Chapter 18

Draco couldn't help but be a little smug after seeing Granger at dinner. He might have even sent her a gloating smile or two, but only when the other Slytherins weren't watching.

He was quite happy with how his day had gone. He'd managed to get quite a lot of schoolwork done, as he spent a good amount of time in Granger's secret room, studying.

He told himself it only had to do with his studies. That, and the fact that it was the only place where he could read Malicious Mudbloods, Demystified in private. Well, mostly private.

He'd seen Granger's suspicious looks earlier. He commended himself at how expertly he'd handled that situation, managing to thoroughly distract her and trick her into taking better care of herself.

However, because Granger was known to be annoyingly curious, he decided to go back to her secret classroom that night. Just to double-check that the book was secure behind his protective spells. Just in case.

And so he strode through dark hallways towards what was quickly becoming his favourite place in the whole castle.

As he reached the spot where the door lay hiding, just when he reached out his wand to tap the waiting stone, the door suddenly appeared without his prompting, flinging open - right into him.

It hit his wand hand first, followed by his face, causing him to jump back in surprise and pain.

"Ow!"

Granger, who had almost barreled straight into him, jumped in shock and grabbed his arms momentarily to steady herself.

"Oh! Malfoy!"

"Shit, Granger!" He rubbed his nose petulantly where the door had struck him.

"I'm so sorry! Are you all right?"

He took notice of the genuine concern in her voice, and found that his response came out softer than he'd intended.

"I'm fine, aside from a slight case of broken nose. What's got you in such a hurry, anyway?"

"Charms!" She squeaked, "I forgot that Professor Flitwick assigned us extra homework, and my book isn't here, and-"

"Of course," he groaned sardonically, "I should have known it had to do with one of your hundred classes. When do you have time to sleep?"

He fixed his eyes suddenly at the thin, gold chain resting on the exposed skin of her neck, just peeking out of her robes.

"Wait… do you use that thing to catch up on rest as well?"

"Of course not!" Granger denied, scandalized, "I've only ever used it for classes!"

Draco gave her an amused stare.

"That doesn't count," she said stiffly, crossing her arms over her chest.

Draco watched her mouth as she bit her bottom lip, pouting slightly.

He scoffed, feeling his own lips turn up a little at the corner. "Whatever you say, Granger."

There was an awkward pause, where neither seemed to know what to say next.

In the silence, an unsettling thought wove gooseflesh into his skin.

"You said you were rushing off because you suddenly remembered you had something to do?"

"Oh! Yes!" She exclaimed, eyes wide and almost panicked, "I've got to run if I'm going to get it done tonight!"

She turned to rush off, sending him a rather frantic wave as she went.

"Er, goodnight, Malfoy!"

"Granger-"

But she was already gone, bushy hair fleeing around a corner.

His heartbeat spiked a bit at her sudden departure.

Earlier in the day, when they were leaving the classroom, he'd subtly placed a spell on his desk. A protection spell, to keep away any unwanted visitors. Namely, Granger and her overactive nosiness.

It was the very same type of spell that kept her classroom hidden - a slightly modified Muggle repelling charm. One that caused any would-be intruders to suddenly remember something important that they needed to rush off and deal with right away.

Had Granger been in such a hurry because she and her giant brain had actually forgotten about a bit of homework? Or had that been his protection spell at work? He didn't know what he'd do if she discovered the real contents of the book she'd asked about.

...What would she think of him?

Palms sweating, Draco tapped the stone and hurried inside. Once he closed the door firmly behind himself to ensure that he was alone, he approached his desk. Apprehensively, he raised his wand, flicking it twice to test the wards he'd placed there.

They were still intact.

He opened the desk anyways, because he had to be sure, and his eyes fell on the familiar, brown leather of the most precious and most dangerous thing that he possessed.

He sighed in relief. His book was safe. It had only been Granger's neurotic, over-stimulated mind that caused her to nearly bowl him over in her haste to do her bloody homework.

He sat down, remembering with startling fondness the shape her mouth had made when she pouted at him.

He shook his head.

Taking out the book, he flipped through the stiff pages until he came to the passage he'd read earlier that day. It was a particularly nasty excerpt, written by one of his own ancestors*.

"This we may state with certainty: Any wizard who shows fondness for the society of Muggles is of low intelligence, with magic so feeble and pitiful that he can only feel himself superior if surrounded by Muggle pig-men. Nothing is a surer sign of weak magic than a weakness for non-magical company."

-Brutus Malfoy

Draco stared at the words, written in dark, red-brown ink.

His father had said something similar more times than he could count. He remembered a multitude of conversations with Nott and Zabini and Pansy where he himself had expressed the exact same sentiment.

It was fact. It was something he'd always known.

But now, he wasn't sure.

He looked at his own handwriting, written in the margins.

His commentary consisted of one simple, complicated word: How?

He stared at the question mark, scratched there by his own quill, and as had happened so often lately, his stomach turned.

He hated these doubts. He hated this newfound skepticism. He hated Granger - but no.

He hated that he didn't hate her. Even though he wouldn't have these questions if it wasn't for her, he still couldn't bring himself to despise her as he had before. Therein lay his problem.

She was passionate, fiery, and…

Draco clapped the book shut, as if that could shut out his thoughts as well.

He was on more dangerous ground than ever before.

He should stop interacting with her, cut her off, forget about the favors she still owed him, and protect himself from her influence.

But it was useless. He was in too deep, and he knew it. It was too easy being around her. It was too enjoyable getting under her skin. It was too intriguing trying to figure out this bushy-haired, buck-toothed girl who had become so captivating to him.

At times, he felt he could almost predict what she would say next.

At others, her actions seemed completely illogical to him.

He was tired of fighting his curiosity. He wanted to understand her. And he didn't think he could go back to thinking of her as nothing; as much as it terrified him, his perception was shifting.

Yes, he hated the questions and the doubt that twisted his gut… but he couldn't get them - couldn't get her - out of his head.

...

Hermione traipsed across the castle grounds and up the familiar hill towards the Entrance Hall. Her stomach growled, making her wince slightly.

The rock cakes that Hagrid had offered her weren't quite tempting enough for her to risk damaging her teeth.

She shuddered at the thought of her parents' reaction if she were to have actually broken a tooth.

Despite the less than satisfying refreshments, it had been nice to spend time with the groundskeeper. She'd been nervous and embarrassed when she'd written him a note earlier in the week, asking if he was free. Hagrid normally wrote to Harry, after all, not to her.

But she shouldn't have worried. He'd returned her note almost immediately, written sloppily on the back of her own, and jovially invited her down to his hut for tea.

They'd spent the better part of two hours working on Buckbeak's case. Hermione had coached him on a few necessary talking points, and she felt he was starting to get a handle on the argument. She still had loads of research to do for him, though. He needed a solid case if he was going to be able to stand up to Malfoy's father at the trial.

After a bit of prodding, Hagrid had even coaxed her into opening up about the fight between her, Harry, and Ron. Hermione reflected on his words of comfort as she made her way back to Gryffindor tower.

"Now, don' yeh worry none 'bout tha', Hermione," the giant man had told her warmly, "This kind o' thing always seems bigger when yer young. Harry an' Ron'll come 'round soon, mark my words!"

Hermione managed a smile. Hagrid often reminded her of a book her mother had read to her when she was little: Ferdinand the Bull. Just like Ferdinand, Hagrid was misunderstood because of his size and assumed to be violent, when in reality no one else was gentler or kinder than he.

She wanted desperately to take what Hagrid said to heart, but as she climbed through the portrait hole, his reassuring words fled from her like cockroaches from a bright light.

Harry and Ron were there, sitting together by the window. The moment she stepped inside, Ron looked up at her and gave her a vicious glare. Harry followed his gaze and met her eyes briefly before looking down again, his expression a mixture of anger and guilt.

She thought about saying something, extending some kind of olive branch, but she couldn't think of a single thing that might help.

She didn't regret what she'd done. She was only trying to keep Harry safe. Even Malfoy understood how ludicrous it would have been to accept a gift like the Firebolt with no questions asked.

So Hermione only waved lamely at her two best friends.

Ron stood slowly.

Hermione held her breath.

She looked pleadingly into the blue eyes of the boy she'd always been drawn to.

And she watched as he turned away from her, wordlessly climbing the stairs towards the boys' dormitories, Harry on his heels.

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut. She fled up to the girls' rooms just long enough to grab her heavy school bag.

Climbing back out of the portrait hole, she headed towards the one place in the castle where she felt comfortable.

She breathed a sigh of relief the moment she shut the door to her classroom behind her. For a few hours, it was just her, her books, and her seat by the window. At least until she had to head to Astronomy at midnight.

She wiped her eyes and moved to sit at her desk, but paused.

Malfoy wasn't around. This would be the perfect opportunity to do some digging, not to mention that it would take her mind off of things for a while.

She hadn't had the opportunity to discover what the blond had really been reading the other day. After all, it wasn't as if she had spare time lying around between her eleven classes, all her homework, and a certain blackmailing Slytherin.

The couple of times she'd tried to infiltrate his desk, she'd always managed to get sidetracked somehow.

She'd gotten so close on her first try. But as soon as she reached out a hand towards Malfoy's desk, she remembered in a rush of panic that she'd forgotten her Charms homework. She'd bolted from the classroom so quickly that she even managed to smack Malfoy in the face with the door.

Looking back, she was almost thankful for her little Charms oversight, for if she hadn't remembered her missing homework in that moment, Malfoy could've walked right in on her snooping through his things.

She imagined that conversation would not have gone well.

The second time, she'd snuck down to the classroom late at night only to find Malfoy sitting in the very desk she'd wanted to investigate.

The third time, she had walked into the classroom with the intention of getting to the bottom of the mystery, when she suddenly realized that she'd almost mixed up her convoluted schedule! She had to leave right then, or risk being late to Herbology.

Her fourth attempt had been foiled when she realized she only had fifteen minutes left before dinner ended, and her growling stomach reminded her that she hadn't eaten all day. She tried to block out Malfoy's smug face - mocking her for not being able to take care of herself - for about three seconds before she gave in and went down to grab a quick bite.

They had passed each other in the doorway of the Great Hall, and she had glanced up at Malfoy to find him smirking at her victoriously. As if he knew his nagging voice in her head was what kept her from missing another meal.

She sighed exasperatedly at the memory and silently vowed her petty revenge via invasion of privacy.

Because tonight - now was her chance. Her curiosity had been driving her mad, like an itch at the back of her brain that she couldn't scratch, and she wouldn't miss her chance to find out what the Slytherin was hiding from her.

With hopeful determination, she strode up to Malfoy's desk, eyeing his ornate, velvet cushion before turning her full attention towards her goal. Her fingers had just brushed the wood when, suddenly, a jarring thought jumped to the forefront of her mind - her star chart! She hadn't finished it yet!

She had Astronomy that night - would she have time to complete it before midnight?

Panicked, she threw open her bag, fingers fluttering over the tightly packed books, searching for the folded parchment she needed.

It's not here!

She let out an alarmed squeak and dashed for the door, intending to tear her dormitory apart to find it.

She scolded herself mentally. It wasn't like her to misplace her work, or to forget about assignments in the first place. It wasn't like her at all! Could she really be cracking as Malfoy claimed?

Her hand gripped the door knob, ready to wrench it open - but she froze.

The urge to flee to her dormitory was strong. Very strong. But logically, she knew she had been working on Astronomy earlier that day. Hadn't she? Hadn't she stowed her perfectly completed star chart in her textbook?

Something clicked into place in her head.

Clever little snake!

Slowly, she made her way back towards his corner. The same urge she had felt before vibrated through her, undeniable and demanding.

She was sure of it now. He'd placed some sort of charm on the desk!

Her lips curved.

In a flash, she reached out and jerked the top of the desk open, revealing a pristine compartment holding only one item.

A large, old tome bound in dark, thick leather.

She felt her lips stretch into a grin. It had indeed been clever to cloak his hiding place in a distraction jinx. But the sneaky Slytherin couldn't outsmart her!

She sat down at his desk and flipped to the title page, then stopped short.

Malicious Mudbloods, Demystified

A wave of nausea overtook her. Malfoy had been sitting five feet away from her, reading Pureblood propaganda?

She wrinkled her nose, disgusted, and almost shoved the book back where she found it, eager to be rid of the greasy feel of it in her hands.

...But her Merlin-damned curiosity got the better of her. She had to know what the blasted book said. Maybe it would be useful to understand what Purebloods really thought of her kind? Maybe she could even mount arguments against it.

She turned a few pages and began to read. It was basically what she expected it to be. Claims of proof for Muggle-born inferiority, arguments with illogical parameters, and mostly buzzwords like "filth", "scum-suckers", and "rabble".

The more she read, the more her stomach turned.

This was what he truly thought about her. How could she have been foolish enough to think he'd changed? And moreover, why did it hurt so much to discover that he hadn't?

She was about to slam the book shut when the light from her wand caught on one word. It was written in ink in the margin, the penmanship small and neat.

"How?"

There was an arrow leading from the word to the paragraph next to it, one containing a particularly absurd argument.

Intrigued, Hermione flipped to the next page. She found more commentary there, written in tidy, slanted columns in the margins. Page after page, the same handwriting.

"This makes no sense."

"?"

"But how do they steal magic?"

Hermione, despite being slightly horrified that someone would actually scrawl their own notes directly onto the pages of a book, felt a small smile form on her face.

These were Draco's notes. His thoughts. His doubts.

He was actually questioning Pureblood ways of thought.

Her smile grew.

Slowly, she closed the book. It seemed far less greasy to her now, somehow. Still smiling, she tucked it back into Malfoy's desk and stood.

She had a strong urge to ask him about it all, but he was obviously still conflicted. She would have to wait to bring up the book until it was the right moment.

And until then, she would cling to the hope that grew in her chest. The hope that she had tried to stifle ever since they'd saved each other from the Whomping Willow. The hope that now combined with a strange kind of anticipation she couldn't name, filling her with heady buoyancy.

And she found herself wishing for Malfoy to join her again in her room quite soon.

*This is an actual, canon quote from a Malfoy ancestor. The bigot.

A/N – Here you are - a nice, long chapter to help you get through these hard quarantimes.

Seriously, quarantine has been rough. I'm praying you and all of your loved ones are safe and well. I know I'm just an anonymous angsty fanfic writer, but if you need help and don't know where to go, I'm here.