Chapter Thirty-Two

The ride back to Hogwarts from the remains of the cursed manor house was less eventful than the trip out, if only because Malfoy had kept his broom steady and not pulled any stunts that threatened to dump one or both of them into the lake for the Giant Squid to bat about like bath toys. On the other hand, flying through the twilight with her arms around Draco's waist wasn't as unsettling as it had been an hour earlier, or maybe it was, but for different reasons. Hermione felt comfortable in the air with Malfoy, knowing that despite his teasing, he was an excellent flyer and would keep her safe. She knew they were both still riding the high—no pun intended, considering their current location in the sky—of the Charm working on a more difficult source of dark magic, though her mind still turned over the concept of amplifying the base Charm; after all, if it had had taken the pair of them in perfect tandem to eradicate only the diluted remains of the old, illegally brewed, potion, for larger affected areas it was possible that a whole battalion of Aurors would be needed, and the Ministry would surely want smaller groups and stronger magic if they were to accept the Charm as viable.

When they reached the grounds, Malfoy landed them back by the shore of the lake and held the broom hovering steady as Hermione slid off. He dismounted a moment later, swinging his leg over the broom as if over a horse, and landed lightly on the grass next to her. Hermione had slightly steadier legs this time, not as tensed up as she had been an hour earlier when Malfoy had been flying willy-nilly and sending her stomach flipping with each sudden turn of the broom, but she still stumbled half a step upon impact with the ground. A light breeze swirled up around her, sending a few curls of hair brushing across her cheek, and she found herself looking quickly toward Malfoy as she righted herself, pushing her hair behind one ear as the memory of what he'd done the last time flitted through her mind.

Cool fingertips grazed her skin as Draco casually reached out and tucked her errant curls behind her ear, the look on his face open and wondering as he looked down at her in the twilight. A second later he'd yanked his hand back, expression shuttering as he'd turned abruptly and strode away, seeming alarmed at what he'd done. She had stood for a long moment staring after him, barely hearing his awkwardly sarcastic description of the ruins for the beating of her heart. She'd only narrowly managed not to flinch at his reaching toward her; having someone physically her superior touch her, even in such a gentle manner, still made her balk, since her mind currently connected such an action with coming violence. And yet, she'd only had to meet Draco's grey eyes, dark in the evening light, to know that he'd never hurt her, and a faint tingle of pleasure had run through her as the action now became tinted with kindness…and, maybe something deeper. All this flashed through her mind in a second, and she wondered dimly at the expression she'd made in response.

"Well," Draco said across from her, shouldering his broom as he eyed her. "I think we can call our outing successful, wouldn't you say?" His tone was casual, but his eyes were watchful.

"Oh, yes," Hermione said quickly, shifting her bag on her shoulder. "It was a good spot. We should go back sometime and practice some more. I'll try and think of other options too. It would really be more practical if we could test the Charm out on something more recent, but I imagine that most dark wizards wouldn't invite us into their homes to seek out illicit practices." She smiled ruefully, striving to tease, but felt a little jolt in her chest at the look of shame that seemed to have settled on Malfoy's face at her words. She suddenly remembered that his house, of course, would have been full of dark magic at some point, maybe even still was, in some hidden and cloaked rooms. She had no idea how much his parents had really changed since the final battle, perhaps clinging to the old ways was a comfort for them.

"Wouldn't that be nice?" Draco said wryly, a twisted smile on his lips. He turned back toward the castle. "I'll walk you back up."

Hermione fell into step beside Malfoy, glancing up at him as they walked in silence for several minutes, making their way back up the hill, and then a winding set of stone stairs that lead to an outer courtyard. As they neared the entrance to the courtyard, Hermione slowed her pace, then stopped. Malfoy stopped beside her, turning to look at her curiously.

"Thank you," she said, biting her lip at the raised eyebrow he gave her in response to this comment. "I mean," she muttered, looking down and twisting the strap of her bag across her chest with one hand, the fingers of the other rising to play with one of her curls as she struggled for the right words. "For tonight. For helping me get my mind off… things." She risked a look up and found Malfoy's face serious. He still held his broom, his long fingers clenched around the polished handle as he looked back at her, aristocratic brows pulling down.

"I like spending time with you," he said quietly, and Hermione felt her cheeks flush. He'd said something similar last night too. "I know things will be hard for you for a while," he continued, "but I can wait." His lips tipped up in a faint smirk at the frown that creased her brow at those words. "Come on, Granger," he said, a faint chuckle cloaked in an exasperated sigh chasing these words, "it's been a good night. Go celebrate the win with Potter and the Weaslette." He nodded his head toward Ginny and Harry, who she now saw were walking across the quad, hand in hand in the near-dark.

Struggling to process what Malfoy had just said, Hermione looked across the courtyard where he'd indicated, seeing her friends looking rather intimate as they ambled through the shadows. "I think they're busy. I probably shouldn't bother them," she said pragmatically. Next to her, she heard Malfoy sigh heavily. She looked back at him and he rolled his eyes, then pointed at his chest, thumping it lightly with each syllable of his next word.

"Sly-ther-in," he stated in a faintly exasperated tone. "Merlin, Granger, it's as if you think I've gone soft." He smirked as he stepped away. "I'll see you tomorrow," he called, lifting his hand in a short wave as he turned away.

She watched him go, the tightness in her chest eased from their time together, even as her mind whirled, trying to sort through the night's events. Just then Ginny noticed her, and tugged on Harry's hand, pulling him around as she called a greeting to Hermione. Hermione knew Ginny had seen Malfoy as he left from the delicate eyebrow raise of her own, and she felt a small smile tug at her lips. Ginny would want all the details when they were back in their dorm later, and Hermione was actually looking forward to talking things over with her friend. For now, she allowed Ginny to sling an arm around around her shoulder, and Harry to grab her around the waist, as the three of them walked across the grass toward the interior of the castle. It was good to have friends like these, who were always there for you, no matter what.

xXx

Hermione stifled a yawn as she made her way through the crowded halls toward Potions. Ginny had indeed wanted to talk the previous night, and had given Harry a quick kiss and a shove toward the boy's stairs almost as soon as they'd all climbed through the portrait hole.

"What did Malfoy want?" Ginny had asked, striving to sound casual as the girls had readied for bed. The look she'd given Hermione had said clearer than words that she'd been surprised Hermione had wanted to spend time with anyone alone, let alone a boy. Let alone a Slytherin.

Let alone Malfoy, Hermione had added in her head the unsaid words, knowing Ginny worried that seeing him might trigger some sort of PTSD. But it wasn't that particular Slytherin that made Hermione's skin crawl at the thought of him, and it had been a constant background anxiety for her that Blaise was still at school. She knew that he'd been called in to see the headmistress, but she hadn't known the result of that meeting, neither, it seemed, had Malfoy. Ginny and Harry had been a near constant presence at Hermione's side since she'd told them what had happened, and she'd had to practically sneak away to get a little breathing room in the library. Still, she was glad for it; their show of support was comforting.

Hermione had stalled for time, slipping into her nightgown and neatly folding her uniform, even though the house elves would take it away for cleaning after she was asleep. "He asked if I wanted to work more on our project," Hermione said neutrally, sitting on her bed and starting to brush out her hair. "It was good to get away a bit, really," she added, her eyes on her hair as the brush passed gently through her curls. One sprung loose from the brush and bounced against her cheek, and she flushed as the sensation of Malfoy's fingertips gently grazing her skin flooded back once more. "Not so many staring eyes when you're away from the castle. I don't know how Harry stood it all those years."

Ginny was quiet for a long minute, sitting on her own bed in the middle of a similar bedtime ritual, before putting down her brush to meet Hermione's eyes. "He really seems to care about you," she offered at last, a curious expression on her face, and Hermione felt her cheeks heat a little more that someone else had said the words aloud. "It's such a 180 from last year."

"I…" Hermione began, feeling the words constrict in her throat as her face pinkened even more. "I think I… care about him… too…" she whispered, unable to look up to see Ginny's reaction to her confession.

Silence met Hermione's words, then a creak of bedsprings as Ginny slid off her bunk and padded across the room to plop next to Hermione. Hermione peeked up at her friend through the sheltering curtain of her hair. Ginny's smile was rueful. "I kind of figured as much," she said lightly, bumping Hermione's shoulder with her own. The girls shared a smile, Ginny's teasing and sisterly, and Hermione's a little embarrassed, but also happy. It felt good to say the words, to confirm the feeling she'd finally admitted to herself, out loud.

"I'm not sure he feels exactly the same way though," she said after a moment, looking down at the brush in her hands. "Sometimes I think maybe… but then I talk myself out of it, sure I've misunderstood something he's said or done. I mean, he's a bit of a Casanova, he probably doesn't realize how certain actions come across." Though the vision of the fierceness in Malfoy's face when he'd carried her out of the alley, into the meadow, the look in his eyes as he swore to protect her… Surely that meant something. Or was it just a vow born from deep friendship? Harry would have reacted much the same, wouldn't he? And she didn't have any romantic feelings for him.

Draco's words from later that evening floated through her mind then. "I know things will be hard for you for a while," he'd said,"but I can wait." What had he meant by that?

Ginny picked up Hermione's brush and began to run it in long strokes down the back of her head, talking as she worked out the small tangles. "First of all, Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy should be so lucky to have someone as wonderful as you like him," she began, nimble fingers working Hermione's curls as she moved the brush to another section of hair. "Secondly, as your best friend, I feel it's my duty to remind you that he's not good enough for you anyway." Hermione tensed before she realized Ginny's voice was teasing. "Of course, no one is good enough for you. You're far too clever by half for any wizard in this school. Or witch, for that matter," she added, a laugh in her voice, and Hermione glanced over her shoulder to see a smirk on the youngest Weasley's face as she needled Hermione. "Just take things slow," Ginny continued, voice becoming more serious. "This is new territory for both of you. It's amazing enough to see the way your friendship has grown over the past few months, if there's something more there, well, time will tell."

Ginny put down the brush and Hermione turned around on the plush mattress to look at the girl who was as close to a sister as she would ever have. "You don't think I'm crazy and that this endeavour is doomed to failure?" she asked, a wry smile on her lips. Ginny laughed, poking Hermione's side and causing her to squeal when she hit a ticklish spot on her ribs. The pair fell back onto the bed, giggling.

"Crazy, yes. On a scale of Hunting for Crumple-horned Snorkacks to Sitting in the Library with A History of Magic, having feelings for Draco Malfoy is definitely up there. But you're only doomed to fail if you don't give things a chance." She gave Hermione a warm smile, nudging her shoulder as the two lay back on the mattress, Crookshanks prancing up between them to curl up against Hermione's side, purring. "Whatever you decide to do, I'll support you. And if anyone gives you trouble, I'll hex them." She'd winked and Hermione had smiled back, so glad to have a genuine friend in Ginny Weasley.

#

A blast of sound met her ears as she entered the classroom and took her seat next to Ginny and Harry. Ron was at the next table, talking with Dean and looking troubled about something. He wouldn't meet Hermione's eye and she turned back to her bag, readying her supplies for the lesson. Around her, Hermione could hear the buzz of students as they chatted among themselves, waiting for the professor to call things to order. Her name popped up more often than she liked, as people whispered to their friends, eyeing her and Malfoy—who'd come into the room a few minutes after she had, flanked by Phil and Sylvia—who had her arm wound through one of Malfoy's own, her face paler than usual.

Hermione felt a warmth in her chest at the sight of the shorter, slightly portly, boy. She still needed to properly thank him for what he'd done for her that night. Sylvia Melville, on the other hand, looked as if she'd eaten something that disagreed with her and was fighting to 'keep calm and carry on'. Knowing that Sylvia had seemed to have had a bit of a crush on Blaise had Hermione hoping that she'd been enlightened to how truly awful a person he was. The three of them murmured among themselves as they found seats, ignoring the more bold students who called out bits of gossip, hoping to goad one of them into spilling all the horrible details. Hermione ducked her head, thankful that none of the loudmouths had descended upon her. Perhaps it was the steel in Ginny's eyes, or the way Harry had one hand clenched not-so-inconspicuously around his wand.

Just then there was the loud scraping sound of a stool being pushed back, and the demanding voices were silenced as someone began to speak.

"It's true that there was an altercation this weekend," came Malfoy's voice, tinged with annoyance and a deeper anger, though his words were clear and strong.

Hermione tensed, knowing everyone seemed to "know" something had happened, but still shocked that Malfoy would stand up in the middle of class and just announce the gory details. Her heart started to beat faster and Hermione looked down at her hands where they clenched her skirt until her knuckles turned white. Why would he do this? Surely he knew how reliving that awful experience would make her feel. How humiliating it would be for her…

"… show some decency…" Malfoy was snapping now, and Hermione looked back, relieved, as she realized what he was actually doing. Of course, the end of Malfoy's speech only seemed to add fuel to the fire of the rumour mill, and several students converged on his table as he sat back down, looking down his long, aristocratic nose at them in disgust.

"Sit down, sit down!" piped the voice of the finally present professor, who hadn't seemed to have realized what had been going on when he arrived. His shouts for order had the desired affect though, and most of the students filtered away to their tables. Just as the last boy had returned to his seat, the door opened once more.

Malfoy shot to his feet at once, his face a mask of rage. "What the bloody hell—?" he growled, his voice cracking across the silent classroom as Blaise Zabini sauntered through the door and across the room, his pack of Slytherin groupies at his back, looking for all the world as if he ruled the school. His gaze scanned the room, landing on Hermione for a brief moment, and he smirked darkly before moving on toward an empty table next to Malfoy and his friends. He didn't look at all worried to see that Draco's wand was in his hand.

Hermione felt her stomach clench so hard she thought she might be sick, or faint. A buzzing started in her ears and she clutched at the edge of the table to try and ground herself.

Blaise was still here.

He was still here.

How? Why?

Hermione felt her vision tunnel until all she could see was Blaise Zabini's dark eyes, the cruel, confident look on his face as he surveyed the classroom. Her vision swam and Hermione was dimly aware of Ginny's hand on her arm as she asked if Hermione was ok. Before Hermione could give in to her panic and either pass out or leap out of her seat and run from the room, the door banged open a second time, and a second entourage strode into the room. This group was far more impressive than the teenagers who'd come in a minute earlier, however.

Professor McGonagall, resplendent in midnight blue robes and hat, flanked by a pair of scarlet-robed men, stood framed in the doorway, three sets of narrowed eyes trained on Blaise, who, Hermione slowly became aware, was now looking less cocky.

"I'm sorry to interrupt your class, professor," McGonagall announced, her sharp eyes gleaming with satisfaction as she continued, "but I must ask that Blaise Zabini come with me." The pair of Aurors behind her took a step forward, as if physically backing up her command.

Across the room Blaise balked, his tone arrogant as he eyed the thin, older woman in the doorway. McGonagall's eyes narrowed as Blaise tried to inform her that she had no right to make him go anywhere. The look in his eyes was faintly deranged, it almost seemed as if Blaise might take a stand, right there in the potions classroom, and challenge all three adults to a duel. But as the two Aurors advanced on him, Blaise seemed to realize the impossibility of winning that fight, and though the look on his face was dark with anger, he didn't struggle as the men each took one of his arms above the elbow and firmly marched him from the room. McGonagall bid the class a good day, and vanished out the door after them. The whole scene had taken less than five minutes.

"Hermione," came the low, urgent sound of Harry's voice in her ear, and she turned to look at him, fighting back tears of relief that the Aurors had taken Blaise into custody and that he wouldn't be able to hurt her again. "Are you alright?"

"I'm ok," she whispered faintly, still trembling, but getting herself back under control. Harry rubbed one hand over her back while Ginny squeezed her fingers under the table. She murmured meaningless assurances to her worried friends, though the boy she most wanted to talk to just then was across the room. When she looked up, Hermione found Malfoy already staring at her, his expression intense. He looked ready for a fight, and seemed vaguely disappointed that he hadn't gotten the chance. When their eyes met she could see the fierce protectiveness radiating from Malfoy's glare and set jaw, and she summoned a weak smile for him, to show that she was ok.

There wasn't much of a lesson after that, and even the professor didn't fight them on it. He put up a basic potion recipe on the blackboard then sat behind his desk, ignoring the class as most of them only worked half-heartedly, too busy talking over the showdown between Zabini and McGonagall.

"Hermione?" came a male voice behind her a little while later, and she turned, disappointment washing over her as she saw Ron's lanky form standing next to her cauldron, and Hermione realized she'd been expecting—hoping—it was Malfoy come to check on her.

"Yes?" Her voice was dull, unable to even summon up a cold, unaffected tone for the boy who had hurt her almost as deeply as the one who had just been hauled away.

"I'm…" Ron's face was pale behind his freckles and his lips were white with the strain of whatever he wanted to say. "I'm sorry," he finally managed, his voice a bit strangled. "I mean, McGonagall, eh? Wow. She doesn't let anyone get away with anything." He glanced toward the door where the headmistress had been, looking impressed.

Ginny turned to look at her brother from beside Hermione, her face cool. "Ron, that is the most pathetic apology in the history of grovelling." Ron had the grace to look ashamed.

"Right, yeah," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck as two spots of colour sparked in his pale cheeks. "Look, Hermione, I shouldn't have gone off on you about Malfoy. It was…" he looked a little sick, but pressed on, "wrong. He wasn't the one who…" His face turned even paler and his eyes were unable to hold hers. "Malfoy actually—" He struggled for words but Hermione remained silent, forcing Ron to get the words out if he truly wanted to show he'd come around to the truth, to ask her for her forgiveness. "People are saying he went off on Zabini, that they duelled and Malfoy protected you." He looked at her now, uncertainty in his blue eyes. Hermione stared silently and Ron went on, swallowing hard. "And now, he actually looked like he might have done it again."

"Is there a point here, Ron?" Ginny demanded icily, and Ron glanced at his sister, his face working as his discomfort grew more pronounced.

"We were all here, Ron," Harry added, his own voice just this side of frozen as well. "You don't have to give us a play-by-play."

Ron glanced at Harry then back to Hermione, straightening his shoulders as he took a deep breath. "Right, yeah, of course you were," he muttered, swallowing hard again. "Look, Hermione, it's clear now that Zabini was the bastard who orchestrated everything, so I'm sorry. Really." He paused, looking wretched. "Are you ok?"

Hermione stared at Ron for a long moment, unsure if she really wanted to accept his apology. It was pretty weak, as Ginny had pointed out. Even now, she could hear Ginny muttering, " 'It's clear now,'?" under her breath, as if readying herself to give Ron a piece of her mind for needing to wait for McGonagall and a pair of Aurors to prove that Hermione had been telling the truth up until then, and Harry's voice snapping, "It took you nearly forty-eight hours to ask if she was ok? What kind of friend are you?"

Ron looked at both of them, pale but stoic, as if he knew he had to face the onslaught without comment as it was nothing less than he deserved.

"I will be," Hermione said at last, acknowledging only the last of Ron's words, and he looked relieved. She continued. "You hurt me, Ron," she said quietly, and Ron flinched as if she'd struck him. "I needed you and you weren't there. Ginny was; and Malfoy was the one to get her for me. He cared about me, about finding someone he knew I could depend on. Harry was there; he nearly broke into the Slytherin common room himself when I told him what had happened."

Ron looked at Harry, a faint grin on his face. "One-man army, eh, Potter?" Harry's expression remained cold and Ron's grin faltered as he realized he wasn't completely forgiven yet.

"I couldn't even find you when I heard the rumours that you thought Draco had planned the whole thing as some twisted, depraved sort of joke," Hermione continued, her voice still quiet, but all the more relentless for its low tone. Ron flinched again but she didn't care. "How can you be so blind to the way he's changed this year, Ron?" Hermione went on, the anger she felt draining away to be replaced with exasperation and sadness. "It's like you don't want to let him grow and move on. You might be chained to your past mistakes, but Draco is fighting to move on from his. You can't hold him back just because you still have so much hate leftover in your heart." She hesitated, unsure if she would be able to say the next words that rose to her lips. "That was part of the reason that Blaise—" she broke off, a tremor shuddering through her before she could finish speaking. "He, well, he couldn't reconcile himself to the fact that Draco had changed either. He took it out on me. Just like you did."

Ron blanched at the comparison. "Hermione, I would never hurt you like he did—"

"But you did," she interrupted. "You acted like it was practically my own fault that he attacked me, that I brought it on myself for spending time with someone who was so inescapably unredeemable!" It was a struggle to keep her voice quiet now, and she felt tears choke off her words as her throat closed up.

"I… I messed up," Ron said, looking miserable, almost as if he wanted to cry himself. He swallowed hard and then met each of their stony gazes. "I was wrong. I see that now. We might not ever be mates, but he saved one of my best friends from something so heinous I can't even comprehend it. That earns him a pass in my books."

"Draco doesn't need your approval to know he's grown as a man," Hermione snapped, voice fierce, and Ron shuffled his feet, looking cowed.

"Right," he muttered, eyes downcast.

"Just open your eyes, Ron," Hermione said after a long pause, trying to sort though her reeling emotions. "He's actually a good person inside."

"Deep inside," Ron grumbled, but seemed to realize he'd said the words out loud and hastened to recant least Hermione start shouting at him. "Ok, ok…. I get it. He's reformed."

Hermione rolled her eyes, but relented at last. She knew Ron and Draco would never be friends, it would have to be enough that Ron admitted his mistake and acknowledged that Draco Malfoy wasn't inherently evil.

"He is," Hermione reiterated, holding Ron's gaze, then turned back to her cauldron. She watched the contents bubble for a moment, aware of Ron hovering in her periphery, awaiting her judgement. "Now, did you actually follow the instructions on the board or will I find your potion a sludgy mess when I check it over? We do still have a lesson to complete."

Ron gaped at her, and Hermione allowed herself a tiny smile. It seemed he hadn't expected her to actually forgive him. Ginny looked over at her brother too, her face composed, as if she were merely a diligent student.

"We have twenty minutes of class time left, Ron, hop to it!" she commanded, smirking when he looked startled.

"Er, r-right," Ron stuttered, looking confused, and taking a hesitant step back toward Dean and his own cauldron. "So, er," He glanced at Hermione, uncertain. "Are we…?"

"I'll be by in a minute, Ron," Hermione said mildly, and watched as Ron allowed himself a shade of a grin, relief and gratitude on his face.

"Ok, right, see you in a minute then," he mumbled, and glanced at Harry before turning back to his table. Hermione saw a tightness around Harry's eyes, softened by the rueful grin on his face. He shook his head at her.

"You let him off too easy."

"He's right, you know," Ginny agreed. "Ron is too thick for his own good."

"But he has a good heart," Harry continued. "He just needs to remember to listen to it now and then."

Hermione leaned against Harry's shoulder, dropping her head briefly onto it. "He does," she agreed, feeling her own heart ease another fraction.

xXx

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(I promise less angst and more romance in the future!)