Hermione mutters the password to the portrait of the fat lady. She nods, swinging the picture open to reveal the small passageway connected to the Gryffindor common room. The curly-haired witch climbs through it, brushing off her robes as she steps onto the maroon rug.

Immediately, she spotted her friends sitting on the couch. Harry had his arm around Ginny, who was sitting in the middle. Her brother was sprawled out on the other side of her. The three looked up as she walked over.

"Hermione, I'm surprised to see you," Harry voices his thoughts. "I thought you'd practically live in the library this next month."

"You have finals, too, and I'm not letting the Golden Trio fail. Or the Chosen One's girlfriend, for that matter."

The three Gryffindors roll their eyes in unison. "Should have guessed," Ginny mutters.

"Come on," Hermione nearly whines. "Is it so insane to want a good job after our last year? Yes, we may be well-know –some of us more than others," she looks at Harry, "but that doesn't guarantee anything."

"She's right," Ron finally says. Over the past few weeks, since their fight on the astronomy tower, he'd been unusually quiet and always agreeing with her when he had the chance to. Like he was trying to make it up to her without having to apologize. It just showed that he didn't regret anything he had said. Malfoy really did, though. That first night, he'd traced over her scars as they kissed. Especially the 'mudblood' one.

She assumed that they weren't really together. Neither of them had initiated a discussion on the matter, but she did know that they weren't a good match anymore. Even so, they'd been friends for so long and it would be a shame to throw everything they've been through away. So she dragged the group of three down to the library, and sat down at the table in the back, away from every other one. It was her go-to, because it was secluded and because no one else ever sat there.

"I need your schedules so we can go through the lists. Ginny and I have potions, so we'll start with that class," Hermione instructs. She pulls out the study guide Professor Slughorn gave her, which she had to request to get it early. Going down the list, they reviewed only a fourth of it. Between her friends' random outbursts of off-topic conversations, and the curfew time they still had to follow, Hermione felt incredibly unproductive. The quartet packed their things up once again, slowly making their way toward the Gryffindor common room.

When they reached one of the staircases, Hermione parted with her friends with a short goodbye. She picked up her pace as Harry, Ginny, and Ronald's footsteps and voices faded into the seemingly empty castle. The only sources of light were the occasional torches set on the stone wall, and the shadows were nearly as creepy this time of night as they were in the corridors of the vaults in Gringotts. Hermione hated being alone in the castle after curfew, but when she was patrolling, she never felt as nervous.

Rounding another corner, nearly running towards the seventh floor, she collided with a hard body. Both of them flew back onto the ground, dropping everything they were carrying. Hermione groaned at the pain in her shoulder and back, sitting up carefully to see who she'd crashed into.

"Blaise?"

The dark-skinned boy rubbed the back of his head. "Bloody hell, Hermione," he sighs. "Sorry, it was my fault, too."

"Don't worry about it," she dismisses his apology. "What are you doing out so late?"

He kneels in front of her, collecting the stack of parchment that had scattered all over the cold floor when she fell. "Draco needed to talk to me. We both lost track of time. What's your excuse?"

"Studying," she says, and he nods in understanding.

"Of course. Should have guessed that one myself."

Hermione chuckles. "You're invited to join me. I'm sure you'd be a better partner than my three friends. They're smart, but they get distracted so easily."

"It wouldn't help that you tried to study with all of them at once."

"That's true. I should have anticipated not getting much done."

Blaise shrugs. "I'll have to take you up on that sometime. I'm not sure how well I'll do in potions. Not sure about Draco, either."

"As long as we can all be civilized, it wouldn't hurt to study together. The three of us, I mean."

"Are you sure?" he asks, making sure she was comfortable with it.

"Yeah. You're both very smart. Er . . . don't tell Malfoy that I said that."

"Promise," he grins. "How is this Saturday after breakfast? That way, we won't need to worry much about curfew."

"Perfect. I'll see you then."

"Have a good night, Hermione."

"You as well, Blaise."

Well, this weekend ought to be interesting.

/

"She called me smart?!" Draco asks in disbelief. He lays flat on his stomach, hands propping his head up off of the emerald comforter thrown on top of his bed carelessly. To Blaise, the mature Head Boy of Hogwarts currently looked a lot like a small, lovestruck school-boy.

"Yes, she did. But she told me not to tell you, so don't mention anything to her."

"What were her exact words, though?" he presses.

"She said that we were both smart."

"Who is 'we'?"

Blaise groans internally. "You and I."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm positive, Draco."

"Maybe you just took it the wrong way. She was probably talking about herself."

"Merlin. She wasn't talking about herself. She said 'you're both very smart'."

"That's exactly what she said?" Draco questions, eagerly awaiting an answer.

"Yes."

"Hermione Granger thinks I'm smart," he beams to himself.

"Yes, she does. Now we need to go get breakfast, then study with her."

Draco breaks out of his trance quickly, sitting up at the edge of the bed. "What do you mean? We're studying with her? Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I knew you'd get nervous. Just relax. It's only studying."

"If I mess something up, she might think I'm dim!" he panics.

"Then don't mess up," Blaise deadpans, which only makes Draco's anxiety spike up. The blonde boy begins to pace between the walls of his room. "I'm joking. You'll be fine."

"Why did you have to do this?"

"Because it's part of our plan. Hermione is the smartest witch of our year, or the one below us. She needs to see that not only have you changed your dark ways, but you're still intellectual enough for her. And if you focus and get a lot done, she may compare you to Weasley and realize that she doesn't want someone immature."

"Genius. That is exactly what you are, Zabini. A bloody genius, I swear," Draco rambles as he pulls on a black sweater and skinny jeans to match the color.

"I try," Blaise nods, patting Draco on the back as they leave his dorm and head off to the Great Hall.

No matter how hard the blonde boy tried, he couldn't drag his eyes away from Granger. Why he felt different this time was a mystery. It was as if his crush was hitting him again; the way he loved the small things about her more than anything. She was indescribably perfect.

As soon as Blaise finished his meal –which felt like forever to Draco– the pair casually walked over to the Gryffindor table. Half the school's eyes were on them again as they approached Granger. She glanced up over Harry's shoulder at them, shooting a small smile in their direction. It took everything Draco had within him not to return it with the dorkiest, childish grin he could possibly make.

"Are you almost ready?" Blaise asks her. They could tell by the confused looks on her friends' faces that she hadn't yet mentioned their study date to them. Draco assumed that she probably hadn't planned on it at all.

"Yeah. Let's go," she says, pushing her half-empty plate towards Weasel and climbing to her feet. Blaise leads the way out of the Great Hall, Draco walking next to Granger to the library. As soon as the large double doors came into vision, the head boy watched from the corner of his eye, noting the small smile that overtook her face. She was such a nerd, but she was an adorable one.

"Do you mind if we sit at my usual table?" she whispers to the pair of Slytherins next to her as they enter the midst of shelves of books.

"Lead the way," Blaise offers, gesturing for her to go in front of him. She does so, passing thousands, maybe a million dusty books until she reaches the back left corner. A small table sits there, seeming almost out of place because it's far away from the other places to sit. However, he could see why it would be a good place to study. It was secluded.

His friend sat on the side against the wall, casually placing his book bag in the only open seat next to him. This left only the two seats across from him open. Granger sat on the right side, so Draco settled himself next to her on the outer side of the table. Blaise shared a small look with Draco, letting him know that that was the goal.

The two both pulled out their list of things to study for potions as soon as they were settled, and Draco hurriedly followed their leads. After skimming through the long list that took up two columns on the parchment, Blaise set off alone to find books to help them.

"Do you want to start on the first few?" Granger asks Draco after his friend leaves. "They should be easy enough."

"Er, yeah. Easy. Test me."

She reads the sentence off the paper. "How do you alter the age you become when drinking an ageing potion?"

Draco thinks back to the beginning of the year. One of the sixth year Gryffindors had to drink it, and only ended up growing a short beard because they thought it tasted gross. "The more you consume, the older you appear. The amount has only a small impact on how long the potion will last."

Granger nods as he answers, and a small smile pulls at the corner of her lips. "Perfect."

"So are you," he whispers under his breath.

"What?"

"Next question," he improvises.

"Oh, right . . . . What are the three most important ingredients in the cure for boils potion?"

"Horned slugs, porcupine quills, and snake fangs."

"One of the more dangerous potions to collect ingredients for," Granger comments. For some reason, he doesn't expect the quiet opinion, and he laughs.

"I think you could take them." She's been up against worse.

"Good to know," she chuckles quietly. "What's the proper way to obtain a unicorn horn for a potion?" she reads the next question.

"Hold on," Draco stops her, causing her to look up at him with confusion drawn across her face. The blonde boy takes the parchment with multiple questions scrawled on it, setting it on the table. Granger follows it, like she's worried he was going to take it. Draco only pushes it away to be forgotten for the time being.

"Did I do something?"

"When?"

He pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, chewing on it nervously. "After that half of a week. When you just . . . started avoiding me again."

"I don't know," she admits.

"Can I help you figure it out?"

"You can try." Draco urges her to continue. "I really was happy. But after everything . . . I mean, one would think that being part of the famous Golden Trio would be a real confidence booster. But really, it's made me doubt myself more. I thought that I made good contributions to our discoveries and our defeat, when no one else recognizes me for it. I'm just some female 'icon'. Someone they can criticize publicly. They ignore my achievements and focus on what I'm wearing, or who I'm with. So if so many witches and wizards can do that, then I must not be as smart as I thought I was."

Draco remembered the irrelevant, degrading articles he'd found in her drawer. Granger deserved to be admired the same way Potter was. As a hero. Without her, Voldemort may never have been killed. And, as selfish as it sounds, Draco would have never been freed from his father and the evil path that was laying before him.

"You saved me," he blurts out. For some strange reason, he had never made the realization, and now that he had it, he couldn't hold it in anymore. "You saved me from something worse. I could have spent my life as a Death Eater. I could have never realized the errors of my way. I would have become truly evil. And while you saved the good side, and the muggles that would have been subjected to his torture, you saved the dark side, too. We're all free, mentally. Some of us just don't appreciate it yet."

"Do you?"

"I do. I really do."

Granger breaks eye contact with Draco, staring down at the denim of her jeans and playing with a frayed edge in her sweater. "I didn't do it alone."

Draco's finger rests underneath her chin, directing it back up so that her eyes are level with his. "But you played such a crucial part in it. You know it deep down, but you've brainwashed yourself to believe what someone irrelevant like Rita Skeeter writes about you to get more reads. You're better than that. You shouldn't doubt yourself."

"Was I wrong to doubt myself when I thought that you really liked me? Was Harry wrong?"

Draco raises an eyebrow, lowering his hand from her chin. She keeps her beautiful dark eyes trained on his grey ones this time. "What did Potter say?"

"He didn't think you had changed. Not in that way. He said that you would only use me to get what you wanted, and when I gave in, you would throw me aside."

"He thought I was only trying to shag you?" Granger nods silently. "I guess you were wrong to doubt your instincts."

"That's what I was afraid of."

"Were you happy?" he asks. "With me?"

"You . . . made me feel important. Like you really wanted me there, and only me."

"I did."

"Do you still feel the same way?" she says, hardly loud enough to hear over the loud beating of his heart. He wondered if she could hear it, too.

"I'm not sure."

"When will you know?"

"When I know that acknowledging my feelings for you won't hurt me again."

"How can I prove that it won't?"

Draco subconsciously edges closer, and he can feel her warm, minty breath ghosting over his face now. "Tell me."

"That's all?"

"That's all."

Granger's eyes flicker between his eyes and his lips, only inches away from hers. "I won't let you hurt again. I'll catch you if you fall again. As long as you promise to catch me, too."

"Always," he whispers. With this simple word, bolts of electricity seem to course through him, beginning at the thin skin of his lips. They ghost against hers as he talks, and he knows that his feelings have never wavered since they came about.

"Do you still feel the same way?" she repeats her question. Her soft skin against his is beginning to drive him crazy.

"Always."

Suddenly, as if a magnet became charged, their lips crush together in a passionate kiss. Draco's hands tangle into her curly, long hair, her fingers entangling at the nape of his neck and pulling him closer. Risking a few seconds apart to catch his breath, he pulls back. Her lips attempt to follow his, but she pulls away when he leans back. "Stand up," he rasps. She doesn't waste a second.

He gently guides her back onto the table, brushing the study guides onto the floor. He knew she wanted this just as much as he did, because she didn't seem the least bit upset that her homework was pushed onto the ground. Her knees were bent, feet resting at the end of the table. Draco climbed between her legs, reconnecting their lips as she leaned against the wall, trapped between the cold stone and the blonde boy's warm body.

Granger grips desperately at his sweater's thick collar, twisting it in order to pull him closer. Their lips move against each other, both fighting for dominance, although the way Draco has her trapped against him makes him the clear winner. He brings her bottom lip between his teeth, gently biting on it and drawing a small moan from her. And, holy shit, he wanted to spend forever making her moan like that again. He'd never heard anything so hot and beautiful at the same time.

Knowing he couldn't go further than that, his lips pull away from hers and he buries his head against her shoulder, resting his forehead on it. "I missed that," Draco says quietly as the pair catches their breath.

"I did, too." She pauses, as if in thought. "This table is now my favourite for new reasons."

"It's my favourite now, too," Draco admits.

A loud throat-clear comes from behind Draco and he jumps off the table and whips around to see Blaise standing at the end of the shelves with a few books in his hand. "That's a peculiar place to sit when you're surrounded by chairs," he says to Granger. She scrambles off, adjusting her sweater as it had gotten twisted in the heat of the moment. "Anyways . . . ready to study?"

(a/n): what the hell just happened