free of callouses, and Hermione fought a rising blush; Draco turning to look at her silently.
His silvery eyes observed her, his hand coming to grip her wrist gently, pulling her hand away from his brow.
"Thank you," he whispered.
"You're welcome."