Chapter Thirty-Five

Draco woke gasping for air, his sheets thrown aside and his hands clenched tightly in his green silk nightshirt, crumpling the delicate fabric. It took some time for his eyes to adjust to the darkness, and in those moments of disorientation, flashes of his nightmare came back to him and he panicked, his body stiff until he came back to himself. He exhaled explosively and rolled over to pour himself a glass of water. It ran cool and soothing down his throat and he felt slightly better for it. When he threw back his bed curtains, Draco ascertained that the sun would be rising soon and it was probably best that he prepare for the day. If he were able to make it back to sleep he knew he would be plagued with yet more nightmares.

After a shower, Draco busied himself with his studies until the dorm began to stir to life. When Phil was showered and dressed they made their way down to breakfast where Draco forced himself to eat a hearty meal in preparation for sparing Hermione. The food was tasteless and heavy in his stomach, but he forced himself to eat with a determination that even Godric himself would be proud of.

Later, Draco arrived early to the pitch, hoping to gain a few moments of peace to clear his mind and stretch. By the time Hermione showed up, he had found a pocket of calm inside himself and he felt more at ease. He heard her gentle footsteps approaching, his mind attuned the sounds around him, and he turned to greet her. She looked beautiful, a sentiment that came more easily to him since he'd allowed himself to admit that he actually liked her, liked her. The wind caught at her hair and tossed it about her smiling face and he felt himself smile in answer to it. They began with some stretches, after which Draco tested her reflexes. When it seemed she was hesitant to hit him, Draco did what he did best and taunted her into action, only to block her easily when her emotions got the best of her and she swung at him. He chided her for allowing her anger to determine her actions. She looked rattled and Draco felt a surge of doubt boil up inside of him, but she gathered herself and they continued on, this time practicing some fairly easy defensive techniques.

He had to admit that he was impressed by how well she was doing. Her reactions were becoming less hesitant, more sure with each bout, and despite his holding back, Draco found he was breathless and confident that they could move on to something a bit more tactile. His muscles were warmed up and loose, but when he thought of physically grappling with Hermione, he felt tension creep into his shoulders. He rolled them, schooling his features into neutrality as he spoke, though he watched her closely for any sign that she wasn't keen on the idea. "We can try a few holds if you're up for it."

She said nothing, just stood there looking at him as if she were both present and very, very far away. Draco's stomach plummeted as he watched her relaxed stance grow rigid with unease. He'd known this was a bad idea, especially after that night. It had been another instance of his emotions getting the best of him, and so recently after she had been overpowered by Blaise. He had been angry that Blaise had dared to pull such a move, angry that Hermione was so vulnerable, angry that he couldn't have predicted something like that would happen, angry that it was his fault, that he was the reason she had been in that situation in the first place. "...I don't think I ever properly apologized for that," he said, and to his surprise Hermione looked taken aback by the apology.

"What?"

He wanted to reach out to her, pull her close to him, touch her face, her hair, comfort her, but instead he stepped back. He felt himself going numb, but the tone of her next words halted him and he looked up at her with a frown.

"Oh, that," she said, as if she hadn't been thinking about that night at all.

"Yes, that," he parroted with a renewed sense of despair. Well, if she had not been thinking about that night before, she was now. It was honestly spectacular how easily Draco put his foot in it these days. "Maybe this was a bad idea," he said, and began to turn away, but Hermione stopped him, her fingers closing around his wrist. The touch sent sparks skittering up and down his arm and he blinked, concentrating on what she was saying.

She tried to explain away his behaviour but Draco was having none of it. She had to realize that what he had done was not OK, that she was owed a proper apology from him. Hearing her admit that he had scared her made his stomach clench, abashed, but it was not more than he had expected. He wrestled with the words that seemed stuck in his throat, knowing they needed to be said but finding it hard to allow them to pass. This was hard for Draco. He was so used to keeping his walls up. In holding himself accountable, in desiring Hermione to do the same, they were together changing him for the better. This he believed with all of his heart.

"All I can ask is for your forgiveness," he got out.

When she touched his arm Draco felt a great wave of relief wash over him, grateful that she wasn't done with him, that she could bare touching him even now. "I'll prove myself worthy of it," he swore, their eyes connecting.

"You already have."

Something hung between them then, sparking and building, and Draco could feel the need to touch her rise again. Hermione cleared her throat, looking away, and Draco drew in a subtle breath, unsure of what had just happened there. It took him a moment to register what she had said, but when he did he rallied to the task at hand, instructing her on what to do next. When his hand sprang forward to grab her, Hermione blocked his move, but she wasn't quick enough to avoid his other hand, and in short order he had her arms pinned in front of her, her body pressed tight against his to prevent her from moving. He felt her stiffen in his arms and allowed her time to adjust to the change in position. Seconds passed, and in them Draco realized just how close they were.

He could feel the rise and fall of her shoulders, felt when her breath stuttered in her throat. His own felt trapped and he found it hard to take in air. She was warm and soft, and she smelled like herself, like something light and clean. He had to pull himself together. If he allowed himself to get distracted she might actually hurt him.

"You'll feel trapped," he said unsteadily, and cursed himself inwardly for being so blatantly obvious. How could she not know Draco fancied her, behaving the way he was? "But you aren't." He told her what to do next, noting the way she shivered as he spoke so close to her ear. Probably annoyed by how close they were standing, probably realizing that Draco might like her for more than just a friend, and finding the thought appalling. He pushed on, explaining her options to her even as heat crawled up his neck.

Granger didn't move.

Draco was starting to suspect that this might be a bad idea for different reasons altogether. Why was she just standing there, not moving? Was she thinking on what to do next? Frozen in horror? Either way, Draco wasn't sure he could bear it much longer if she didn't do something. He thought their closeness alone would be enough to goad her into action, but she just stood there, unmoving. He cleared his throat and said, "So, try and get away."

He felt her test the strength of his hold on her, which was a good start, but when nothing more happened, Draco got an idea.

"Merlin, Granger, I thought I told you not to let Weasley know about this!"

"What?"

As he knew she would, Granger took the bait. She struggled, and when that proved fruitless, she leveraged herself against him, managed to pull her hands free of his grasp and send a sharp elbow into his stomach, following through with a heel to his toes. Pain blossomed in his stomach and foot, and he released her automatically to nurse his wounds. But even the pain wasn't enough to stop the way his face split into a grin, holding back laughter when she complained of his 'stomach of stone.'

"You deserved that," she said with a glare and Draco agreed, smirking glibly. When she faced him again he could see she was amused as well, and there was a new light in her eyes that challenged him in a way they hadn't before.

"Again,"she said with an authority that made Draco's smirk widen.

"Fine, but how about less cuddling and more defence this time?" he teased.

"Seems to me that you were the one doing the cuddling," she tossed back at him, her smirk mirroring his own.

Draco waggled his eyebrows at her. "I didn't hear you complaining. In fact, you seemed quite—" His words were cut off as she came at him, her fist flashing out towards his shoulder, but he had been prepared for that. He gripped her wrist and yanked her forward into him, looking to bind her to him again, but she was a quick learner, Hermione, and she ducked, using her forward momentum to drive her shoulder into his chest. So surprised was he, that Draco released her instantly, rubbing at the sore spot and putting distance between them.

"Oh my God, did I hurt you?" she gasped, stepping towards him.

Draco simply grinned and shook his head. "I think you're getting the hang of this Granger," he acknowledged, not bothering to hide the delight in his voice. "Using my move against me is an excellent way to escape any unwanted contact, while throwing me off my guard." He realized she was rubbing at her shoulder. "Are you hurt?" he asked with some concern.

"I'll be fine," she said easily, and rolled her shoulder. That look was back on her face, the one that said she was ready to floor Draco.

"Again?" he asked, and she nodded.

They practiced the move a few more times, until Draco determined that his body had taken enough of a beating. He was sure some of those blows would leave a bruise here or there, but it was worth it if all of this made Hermione safe. There had been considerably less 'cuddling' as Draco had put it, Hermione growing more and more confident with her body and instincts. More often than not Draco was unable to pin her at all. Most times she was able to duck out of his grip, or twist free as he had shown her earlier.

His muscles ached with the efforts he had put them through, and he was sweating despite the coolness in the air. The real challenge lay in not following through with some of those moves. It was easier to let his body flow through the movements, allowing speed and gravity to do most of the work. It was hard work stopping that force short of impact, or deflecting the natural surge of energy that transitioned him from one move to the next. Hermione looked just as beat as he did, but that light in her eyes had never waved. For that, Draco was glad.

"I think we should call it quits for now," he said, his breath coming fast as he lifted his shirt and wiped at his face. Usually he wouldn't do something as vulgar as using his clothes to wipe away sweat in front of a girl, but something about the camaraderie that had formed between them during their training session had eased Draco, and he'd forgotten to look at Hermione as anything but a sparring partner. The awkwardness of earlier had dissipated as their minds became more occupied with avoiding a painful jab. And so he thought nothing of it until he heard Hermione's gasp. Looking up from his shirt, he saw a strange expression on her face. It wasn't just shock he could see; there was worry too, and something else he couldn't quite puzzle out.

He quickly dropped his shirt, his face reddening at being caught out demonstrating such an appalling lack of manners. "Forgive me, I don't know what I was thinking," he said contritely. He was full of apologies today it seemed. What she must think of him right now, practically stripping naked in front of her as if he'd been raised in a barn.

"Abs," Hermione croaked, her eyes taking on a dazed look. When Draco only blinked at her in confusion, she shook herself, looking mortified as their eyes met. "I mean bruises! You have bruises on your…" She gestured in the general area of his stomach.

"Abs," Draco supplied, and he smirked at her knowingly.

It amused him to tease Hermione, even if he knew she hadn't meant her comment in the way he was twisting it to mean. Part of him wished a great deal that she meant it in that way. Draco knew he looked good. He'd been told so countless times, but he was sure he wasn't Granger's type. There was Weasley for one, and really Draco couldn't be bothered to think on that for more than a second if he wanted to keep his good mood, but there had also been Viktor Krum. Both boys had a certain gruff appeal to them that Draco couldn't hold a candle to. He was all pale skin and lean lines. The look suited him well but he was definitely no Viktor Krum who probably would have faced that Chinese Fireball bare handed in the TriWizard Tournament if the Board would have allowed it. Still, Draco held hope that Hermione's obvious embarrassment might suggest even the slightest interest in him.

"You're insufferable," she muttered, and marched over to collect her bag. She pulled out a water bottle, taking a long draft from it, and Draco had to avert his eyes from the way her movements exposed the curve of her neck.

"So I am," he consented, and made for his own things. "Allow me to walk you back to the castle to make up for it. We should be safe, everyone should be well on their way to dinner right about now. I doubt we'll run into anyone."

She narrowed her eyes at him as she placed her bottle back in her bag and collected her tie and robe, the smile she gave him belying any true malice. "I'll agree if only you'll stop looking so smarmy."

"Consider it done," Draco said graciously. He opted not to put on his own robe as he was still hot and a bit damp with sweat, but buttoned his shirt and secured his tie under his collar with deft fingers. "You really did quite well today, Hermione. At this rate you'll be ready to take on anyone fool enough to challenge you."

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that," she said warily, as they began to make their way toward the castle. "I can't thank you enough for this. I know how much it must have troubled you, considering everything."

'Everything' was such a poor word to encompass Draco's past, and really how could she even begin to understand what he had gone through? He did not in the least think she had been through any less strife during the war, but what Draco had gone through was just different, so very different. Living with the constant presence of Death Eaters in his home had taken a toll on him. He didn't want to think of it now, not here with Hermione at his side, still shining with sweat and bright eyed.

He waved a dismissive hand. "I never want you to feel helpless again," he said earnestly. "Anything I can do to help, I will." And didn't that speak volumes in and of itself? Draco would wrestle his own demons into submission if that meant helping Hermione to protect herself.

She smiled up at him, her curly hair bouncing about her shoulders, buffeted by a gentle wind. Butterflies burst to life in his chest and he returned the smile easily.

xXx

"You're in a better mood this morning," Phil said the next day, eyeing Draco as he brushed his teeth.

Draco ran a comb through his hair, only just realizing he was humming a Celestina Warbeck song when Phil spoke. He glared over at his friend.

"Oh, come on!" Phil said, cheery disposition only bolstered by Draco's scowl. "I will admit, I never thought Celestina was to your taste, but I've learned a lot about you this year that I didn't know before."

Draco allowed himself a small smile as he continued grooming. He applied a bit more Hair Potion and went back to combing. "There's something to be said for her lyrical aptitude," he admitted, when Phil wouldn't leave off staring at him with that obnoxious grin, only made worse by the foamy toothpaste ringing his mouth.

"A love song, too. Things must be going well with Granger?" he asked before rinsing his mouth clean.

"Things are going well," Draco agreed. In fact, things were going really well indeed. They'd met up twice more to train up, and when Draco was not distracted by Hermione so close to him (which was often), he was impressed with the great strides she'd taken in such a short amount of time. It was true he had bruises, but he was no stranger to them, what with a lifetime of Quidditch and, well, all of the other training he'd been forced to do. It was nothing a potion and rest couldn't manage. He was looking forward to another evening of doing more of the same, when Vaisey entered the bathroom looking grim.

Draco's heart sank. He knew what the captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team was going to ask before he even spoke, and he was loath to relinquish his time with Hermione in order to fulfil his promise.

"Malfoy," the boy said in his typical direct manner. "I need to speak with you, if you have a moment to spare."

Luckily, Draco was finished with his hair. He took a moment to observe himself in the mirror, a power move that Vaisey acknowledged with a slight scowl. "I suppose I have time," he sighed, and banished his things to his trunk with a flick of his wand. "Lead the way." He spared a nod to Phil on his way out.

The common room was nearly empty this early in the morning, only a few students gazing sleepily down at half-written essays. Vaisey led them to the secluded group of chairs by the fire and turned to Draco. "We need you for practice tonight. Davies went off and got injured this weekend and decided not to tell me until today. Merlin knows why," he said with another scowl.

Draco could imagine Davies hovering outside of the offices allocated to house captain, wringing her hands and fretting over admitting that she'd gone and got hurt days before a match. He could also imagine the dark look Vaisey would have given her, mostly because he was seeing it first hand.

"What about your reserve?" Draco asked, knowing his efforts were futile. Vaisey would not have approached Draco if he had any confidence that his reserve player would be up to the task.

In answer Vaisey only gave him a look.

"Oh, fine," Draco huffed. "I'm doing it for Davies' sake, and only because I know she feels awful about all of it."

"Whatever you need to tell yourself," Vaisey said, and Draco could almost see a smile. Probably gloating over how easily Draco had caved. He really should have drawn it out more to see what he could get out of it. Ah well, an opportunity lost.

"Same time?" he asked, in defeated tones.

"Same place," Vaisey confirmed, and this time he actually did smile, and gave Draco a rough slap on the shoulder. "Cheers, Malfoy."

Draco rubbed at his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. Now he just had to cancel his plans with Hermione. It was a let down, but Draco wasn't as upset about the turn of events as he would like Vaisey to believe. He truly did miss being on a broomstick. The thrill of a good Quidditch match was second to none, and they would be playing against Ravenclaw. Draco had heard rumours that their Seeker this year could give Potter a run for his money, and Draco liked nothing more than challenge.

He made his way back up to his room and found a school owl loitering in a window, finishing up a bit of dried...something or other. Draco bade the owl to wait a moment and penned a quick letter to Hermione, apologizing for having to cancel, explaining the situation and offering another invitation to come watch if she could spare the time. He didn't think she would come as she'd proven she had little interest in Quidditch, but he extended the offer nonetheless. When he was done he was pleased to see the owl had indeed waited for him. He tied the letter to its proffered leg and fed it a treat before it took off. He closed the window and shivered, thinking absently of how quickly the weather seemed to be turning this year.

Draco was just about to turn away when he noticed a letter on his desk. Apprehension bristled inside him when he noticed the seal was a generic one that could be found in the Hogwarts Library for anyone looking to be covert. Usually the seal was used to send anonymous love letters, but Draco had a feeling this letter wasn't as innocuous. He retrieved the letter anyway and broke open the seal to read its contents. There were only three words on the page, all in latin:

Posuimus Enim Resurgemus

Draco stared at the words and tried his best to place the handwriting. No one came to mind, but the feeling of foreboding only increased. What did the words mean? And why had they been sent to him? Was it the owl that had brought it or had someone placed it there while he had been talking to Vaisey? It certainly had not been there when he'd woken up that morning. Draco pulled out his wand intending to burn the letter but he stopped just short of the flame touching the parchment. Maybe he should keep it as evidence. Of what he wasn't sure, but he had a feeling the note would come in handy later. He extinguished his wand and walked over to his armoire. He placed the letter at the bottom of his pajama drawer and closed it tight. He warded it for good measure, not liking the idea that some nosey ne'er-do-weller might stumble upon it and get the wrong idea.

xXx

It turned out that Draco spent most of his free time with Vaisey in the captain's office going over plays in preparation for practice that evening. They weren't complicated, but Vaisey was trying a new thing where the team used hand signals in lieu of yelling out their plays, hoping to get the upper hand on Ravenclaw that weekend. Draco thought the gambit tedious but he went along with little complaint. By the time lunch hit, Draco's eyes were bleary from looking at lines and circles all day. He was ravenous and antsy, looking forward to spending some energy on the pitch.

He was just closing the playbook beside his lunch when he heard it, barely a whisper above the din of the dining hall, 'Posuimus Enim Resurgemus.' He looked around covertly but saw no one and nothing out of the ordinary. Chilled, Draco returned to his lunch.

"I heard you'll be playing for Slytherin, Draco," Slyvia said from across the table, a cup of tea poised at her lips. "Should be a good game, and I know you're just thrilled to be on the field again."

Draco looked up from his plate with a smirk. "Ravenclaw won't know what hit them. I've practice tonight if you want to come."

Sylvia gave her hair a pompous toss, and took a sip of her tea before placing it on the table. "I would love nothing more," she said, sounding much more like herself than she had in days. "But I wouldn't dare risk the health of my skin to those absurd Highland winds. I've started a new regimen and I'm at a delicate stage." She ran her fingers along her cheek which admittedly did look rather soft and clear of blemishes. "And although you're quite fetching on a broomstick, I just couldn't hazard it."

Draco only rolled his eyes and turned to Phil. "How about you?"

Phil dabbed at his mouth with a cloth napkin, nodding enthusiastically. "I'll be there. What time?"

Draco filled him in on the details and before long the three of them were engaged in a conversation about the upcoming Quidditch match. The words he had heard earlier stayed lodged in the back of his mind, and although he kept an ear open incase he heard them again, all was normal for the remainder of lunch.

xXx

As their practice wound to a close, Hermione had managed to improve enough that even she would admit to herself that she was doing well. Though she could tell that Draco was working hard not to be too rough with her, he wasn't holding back entirely by the end, and she was pleased that she was able to actually make him work to restrain her, or stop her blows. Herself, she was giving her all. Knowing that she would generally be physically inferior to most male assailants, Hermione put all her strength behind her punches, and threw her whole weight into it when she rammed her shoulder into Draco's chest during one of his semi-flirtatious remarks. No one was more surprised than she when Draco fell back, clutching his chest and actually looking markedly pained. Horror washed over her, despite the fact that the reality of her really hurting him was low. She asked after him at once, but he waved her off, looking rather pleased at her move instead.

When they finally finished for the day, the sun was hanging low in the early evening sky, and Hermione and Draco were both breathing hard—and were sweaty enough that she mused Lavender would have a heart attack if she found out Hermione had allowed herself to look so in front of the opposite sex. They stepped back, rubbing sore places and stretching limbs, Draco grabbing the hem of his shirt and yanking it up toward his face to rub down his forehead—

Hermione sucked in a breath of startled surprise at Draco's casual reveal of his naked chest, feeling her cheeks flame hot as she gaped at his lean, chiseled muscles. The brief glimpse he'd teased her with in the hospital wing so long ago was nothing compared to the prolonged view he offered her now. What was worse was that he didn't seem to realize what such a move would do to her. For all that Hermione wrote off many of Draco's comments and actions to the fact that he was an unabashed flirt, this nonchalant move locked her eyes in place. She was unable to help scanning every angle of his body, starting at his pectorals, down across his abs, and stopping at the wings of this hipbones, finding it difficult to breathe for reasons completely unrelated to their recent sparring match. She vividly recalled Draco pressing himself up against her back during their practice, the firm strength of his body carefully controlled whenever he touched her. She felt her fingers twitch, wanting to reach up and explore the marble curves of Draco's skin. When he finally dropped his shirt back over himself, the cloth falling like a veil over Michelangelo's David, Hermione blinked dazedly, barely hearing Draco's quick apology, though for what, she had no idea.

"Abs," she muttered in response to whatever he'd said, the vision of Draco's chest still etched across her vision. Draco frowned at her, eyes narrowing slightly, and suddenly Hermione realized what she'd said. She felt her eyes widen, her entire being bloom with heat. "I mean, bruises…" she gasped out in horror, flailing her fingers in his general direction while her eyes looked anywhere but at Draco's face.

She could feel his amusement growing even without looking at him. Why was it that he could bring about this reaction so easily? She'd seen Harry and Ron and the rest of his brothers in various states of undress more times than she could count over the years, and though they were all fit enough, they did not compare to Draco Malfoy. Yes, he wasn't as built as Victor was, and Ron, for all his lankiness, had filled out pleasingly with all his time on the Quidditch team, but Draco was lean and firm in all the right places, and though his muscles were not perhaps bulky, they were definitely there. And the thought of him putting his arms around her in a manner not related to their training sent her heart stuttering. Now that she had admitted to herself that she had feelings for him, well, it was becoming harder to hide them. Especially in moments such as this, when it seemed like Draco could see what she felt written all over her face.

Ugh. Stupid boys and their stupid chests.

Hastily, Hermione turned away, fumbling in her bag for her water bottle, and willing her body temperature to regulate in the next ten seconds before she had to face that laughing Slytherin boy again. Despite her embarrassment, the clear, unabashed amusement on Draco's face, the way he seemed to delight in teasing her in such a fashion, well, it was pleasing to make him laugh in such an unrestrained manner. He was normally so reserved, only allowing two emotions to make themselves known to the world: anger or sarcasm. Gentle, teasing Draco nurtured a soft feeling inside Hermione, and she found she wanted to bring that side out more and more.

xXx

It was a few days, and two more training sessions later, that Hermione received Draco's owl inviting her to watch him practice for the upcoming Slytherin-Ravenclaw match. She considered the offer for a long time, before making her decision. If she simply went to the match with the rest of the school later on it would be perfectly normal. She wasn't a hardcore Quidditch fan, but there was something about being caught up in the cheering, yelling crowd at Hogwarts, full of school spirit and the joy that getting out of class early for an afternoon encompassed. However, going to watch Draco practice meant she was unable to hide in the crowd, since only a handful of hardcore fans of a practicing house, or the significant others of the players, generally graced the stands then. On the other hand, Blaise and Pansy's needling had prevented her summoning the courage to see Draco play earlier in the year, and she'd seen the light in his eyes during the secret midnight match. He did love to play, even if he griped about Vaisey forcing him back onto the team that year when he'd apparently 'so clearly' told him that he was much too busy to play.

Ok then, her mind was made up, she'd go to the practice. They were friends. She'd occasionally sat in the stands during the Gryffindor practices to cheer on Harry and later Ron; there was nothing at all telling about her sitting in the stands and lending her support to Draco's practice.

Merlin, she hoped that Pansy would be out sick that evening.

xXx

"Where are you off to?" Ginny called, lifting a hand to wave at Hermione as she reached up to open the front door of the castle on the evening of Draco's practice. Ginny had been on her way down the grand staircase, and unfortunately spied Hermione before she could make her escape to the Quidditch stands. Hermione had dressed warmly, a house sweater on over her uniform blouse and her Gryffindor scarf wrapped around her neck, completing the look with a large textbook tucked under her arm—in case anyone got the idea that she was sitting in the stands to ogle Quidditch players, she intended to act as if she were simply looking up now and then, because, honestly, Quidditch practices could be a little dull and repetitive—however, it was not for nothing that Ginny was cleverer than her brothers, and Hermione could see her brain turning over facts and coming to a conclusion, even as her feet reached the bottom of the stairs.

"Oh, I'm just going to find a quiet place to do a little reading," Hermione fudged, offering a bright smile to her best friend and shifting the book under her arm.

Ginny raised an eyebrow. "Outside? Bit cool for that, isn't it?"

"Oh, well, the common room was a bit rowdy, and Micheal Corner was holding some sort of idiotic study group," —she said these words as if she severely doubted that homework was on the Ravenclaw's agenda— "in the library, so I thought I'd find some place in the grounds," Hermione finished lightly, not quite looking Ginny in the eye as she said this.

"Oh?" Ginny said, a bit too neutrally for Hermione's liking. "Well, maybe I'll join you. I really do need to study for my Charms test next week." She half-turned back toward the stairs, withdrawing her wand and lifting her arm to cast. "I'll just summon my textbook out of the dorm."

Hermione cracked.

"Oh come off it, Gin, you know I'm not going to study," Hermione huffed, half chagrined, and half relieved. Why she was skulking around Ginny when she was the only person to know the depths of Hermione's feelings for Draco, she didn't know.

On the bottom stair, Ginny turned back around, smirking. "Of course I did, but I wanted to see how far you'd play the rouse out. You're a terrible liar and it really is quite funny to watch you try."

Hermione tried to glare at her friend, but felt a small smile tug at her lips instead. "Well, I wasn't strictly lying," she said, "the common room is full of forth years suddenly obsessed with the Weird Sisters on someone's wizarding wireless, and Micheal is doing something in the library—"

"But you," Ginny cut her off, still smirking, "are going to watch the Slytherin practice."

Hermione gaped. "W-what—? H-how—?" It wasn't as if she had proclaimed her plans to anyone, she hadn't even actually told Draco she'd come, she had just planned to show up and give him a wave if he noticed her in the stands.

Ginny grinned. "Full disclosure, I heard Vaisey attempting not to yell at his injured Seeker as I was passing the hospital wing. I guess she messed up her shoulder or something and Pomfrey had to mix up a tonic for her. Anyway, she can't play in the upcoming match and Vaisey was threatening to replace her full-time with Malfoy if she was so 'bloody idiotic' again. Then I saw you sneaking out the doors and it really wasn't hard to deduce where you were off to."

"Ok, you're right," Hermione admitted. "Draco asked me if I'd come, and I thought it would be a nice gesture. I've gone to support Harry and Ron, and it's only fair that I go see Draco practice too."

Ginny shook her head a little, muttering something about 'a river in Egypt'—which Hermione primly ignored—then crossed the foyer to her. "Want some company?" she offered in a much more natural tone.

Hermione's first instinct was to brush Ginny off and find some way to attend the practice alone, but on the other hand, having some backup—when she was likely to be surrounded by Slytherins who would probably not appreciate her presence in the stands, was also a good idea. "Yes, actually," Hermione said, trying to sound casual despite her inner anxiety. "That would be nice." Ginny shook her head, grinning, and followed Hermione out.

#

The Slytherin team was already well into their practice by the time the girls made their way up into the stands. There were a few students in silver and green scarves and Slytherin robes scattered around, though most of them were far enough away not to notice the two Gryffindor girls take seats on one of the long wooden benches. One of the Slytherin Chasers wizzed past the railing in front of Hermione just then, plunging their broom down toward the pitch in a a sharp dive, racing for a fumbled Quaffle, and Hermione gasped, heart in her mouth until the player's broom levelled off and shot back into the sky once more. She released the railing she'd clutched as a shared vertigo washed over her, remembering the way Draco had steadied her up here that night so long ago… The feel of his warm, calloused hand gripping hers, pressing her fingers firmly into the railing so that Blaise and his idiotic stunts couldn't topple her stories down onto the grass below.

"Hey, Granger!" called a cheery male voice, and Hermione jerked out of her memories, both good and bad, to stare around the stands in confusion. "Over here!"

Phil and a dark-haired boy were camped out on a wooden bench down the row near where Ginny and Hermione stood. It looked like they'd been there a while: they had a lantern, a couple of mugs of something hot and steaming, and a rather serious set-up of cards arranged between them. Hermione lifted a hand in acknowledgment of Phil's warm greeting, and his countenance lit up. He waved them over.

"Hi, Phil," Hermione said politely, offering the boy next to him a small smile. She'd seen him around but not had much cause to interact with him.

"Do you girls want to join us in a round?" Phil nodded at the deck of cards still between him and the other boy. "We can play for chestnuts," he offered politely, his expression neutral, and Hermione appreciated his diplomatic way of not enticing them to play with galleons they may not have. "Munoz here needs a break. Though I'm quite enjoying the beating I'm giving him at Falsehood."

"You're only winning because I taught you all my tricks," Munoz grumbled good-naturedly, flicking a hot chestnut at Phil's chest out of a dish Hermione hadn't noticed earlier. Then he turned a blazing grin on the girls, his Spanish charm on full tilt. "Ladies," he said with a nod. "I'm Miguel, and I'll graciously put off emptying Phillip's money bag for much better company." He winked and Hermione flushed a little.

"I'm Ginny Weasley," Ginny said, gracefully seating herself on the bench above the spot the boys were settled. "You seem to know Hermione already," she added, one red eyebrow raised inquiringly at Phil.

"Oh, me and Granger go way back," Phil said seriously, and Hermione tensed, wondering just which of their choice of tense meetings he was intending to bring up.

"Oh, I'm sure there's nothing to tell," she tried to demure, but Phil only grinned, gathering the cards together and shuffling them expertly between his hands.

"Sure there is, Granger," he went on. "I can't thank you enough for talking me out of that ridiculous Ostrich quill," he finished with a grin. "Malfoy wouldn't have stopped taking the Mickey out of me for the rest of the year if I'd given in."

Relief shuddered down her spine at the simple story Phil had proffered of their acquaintance. It was probably one of the most mundane, and therefore least likely to have bad memories, of all her interactions with Draco's friends, which made it the best choice for Phil to share with the others.

"Oh, that's right," Hermione said, summoning an uncertain smile. "Only wasn't it Swan?"

Phil grinned, ducking his head a little as if embarrassed. "A double whammy, Granger," he teased, glancing at Miguel and Ginny as if hoping they hadn't overheard. "Think what a blow to my manly reputation the owning of either would have been?"

"I'm not sure there's much left to save there, mate," Miguel said with smirk, "though I've heard that some women like to try and reform hopeless cases." He winked at the girls.

Phil grinned, his round face jovial as always. "Alas, Munoz," he said tragically. "Weasley has been claimed by Potter, and despite my varied attempts, Granger's heart belongs to another."

Hermione gaped at Phil's teasing, wondering if her feelings were that transparent, though his expression was light, and there was no way to tell if he was making a direct implication with his words or only being self-mocking in that way that some people have when they'd rather poke fun at themselves than let other people do it for them. She wanted to come back with a flirty comment to tease Phil in return, if for no other reason than to shift the attention of the direction of her affections, but found her throat dry with anxiety and simply flushed instead, trying to duck down inside the wrap of her scarf and hide amidst her bushy curls.

"First of all," Hermione heard Ginny announce over her inner crisis, flipping her long red hair back over her shoulder, "if anyone did the claiming, it was me choosing Harry—not that he even realized it for like four years, the obtuse git," she added primly, to which Miguel cackled.

"Potter ought to have locked you down as soon as you deigned to look his way," he announced, giving Ginny an appraising once-over and a mock purr of approval.

Ginny's smirk grew and she straightened regally in her seat on the bench above the boys, as if addressing her subjects. "He's lucky I gave him the time of day."

"He is indeed," Miguel agreed, flashing a teasing grin at her before turning his dark eyes on Hermione. "As I'm sure Weasley was, eh Granger?" He smirked in a conspiratorial sort of manner at her. "I can understand, you've got a sort of…Hot Librarian vibe going on—" he added, breaking off when Phil smacked him upside the head, pulling a surprised grunt out of Miguel and a little gasp out of Hermione.

"Don't be rude, Munoz," Phil said succinctly, reaching for the plate of chestnuts and offering it up to where Hermione and Ginny sat so each girl could take a handful for chips. "And if you're so interested in hot librarians I suggest you tell Pince you find her hairnet a turn on."

"Ron and I aren't—" Hermione got out at last, her mouth finally catching up to her brain in this rapid-fire conversation, feeling a little dizzy with the direction things had taken. She reminded herself that despite the fact that it seemed like the entire school was talking about her recent breakup, among other things, it wasn't actually likely that everyone knew or cared about her new relationship status. Miguel was a Slytherin, he wasn't likely to know all the details of a Gryffindor couple. That said, she hadn't really minded Miguel's teasing, it was actually a little refreshing not to be treated like someone who could never talk to a boy ever again because of one horrible incident. Still, she was flustered. "I mean, I've—"

"My brother isn't in the picture any more," Ginny put in coolly, eyes slightly narrowed, as if daring Miguel to make a crack.

"Cards!" Philip cut in, holding up two sets of the four he'd been dealing as the others had talked, and the tension broke with the turn of the conversation.

"Stakes?" Ginny demanded at once, and Miguel lit up immediately.

"Are you sure Potter is the man for you, Weasley?" he wheedled, his accent coming out more strongly in his inquiry while he aimed another megawatt grin at Ginny. "For a passion for cards in one thing I've always insisted any woman I marry must have." Ginny tossed a chestnut expertly at Miguel's chest. It boinked him solidly and he winced as if run through with a sword. "Your refusal wounds me to my utter soul," he declared, clutching his chest and falling backward on his end of the bench.

Ginny laughed. "Tell you what, Munoz, if Harry ever runs off with one of the covergirls gracing Witch Weekly, I'll send you an owl."

Miguel sat up, miraculously cured of his broken heart. "You have given me hope!" he declared. "Granger, forgive me; my heart belongs to another. You'll have to look for someone else to help you get over Weasley."

Miguel then paused suddenly, half bent over in a dramatic bow of apology, and blinked, eyes widening as he seemed to look at Hermione anew. He flicked a glance at Phil, then back at Hermione, mouth dropping open.

"Ohh!" Miguel murmured under his breath, realization washing over his expression in a wave. "That's why Dr—" And then Phil elbowed him less than discretely and he broke off with a stifled curse. "Ouch! Why the bloody hell is everyone abusing my person tonight?" he demanded, his outrage clearly for show. His face smoothed a moment later and he offered Hermione an apologetic grin. "Er, sorry, Granger," he muttered, the picture of civility once more. "Didn't mean to run my mouth."

"You should be, Munoz," Phil went on, handing him his cards as if nothing had happened. "Especially since Granger isn't above cracking a few chestnuts herself these days—if someone is impolite."

The others looked curiously at Hermione and she blinked, thrown off her stride. "W-what?"

Ginny caught on first. "Oooh, that's right; your lessons with Malfoy."

Miguel looked confused. "I may be missing something here, because the last time I checked, being homework partners wasn't so dangerous to a bloke's health." He raised an eyebrow at Hermione. "Has Malfoy been getting fresh with you?"

"Mate," Phil said, "despite Draco's many supposed claims to fame when it comes to the ladies, he'd never do the dirty with Granger; he respects her too much." The two exchanged a look that seemed weighted with meaning, and the back of Hermione's neck prickled. "He's been giving her defence lessons."

"I thought they were working on something for Charms?" Miguel interrupted, frowning, and everyone looked at Hermione again.

Hermione blushed, trying to unpack the many possible meanings of what Phil had said in that one sentence. Did he mean that Draco didn't like her enough to put the moves on her? Or he liked her too much to do that? Or he didn't consider her the type of floozy he normally cozied up with to 'study' on any other day when they weren't together to work on the Charm or defence? She couldn't blame him really, since she rebuffed him so often simply on the grounds of misunderstanding one thing or the other. Her chest squeezed at the thought that he might not be attracted to her, especially after she'd come to the realization that she was attracted to him. Not that he'd said or done anything of the sort to imply such feelings. At least, not directly. At least, she didn't think he had. Well, maybe…

"They are," Ginny said, tossing a few chestnuts into the growing pile between the two boys and taking a card off the deck. "But he's also teaching her to protect herself in a fight."

"We're working on a project together," Hermione clarified, her mind still spinning a little at the change in conversation. "But he's also giving me self-defence lessons," she admitted a little self-consciously. Everyone was staring at her again, so she added defensively, "I've knocked him flat more than once."

Miguel looked impressed. "That so?"

Ok, so she had embellished a little. It had only been once, but Malfoy's friends didn't need to know that, she told herself, recalling their last lesson where she'd gotten the drop on Draco, managing to knock his feet out in a fantastic twisty move that had released his hold on her while at the same time sliced his legs out behind him. She smirked faintly, recalling the look of surprise on Draco's face as he'd landed, sprawled on his back in the grass. Of course, he'd promptly done the same to her, hooking her ankle with his foot and causing her to sprawl on top of him, which had lead to a very awkward situation in which their faces were uncomfortably close together. Also, considering it hadn't been that long since he'd been brazenly flashing his bare chest at her, finding herself pressed against said body part did little for Hermione's fluttering heart. She'd scrambled off him as soon as she could, face hot, but Draco had remained on the grass, looking dazed for a moment before he seemed to come to. When he'd owled to cancel their meeting tonight, Hermione had been a little disappointed she hadn't had the opportunity to take him down again, though on the other hand, maybe it was just as well. She still felt a faint thrill when she recalled their tumble in the grass, and she wasn't sure if it was a pleasant feeling or simply the echo of embarrassment. Still, she had to admit she was enjoying talking with Phil and his friend and decided not to share all these extra details with them, lest they think less of her physical prowess.

"Not all brains and no brawn any more, are you, Granger?" Miguel went on, his rich voice teasing her in a friendly manner, having no idea of the thoughts racing through Hermione's mind in the past ten seconds.

"Shouldn't we be watching the practice?" Hermione asked quickly, playing her turn so she had somewhere to look other than at the two Slytherin boys who seemed to share a secret despite their easy bantering. "That is why we're here after all, isn't it?" She scanned the pitch and the players shooting through the evening sky on their broomsticks. She thought she could see a blond boy high above the rest of the players, scanning his kingdom for the snitch. She wondered if Malfoy could see her here in the stands, laughing it up with Ginny and his friends. She lifted her hand and gave the figure a wave, even though he was probably too far away to make her out.

"Malfoy has been closeted in the Captain's office with Vaisey for half the day," Miguel said, looking over his cards, "and the rest of the team has been swotting about only half attempting to play since practice started. It's been rather boring to be honest." He selected two cards and dropped them on the bench, along with five chestnuts.

"I think I see him in the air now," Hermione replied, lifting a hand to block the lowering sun so she could see the players whooshing through the sky.

Phil glanced up. "Yeah, that's him, looks like Vaisey finally finished going over his playbook. Man, when Davies went and hurt her shoulder I really thought Vaisey might cry. Thank Merlin Draco's a pushover when it comes to Quidditch," he added with a grin. "The guy might pretend he's over being on the team, but the lie is in his eyes once he hits the sky again."

Hermione made her next bet and played her cards, still watching Draco zoom gracefully through the sky above his teammates out of the corner of her eye. She was happy that he found such joy in flying. He needed more of that in his life.

xXx

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