Chapter Twenty-One

Draco sat at his desk, his chair balanced on two legs, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. His mother would scold him for sitting in such a way, lecturing her son that his posture was for the less refined Wizard and that no self respecting person would dare abuse the functionality of furniture as he currently was. Luckily for him his mother was tucked far away in Wiltshire and would never know that Draco still practiced his plebeian sitting habits.

Before him was a mess of parchments organized in a way that only made sense to him, his favourite quill, an ink bottle, a daunting stack of books from the Malfoy library he'd smuggled with him hidden in his trunk, and a nearly done candle hovering in the upper right hand corner. Draco knew that if anyone were privy to his possession of these texts, which weren't strictly dark, as most things weren't depending on the intent of the user, he'd still be in big trouble. Though, when Draco thought about it, he really couldn't find a good reason to justify permanently turning a human inside out, a subject one of his books covered quite extensively.

He was working on the charm he and Gran—no Hermione, had been toiling over for the past few weeks. But he was finding it hard to apply himself fully to the topic. The challenge was trying to hypothesize different outcomes for the conversion of dark magic. First he employed the most rudimentary conversion spells he knew—which was really just Transfigurations at the base of things—then starting all over with basic potions conversions. Drawing a blank, Draco decided to take a break from writing to just think it through. As was his nature lately, his mind wandered back to Gran—Hermione and their lunch earlier that afternoon. Merlin it was going to take some getting used to regarding Hermione by her first name. It was ingrained into him to think of her only as Granger. For a while he'd basically forgotten she had a first name. He'd done all he could to reduce her to a caricature of a human, one dimensional, a subset to the irritant that was Harry Potter. It had been easier to treat her as he had when he thought of her that way. Now he knew better, and, really, he had known better back then too. With the chaos of two sides pulling at him, Draco had struggled to reconcile his old way of thinking with the truth of the matter. When he was younger his thoughts and emotions has been black and white. His father was good and anything that went against him was the enemy. When he thought back to how he'd behaved, the guilt threatened to swallow him. Sometimes it did, and on those nights he kept to himself behind his bed curtains and let it run its course. He deserved some sleepless nights for his actions.

Sitting down with Hermione and talking awkwardly over their meal had done a great deal to assuage Draco's concern. He didn't mind that she hadn't told him everything. With the hustle and bustle of the kitchens all around them, the setting hadn't been an ideal one for a deep conversation anyway. He'd much rather be tucked away in a quiet nook in the library or somewhere equally as peaceful so they could give the conversation the time it was due. When they'd finally parted ways after lunch Draco could go to his classes confident that he had done his part in reassuring Granger that he was there for her. He thought back to how they'd stood there awkwardly facing each other, neither of them sure just how they should end things. With Pansy, Draco would have easily drawn her in to a hug, dropping a friendly kiss on her forehead. With Granger—no, Hermione, even after he'd embraced her while she'd cried, going in for a hug seemed too personal. He wasn't sure she'd quite appreciate the gesture and he'd never know because he'd given her a curt nod and grin, opening the door for her. And that had been the end of that.

He thought back to how Hermione had revealed what she thought of him, explaining that he had been just as one-sided in her mind as she had been in his; how she had been wrong. The heat he'd felt threatening earlier at her words came to life now, his collar growing uncomfortable against the flush creeping up his neck. He tugged at it absently now as he replayed the conversation in his head.

"But you're just human like the rest of us. Just trying to get by. I mean, I'm nobody special. If I hadn't stumbled into an accidental friendship with the Chosen One and ended up dating his best friend, no one would even know my name."

Here, Draco had to disagree. How could Hermione think that to be true? Draco supposed it was hard for her to see herself as everyone else saw her. He had certainly seen himself as an example everyone should follow until the end there. How wrong he had been. Hermione, however, was truly an exceptional Witch. If the rumours were true, she'd saved Potter and Weasley's hide many times, applying reason where the other two provided brawn and that dastardly Gryffindor bravery.

"They'd know you," he said with quiet conviction. "Even without Potter and his sidekick dragging you into their ridiculous schemes every other Tuesday, somehow I doubt Hermione Granger has ever been destined for a life in the shadows."

"Yes, well, that might not be so bad these days," Hermione said, and Draco could see that her thoughts were somewhere else for a bit.

Draco doubted she would ever fall into obscurity. What she had accomplished was too great to be forgotten. Didn't she know that even now she was being written into the very texts that would be studied by generations of Hogwarts students to come? When Draco thought about how he would be immortalized in those very same books he couldn't help but grimace. His only excuse was that he was young, and by the time he had realized what a monumental mistake he had made, it had been too late. All he could do now was move forward with a more positive angle in mind and hope that his charm, if they ever completed it, would work to cleanse his sullied name. How often he had pondered just packing up and dropping off of the grid, maybe moving to America and starting anew there. He had family in America, distant cousins who bore his name who he could call upon if it came to that.

But then he thought about living with Americans. There'd be coffee and patriotism, ugh! And why were they always bloody smiling? America was simply out of the question. He'd rather suffer the devil he knew than subject himself to that.

They'd chatted haltingly about classes; Draco lamenting about having to partner with Blaise and Sylvia for Herbology, then telling her about his Quidditch practice later that evening.

"You should come, if you have the time," Draco suggested and popped a ripe blueberry into his mouth, enjoying the mix of sweet and tart as he chewed. Swallowing he continued, "I know you'll be surrounded by Slytherins, which is less than ideal, but maybe the fresh air and break from studying will do you some good." Besides which, Hermione would get to see Draco in his element; high in the sky doing one of the things he loved most. He didn't know why he felt it so important that Granger see him showing off—because there was no denying that that's what Draco would be doing—but it was and he didn't question it.

Granger twirled a ruby red strawberry between her fingers as she thought it over, and Draco's eyes followed the movement, watching as her fingers worried the skin until the juice stained her fingertips. Realizing what she'd been doing, Granger ate the fruit and wiped her fingers clean on a linen. "I'll send an owl if I can make it," she said finally, which wasn't an outright refusal and more than Draco had hoped for. "After everything that's happened with Ron, I've fallen behind on my studies," she said grimly, almost embarrassed.

Draco nearly smiled. Only Hermione could possibly be embarrassed about skiving off of homework after what she'd been through. She was probably already done with her current assignments and was now doing the reading for next week. Still, Weasley must have really said some nasty things for Granger to forsake schoolwork over it. Draco had done his best in the past to get under her skin and nothing he did interfered with her marks as far as he knew.

"And I really need to do well this year. It's our final year and we've got to make a good impression if we want to get anywhere after we graduate," she continued, looking worried, which was an improvement on her previously forlorn expression, which she took up whenever the conversation ebbed.

"I doubt you'll have any problems there, Hermione. You'll be the most prepared out of all of us," Draco said dryly, and when Granger looked at him sharply he hurriedly added, "But yes, staying on top of things isn't a bad idea." She glared at him for a moment longer then relented with a nod.

"You're probably right," she agreed, and Draco almost rolled his eyes. "Speaking of staying on top of things, have you made any progress on the Charm?"

xXx

Draco came back to himself at his desk, the thought of the charm reminding him of what he was supposed to be doing. Just then Blaise slunk into the common room looking tired and a bit sloppy. His tie hung loose and crooked about his neck and his button down was opened to expose an indecent amount of smooth brown skin. Spotting Draco, Blaise halted on his way to his bed and graced his longtime friend with an easy smirk.

"Girls are complicated, Draco," Blaise drawled, and walked over to pick up a parchment filled with diagrams. "But really, diagrams?" He held up the parchment accusingly. "If you wanted advice all you had to do was ask. No need to resort to all this." He tossed the parchment back on the desk.

"And end up in that gordian's knot of a relationship you have with Sylvia? No thanks. I'll take my chances," Draco said dismissively and flicked his wand, all of his parchments sliding into neat piles so that his desk was presentable again. "Anyway I do just fine with girls, Blaise. Prince of Slytherin, remember?" he said with a sly smirk up at Zabini.

"Yet you haven't managed to bag our newly single Hermione Granger," Blaise commented offhandedly.

Draco gaped up at Blaise before he remembered the boy had a penchant for embellishment and lies. He scowled at the delighted look on Blaise's face. "They've only had an argument Blaise. Of anyone, you should know that's a natural part of a relationship." He stoppered his ink and opened the drawer of his desk.

"You really don't know, do you?" Blaise said wonderingly, his eyebrows high on his forehead as he stared down at Draco. "They've officially broken up, dissolved, ended their mutual intimate agreement." When Draco continued ignoring him, Blaise leaned down and placed a hand on Draco's shoulder, stopping him from packing up his parchments. "Draco, I'm serious for once. Weasley and Granger aren't together anymore."

"You're joking," Draco said flatly, looking up at Blaise again, searching his face for any hint of a lie. He saw none. "I've just seen Hermione today—" Blaise's eyebrows shot up even higher at Draco's use of her given name— "She would have…" He trailed off and thought about how distraught Hermione had been. It made sense, if he thought about it. She was more upset than a tiny lover's spat had warranted. Weasley and Granger might have had another run-in in the Gryffindor tower and he'd heard nothing of it, which was highly plausible as Gryffindors typically were very loyal to one another, save for a few rumourmongers within their ranks.

"You're falling out of touch, Draco," Blaise said critically. "Pansy told me, and if Pansy knows, everyone knows." Blaise shook his head at Draco's stunned expression, patting him gently on the shoulder. "It's alright though, you'll get it back in good time," he assured Draco, wrongly assuming Draco was upset at being out of the loop.

Draco's mind was working frantically, no thought complete before another one took its place. He was confused—why had they broken up in the first place, what had been the tipping point? There was anger there, a small flicker of heat that Granger hadn't told him when she'd had the chance. Last he felt something light and sparkly, like the first flickers of magic out of a new wand. It was all very jumbled and overwhelming.

"Look on the bright side," Blaise said cheerfully. "You can finally sample some of those Gryffindor wares like you've been gagging for." He chuckled darkly.

"Blaise will you just shut up for a moment?" Draco exclaimed, causing some of the sleeping boys in the dorm to rouse and complain. A pillow smacked Draco in the head and fell into his lap. It was a testament to how frazzled he was that he didn't explode further on the culprit. He snatched the pillow out of his lap and tossed it onto the floor.

"So-rry," Blaise said, drawing the word out as he backed away from Draco with his hands innocently in the air. "Listen, I'll just let you cool off for a bit. I only came in to grab my robe." He turned and retrieved said robe, then headed for the door again.

"It's almost curfew," Draco warned absently.

Blaise paused halfway out of the door and smirked wickedly at Draco. "Exactly." And he was gone.

"Whatever that means," Draco said quietly to himself, and turned to his desk again. He stowed away his charm work in his bag and stood to place it on the back of his chair. His muscles ached as he walked the few steps to his armoire, and he was reminded of Quidditch practice, and how stunningly he had flown that evening.

xXx

The Quidditch pitch stretched high above their small gathering like the walls of a castle battlement. The goal posts glinted in the evening sun, too bright to look at directly. Gabor Vaisey stood looking important and stern, facing a group of students who were alternately excited and wary. Draco, for his part, was standing disinterestedly off to the side, a visual reminder that he was only here to fly with the team, that he hadn't made any definite decisions.

Vaisey was giving a rousing speech about teamwork and commitment, a speech Draco had heard only once before, when Vaisey had become captain. Draco hadn't bothered attending any of the other Quidditch tryouts; his position on the team as a Seeker was secured, much as it was now if he wanted it. When he was finished, Vaisey divided the students into their desired positions. There were only just enough students there to make up two teams, excluding Vaisey. One of the teams was missing a Seeker.

"Malfoy!" Vaisey called out to him when the teams were in the air and familiarizing themselves with the equipment. Draco headed his way. "Mind filling in for team B?" he asked, when Draco was within earshot.

Draco shrugged and mounted his broom, a Firebolt he'd bought impulsively when the experience of being in the middle of a crowd of people no longer set his skin crawling and his head spinning. It had been disgustingly expensive—Draco vaguely remembered there being some glossy bright posters about the Firebolt being a favourite of Potter's, how they would be discontinued at the end of the month to be only sold as collectors items—but when had Draco ever been concerned with the cost of things? Leave that to the Weasleys and their ilk—ugh. Draco couldn't believe he had just thought that. He disliked Weasley, there was no point in denying that, but he was really trying not to look down on people because of their lack of wealth. That was just another element of discrimination his father had instilled in him.

He kicked off from the ground and the broom shot up into the air like a Hex. Draco left his concerns on the ground with Vaisey as he soared up into the sky. He did a couple quick rounds of the pitch, diving, ascending and turning flips until it felt like second nature. When he joined the students playing around with the Quaffles and Bludgers, he noticed them staring at him, only looking away when Draco's eyes met theirs. He could tell he intimidated them, but his presence was something they would have to get used to if they wanted to join the team. That was if Draco decided to join the team as well.

A whistle blew and all the flyers gathered in the air above Vaisey, awaiting his instructions.

"Alright you lot," Vaisey's voice was magnified by a Sonorus Charm, "we'll do a quick match, ten minutes. If the snitch is caught it will not end the match as it would in an official game, just so I'll get to see the full scope of your abilities. Now, I want you all to play fair and do your best." He raised the whistle to his mouth again and blew out a clear, trilling note.

Draco turned on his broom and zoomed up high so that he could get a full view of the pitch. Copying him, a girl who was trying out for Seeker flew high and circled the pitch, her face tight with concentration. Below them the quaffle exchanged hands at an alarming rate, fast and sure from one person to the other. Draco was impressed despite himself. Those students had something to prove, that much was obvious. A bell tolled, signalling a goal had been made. Draco looked around and saw the point went to the other team. The quaffle was quickly back in play, with his team in possession.

Draco turned his attention back to the sky and he was surprised to see a flash of gold not too far away from him. Just as he turned his broom to pursue, a great wind rushed past him, and the other team's Seeker zoomed past him in hot pursuit of the snitch. Draco gritted his teeth, his competitive nature coming in to play as he peeled off toward it too, his body nearly flat against the long stretch of his broom handle as he flew after her. For a split second they were neck and neck, then Draco pulled ahead. Seemingly from nowhere a bludger whizzed past Draco. Instinctually he pulled his broom up short to avoid colliding with the ball. His rival was a bit slower on the uptake, and the ball clipped the end of her broomstick, sending her spinning out of control. Draco took advantage of the moment and scanned quickly for the snitch, but it had disappeared.

"Damn it!"

Draco looked over and saw the other Seeker hovering next to him. She looked frustrated but determined.

"Bludgers are pesky things," Draco said conversationally, hoping to bolster her a bit. "The key to being a good Seeker is making sure you're aware of everything that's happening around you," he advised her.

"I don't even know why I'm here," she said desolately, her eyes sharp on the pitch below them despite her lamentations. She looked at Draco with a grudging respect. "Vaisey didn't say you were trying out. There's really no point if you're here."

Draco shrugged a shoulder. "Vaisey just wanted me to come by and to help him out a bit," he lied smoothly.

The girl looked at him doubtfully, suspicious, just as a Slytherin should be. There was no way Vaisey would pass up the opportunity to have a skilled Seeker on his team if he could.

"Alright," Draco relented with a put-upon sigh. "He did want me to join the team."

The girl huffed and rolled her eyes.

"But," Draco said, holding up a finger before she could fall too deeply into despair, "This is my final year at Hogwarts. I've a lot on my plate and I really should apply my attention there." Draco realized how much he sounded like Hermione had when they'd lunched together, and he smiled to himself at the thought. The girl looked at him oddly but didn't comment on it. "Besides, it's hardly fair that I play on the team. I'm so much more mature and adept that the rest of you," he finished, with his nose in the air for dramatic flair.

This got a small laugh out of the girl. "You can't possibly think the other houses won't have second year 7ths on their teams." She leaned over and held out her hand. "I'm Anabella, by the way, Anabella Davies, 6th year."

"Nice to meet you Davies. I'm Draco Malfoy," Draco said with a self deprecating smile. He knew she knew him pretty well, unless she lived under a rock. He took her small hand and shook it. She had a strong grip, and Draco approved of it. Some girls offered their hands like a gift to be kissed, or shook his with a daintiness that they thought he might find appealing. In any other circumstance Draco wouldn't mind a gentle handshake but he expected more of the future Slytherin Quidditch seeker, and he wasn't disappointed.

Davies' reciprocal smile was dry, a nod to his infamy.

"Oy, you two!" Vaisey's voice boomed up at them and they looked down to see him frowning up at the two Seekers, his wand pointed under his chin as his amplifying charm worked. "We can exchange tele-phon-no numbers later!" he said, mangling the Muggle word horrendously. "Right now there is a Snitch to catch!"

As if waiting for its cue, the Snitch flew into the space between Draco and Davies, hovering coyly, taunting them, then darted off.

Davies, not needing any more prompting, took off after it.

With a laugh that was swept away in the wind, Draco took off after her.

"I have to say," Vaisey announced when the tryouts were over and everyone had gathered around him again looking windswept and bright eyed. "I came into this evening expecting the worst." He let his heavy tone sit with them, looking at each of them in turn. Everyone shifted, glancing at one another with apprehension and excitement all mingled together. "What I saw tonight was nothing short of…brilliant!" He beamed at them and a rowdy cheer rose up. Draco smirked, his hip cocked and his broom resting tail up on his shoulder. "The results will be posted in Slytherin common room by the end of the week. If you didn't make the cut," Vaisey shrugged, his expression unapologetic as he continued, "you'll just have to work harder on improving your skills. For those of you who did make it on the team, be prepared to work hard this season. You've had a whole year to laze about on your arses. The real work begins in October."

Draco huffed out a laugh, amused that Vaisey breezed over the pandemonium of the past year. As if any of them had sat about while the wizarding world rebuilt itself. Draco surely hadn't. He'd been working hard on his charm and his reputation, distancing himself from the wreck that was his father as best he could.

When Vaisey dismissed everyone, he called Draco over for a word.

"So, what do you think?" he asked Draco, not meeting his eyes, instead looking after the students who were headed for the locker rooms, chatting excitedly.

"I think we might stand a change against Gryffindor," Draco said with a firm nod. "Davies is excellent on a broom. She has a sharp eye for the snitch and she knows what she's doing in the air."

"Hm," was all Vaisey said. Draco knew that wasn't exactly what he'd wanted to hear. He'd wanted Draco to say he was on board as Seeker, not give a glowing recommendation for his replacement.

"I'll play reserve if Davies is unable to play. Those are my conditions," Draco said, when Vaisey declined to say more. "She's about as good as I was when I first joined to team. I've had my glory days; I believe it's time to step down, for someone else to have a go at it."

Vaisey scowled at him, but it was lacking in real conviction. "That's disgustingly noble of you." He sniffed, and turned to face Draco proper. "You know, Blaise has been going on about you changing, chumming up with the Gryffindors." He looked at Draco with suspicion.

Draco turned to Vaisey as well, his face cool and disapproving. "What I do with Gryffindors is neither your, nor Blaise's, business," Draco said, his haughtiness increasing with each word. "If I so choose to eat dinner with them every night, that's my business alone." Gabor, affronted, looked ready to interject but Draco cut him off. "Anyway, if you believe everything Blaise has to say you'll end up thinking a loaded vault is proper substitute for actual brains." His lip twitched up in a scowl. "Which it isn't, if you were wondering."

Vaisey, now confident that Draco wasn't intentionally sabotaging Slytherin in favour of gaining the approval of Gryffindor, screwed his face up in what Draco could only assume was a smile. "I suppose that's fair," he said eventually, and then he relaxed with a chuckle. "Blaise is a bit of a gossip, isn't he?"

Draco allowed his scowl to fade into a smirk. "Only a bit?" he joked, rolling his eyes as Vaisey laughed out right.

xXx

Draco shut the door to his armoire, thinking that Quidditch tryouts had turned out better than he could have hoped. Seeing the new Slytherin prospects together, looking optimistic at the chance of joining the team, had plucked at a string of sentimentality in Draco. He'd decided even before he took flight that he wouldn't take his offered position as Seeker again, and seeing Davies at work had solidified his decision while tempering the lingering guilt he felt at turning down Vaisey. All in all he was happy with his decision and was sure that Slytherin would put up a good fight come Quidditch season.

Draco's bed was firm, as he liked it most days, but today it was uncomfortably so, pressing against his throbbing muscles, reminding him what he'd put them through. He tossed and turned and finally found a position that was marginally more comfortable on his stomach than his sides and back had been. He closed his eyes and his mind wandered yet again to lunch with Hermione.

xXx

"Speaking of which, have you made any progress on the charm?"

Draco was relieved that they were on familiar ground again. Traversing the mine field that was a woman's feelings, and making it out on the other side intact, had forced Draco to step out of himself. He had felt exposed, unguarded, more so now that he had time to think about the way he had embraced her. Still, the reminder that he wasn't making much progress on the charm smarted, and he picked up a piece of bread and tore it in half with more vigor than was necessary.

"I'm stuck in the same place we left off," Draco said, disgruntled. "I think we should really try testing different methods of conversion. Not sure how we would get our hands on dark magic to begin with though." His brows drew together as he scoured his brain for the dark magic hot spots that had cropped up all over the wizarding world in Voldermort's favourite haunts. The Daily Prophet had run an article spanning three pages front and back about them, including a vague map of the areas that should be avoided by wandering Wizards. Draco remembered there being an area in the Highlands on that map, a pulsating dot of red that was far enough away from Hogwarts that students wouldn't just stumble upon it, but close enough that he estimated it wouldn't take more than an hour or so on a broomstick to reach it. "It'll be very dangerous even if we do manage to find any." Draco looked up at her with a teasing smirk, "Though I'm sure you're no stranger to peril." His joke didn't strike him as distasteful until he saw the odd look on her face.

"That may be true," Granger said with a small shake of her head, "But I can't help feeling that we would be slightly in over our heads if we take this on without proper supervision."

She was right, of course, but the words still smarted against Draco's ego. The whole point was for him to accomplish something on his own, to prove that he could be useful without having to be guided to it. He didn't want anyone saying that the only reason he'd accomplished what he had was because of the help of another. Though when he thought about it, if he really wanted all the glory to himself he probably shouldn't have asked for the help of a member of the illustrious Trio. The moment he had involved Hermione was the moment he'd given up sole claim to the project. He could see it now, how they would spin the whole thing into some sort of noble undertaking of Hermione's to redeem a misguided Draco Malfoy. Just the thought of it angered Draco, his hand crushing the forgotten bread against his palm. Forcing out a long breath, Draco released the piece of bread, now a sad little mold if his fingers, and watched it fall to the table.

"I suppose you're right," he said after a long pause. Because she was right. They would need help, but the question was who could they trust to help them and not dissuade them from their task? Who would be willing to take on such a burden after everything that had happened? And most importantly, who would be willing to work with Draco? Hermione's involvement would surely deal with most of the apprehension, but Draco's past was long and arduous, not easily forgotten or forgiven. "I'll think on it," he said finally. "Between the two of us I'm sure we can think of someone." He sounded more certain than he actually felt.

xXx

Just as he was drifting off to sleep, Draco's eyes sprung open. He didn't remember seeing Granger in the stands that evening while he was flying—he had been looking for her as surreptitiously as he could—and he didn't want Hermione to think he hadn't noticed. He got out of bed and scrawled a quick note. Borrowing one of his housemate's owls, he attached the note and sent it on its way.

H,

Didn't see you this evening, maybe next time.

Yours,

D

It wasn't until the owl was well on its way that Draco thought about what he had written at the end. What did he mean by 'yours'? Frowning he stood at the open window, shivering at the breeze that snuck in between the open panes. After a few minutes he decided that he really was overthinking things. With a chuckle and a shake of his head Draco closed the window and went to bed.

xXx

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