Chapter 23
Draco fingered the roll of parchment in the pocket of his robes as he made his way through the halls toward Potions class the next day, the smooth feel of the paper was a calming talisman beneath his hand. He'd been pondering Granger's suggestion since the previous evening when his Eagle owl had come swooping into his room less than an hour after he'd sent it out. He'd been surprised at the quick response to his note, pleased at Granger's immediate reply, though disappointed at the knowledge that she hadn't made it to his practice at all—he'd been privately hoping she'd only been tucked up in some half-hidden area of the stands after all.
As he moved through the dungeon hallway and the door to the classroom came into sight, Draco glanced around for Blaise, relived that he didn't appear to be there yet. Blaise hadn't said anything else about Draco hooking up with Granger, or any other less savoury expressions, since the previous evening, going so far as to completely avoid any discussion about Gryffindors at all at breakfast that morning, but Draco knew better than to think the boy had given up. He knew Blaise had suspected Draco might have some sort of growing feelings for the girl for a while now, though Draco had been mostly successful at brushing him off; however, now that the news that two thirds of the Golden Trio had had a falling out and broken things off was spreading around the Castle, he had the feeling that Blaise was going to be a perfectly delightful nightmare to deal with.
As he entered the classroom, Draco noted Sylvia sitting with Ebony on a bench near the back, Pansy perched atop their wooden worktable, her keen eyes watching Draco as he made his way toward them. Blaise wasn't with the girls, and when Draco slid smoothly onto a stool and offered a charming smile and a greeting, Sylvia's delicate mouth tightened, clearly also wondering where he was. Draco's grin slipped a little. "Morning, Fieldright, Melville," he nodded at each girl in turn, then glanced over his shoulder at Pansy. "Parkinson."
Ebony sat up a little straighter as he addressed her first, and Draco could practically see her preening at the acknowledgement. He smirked a little, enjoying her barely concealed admiration, while also enjoying the fact that Pansy knew he'd subtly snubbed her, by greeting her last. Blaise had admitted that he'd learned about Granger and Weasley's official breakup from her, and though Draco had never before paid much mind to Pansy's gossiping, something inside him was annoyed at her spreading Granger's grief around with so little regard.
"Morning, Draco," Ebony cooed, her dark eyes shining in the dim light of the Potions classroom. "I heard you're joining the Quidditch team again. I look forward to seeing you play. I was disappointed you didn't fly in the midnight match a few weeks ago; I'm told you cut a very fine figure on a broom."
Draco resisted the urge to roll his eyes. One practice with Vaisey, and a concession that he'd play with the team if their real Seeker was unable to, and already rumours were running wild. "Vaisey is getting ahead of himself," Draco said, somewhat coolly, heading the rumours off at the pass. "I'm only a reserve player, and only that because he practically begged me to play. The team has a decent Seeker, Davies, and she's good; I flew with her at the tryouts." Ebony wilted a little at this gentle rebuke but Draco didn't have time to feel remorse about it—Hermione had just entered the classroom, Ginny at her side, and Blaise only steps behind them.
The Slytherin boy strode past the girls, dipping his head slightly as he brushed near Granger, and Draco thought he saw Hermione stiffen slightly, though from something Blaise had said or his mere presence, it was hard to tell from his vantage point.
"I know Anabella," Sylvia said brightly, missing the way Draco's eyes were now tracking Hermione and Ginny to their table. "She's a year under us. My brother is friends with her's, and I've seen them mucking about in the summers. She can hold her own in the air."
"Not like some girls we know," came Blaise's low murmur, quiet enough that only Draco could hear as he dropped onto a stool at the table in front of where their group had congregated.
Draco ignored his subtle jab, shoving down the sharp possessive feeling that had risen up in his chest at the reminder of Blaise's stupid stunt the night of the midnight match. He didn't like Blaise's tone, or the fact that he kept making comments about Hermione. Which brought to mind the fact that Draco had promised thinly veiled retribution for that night and had yet to fulfill his oath. Before he could say anything, he was interrupted a second time, by the arrival of the reason for the sad, yet determined, look on Hermione's face: Weasley, and, a step behind him, Potter and Thomas.
Hermione and Ginny took seats at a work station where Longbottom already sat, no other Gryffindors wanting to have to work with the boy who was so abysmal at brewing. Draco had been surprised to see Longbottom back in Potions that year, though he'd heard a rumour that the bumbling boy had been considering becoming an Auror after surviving the Battle of Hogwarts. Draco wasn't certain that Longbottom had the stomach for such work, though he'd heard about the flying leap the boy had taken during the fight, loping off the head of the Dark Lord's snake, so there had to be something there. He'd also heard that Longbottom was top of the class in Herbology, however, so perhaps Sprout would be able to save his hide and convince him to major in plants instead. Draco was shaken out of his assessment of Longbottom's future plans by a low-pitched argument between the band of Gryffindors just then, though all he could make out was the sound of hissed whispers and the clunk of a stool as it was knocked over by Weasley.
"If you stare any harder at Granger, Draco, Weasley's liable to catch on fire," Blaise murmured in Draco's ear, and he jerked his head around to stare the other boy down. He had to be very careful that he didn't say or do the wrong thing right now, or his secrets would be worth less than the list of passwords Longbottom had left laying around Gryffindor Tower in third year with Black on the loose. "Though come to think of it," Blaise went on, smirking in a knowing way that told Draco his impassive glaring was doing nothing to hide the very obvious way he'd been caught out staring in Granger's direction, "that would be interesting to see. He's already got a good start, what with his riotous hair and burning cheeks. Why don't you go say 'good morning' to Granger and see if Weasley's ears combust?"
Draco was saved a retort to this leading suggestion by the arrival of their professor, and he'd be forever grateful for it, as he'd honestly had no idea what he could have said to convince Blaise that he wasn't interested in what was going on in the Gryffindor corner off the room. Pansy hopped off her table and sauntered around it to the work station Draco and Blaise were set up at, and he realized that Pansy's cauldron had been there all along. Merlin, Draco hoped she wouldn't bring up Granger. Unfortunately, to Draco's detriment and Blaise's delight, she did just that.
"For Merlin's sake," Pansy sneered, casting a disdainful glance at Hermione's table, and Draco noticed that Potter had arranged himself and Thomas in a row down their table, positioning Weasley at the far end, and that Ginny had done the same at their table, with herself and Longbottom setting up their cauldrons ahead of Hermione, now shuffled down to the end of the station, next to the stone dungeon wall. "I had thought Granger had gained an ounce of sense under all those curls, but if I have to spend this class watching her and Weasley sending soppy looks at each other like those muggle fools Romain and Julien all lesson, well, my cauldron isn't going to contain only potion ingredients."
Choosing not to correct Pansy on the correct names of the characters from the Shakespearean play they were studying in Muggle Studies on Thursdays that semester, Draco chanced another look over to the far side of the room—under the pretence of seeing what Pansy was going on about. She was half right, he noted: at the boys' table Weasley's lanky frame was craning around Thomas's every so often, and Draco could see the anger mixed with longing on his pale, freckled face. When Ron's blue eyes drifted slightly and accidentally locked with Draco's, they hardened into an intense hatred.
Draco smirked to himself at this. He wasn't worried, he knew he could best the other boy in a fight, if only because he wasn't averse to playing dirty, but he knew that Hermione would be hurt, despite everything, if she learned they'd drawn wands, so he resolved to at least attempt to avoid getting into a situation where that might happen. Speaking of Hermione, Pansy had jumped to conclusions about her looking at anyone at all. Hermione was bent over her cauldron, carefully adjusting the wood underneath it for when she'd have to light it in a few minutes, and she wasn't saying a word. Her posture was tense, for all that Draco couldn't see her face beyond the masses of soft brown curls that had fallen forward with her current position, but he could practically feel the sadness radiating off of her.
"Well, Weasley certainly couldn't have done better than Granger," Blaise drawled, hardly bothering to keep his voice low, and Draco shot a look back at the ginger headed boy to see if he'd heard, luckily only Thomas sent a filthy look over his shoulder. "Granger on the other hand," Blaise continued, his dark eyes flickering from Hermione's table over to Draco once more, "has no where to go but up. One has to wonder who she'll seek out to comfort her?"
Draco could feel the back of his neck growing hot, a sure sign of his rising temper, but fought to keep his voice level as he slanted a look back at Blaise. "Granger is tougher than she looks," he said smoothly, eyes on the blackboard as the professor flicked his wand at it and the day's potion instructions appeared, "one has to wonder why she bothered with a relationship at all, when she's en route to becoming Minister for Magic." When Draco glanced back over at Blaise, he saw that his dismissal had been for naught.
Blaise wore a calculating smirk that sent a shiver of unease down Draco's spine. "Why so concerned about Granger's future plans, Draco?" he purred. "Do you have some special stake in them that the rest of us don't know about?"
At Blaise's sly comment Draco noted Pansy's sharp gaze cut to him, her slim hands stilling as she waved her wand over her cauldron and murmured aguamenti to fill it with water. Out of the corner of his eye, he sensed Sylvia and Ebony listening in, too. Stealing himself, Draco sent a wintery look back at Blaise. "Hardly. What blokes Granger chooses to spend her time with are no concern of mine. Though we can all agree that dumping Weasley was the best move she could have made." He sensed the Slytherin girls behind him relax at these words, and even Pansy's scrutinizing look eased as she smirked in satisfaction with his statement. Blaise, on the other hand, only pinned Draco with an intense look for a moment longer than was maybe necessary, before smirking to himself and turning his attention to the lesson. Somehow, despite Blaise's lack of argument, Draco did not feel like he'd won their verbal sparing match.
xXx
Hermione entered the potions dungeon with Ginny firmly at her side, she could hear Ron grumbling about something half-under his breath several paces behind them, but Harry and Dean were walking ahead of him discussing some Quidditch strategy or other and drowned out his words. She was glad for it; Hermione had the feeling she didn't want to hear what Ron was saying. As she and Ginny passed through the doorway, Hermione sensed a presence come up behind her. Her body stiffened, tensing and leaning automatically away from the boy who'd materialized at her side. She'd been expecting Ron, but when her eyes landed on Blaise Zabini's looming frame instead, it took everything in Hermione not to physically jump back. There was just something in the Slytherin boy's very essence that made her want run the other direction—even if that direction would have been straight into Ron's arms.
Blaise's sharp eyes missed nothing, and Hermione flushed under the smirk that tipped up his lips. Ducking his head down toward her as he brushed past, he murmured lowly, "You look tense, Granger, maybe you need someone to help you relax?" His hand brushed her shoulder in a mockery of a massage and Hermione jerked away from his touch. He'd been so quick about it though that not even Ginny had noticed before Blaise was already on his way over to the Slytherin corner of the room, nodding his head at Draco in greeting as he went.
A shiver scuttled down Hermione's spine as she turned her back on Blaise and allowed Ginny to tug her arm over toward a table where Neville was fumbling around with his cauldron.
"Morning, Neville," Ginny sang out, her voice as bright as her hair, and the boy looked up with a grateful expression as the girls dropped their book bags on the floor next to their stools. "Room for two more?"
Of course Hermione knew that the answer would be yes; though Neville had made marked improvement in potions now that Snape no longer taught it, he still was far from excellent at the subject. Ginny began arranging her cauldron next to Neville's own, leaving Hermione to set up at the far end of the wooden work table. This suited her just fine, as Hermione had noticed that, intentional or not, Harry and Dean had managed to shuffle Ron down the row of their own work station, and he was now as far across the room as one could be from Hermione.
As Hermione began to set up her own cauldron, she chanced a glance across the classroom to the Slytherins. She could hear Sylvia Melville and her friend giggling about something, murmuring greetings to Draco and Blaise, but her scrutiny of the group was disturbed by a thump as someone dropped their textbook onto their table as if attempting to use its weight to crush a particularly vile insect, and Hermione looked back over toward Ron. His face was scarlet with fury, and Hermione thought she heard Harry mutter lowly, "It's none of your business who she looks at, mate," as he glanced between Ron and Hermione while still trying to fill his own cauldron with water.
Ron had growled something that, even several people down the row from him, Hermione could still almost make out. It sounded like, "It's not the looking that any decent Gryffindor would be concerned about," and then attempted to shove past Dean, knocking over his stool in the process, as if he planned to march across the dungeon and challenge Malfoy to a duel.
Dean had shot a look between Ron and the general direction of Malfoy and his friends, a wary expression on his face, but he'd once again put his Quidditch muscles to use by shouldering Ron back toward his end of the table. "It's not worth it, mate. The professor's just come in; don't give Malfoy the satisfaction of making you get a detention without actually doing anything." Ron had glowered at this, but righted his stool and resigned himself to glaring across the room instead.
The lesson passed with little to-do between the students, each absorbed in complicated potions assigned to them from the list of potential N.E.W.T. options the professor had written out on the blackboard. Hermione had found it hard to concentrate on her potion, she could practically feel the testosterone in the cramped classroom, what with Ron glaring at Malfoy, Micheal Corner and his mates clustered around a table kitty-corner to the Slytherins, all of them also muttering in low voices and casting glances over at them, and Blaise Zabini surveying the the entire room as if it were the lands of his kingdom. Draco hadn't looked over at her since the start of the lesson, his attention apparently taken by a pretty dark skinned girl sitting next to Sylvia. She turned back to her potion, giving it a more aggressive stir than the instructions warranted, and it hissed loudly in protest.
When the hour finally ended, Hermione hurried to pack her things away, she didn't want to get caught in the crush of students trying to funnel back into the hallway and end up stuck next to Ron, or worse Blaise—who's touch on her shoulder still lingered, an unsettling sensation ghosting her skin through her robes. Due to her quickness, she was the first to reach the professor's desk and drop off a corked phial for marking, and she was out in the hall almost before any of the other students had reached for their bags.
She glanced over her shoulder as her hurried along the hall. She had wanted to talk to Malfoy, ask him if he'd received her message the previous evening, but Blaise had latched on to Malfoy's side as he had begun to make his own way toward the desk, and the gaggle of Slytherin girls wasn't far behind him, so she let it be. She thought that she might have approached him if it had been Phil by Draco's side, but the boy hadn't been in class that morning. She wondered if he was ok. Then she wondered when she'd started caring about Malfoy's friends' well being at all. Most of them hadn't changed at all since the Battle of Hogwarts, though perhaps Phil had always been kinder than the rest of them.
xXx
Draco kept his head down during the lesson, determined not to give Blaise any more ammunition to torment him with. Ebony and Sylvia had spent as much time flirting with he and Blaise as they had done actual work on their assignments, much to Draco's annoyance, and he'd attempted once again to kindly but firmly rebuff the advances of Sylvia's friend. He could see Blaise smirking at him from the corner of his eye, the other boy's amusement growing the more Ebony tried to pull Draco into conversation, though he did nothing to help either of them. Blaise preferred to watch others fight things out themselves, only dirtying his hands if absolutely necessary; it was likely how his family had managed to keep on the good side of the Ministry during the War.
When the lesson ended, Draco ladled a sample of his potion into an exquisite crystal phial, admiring the subtly glowing liquid with a practiced eye before corking the phial and heading toward the front of the classroom to hand it in. He was sure he'd receive it back next lesson with an "O". Blaise poured a sample of his own brew into a phial and and followed him up to the desk.
"Granger certainly beat a hasty retreat," he observed, his dark gaze sliding from Draco's to the doorway Hermione had just vanished through. "Personally, I thought she had more staying power than that." He cast a look over at Draco as they made their way back to the work table to gather their bags. Draco kept his face blank.
"She stayed with Weasley for two years, that's more than most people could stomach," he replied coolly, determinedly not rising to Blaise's remark. The other boy pinned him with a darkly suggestive look.
"That's not what I meant," he began, but Draco shot him a glare, having had enough of Blaise's innuendos.
"I know what you meant, Zabini," he growled, fighting to keep a leash on a temper that frayed more and more quickly these days. "I thought you despised Gryffindors, why are you so obsessed with Granger these days?"
Blaise smirked broadly, delighted to have finally provoked a reaction out of Draco, and Draco suppressed a groan. A whole hour spent making nice with Fieldright gone down the drain in less than thirty seconds. Blaise pounced on his words. "Why are you?" he returned Draco's question with a calculating look. "You used to go on about how despicable the halfbloods and the rest are, now you snap at anyone who so much as glances at your pet muggleborn."
Draco very nearly stopped walking at the anger that surged up inside him at Blaise's condescending remarks, but Pansy and the other girls had come up behind them just then and Draco didn't want to continue this conversation with other players. "We're friends, Blaise," Draco bit out, impressively managing to keep his voice level. "As I've told you before, I'm attempting to move on this year. I'm over the drama of childish rivalries."
Blaise's face seemed to tighten a little at this remark, but he kept pace with Draco as their little group of Slytherins left the classroom. "Rivalries keep your mind sharp," he returned coolly. "If you don't pay attention, you could miss something."
Draco frowned at Blaise's cryptic comment, but Corner and his lackies came shoving past their group just then and Blaise was distracted by the opportunity to send a tripping jinx at the Ravenclaw boy, sending him sprawling across the stone floor of the corridor. Adding insult to injury, Draco's group reached Corner just as he skidded to a halt, and Blaise simply stepped over the boy's dazed form and continued on his way with a darkly contemptuous sneer. Draco altered his path to walk around Corner as he pushed up on to his hands and knees, spitting curses at all of them as one of his friends slowed to help him up, but didn't offer his own aid. He might be working to broaden his horizons, but that didn't mean he had to start with Corner. By the time he rounded the corner of the dungeon hallway, he'd forgotten all about Blaise's words.
xXx
Hermione passed the rest of the morning in relative ease. Ginny and Lavender took turns sitting with her in lessons when they shared classes, while Harry worked to mediate any minute interactions that might occur between his two best friends. Muggle Studies and Care of Magical Creatures went smoothly enough, likely due to the fact that Gryffindor didn't partner with Slytherin in either of those lessons that year, but Herbology was coming up after lunch and Hermione was dreading it. That was the lesson where, not only were the Slytherins in the same vicinity as them again, but there would be no avoiding Ron, since he and Harry were part of her project group.
"Cheer up, Hermione," came Ginny's voice in her ear, drawing Hermione out of her inner thoughts as she mechanically brought her fork to her mouth over and over during lunch—sometimes even with food actually on it. "Remember Hogsmeade is coming up soon. I'm glad they've started upping the visits we get; only being allowed to visit once a month was so annoying. The third years don't know what they lucked out on by returning to school now. If one of them so much as pretends to complain about only getting by-weekly visits this year, I'll hex them. I don't care if I do get detention for it," she announced, sending a half-mocking glare around the Gryffindor table, as if daring any of the timid thirteen year olds to rise to her baiting.
Hermione forced a smile for Ginny's benefit, knowing her friend was trying to raise her spirits. She'd forgotten all about the coming Hogsmeade weekend, too keyed-up about her impending breakup with Ron to remember Ginny's original conversation about it. Now Hermione recalled Ron's asking her to go in with him on their own, a proper date, seeing as they hadn't really had one since school had started. Of course that definitely wouldn't be happening now. She almost considered telling Ginny she wasn't up to a night out, except just then she overheard Ron's brash voice from down the row of Gryffindor students.
"Hogsmeade? Yeah, I'm going in with my mates," he was saying, and Hermione looked down the table to see who Ron was talking to in a voice that was too loud to be anything other than a tool to gain Hermione's attention. She saw a pretty dark-haired girl smiling at Ron, her blue eyes slightly awestruck, and Hermione gaged her to be a fifth year. Her friends were giggling and whispering on either side of her. When Ron caught her watching him, he turned back to the girl with haughty smirk on his lips. "Maybe I'll look out for you in the Three Broomsticks later on," he announced, his voice carrying down the table above the buzz of conversation. "Seeing as I'm a free agent these days." He winked at the girl and she burst into pleased giggles at his attention.
Right, she wasn't going to let Ron stop her from having a good time. Let him mess about with that flighty fifth year, she was probably only interested in him because of his role in the Battle the previous year. If she only knew how he'd run away in the middle of things. Hermione was half-tempted to stride down the aisle to the girl and let her know just how much of a coward her hero really was. Almost immediately after she'd had this thought Hermione felt guilt wash over her. She didn't need to stoop to Ron's level and start slinging mud too.
Squaring her shoulders, she turned back to Ginny, who'd also overheard her brother's conversation and raised an eyebrow at Hermione in question. "Hogsmeade sounds like a great idea," Hermione said in response to Ginny's look, her back straight as she ignored Ron's continued flirting with the simpering fifth year. "Maybe we can make it a girl's night?"
Ginny snorted in her brother's direction before looking back at Hermione. She lifted her glass of pumpkin juice toward Hermione's own for a toast. "I'll drink to that!" The pair of them clinked glasses and Hermione felt the sting of Ron's moving on ease the smallest fraction.
xXx
Draco arrived early to the Greenhouses after lunch. He'd stopped in at the hospital wing to check in on Phil after he'd finished eating. The slightly portly Slytherin boy had landed in the the infirmary the previous day after testing a potion a classmate had been working on for extra credit. The blue hives were apparently a reaction to under-stewed rat spleens, and Phil had been spirited off the ministrations of the medi-witch. Most other Slytherins would have blamed the brewer for their predicament, and possibly tried to curse them in retaliation, but not Phil. He'd simply laughed uproariously over his splotched state, then tried to convince everyone who gaped at him along the corridors to the hospital wing that he had Dragon Pox, in order to enjoy watching them trip over themselves as they raced away from him.
Draco felt his lips twitch as he recalled Phil telling him about a pair of first years who'd all but wet themselves as they'd fled in terror. It was a harmless prank, making the best of an unfortunate situation, and Draco approved of it. Slytherin house needed more lightness in it. They were still known for too much darkness from the years of the Dark Lord's rise and rule.
He busied himself now setting out his notes and the plants that he, Sylvia, and Blaise were working on for their project, and was so absorbed in his work that he was almost surprised to look up several minutes later and find the Greenhouse filling up with other students. Granger had arrived and now sat primly at a work table, her pots of blue flowers set in front of her. He felt warmth bloom in his chest as he recalled the evening that he'd helped her obtain those flowers, then a deeper heat rise as he remembered what had happened before that. Even now, Draco could recall exactly the way every curve of Granger's body had felt beneath his. He started slightly when Sylvia sauntered up to their table and dropped daintily onto a stool, breaking his reverie. Feeling distinctly hot under the collar, Draco was grateful that it hadn't been Blaise who had arrived to their table first, as the other boy's annoyingly keen eyes these days would surely have realized where Draco had so intently been staring.
xXx
Hermione refused to so much as look in Malfoy's direction during Herbology. She could feel his eyes on her as she arranged her flower pots and felt a wave of memory so intense that she was almost sure he'd somehow come up behind her and placed his broad palm against her back once more. Malfoy's phantom touch sent a shiver down her spine and Hermione ducked her head, letting her curling hair hide the soft pink blush the had risen in her cheeks.
Though he'd been far more intimate other day when he'd ended up holding her in the kitchens as she cried, it still felt surreal to think about the gentleness with which Draco had held her against him; it had been so unexpected, the way he'd just suddenly appeared in her path as she'd tried to run from him, from facing the feelings swirling inside herself. She wondered just how she'd be able to be alone with him after that, even just to work on his project. Which, come to think on it, he had yet to get back to her about.
"Hermione, what's the ratio of fertilizer to powdered silver we're supposed to use in pot three?" came Harry's distracted voice, and she glanced over at him to see Harry looking slightly frazzled as he scanned the notes he'd scribbled for his part in their project, looking for the outline they'd planned the previous lesson. On his other side she could see Ron staring sullenly at his own potted blue flower, not even pretending to do any work.
"One tablespoon per cup of dragon dung," she replied, still half lost in her thoughts. When Harry began to search their piled supplies for the fertilizer and shortly pronounced them wanting, Hermione forced herself not to react to Ron's muttered suggestion of where they could find more, instead, all but leaping up from her seat with the announcement that she'd go find some in the supply cupboard.
The bags of fertilizer were stacked against the inside left wall of the cupboard, labeled Hippogriff, Dragon, and Muggle Mix (that last one for Professor Sprout's personal experimenting), and Hermione grabbed a trowel to scoop out what she needed into a small pail. When she turned around she found Malfoy standing in the doorway, sending a wave of de ja vu flooding over her. At least this time they weren't working with poisonous plants.
"Afternoon," he said politely, hesitating in the doorway since there wasn't much extra room for him to maneuver in the cramped storage area. Hermione straightened, lifting her pail with her.
"Hi," she said awkwardly, trying and failing to fully meet Malfoy's eye.
"How's your experiment going?" Malfoy asked after another beat of silence had passed, looking slightly uncomfortable when she hadn't said anything else. Hermione seized on the subject, grateful for something class-related to talk about.
"Oh, it's coming along ok. We're comparing the affects of different minerals on soils and fertilizers and seeing how they effect plant growth." Malfoy nodded and they lapsed into silence once more. Hermione felt her cheeks heating in embarrassment. Was this what it was going to be like from now on? Was she going to be so afraid of giving Ron a foundation for his heinous speculations about her friendship with Malfoy that she couldn't even talk to him without feeling guilty?
"I see," Malfoy said at last, and Hermione shifted her pail in her hands once more, wondering if he was thinking the same thing. Just as she was about to move past him and make her way back to her work station, Malfoy continued. "I'm sorry I haven't gotten back to you about your suggestion the other night." He paused, as if considering his words, then went on. "I think it's a smart choice, and, if you're still interested in pursuing it then I'll meet you there at sunset tonight."
Hermione blinked. Draco seemed to be perfectly fine with talking to her, and continuing their collaboration on his Charm. Perhaps she was the only one who was making things awkward between them. After all, Ron had been her boyfriend, it was Hermione who was bringing the drama to the table here. Malfoy had never cared what any of Hermione's friends thought of him before, why should he now?
As if deciding to leave the decision to meet him in her hands, Malfoy reached past her to grab a pair of dragon-hide gloves and turned to go. Just as his back was to her, Hermione's brain caught up to his offer. "Meet you where?" she asked quickly, before he moved too far away and anyone else might be able to make out their conversation. Malfoy paused, turning to glance at her over his shoulder.
"Oh, I suppose where we met before is as good a place as any." And with that, he was sauntering back toward his work station, leaving Hermione blinking in confusion.
Where they'd met before? They'd never planned any meetings in the forest, they'd always met in the library. Did he want her to meet him at his usual study area before they went outside—
Oh.
OH.
Where they'd met at the forest before.
When she'd—
And he'd—
And then they'd—
Hermione felt her heart speed up. He was just teasing her, surely. That whole meeting had been one big awkward, embarrassing, disaster. Except, Draco Malfoy, despite his teasing sarcasm, had been surprisingly genteel that evening, right up until they'd returned to the Castle and run into Ron and the rest of the night had gone to hell. Shaking her head slightly at the Slytherin audacity of such a suggestion, Hermione returned to her table and plunked the bucket of fertilizer in front of Ron.
"Had a pleasant chat?" Ron muttered, half under his breath as he pulled the pail toward his flower pot and dumped half of it atop his plant, half crushing the bloom. Hermione yanked the bucket back before Ron could completely bury his flower.
"If you plan to spend the rest of your days stalking my every move, Ronald Weasley," Hermione snapped back, fed up with Ron's snark, "You're going to be too busy to spend your weekends in pubs with gullible fifth years."
Ron's ears reddened slightly at her retaliation, but he only snarled back, "At least Violet wants to go into Hogsmeade with me. And she won't spend all her time dragging me around some boring book shop either."
"Oh!" Hermione huffed, struggling to keep her voice low so they wouldn't attract attention. "I bet she won't. Girls like her don't have enough sustenance to concentrate on books. They're too busy ogling boys and discussing the latest cosmetic charms."
"At least she cares enough to use cosmetic charms," Ron hissed back, and Hermione felt herself flush at his jab. It wasn't that she didn't take care with her appearance, but though she'd in recent years begun using potions on her bushy hair to tame it slightly (it would never bend completely to her will, and she was ok with that), she wasn't as fussed about make-up and daily cosmetic rituals as a lot of girls were. Ron knew that, and thus knew his remark was a low blow.
Harry cleared his throat just then, and both Hermione and Ron whipped their heads to face him. "Er, Sprout is on her way over here, so I suggest you two look busy."
Hermione grabbed the bucket of fertilizer off the table with undue savagery and flounced back to her stool to primly add exactly the correct amount to her flower pot. She was carefully sprinkling powdered silver over the loamy-smelling earth when Professor Sprout finished inspecting the table next to theirs. When she inquired briskly about their project's status, it was Harry who supplied the explanation, rambling off an overview until the professor gave a satisfied nod and moved on to inspect Malfoy's group across the way. Hermione couldn't wait for the lesson to end.
xXx
Draco stood at the edge of the Forest after dinner that evening, looking out at the lake and the rising highlands beyond it. Scotland was beautiful, he'd always thought so. Though every now and then he'd run into a Scottish wizard who'd enjoy taking the Mickey out of him by refusing to speak in anything other than the Gaelic, much to Draco's annoyance. Scots was not an easy language to learn and Draco's tutors over the years hadn't bothered to train him in it. Thankfully Hogwarts was run with the Queen's English.
He paced across the bluff, absently fingering the strap of the satchel he had slung over his shoulder. It wasn't far from the patch of grass where the incident had taken place, yet, even though the sun had only barely begun its journey toward the horizon, still at least an hour from its evening rest, Draco had already begun to feel hints of unease. He was unsure of this meeting for several reasons, the first being that he wasn't entirely certain Hermione had taken his hint about where to meet. She certainly hadn't come up to confirm with him during Herbology, though she and Weasley had definitely had a heated debate about something upon her return to their table. He had been pleased to see that Granger seemed to have toughened up since he'd seen her in Potions that morning, giving as good as she got, as far as he could tell from across the room.
The second reason was that he wondered if Granger would refuse to meet him precisely because she did understand where he'd meant, and was still feeling embarrassed about the whole incident. Draco, personally, had anything other than embarrassed feelings about that night, and as such had been debating internally since making the teasingly cryptic offer to Granger if it was good for his restraint to be back in the very place where he and Hermione had been so intimate; after all, despite how it had come to pass, Draco still considered rolling in the grass far more sensual than the quiet, stoic embrace they'd had in the kitchens up at the school. One can't really count such things when they're witnessed by a hundred squeaking house elves.
Draco had just talked himself into not making any more jokes referencing their tumble together, when he spotted Hermione making her way across the edge of the Forest, glancing nervously at the tree-line as she went. He had to shake his head at this, after all, it had been her idea to start their research in the forest on the Hogwarts grounds, he wasn't going to let her chicken out now. He lifted a hand in greeting as she neared, deliberately ignoring the way he could feel his body straighten up at her presence, as if it determined to present his best self with or without his permission.
"Good evening, Granger," he called, feeling his lips tip up at the corner, unable to help himself. Spending time with this girl made something in Draco's chest lighten.
Screw Weasley. She was too good for him anyway.
xXx
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