A/N: Continued thanks for those that are reviewing, following, and favoriting! It's been a struggle the past two weeks to get pen to paper but another chapter has been churned out and our lovely characters' story continues. Your kind words and views fill me up with motivation :)

Quidditch and Questions

"I can't love you in the dark, it feels like we're oceans apart

There is so much space between us, maybe we're already defeated,

Everything changed me" -Love in the Dark by Adele

Cutting her out of his life turned out to be much more difficult than Draco anticipated.

At first, he was consumed by the reading material his father sent, along with a page-long evisceration of Draco's value to the Malfoy name. Most evenings he worked in the Room of Requirement as he attempted obscure spells on the Cabinet.

None worked.

He enlisted what help he could from Blaise and Theo, the three of them poring over texts until the early hours of the morning.

They found nothing.

So, naturally, Draco sought distractions that would help unwind the slowly tightening noose around his throat. And, naturally, Granger came to mind.

He watched her during Potions and mealtimes. He attempted to goad her during Arithmancy when she wasn't helping Theo. Granger predictably ignored him through it all, every clash of eyes and code-laced comment. Draco's nights slowly transitioned from long, futile hours with the Cabinet to equally long, frustrating hours with a silent journal.

Like a sickness, he couldn't shake it off. The witch had swept through him like a fever that wouldn't break and Draco detested every fucking minute of it.

Any other female and they would be at his feet, begging for a spare second from him, only heir to a Sacred Twenty Eight house. The Malfoy name was falling unpredictably short. Father would be appalled. On so many levels.

Draco tucked away the thought as Slughorn dismissed Potions on the Friday before the first Quidditch game of the season, Slytherin v. Gryffindor. After packing up his things, he and Theo said goodbye to Blaise then followed the Gryffindors out of the dungeon classroom. Granger's hair bounced in front of the pair on their way up the stairs, Draco's eyes glued to the unruly curls, until rough hands yanked him down a corridor.

Draco whirled around, the fierce scowl on his face effectively scaring the lesser years from the hall.

"Bloody hell, Theo! Is this the new tenure of our friendship? Secret meetings in the corridors?" he hissed at his unusually stoic friend. Theo's arms were crossed, wand fisted in his right hand. Draco was struck by the image that didn't meld with his naturally irreverent mate.

"It is when my friend continues to make an arse of himself." The striking brunette advanced on Draco, his knuckles white from the force of his anger. "Since Blaise doesn't get to witness your embarrassing behavior in Vector's class, I have to step in and be the responsible one."

Theo's face scrunched up in disgust at the word although he continue stalking forward, forcing Draco to retreat, blocked in by the wall and his very irate housemate. Unsheathing his wand from his robes, Draco held it at his side and narrowed his eyes warningly.

"Tread carefully, Theo."

The disgust bled right out of Theo and left behind a tired frown and compassionate blue eyes.

"You said you were going to stop this. But you haven't. I don't pretend to understand why but I'm pretty sure at this point I'm not the only one who's noticed."

Draco started to pale at that.

"If you can't stop then don't. But be discreet and stop making a fool of yourself. You're giving Slytherins a bad name." With a friendly tap to Draco's shoulder, Theo turned back toward the staircase.

The two snakes were making a bad habit of showing up late to Arithmancy.

Granger seemed to be the only one to care or notice, for that matter. She glared at Draco as he took his seat then flashed a shy smile to Theo.

Draco childishly pinched Theo's thigh hard under the table, causing him to yelp and a rush of satisfaction to flood Draco.

"Just because I'm not visible does not mean I'm unaware of who comes to my class late. Repeatedly." Professor Vector appeared from a door at the back of the room and looked at the two boys turning a dull red under her penetrating gaze. "Five points from Slytherin each, for your lack of commitment to your studies."

A protest rose then died in Draco's throat; he flicked a quick glance at Granger to note her reaction at Vector's consequence and was beleaguered to find indifference, instead of satisfaction. She bowed her head back to her work.

Not long after, Theo vigorously motioned Granger over to double check his work thus far. She leaned over the table, too close, as her many-colored curls swayed forward and blocked the sure and efficient movements of her hand on parchment.

Better that than to imagine those sure and efficient movements on skin instead.

Draco tried to stay focused on his own progress with the problem- instead of her pervading scent bringing about flashbacks- that he didn't initially process her rise from the table.

Granger stood there looking a little bit shy and totally awkward when she exhaled on a rush and asked, "I tend to go to the library after dinner to work on further translation. Would you like to join me, Theo?"

The boy in question startled at the familiarity of Granger using his first name but recovered quickly. After a surreptitious glance at Draco, Theo replied a bit cautiously, "That would be great. Thanks, Granger."

She flashed Theo a smile then turned challenging eyes to Draco, the fidgeting of her fingers belying her anxiety.

The two no-longer-enemies shared a look, far too long to be appropriate and much too loaded to go unnoticed, before Draco deliberately dropped his gaze back to the parchment where the numbers and symbols now blurred.

Granger didn't even sigh disappointedly as she retreated to her seat, burying herself between the books and Patil bint.

After a beat of silence he caught Theo's undertone on a whisper, "I don't know whether to say good work or you're an idiot."

The nub of Draco's quill suddenly broke on parchment, ink bleeding black across his near-perfectly scripted answer.

He couldn't summon the energy to even care about cleaning up his ruined assignment because the veracity of Theo's statement felt like a boulder on his neck; one he couldn't maneuver around, at least until he blasted it into oblivion.

Inexplicably though, the brief moment of interaction with Granger brought a surprising dose of stability to Draco's gradually fraying nerves and already he ached for another hit. Flicking a glance through his eyelashes at Granger, Draco decided to risk the murmurs of his curious classmates to at least figure out what in the fuck he and Granger were doing.

Also because it just felt too good. Already nerves fluttered in his chest.

Professor Vector cleared her throat. "Please complete these assignments for next class. You're free to go."

All at once, chairs scraped over the stone floor as the small group of students hastened for their dormitories. Draco nodded to Theo who, taking the hint, left with the others.

Granger predictably took her time to organize the pile of school-work strewn across half the table so Draco tarried himself, deciding as he stared at his fucked-up parchment that it was a lost cause and he would just start fresh later.

Wordlessly, Draco cast an 'incendio' to the sheet. The ashes piled on his desk as it disintegrated in the licks of flame. Magic once more gathered in his fingertips and after a moment's concentration, Draco attempted to transfigure the ashes.

The ashes cycled in a whirlwind before landing in his hand as a small orchid. It felt petal-soft against his fingers even if the color was as black as his robes. He chanced a glance at Granger who was staring transfixed by the flower in his hand. Those brown, awe-struck eyes flicked up to him. Draco wondered if it were stupid that he felt like giving her the flower.

Really stupid. Don't even think about it, arsehole.

Reality broke over Granger and she turned to flee from the classroom. Draco dropped the orchid and hurried after her.

"Granger," he urged, the syllables low and desperate in the corridor. She didn't respond.

Draco refused to be ignored. He reached with his right hand and grazed the fingers of her left, his pointer hooking around her pinkie for a breath just as Granger halted in the middle of the hallway.

That first feel of her sparked along and revived his nerves, as if he had been trudging around numb for the past couple weeks.

"Draco," she said, calling his attention upwards. Her face wavered between expectation and wariness. "Did you want something?" she prompted when he remained quiet.

You.

Draco swallowed lest that word somehow tumble out of his mouth. Something akin to panic flared in his chest; unconsciously he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, trying to expel the prickly heat.

"I wanted to know if- " he jumbled as he searched for the proper words, "if we were all right."

"What we?" she asked, the words jagged as they sliced through his mind and revisited the moment in the Room where he effectively said the same thing.

It didn't sound nearly as good now that it was being thrown back in his face.

Sniffing impatiently, Granger continued. "Have you an answer to my question yet? On expectations?"

Arrogance poured through his veins and thickened his blood. The Malfoy demeanor slid in place as neatly as a lock and he cocked his pale brows at her, gray eyes oozing condescension at her tone. "I didn't realize you were my Professor handing out quizzes. Last time I checked, there's no requirement of me to answer your questions, Granger."

He crossed his arms, relaxing into the familiarity of this position, as Granger struggled with her overloaded bag.

After a huff of frustration, she aborted whatever task she set out for and, wandlessly, cast "Accio". His black orchid zoomed out of the classroom and into her open palm, its color a startling complement against the light tan of her skin.

Granger twirled the stem a moment before tucking it gently behind the shell of her ear, Draco's heart stuttering at the action. Their eyes connected as she spoke too casually, "Orchids are one of the symbolic flowers of apology. I bet you didn't know that, though." Then she strode off for her dormitory, not affording him a backward glance.

She would have lost that bet. Draco actually did know.

Hermione sat at her usual table in the bowels of the library, flipping blindly through a reference book for her Arithmancy class.

Despite having the look of someone deeply engrossed in her studies, Hermione's mind had already wandered away from complex calculations to stress over her spontaneous study partner.

After learning about Theo's connection to Draco, she hoped to utilize that friendship in a way that would force Draco's hand because evidently, her stubbornness was not cutting it.

Foolish boy. Doesn't he know we're too deep down the rabbit hole at this point?

Hermione sighed. She personally was barely treading water, trying constantly to remain above the flood of memories and coinciding emotions that had invaded most of her waking and sleeping moments.

Whether the same could be said about Draco remained to be seen.

Do I even want the same from him?

Hermione's mind wandered up to her dorm where the orchid rested on her desk, stasis charm in place once she was able to find her wand in her wretched bag.

I suppose that answers that.

"Any room at that table for me or you prefer I stand?"

Hermione jerked her head up, finding Theo relaxed against a bookcase, feet and arms crossed as he smirked down at her.

She immediately scrambled to make space. "Of course! I'm sorry. I tend to get carried away."

He didn't say anything for a moment as he waited to sit across from her, speculative eyes tracing her face. "Clearly," he finally quipped.

Hermione openly reciprocated the speculation; she stared, unblinking back, while her teeth chewed the soft flesh of her lip.

Theo took mercy on her.

"What were you working on?"

She flipped through some loose parchment before wordlessly handing over the one in question. Anticipatory silence settled between them as Theo regarded her work, eventually taking out some spare parchment of his own to double check a few of the more complicated sections. Once he finished he placed the parchment in the middle of the table, eyebrows raised in a curious mix of appreciation and bewilderment.

Hermione's eyes never moved from his face. He made the briefest nod in her direction and then, "What's next?"

She exhaled breath she didn't even know she was holding as an excited smile already started to stretch her face.

"I like to prove the calculations are correct by switching out a few of the variables."

They scratched away for a while, making innocuous little murmurs about checking this or that, when Theo said far too idly, "You can see how one miscalculation brings the whole thing to its knees."

Hermione's quill paused a moment. This is partially what she hoped for when making the impulsive decision to study with Draco's best friend although she would have preferred less cryptic language.

Luna and Theo would get along splendidly.

Without lifting her eyes from the parchment, despite her handwriting looking like gibberish under her unfocused gaze, she contemplated aloud, "I believe one would then need to be very careful with every step. Perhaps we need more knowledge before continuing?"

Theo's voice grew dark with its own knowledge.

"Perhaps we don't continue at all."

Hermione huffed at that, looking up to make eye contact with the shuttered snake. And for a moment, she had thought they were getting somewhere.

She kept her voice low but firm. "I see everything through to the end."

Theo sighed and gathered his things. "A miscalculation. Perhaps." He spared another look at her before rising from the table, the dark blue of his eyes tinged with what looked to be resignation.

Hermione refused to let him leave with the last word; besides, she was right.

"Not a miscalculation because it's not a variable. My need to see it through is constant."

Theo almost disappeared down the narrow aisles of the library when she tried again. "Theo? I will see you next week… same time, same place?"

Hermione could no longer see him but his voice floated up as gratifying as wood smoke.

"Sure, Granger. Sure."

oOo

Hermione could think of a list the length of her arm of things she'd rather be doing instead of watching Quidditch. Kissing or throttling Draco tied for first; she wasn't sure whether to be amused or frustrated by the notion.

However, early Saturday morning found her thudding onto the Gryffindor bench near Harry, noting that the cream was missing again. It didn't take an intelligent person like herself to know that finding McLaggen would find the cream.

Frustrated. Definitely frustrated.

As difficult as it would make the day, Hermione felt it best to skip her morning coffee and the resultant run-in with McLaggen the charmer, and opted for black tea with toast, covered liberally with raspberry jam.

Luna had floated her way over from Ravenclaw table and settled next to Hermione, commenting that one should be careful with sharing raspberry jam, for one never knows if the person is worthy of the fruit. Hermione hummed her token assent despite having no idea to what Luna alluded. If she was of a mind, Hermione would exert the effort to introduce Luna and Theo, if only to have the pleasure of listening to the way they would knit conversations together. She smirked a little at that.

When I'm not so busy chasing a different, arrogant Slytherin.

Meanwhile, Harry was trying to wheedle Ron into some breakfast, a clear indication to anyone in radius that Gryffindors was one of the teams to play today.

I suppose I'll have to scratch those first two things off my list then since Draco will also be playing.

Transfiguration it is. The impressive, albeit imperfect, show from Draco yesterday had spiked Hermione's curiosity about transfigurement of destroyed items; the library was likely to satisfy said curiosity. She may even have time to zip down to the library and check out a book to peruse while in the stands.

"You really should have something Ron because you look dreadful," Luna commented in her airy, straightforward manner. "Harry even put a tonic in your cup to help with that!"

Intrigued, Hermione shifted her attention to her best friend, dread growing in her stomach as she watched the reckless boy stuff the little vial of liquid luck back into his robes.

No. He wouldn't cross that line.

Hermione cleared her throat and asked hesitantly, "Harry… you didn't, did you?"

The black-haired Quidditch Captain shrugged one shoulder, smirking as his ginger teammate gulped down the spiked pumpkin juice.

"I don't know what you're talking about Hermione," Harry said dismissively.

She sputtered. "You could be expelled."

He looked at her wide-eyed. Innocent. "Are you reporting me?"

Ron scowled at Hermione as he leapt from the table, optimism tumbling through him. "Hermione, you don't understand sports. Just mind your own business."

Embarrassed hurt shimmered through Hermione at the dismissal by both her friends, as if she was being unreasonable for following the rules. She crossed her arms and glowered at the boys, determined to convince them of the foolishness of this plan.

Before she could, GInny rushed up to Harry and Ron, a fellow teammate trailing her.

"Malfoy's not flying! Cried off sick," Ginny reported excitedly as she launched into the Slytherin roster update. Ron's eyes had gone wide at the news, looking at Harry.

Luna, a silent observer to the theatrics, piped up with those wide, gray eyes steadfast on Hermione's profile.

"How lucky for you," she said delightedly and then, almost as if it were an afterthought, "Ron."

The Gryffindor team dispersed after that, overcome by the contagious optimism that came from the news, as well as Ron's recently acquired confidence. Hermione finished her tepid tea and considered skipping the game altogether, partly to send a message to her two cheating friends and partly because Draco would be in the castle.

Sick. Pft. Shouldn't a Slytherin be more cunning with their excuses than that?

Luna stirred at her side and pulled Hermione's attention. "Are you ready, Hermione?"

She stifled a sigh. There was no way she could succeed in shaking off Luna. They left the table and maneuvered around students, all trying to finish breakfast in time for the game, and also successfully avoided a leering McLaggen with the gentlest tug to Luna's jacket.

Steps upon steps upon steps up one of the Gryffindor stands, where already Lavender and Parvati sat huddled under blankets. Winter held Scotland in its grip firmly now, like a mother determined not to let her overeager tot stray. It was decidedly uncomfortable.

Swiftly, Hermione cast a warming charm on herself and Luna who was busy making an inane comment about the beauty of the world stripped bare. Hermione only wound her scarf tighter about her neck, unfazed by the supposed allure of the winter landscape.

Soon the game started and even as her eyes followed the action happening 500 feet in the air, Hermione's mind rooted through the labyrinthine halls of the castle as she pondered what would have kept Draco from playing.

Draco crouched edgily at the side of the Slytherin common room fireplace and waited. Despite the terrible blustery weather, everyone had left to watch the game which served Draco splendidly. After Theo returned from his little "study" date the night before, Draco told Blaise and him that he would skip the game and he requested they pass along the rumor that he was sick,

Theo smirked and muttered, "Sick in the head, maybe."

It took every ounce of Draco's self-control not to ram his oldest friend into the nearest wall and demand a detailed summary about what happened between him and Granger.

A summary that apparently didn't seem worth noting to Granger as the journal remained damnably silent. Such impulsiveness would only lend credence to Theo's taunting, though.

Blaise, thank Salazar, did as Draco asked without comment and so here he sat, unencumbered by wagging tongues, and waited. After a moment, the flames flickered green until they coalesced and fanned out to reveal the face of his beautiful, vibrant mother.

"Draco," she sighed, the relief heavy in her voice. Draco thought he would break down under the weight of it.

"Are you okay?" they asked simultaneously. Narcissa smiled faintly.

"Of course I'm okay, son. Your father is taking care of me."

Draco thought it would be rude to snort disbelievingly, especially considering how he learned etiquette at this woman's feet.

"Are you okay," she repeated.

He mulled over the question. Instinctively, he should wave it off with the mask of disdain that came as naturally as breath. However, if he were truly honest- fuck you, Granger- Draco wasn't sure. He had daily headaches to attend to, along with taking the time to silence his bed every night in the event he woke up from an all-too-common nightmare. He felt entirely alone with the burden of his task, as perpetual as his shadow.

And yet, he wasn't. Because he had Blaise and Theo and Melin help him, even Granger.

"I'm okay," Draco enunciated, testing the truth of the words on his lips. "Honest."

His mother's eyes stared out at him and it felt like she could see right through him. Her little frown of worry didn't reassure.

"There's a meeting soon, I can't stay long," she started.

Draco was once again grateful to be sequestered away at Hogwarts. He also felt a wide streak of resentment that he couldn't bask in his mother's presence for five minutes more. For an hour more.

"Draco I don't want you to think I expect- " Narcissa stopped, exhaled, then tried again. "You know I only hope for your happiness and safety." Her head turned suddenly as if to address someone out of Draco's sight and Draco moved to abort the fire-call, fearful that they were found out but her face swung back to greet his, Narcissa's eyes dark and intense as they bore down on him.

"Consider other options," she said and the fire flickered orange, wisps of her profile curling away with the smoke.

Draco knelt there gazing at the dancing flames until he couldn't feel anything in his feet. He rocked back onto his bottom and tapped his soles against the stone hearth of the fireplace attempting to disperse the tingles.

Unluckily for him, Draco had no way of dispersing the tingles from his head, brought on by that extremely confusing conversation with his mother. She seemed to be speaking without artifice and yet, whatever message she was trying to convey was lost on him.

Relief at seeing her barely lasted as Draco thought on her comment,

"Your father is taking care of me."

The implication rolled his stomach. Draco doubted his mother would last long under the care of his "loving" father which made it continually paramount for Draco to complete the task, if only to protect her.

His mother's parting words, however, suggested there may be another way.

Draco quickly cast a tempus charm and figured he had at least another hour before Potter likely dominated the pitch and the game ended.

Fucking perfect Potter.

With a sigh, Draco resigned himself to the 7th floor to try another spell on the Cabinet, all the while mulling over those mysterious options.

The minute Harry caught the snitch, literally right out of the substitute Slytherin seeker's hands, Hermione left the stands and bolted for the Gryffindor changing rooms.

She stood outside as they entered. She waited while they cheered at their unbelievable victory. She even bit her tongue when Dean cried, "Party in the common room!" despite knowing that Seamus likely smuggled in all manner of illegal goods.

Only when she heard just Ron and Harry's voices beyond the curtain did Hermione stomp in.

She glared at Harry and gritted, "That was illegal and you know it. They didn't even stand a chance!"

Harry looked nonplussed while Ron swooped down defensively in front of him, matching Hermione glare for glare.

"What are you, a Slytherin sympathizer now?"

The color drained right out of Hermione's face. Even though the accusation was a harmless goad on Ron's part, Hermione feared that everything she had kept bottled up these past months just leaked out onto the floor in front of her, a mess anyone could now slip on. If she wasn't so livid at her two best friends, she probably would have caved and told them everything if only to minimize the damage. But she was mad, utterly so, so she kept her lips clamped.

Harry intervened once he saw the direction the conversation was heading. Anxiously he announced, "I didn't do it! I didn't put anything in his cup!"

Ron and Hermione swung eyes onto their fidgety dark-haired friend, Ron looking shell-shocked at Harry's pronouncement while rage settled even more prominently onto Hermione's features.

"Explain," she near growled.

Harry blew out breath and turned his attention to Ron. "You have a confidence problem, mate. I wanted to try and relieve some pressure so that you could play to your natural ability and knew that if you thought you had some advantage, you'd loosen up. I meant for you to see it, Hermione," he looked at her then apologetically, "so you could tip Ron off to what it was."

This explanation fell into a thick silence, only punctured a few awkward moments later by Ron's acerbic tone as he stomped toward the exit.

"Glad to know you always had faith in me, Hermione, and I'm glad to see where your priorities are- they didn't even stand a chance!" Ron mimicked before leaving the tent.

Harry and Hermione stared uncomfortably at one another; twice, he opened his mouth as if to say something and twice, he closed it, confusion and concern clouding his eyes.

"You coming up to the party?" he finally eked out, making overtly casual shifts towards the exit. Hermione waved him off.

"You go," she said, not hiding the bitterness in her tone. She felt a bit betrayed by Harry for using her in his ploy- and for Quidditch, of all things! Her mind couldn't help but churn paranoia at the thought that perhaps the boys didn't value her friendship as much if they were willing to play her like a pawn. A seemingly disposable one, at that.

She stood a moment longer in the changing tent vibrating anger and running through which hexes she could hit her supposed "friends" with and not be caught.

"Gah!" she nearly growled before leaving the same way the boys did.

Hermione encountered no one on the grounds or the stairwells and it was clear why as she crawled through the portrait to the Gryffindor common room. Butterbeer and firewhisky were flowing freely as the whole of the House crowded in a tight circle, fixated on Ron in the middle who was being cheered on by already-buzzed students. As she maneuvered the walls of the room to catch more than the back of Ron's head, she came to see what the cheering was all about- Ron appeared literally suctioned to her dorm mate, Lavender Brown, who was passionately grabbing fistfuls of his hair as they tumbled their way to the fireplace couch.

It felt like a light went out in Hermione's chest at the sight. She gripped her robes sporadically, stumbling back towards the exit, and trying to not think of her best friend inhaling beautiful Lavender Brown as if she were a Christmas pudding.

Trying and failing in that, Hermione still managed to crawl back out the portrait hole in one piece and walk blindly down one corridor, turn down a set of stairs… counting one-two-three breaths, wondering how even such a dim flicker of hope could be felt so strongly once snuffed.

She collapsed in the middle of a corridor as the breath shuddered out of her. Unluckily for her, that's how Draco found her.

He strolled up redolently, probably coming back from the 7th floor after some type of mischief, although she vaguely wondered why he was taking the long way around, before she realized her ridiculous position on the floor.

Hermione looked up at him and waited for some wise crack. He stared back, the emotion unfathomable in his stormy grays, when he reached out a hand.

The action mesmerized her after a day of carelessness wrought by her friends; his open palm with those delicately crooked fingers and near translucent expanse of skin, altogether a symbolic offer of kindness, made her want to cry.

Hermione grabbed it and allowed Draco to pull her up before she embarrassed herself any further. They moved down the corridor hand in hand until Draco found a darkened classroom. Only once they were ensconced in the room did Draco let go of her.

Hermione felt a similar echo of bereftment throb in her chest, much like the one felt at the sight of Ron and Lavender.

I don't think I care to analyze that too closely.

Instead, she cast her signature blue bell flame so she could visually appreciate the steadying figure of Draco Malfoy, even with the scowl twisting his face, and tried not to think too hard about late night, blue-lit talks with her boys.

They weren't worth her time right now.

Hermione turned her contemplative eyes to the attractive blond on the other side of the room. "Where were you coming from, Draco? If you weren't, well, you I'd think you were following me."

He ignored her curiosity entirely. Surprise, surprise.

"I'm more interested in where you came from since it had you crumpled on the floor. Not your best look, Granger."

Draco prowled the edges of the room, his face in shadow but the anger almost tangible as it rolled off him. Hermione's back stiffened in defense until she realized the anger wasn't really directed at her. Her heart skipped a beat at the revelation. How curious.

She mirrored his stride, trying to get closer to catch his gaze. "I came from the Gryffindor common rooms, in the throes of celebration."

Draco moved a step closer to the flame, highlighting the defined edge of his jaw. "Don't feel like celebrating?" he challenged.

Resentment, and sadness too, colored Hermione's response.

"Not to the uninterrupted view of Ron sucking the face off Lavender."

Draco stilled. She could see his mouth hover on the cusp of illumination and the temptation to throw herself at that mouth, to forget everything under its talented ministrations had her suppressing a moan of longing.

His lips were moving now, spitting ire. "Why are you so put out by the two of them?"

Hermione moved into the light of the fire, exposing herself. "I guess it just proves I never really had a chance."

Draco snorted as he turned away from the light, his tall lithe silhouette all that Hermione could pick up on in the darkness. It was maddening.

"Why would you want one? A chance, I mean," he said amusedly. Hermione glared uselessly in his direction. Voice gentling- so infinitesimal that Hermione thought she might be imagining it- Draco continued, "Granger if you put in a little effort, you could have your pick of anyone."

The notion surprised her, along with what it implied. Sometimes Hermione felt the silence did all the talking for the two of them.

She fidgeted away from the light and the searing possibilities tucked in between the breaths of his statement, and inched closer to him.

Draco remained unaffected at her onslaught, twitching only when she was close enough to touch him.

Summoning a dose of Gryffindor courage, she voiced the sweetest, the riskiest of his implications. "Even you?"

He didn't move. The answer slid over the gravel in his disembodied voice.

"I'm a death sentence."

Hermione immediately covered his already-clothed left forearm with her hand. "And if you weren't?"

Connected for but a moment, Hermione felt like the conviction of her thoughts, of her desires were pouring into his skin like a balm, soothing away the sharp and painful doubts he carried.

But then Draco shrugged her away, as if she burned him. And maybe she did. The truth could burn.

He snarled at her, "I don't have time for your theoretical bullshit, Granger."

Yes, the truth indeed burned.

Hermione stood her ground, hurling back, "You're right. You're too busy digging your own grave. At some point I'm going to stop offering my help."

My protection. My body. My vulnerability. My…

She stared in the darkness at his indecipherable figure and wondered why in the name of Merlin she allowed herself to sink knee-deep into his contradictions. At one point, she would misjudge her step and be swallowed whole and for what?

Come on, Draco. Meet me halfway!

"Lucky for me, I don't need your help."

Hermione extinguished the blue bell flame at that declaration, not wanting the stony Slytherin to see the tears stream down her face.

Short of strangling it out of him, she didn't think she'd ever succeed in squashing the arrogance he wore like a shield, that which kept him from deeper connection. As fascinating and- all right, I'll admit- desirable as Draco turned out to be, his prattish Malfoy traits continued to win out.

Hermione shuffled her way towards where the door out should be, feeling twice the fool after having to light her wand to locate the handle. Perhaps it's for the best. How could we possibly end well?

She looked back to him, grateful the lumos wasn't strong enough to illuminate her mottled face, and sighed, knowing she would regret leaving without getting in the last word.

At some point during this miserable day, she was going to come out on top.

"Lucky for you, I'll keep your secret anyway. For now." Then Hermione slipped out the door before Draco could pin her down with a predictable string of curses. Or worse, his unpredictably persuasive lips.

oOo

Draco sat at the Slytherin table during dinner Sunday evening and allowed the inane chatter of his housemates drown out the pounding in his head.

The headaches had become commonplace in his day to day living but he wasn't above seeking relief that did not come in the form of a matronly grouch of a nurse asking too many questions.

So, despite not having an appetite, Draco slightly relaxed as the ebb and flow of conversation occurred around him, thankful that it didn't require any direct participation. His mind, unengaged, circled back again and again to Granger's dismissal of him the evening before. As much as it vexed him that she held the upper hand- she did, in fact, hold one of the keys to his destruction- Draco felt more troubled that their little game seemed to have run its course.

Can I find relief in nothing?

Sighing, he forked another bite of whatever dinner was into his mouth, chewing and finding it tasting like cardboard. If he cared enough, he'd send a letter home to his father and inform him of the deteriorating quality put out by the elves.

Theo was talking to the left of him about some study group he had Monday evening when a terrified first year approached the table, stopping just shy of Blaise.

Draco raised his eyebrows impatiently. The first year blanched and then managed to stutter, "M-mister Zab-bini?"

Blaise turned, impassive, and deftly plucked a scroll tied with purple ribbon from the shaking hands of the boy, then shooed him away.

The collective 6th years near Blaise leaned in slightly, the only overt sign of their curiosity, as Blaise unrolled the parchment and scanned its contents. He made a strangled noise in his throat then slapped the scroll shut with a flick of his wrist.

Abandoning etiquette, Theo swiped it from Blaise and proceeded to read through it, ignoring Blaise's death glare the whole time.

Theo looked up and beamed devilishly. "Take me, would you? I always wanted to see what one of these hoity toity parties are like."

He handed the scroll to Draco who read that it was an invitation plus one to Slughorn's Christmas party. He passed it wordlessly so the rest of the group could get their fill. Draco entered the fray of the conversation, his own curiosity piqued.

"You're sacred twenty-eight, Theo. You know what hoity toity is."

Humor lightened Theo's voice. "Not Slug's version. Come on Blaise, no one would stoop to go with an ugly mug like yours."

The dark-skinned boy in question snorted and turned on the bench so he could scan the other tables where other first years were handing out similar invites.

"Please, I'd go with a mud- " Blaise hissed as the stinging hex that Draco instinctively cast hit his shoulder. "Fuck, Malfoy! That hurt!"

Draco's stony expression hid the turbulence of emotions simmering just below the surface. Alarm at the intensity of his reaction to the slur was soon lost under the building rage that his friend, one of his only confidantes, would use that word around him now.

Instead of spewing all that emotion like a Hufflepuff though, Draco settled for a flat, "It would have hurt more if you actually had the chance to finish that sentence."

Draco happened to throw a glance over Blaise' shoulder after that ominous comment and noticed McLaggen, the oaf, strut his way up the Gryffindor table with a perfectly ordinary rose dangling from his fingers.

Too late, comprehension dawned.

"Oh, shit!"

Draco shot up from his chair and watched McLaggen make an obnoxious bow over the flower as he came even with Granger. She stood up to face him after it became apparent that McLaggen wasn't going to budge from his obsequious position.

Much of the Hall's volume dissipated to quiet murmurs as eyes from the staff down through the students' tables watched the rather public declaration.

Cormac asked, overloud as if he were on stage, "Hermione would you like to go to Slughorn's Christmas Party with me?"

Hermione's gaze skipped embarrassingly over the avid eyes watching the drama unfold until she met Draco's; they froze on him and even though the color wasn't discernible across the Hall, he could see how they instantly hardened with resolve.

"Yes, Cormac," she said loud and clear, only then turning her attention back to that preening peacock, "I'd be happy to."

The atmosphere of the Great Hall went back to normal after that although all Draco could hear over the blood rushing in his head was Theo muttering, "So much for seeing things through to the end." Draco collapsed back into his seat with his wand tight in hand.

That little snake.

Frustratingly, the thought came with far too much admiration.

He decided, for self-preservation's sake, that it would be best to escape to the bowels of the castle and away from speculative eyes so he murmured an inarticulate excuse and rose from the table.

As he made to stalk purposefully out of the Hall, he heard Blaise question Theo under his breath, "Can I call her mudblood now?" Wordlessly, Draco threw a hex over his shoulder before exiting, the vitriol from seeing that git McLaggen nab Granger pouring out of his wand and hitting Blaise.

Next time, it would be McLaggen on the other side of his bad mood, for taking what's his.