Chapter Nineteen

Draco woke unnaturally early the next morning, his eyes popping open as if his body couldn't stand a moment more of rest. He felt like death warmed over. His dreams had been weird and disquieting, frequently dragging him from his sleep over the course of the night. Still his body urged him to wakefulness at five AM sharp. Never one to let time waste away, Draco had risen from his bed and enjoyed a nice, lengthy shower before donning his school uniform. Still of the mindset that he deserved to be treated, he wore one of the long-sleeved button downs that he'd acquired over the summer for the start of term that fit the fine lines of his form just so. It was true that he never went a term without an entirely new set of clothes for the year, but this time Draco had taken a chance with the colour of his tops and slacks. He usually went for a more classic look, but in the spirit of change Draco had opted to take note of the trends of Paris and bought a shirt that made a graceful transition between stark white about the shoulders and a pale, soft grey as the garment transitioned towards the hem. Strictly speaking the shirt wasn't dress code, but no one would know unless Draco shucked the tacky outer vest. It would be Draco's little secret. The way the soft fabric hugged his body was enough of a reward for him. He beat most of the boys in his dorm to breakfast that morning and placed himself strategically so that he could see the doors to the entrance hall.

He made a show of picking carefully through his meal to hide the conspicuous glances he was throwing towards the entrance to the dining hall. A bit of conversation caught his attention as he spooned a small helping of yogurt sweetened with a healthy dollop of honey into his mouth. His teeth bit into the ripe blueberries and raspberries with relish as he listened.

"It was like he was possessed or something," a boy, Kieran Wittlesbrite Draco recalled, a couple seats down from him was saying with barely suppressed anger.

"He was itching for a fight," his friend piped up, a thick hand gripping the stem of his goblet with crushing force. "Just laid into you, did he?"

Now that Draco had a chance to look at him, he could see that Kieran's eye was yellow with a fading bruise and his lip had been split and was now scabbed over down the middle. Kieran's hands were red and mottled with discolouration about the knuckles. There was no telling what other hurts were hidden beneath his robes. Draco, unable to resist, leaned forward to better hear their conversation, his grey eyes sharp as they peered over at Kieran. Noticing that he now held Draco's attention, Kieran straightened with bravado, his voice rising so that more could hear him as he spoke.

"I barely said a thing to him before he was on me." His tongue flicked out over the cut on his lip before he continued. "I'd at least liked to have insulted him properly to deserve the way he attacked me. All I said was that he looked pathetic moping about the halls like that."

Draco, having a very strong suspicion already as to who it was that had delivered such a beating to Kieran, spoke up. "Who was it?" His tone was hard and clear, and held no suggestion that he was in the mood to be dragged about trying to pry information from the boy.

Still, Kieran milked the moment, pausing heavily so that he had the attention of everyone within earshot. "Ron Weasley," he said with gravity.

A sinking feeling took hold of Draco. He looked over at the Gryffindor table and though Weasley wasn't facing him, Draco could still see his pinched profile. He looked even more volatile than he had the evening of the argument. His fists stiff balls against the table, his body rigid with tension as his eyes glanced repeatedly at the doors of the great hall. A problem now presented itself to Draco; he could not simply allow Ron to get away with beating up on his housemates. He knew it was not by chance that he had overheard this conversation. Slytherins weren't snitches or tattletales and mostly handled their problems on their own, but everyone in Draco's house knew that confronting Weasley after everything that had happened last year wasn't so small a thing as it would have been previously. They were used to being the pariah of the school, but no one wanted the problems that would arise if any of them were to take it upon themselves to go after Weasley. And so the issue had been laid before Draco as it had been done for years. He wasn't the head boy anymore, and in truth, a problem such as this should have fallen on the shoulders of the person in that role, but this was tricky. Draco knew what he should do, he should bring this to the attention of the head of house, or, really, the headmistress as Draco was sure that it being Weasley who was the culprit, someone with more authority should be brought in, but the attack was personal and unwarranted. Weasley was still hot after the tiff between he and Granger and was looking for any reason to let off steam.

Still, Draco found it odd that Weasley could be so upset. Weasley was hot headed, but this sort of prolonged aggression was unheard of even from him. Though his temper came to him fast, he was usually quick to shuck it off. Draco was loath to admit it, but Weasley had great friends, and that none of them could cool his temper was puzzling. There was something more to this, and Draco would root it out soon enough.

"Leave it to me," Draco said finally, and looked back over to Kieran with conviction in his eyes. Kieran nodded, his face grim despite the knowing tilt of his mouth. Draco didn't know what he would do, but his assurance that he would see to Weasley would be enough to put to rest any ideas of handling the situation themselves, however unlikely that seemed.

Just then Granger walked into the hall with friends in tow. Ginny Weasley looked as bright and alert as ever, but she kept stealing little glances over at Granger as if she was expecting something of her. Granger, for her part, looked in surprisingly good spirits. Draco frowned ever so slightly. She'd been nearly incoherent last night but she had none of that about her now. She looked clear and as buoyant as ever as she strode over to the Gryffindor table. Draco wanted to feel good about that, but it was just too much of a 180 after seeing her cry.

Almost mechanically, Draco brought another spoon of yogurt and fruit to his mouth and chewed, half a mind set on keeping up an unbothered appearance. Granger sat and poured herself a drink looking up at Weasley. Draco felt himself stop breathing as a beat passed and Granger's open features drew down into a slump of unhappiness. Draco could see that she spoke, but could not make out what she said as she took to her feet again. Ginny caught her before Granger could escape and it seemed whatever she said soothed Granger to some extent. In that moment Draco was grateful for Ginerva Weasley. That she could be counted on to have Granger's back despite Weasley's disposition spoke loads for her character, and Draco decided then that, of all Granger's friends, he would try his best to get along with her. Like Granger, Ginny was just another pawn caught up in the struggle between Potter, The Dark Lord, and Draco. He saw no reason why he shouldn't make every effort to befriend her if she would allow it.

Draco's frown deepened as he wondered over his sudden sentimentality. Maybe he was being a little too optimistic in thinking the girl Weasley would have anything to do with him. She was still Weasley's sister after all. Granger was out of the great hall in long, determined strides, her body curling in on itself in defence against the world. Draco turned his attention back towards the students around him in time to see a crisp looking Blaise shove his way between the two Slytherins across from Draco.

"Morning," Blaise said in gravely, sleep-worn tones, and proceeded to pour himself a strong, black tea. He was worth less than dirt before his morning cuppa and Draco was thankful for the small moments of reprieve before Blaise came to full wakefulness.

"Have you seen Madam Pomfrey?" Draco wanted to know, directing his question at Kieran, who was touching lightly at the swollen skin under his eye.

Kieran smiled wryly. "She's the only reason I look as good as I do," he said truthfully. "I was a right sight when I came to her last night. Made me spend the night, she did," he said with a huff, and everyone chuckled, as they knew how fussy the woman could be. "Nearly drug me to the headmistress when I woke this morning, but I told her it was just an unfortunate tumble from a broom." Kieran's eyes did a half roll as he sighed. "Something tells me I haven't heard the last from her. Don't think she believed me, but I couldn't tell her the truth, could I?"

Draco nodded once. "You did the right thing. What Weasley did was abominable. I don't care if he helped save all our arses, he should have to pay for what he did."

"What happened?" Blaise asked, his eyes finally lifting from his second cup of tea to join reality. He looked over at Kieran and his thick eyebrows arched high on his forehead. "You look bloody awful Kieran, worse than usual," he remarked with a hint of admonishment that Kieran would dare present such an unpleasant sight for Blaise to look upon.

"Sterling observation, Zabini," Kieran deadpanned with barely a glance Blaise's way. "Weasley was in a mood last night and thought to take it out on me," he explained.

Blaise's eyes lit with interest. "You don't say." He looked to Draco, who was already counting to ten in his head in preparation for whatever stupid thing Blaise might say to infuriate him. "Must have seen something he didn't like," he said slyly, which wasn't half as bad as Draco had expected, but was still enough to cause a nerve to twitch in his eye.

"Sadly, his mood was no doing of mine," Draco said breezily, entertaining the thought of finally getting to lay into Weasley. "He and Granger did have that fight," he reminded them all, hoping to steer the conversation, and mainly Blaise, away from the path he was so doggedly seeking these days.

"Because of you," Blaise helpfully supplied.

"Because," Draco said, his eyes narrowed, "Weasley has some major trust issues to work through."

Blaise smirked and shrugged one shoulder. "Semantics, really."

Draco didn't bother replying. Continuing to argue with Blaise would only prove that his words held some truth and Draco wasn't quite ready to hash out his friendship with Granger with his fellow Slytherins just yet. He was still trying to figure it out himself. With that in mind, Draco tugged the serviette from his collar and tossed it on to the table. He gathered his things and bid his housemates farewell. He levelled a meaningful look at Kieran, reminding the boy that his quandary was still at the forefront of Draco's mind, and took his leave in search for Granger.

The halls were busy as usual, though there was a marked difference from the excited buzz of energy that had filled them on the first day of class, and the resigned air in which everyone moved about them now. Draco had thought it would take longer for the novelty of returning to Hogwarts to wear off for the student body, but in the end classes were still just classes; the work was hard and gruelling, and although the normalcy was deeply appreciated after the strain of a war, having to sit through lectures was boring business.

Draco would have first tried finding Granger near her first class, but he was unaware of the layout of her timetable, and so did not have much to go on as he roamed the castle. He'd hoped that whatever force had directed him towards her before would kick in now, but as he ambled along he felt no particular pull one way or another. Instead he headed for the grounds and immediately regretted leaving the warmth of the castle as a stiff breeze rushed up to greet him. He turned on the spot and reentered the castle, only to see Weasley, Potter and Thomas coming down the hall. He wasn't proud of the way he ducked for cover in the shadow of a tall marble column, but he just couldn't persuade himself to intentionally put himself in Weasley's path, not just yet. Weasley spearheaded the trio, but Potter looked ready to snatch his friend up if he got into any trouble, which didn't seem unwise if the look on Weasley's face was any indication. Draco watched until they were out of sight and even waited a few more seconds to be sure before he eased out of his hiding place. He looked around to see if anyone had noticed his reappearance, but no one did. Draco headed in the opposite direction from the three Gryffindors. He would be late if he kept such a lazy pace, and he was definitely going the long way to reach his first period, but that couldn't be helped. As it was he breezed into the classroom, all flowing robes and long legs just in the nick of time. Draco had no sooner found his seat than the professor made a clumsy entrance into the room.

Some people found the professor endearing, but for Draco, Professor Hoosier's bumbling act set his teeth on edge. It was as if the man had the sole objective to give Muggle Studies a bad name. Many already looked on the class as one of the more useless electives, a viewpoint that Hogwarts was trying to change in light of the war. With Professor Hoosier stumbling over the floor, his feet, and anything else that was not strictly level with the ground, it was hard to take anything he said or did seriously. When he was not teetering on the verge of mortal peril by inanimate objects, Hoosier was forgetting things, misplacing things and, most annoying of all, repeating things. It was a boon that the course relied so heavily upon reading. Draco felt he would not benefit otherwise. He supposed it had come down to finding someone who was willing to risk teaching a Muggle Studies class in the current climate, but Draco was beginning to think he could teach the class better than Professor Hoosier if given the chance.

The man had been given leave to wear Muggle attire for a more "authentic" experience during class. He was clothed in a drab assembly of browns and tans, the only blessed relief from the dismal selection being a pop of olive green tucked into the pocket of his overcoat. It was boring, boring, boring. Draco's eyes hurt by the end of the lesson from straining over the uninspiring palate. If he didn't think Hoosier would be terribly insulted, Draco would offer his assistance just to save his eyes the trouble of looking at him dressed so. As it was Professor Hoosier managed to find his way to the front of the class without much incident and started the class by discussing the assigned book. Blaise was hardly paying attention as usual, preferring to lavish his attention on a stony looking Sylvia, but Phil often raised his hand and contributed his opinion. Draco only half listened as he thought over how he should approach the 'Weasley Situation'. He would also have to talk to Granger if he could catch up with her sometime today. It wouldn't do to let her go on thinking that she had avoided his concern so easily.

"And now for a bit of fun!" Professor Hoosier boomed. His voice, contrary to the lanky, awkward set of him, was deep and reaching. It shook Draco from his stupor and he looked up to see a stack of parchments rise into the air and spread out amongst the students until everyone had a leaflet in front of them. "Muggles For a Day!" he announced happily.

Draco all but groaned as he stared down at the parchment before him. The rest of the class didn't have his restraint, for they did groan aloud.

"Oh, don't be such poor sports, students," Hoosier rebuked them as he paced the stretch of stone before his desk. "This will be a lot of fun, I can promise you. Especially for those of you who are more unfamiliar with the ways of Muggles." He might as well have said purebloods, Draco thought unhappily. "First, we will dress as Muggles," Hoosier said, and performed a half bow at the waist, his hand gesturing over his clothes. "As you can see from what I'm wearing, Muggles tend not to wear robes unless associated with a religious sect." He paused, a thick finger held in the air. "At least that is true for the Muggles of Britain. There are many styles of dress all over the world and we will discuss them as the year wears on. There will be many opportunities to explore those styles as we touch upon each region, but for this week we will start with something more familiar."

Draco didn't like the sound of that. He was a well travelled man and knew that even the Wizards of different nations dressed in strange fashions. There was no telling what the Muggles of those nations doned on the day to day.

"If you tap your wand upon the different modules on the parchment before you, a clever bit of magic if I do say so myself," Here the professor preened for a bit before continuing, "The module will enlarge itself with research on the corresponding topic. We have Transportation, Clothing, Electronics—that one will present a few more modules for you to explore as Muggles have an endless number of gadgets and whatsists to aid them through life—Entertainment, and Culture." Professor Hoosier allowed a silence to fall as each student took the time to explore the parchment. "Now, your first task will consist of two parts; clothing," he said, unfurling a pointer finger as he listed, "And gadgets." His middle finger followed. "Here I have what is called a cell phone." Hoosier held up a thin, black square. He tapped the front of it and it lit up to show a colourful, brightly lit display. "As you all well know Muggle electricity and magic don't fare well together, but with the help of the Department of Mysteries we have managed to configure a device that will simulate a real Muggle cell phone while running on magic." Hoosier flicked his wand and the phones dispersed much like the parchment had until everyone possessed a cell phone.

Despite himself, Draco was curious. It was no small feat to get a Muggle electronic to function while under the influence of magic and Draco was impressed that the Department of Mysteries was able to successfully figure it out. He knew he would spend at least a few hours poking and prodding at the device to reveal its secrets.

"For the remainder of the class you will be allowed to explore the parchment and cell phone. I would like one paragraph by the end of the lesson on your initial impressions." With that Professor Hoosier took his seat behind his desk. Almost immediately a small crowed formed of students with questions, cell phones in hand.

Draco picked up his cellphone and the display lit up. He put the cellphone back down and the display went dark again. "Hmm," he hummed softly, amused.

"Isn't this just brilliant?" Phil said from the table next to him, his finger swiping over the glass display. "I say, Muggles are clever."

Blaise tried his best to look indifferent, but Draco could see in the set of his mouth that he was impressed. "Sounds like a lot of work," he said as he pressed on a small, grey and black icon. The display changed so that it showed the desk and the back of the chair in front him. "I think I've broken it," he said, jabbing at the screen repeatedly. A small clicking noise emanated from the device, the screen flashing white again and again as he poked at it.

"That's the camera," Sylvia informed him, and leaned over to show Blaise her parchment. It was filled with information on the cellphone. "You're just taking pictures."

Blaise smiled at this and aimed the cellphone at Draco, snapping a picture of his deep scowl. Blaise pressed on a small square in the bottom left corner and the picture he'd just taken filled the screen. "Hm, I'll have to find a better muse," he said absently and snapped a picture of Sylvia as she read over her parchment. "Much better," he muttered.

Draco could already see that Blaise armed with a cellphone was going to be trouble.

xXx

Lunch was Draco's best bet as far as finding Granger was concerned. He made sure he was first out of class when the lesson ended, and he made quick work of the halls until he reached the arching atrium of the great hall. He stood off to the side, eyes scanning the crowd for the familiar curly brunette locks. He waved on his friends when they caught up to him, and had to threaten to Silencio Blaise again when it seemed his friend wasn't getting the hint that Draco desired to be alone. When finally he spotted Granger, Draco moved in, making sure he walked at a slow, but deliberate pace so that no one could mistake his approach for anything other than friendly. He was relieved to see that Weasley wasn't in sight, or, at least not the Weasley he was thinking of. Ginny was by Granger's side, looking stern when she noticed him coming their way. Her hand was on Granger's arm, a brief touch of reassurance. Draco was almost insulted by the gesture. She must know that Granger was no longer on bad terms with Draco, and that if he was up to no good he would find a more conspicuous place to do whatever bad thing it was she envisioned than the bustling halls of Hogwarts in full view of practically everyone.

"Miss Weasley, Miss Brown," Draco said politely, nodding in kind to each of them. Ginny only stared at him, while Lavender chanced a hesitant smile. "Granger, if you don't mind I'd like to have a moment of your time." Draco felt like a bit of a berk speaking so formally, but when he felt uncomfortable he fell back on his upbringing. Being formal was never the wrong way to go in most situations.

Granger looked ready to refuse, her eyes darting around as if searching for an excuse, any excuse, to refuse him. "I was just about to go to lunch, Malfoy," she said, nodding her head towards the flow of students as they made their way through the archway to the dining tables. "Can't this wait until later?"

Draco swallowed down a sarcastic remark; if it could wait until later he certainly would have waited. It took a lot for Draco to approach her so directly where all could see, especially since news was beginning to spread that Draco was hanging about with Granger, and that she and Weasley had argued over it. Draco would have jumped at the chance to be a part of such a scandal in earlier years, but now he wished to have no part of it. He knew that talking to her out in the open would only spur the rumours, but Granger was more important than all that. When he'd realized that it had bowled him over. Draco was nothing if not his reputation, and that he would disregard it in order to assure Granger's well-being was… startling—he'd been known to drop friends without a moments notice if he felt their actions would drag him down the social totem pole. He needed to make sure that she was OK for his peace of mind, if nothing else. Anyway he knew that replying sarcastically would only cause the girl weasel to step in, ruining any chance he had at seeing Granger. He'd earlier commended Ginny for supporting Granger, but if she got in his way when all he had was the best of intentions, he wouldn't be so quick to endorse her.

"Maybe we could go down to the kitchens for a bite, but I must insist," he said as levelly as he could, his lips pressed together against the scowl that wanted to take hold.

Granger looked at him almost pleadingly, and Draco nearly faltered, nearly told her that he would catch up to her later. But his conviction firmed inside him and he looked at her, unwavering. He could see the moment she gave in. She blinked, a fluttering of thick eyelashes, before she turned an apologetic look on Ginny. "I'll be back before class," she said, and Draco heard the promise for what it was. If she wasn't back by then she was giving Ginny permission to raise hell if she wanted to.

Draco wanted to believe the promise had been solely to placate Ginny, but he wasn't so sure. True, it was terrible for Draco to insist that she talk with him when she so clearly did not want to, but he felt it was his duty as a friend to make sure that she knew she could talk to him if she needed to. Last night had been awful, watching her words bottle up in her throat when she was so obviously in pain. Draco could never replace Granger's friends, in fact he didn't want to, but he did want Granger to know that he was there for her.

"Are you sure, Hermione?" Ginny was the picture of concern. She touched Granger again on the arm, pale skin dotted with freckles on thin fingers. She flicked an annoyed look at Draco. "Malfoy can bugger off if you want. You owe him nothing," she reminded her.

Draco suppressed a sigh, but he couldn't stop his eyes from lifting to the ceiling in exasperation. "I just want to talk. I don't intend to poison her or anything," he said, hoping that he brought to mind how wrongly Ginny and her lot had been to accuse him of just such a thing in Herbology. It worked, for Ginny looked sheepish, but only for a second. Probably she wasn't completely convinced that he hadn't poisoned Granger.

"It's fine, Ginny," Granger placated, her hand reaching up to cover Ginny's own on her arm. "If Malfoy truly wished me harm he would have had plenty of opportunities to do so before today." That didn't make Ginny any happier, really it seemed only to disturb her more. "I'll catch up with you later," she said more firmly, when it looked as though Ginny would protest.

Granger looked resigned when she turned to follow Draco, but at least she had agreed. They walked in awkward silence for a bit, Draco angling them towards the kitchens for that stipulated bite of food. The Malfoy's weren't famed for their kind treatment of house elves, but Draco in particular was popular amongst them for his compassionate manner in contrast to his father's brutal handling. They liked Draco as much as anyone could be liked by house elves, and were more likely to accommodate the stray unorthodox request if he asked nicely.

"Last night," Draco began, feeling unsure how to continue, but determined to brazen it out. "Last night you were really upset, and you left before I could find out why."

Granger's hands were knots, twisting around one another as she walked silently beside him. Draco realized it would take more than that to persuade her to talk.

"I tried to find you in the library but it was as if you had disappeared." He paused to steady the quiver in his voice borne of nervousness at broaching the subject of last night. "Where did you go?"

"Not far," Granger said quietly, after a beat of silence.

Draco waited for her to say more, but she reminded quiet. He let the silence reign until they reached the kitchens. As was to be expected during lunch, the kitchens were busy with motion. Draco ducked out of the way of a bowl full to spilling with a dark green substance, his hand reaching out to halt Granger before she could be brained by the it. Quickly he pulled his hand away from her shoulder where it had landed, feeling uncomfortable about touching her in such a tense moment. Crouching below the constant stream of airborne dishes, Draco steered her to a rickety table and chairs for three, somewhat out of the way of the clamour around them.

Granger sat gingerly but wasn't inclined to meet Draco's eye when he looked at her. He sighed, a great drag of breath in and out of his lungs and that seemed to catch her attention. She looked up at him as if surprised that he could be so weary of anything.

"I'm not Potter," he began, and for once it was he who could not look up. He stared down at the worn table in front of him. "Or Ginerva," the name rolled off of his tongue unwieldy, but it was the only way he could make the distinction between Weasley and Ginny without outright insulting Granger's friend. "Or even Brown. But," And he drew in another breath, looking up at Granger with steady eyes, "I'd like to think that I could be someone you could trust, eventually. Last night you were," he waved a hand, not wanting to put a name to what he'd seen, as it felt too raw, too real for words. "And you…you ran." The words broke loose from him with more feeling than he had wanted. He swallowed, pulling his emotions in tight. "I just want to know that you're alright, Granger," he said at last.

It was surreal sharing this moment with Granger when so much was going on around them. House elves constantly popped in and out of existence and trays heavily laden with food zipped around them. There were crashes and squeaks as food was prepared and sent out for those waiting for it. Yet there they sat at a small, wobbly table, just the two of them, on the brink of something new. Or at least new to Draco.

Granger looked at him, her eyes glancing from one hard grey eye to the other, and she looked ready to break at the seams. She ducked her head and her fingers swiped briskly at her cheeks. "I'm not alright, Draco," she admitted in a choked voice. His name on her lips pulled at something deep within him. He wasn't sure she realized she had even said it. "I'm not sure I'll ever be alright but," she paused, and wiped at her eyes again, "I just can't talk about it right now. It's too fresh." She looked up at him, eyes red rimmed and leaking. "I—thank you, I know it took a lot to—but I just can't. Not right now." She stood and was suddenly dashing quickly for the door.

As if on repeat, Draco stood, stepping around the table to stop her before Granger could disappear. He was a wall before her, and so upset was she that Granger didn't even realize Draco was standing in her path. She bounced off of him and Draco reached out and grasped her arms, pulling her into him. She struggled, stiff and unyielding for just an instant, and then she sagged and let Draco hold her. She cried in his arms, and her face brushed against the soft fabric of his chest until her cheek rested against him. Her arms where curled up between them, hands tight. He felt like stone, wrapped around her, strong and sure and maybe a bit awkward. The fingers of one hand brushed against her shoulder, a soothing back and forth. When it seemed Granger had calmed, Draco swayed back enough that he could see the top of her head. He uncurled one arm from around her and tilted her head up by the chin to see her face. Her eyes were still watery but she no longer cried. Absently he brushed at a stray tear on her cheek, which was warm to the touch, soft and so smooth that Draco ached to cup it with his palm, to draw some of that warmth into him.

"When you're ready," he murmured over the racket around them, "I'll be here." He drew back reluctantly, allowing Granger room to breath and to collect herself. "Until then, why don't we see what the house elves can conjure up for us." He moved to his seat and was happy to see that Granger did the same.

"Malfoy—" Granger began.

"Call me Draco," he requested, and when she looked surprised Draco amended, "At least when it's just us. I think we're familiar enough with each other to go by our first names." The end of his sentence drew up in a question in a rare show of uncertainty. That Granger was still here boded well for Draco, but he didn't want to overstep any boundaries.

"Draco," Granger said, her mouth forming around his name carefully, testing it. Draco liked the sound of it. His name, two breathy syllables spoken in Granger's clear, gentle voice. His answering smile was a kind one. "I suppose you should call me Hermione, then," she said, then added, "It's only right."

Draco dipped his head, "Hermione," he said with no small amount of delight. He hoped he wasn't so obvious about it, but Granger was looking at him with a knowing smile, wavering as it was. Her smile faded as she began to speak again.

xXx

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