The weekend passed in a blur. She sequestered herself away in the hospital wing when she wasn't studying in the library, patching up minor injuries and seeing to hexes that she could countercurse in her sleep. Anything to avoid seeing her friends.

She wasn't quite sure how these things were supposed to go. They were such a tight knit group, the eighth year Gryffindors. Always together. In the common room, the great hall, the courtyard. Harry was always with Ron, and Ginny was always with Harry. Hermione wanted to be respectful of Ron's wishes and didn't want to make things awkward for everyone, but that left her by herself. The odd one out as usual. She tried not to let it bother her, that it felt like Harry was choosing Ron over her, or that the one time she passed Ginny in the hall their greetings had been briefer than usual. Even though Ginny knew Hermione was breaking up with Ron, had been on board with it.

She knew it was just an adjustment period, but that sense of aloneness draped over her shoulders like an icy cloak. Saturday and Sunday night were spent reading by herself in her bedroom and counting the ballots that Malfoy left on her desk. The prefects had voted on the morale booster. They were to have a formal ball, theme not yet decided. At least there would be event planning to keep her busy.

The school week passed as well, and the weekend after that, with no real interaction with her friends. Not outside of the occasional friendly exchange in the hallways. She took to eating her meals in the library, tucked in a quiet alcove, hidden from Madam Pince. Harry sent her an owl on Wednesday to let her know he loved her and was not taking anyone's side. He assured her that things would go back to normal with Ron eventually and then all would be like it was before. She folded his note three times and tucked it into the pocket of her robes, eyes watering with tears.

By some strange stroke of fate, she ended up spending more time with Malfoy than anyone else, even if it was against her will. They had rounds together nearly every evening. He would meet her near their shared lavatory with a perfected look of aristocratic boredom before they would set off on their patrol through the castle. He would snipe at her, usually about her swottiness and bossiness and general know it all disposition, and she would challenge herself to come up with a smart remark to defend herself. Over and over again until they had made their way back to the portrait of Eve in the Garden of Eden that marked the entrance to their dorm. She loathed his company, but sometimes it was nice just to hear her voice out loud, not in the context of answering a professor.

She should have known that more was coming. She really should have known, but she was still surprised when she walked into advanced arithmancy on a Monday morning to find her name scrawled next to Malfoy's on the black board. The word "PARTNERS" was printed above in capital letters, mocking her.

She could feel his presence approach from behind her, smell his cologne. She knew he must have caught their names on the black board soon after she did, and if his angrily muttered "Fuck," was anything to go by, he was about as pleased with the partnership as she was.

"To your seats everyone, to your seats," called professor Vector over the din. "Next to your partners if you please."

Hermione huffed and reluctantly followed Malfoy's retreating back to a two person table beside an arched window. The afternoon sun had already warmed up the spot, casting light over their seats. He slouched into the aisle seat, forcing her to squeeze past him into the window seat.

"As if I don't already see enough of you," he muttered.

"I'm not exactly happy with this either, you know." She started pulling her ink pots and quills out of her bag. She used black ink for her regular notes and dark green ink to underline important points. Purple ink was specifically for recording numerical data and example number charts.

"But I need an O in this class if I want to be a healer so you better put in the effort on this project," she continued. She slammed her quills down on the table as she spoke, lining them up in her preferred order. "And I want to get it done soon. I have other things to worry about."

"I get it Granger. I'm working with the Gryffindor swot extraordinaire and nothing but perfection is acceptable. Noted."

"Malfoy," she hissed. He wasn't taking her seriously. She knew he wouldn't.

"I need the O too, alright?" For a moment, something like sincerity colored his voice. But then he needed to immediately ruin that little bit of humanity. " And I'm not a fuck up like Weasley."

"Will you be civil for a moment? Honestly."

Before he could answer, professor Vector was taking his usual spot at the board. The balding man introduced their partnered project. They would be using the Agrippan method to attempt to divine the future of their partner. Despite the unpalatable idea of diving into Malfoy's future, Hermione's burning love for knowledge and challenge roared to life. The Agrippan method was the most complex approach to numerical divination, rooted in the latin alphabet. It would require quite a bit of research to get the interpretations correct. She was reminded again why arithmancy was her favorite subject at Hogwarts.

Hermione's looping script filled page after page of parchment as Vector lectured on arithmantic equations and their uses. Eventually, she paused to roll her shoulders and realign the inkwells on her desk into their proper placement. An amused snort came from her desk mate.

"What?" she demanded.

He continued to scrawl lazily on his parchment without looking up at her. "Just wondering why you felt the need to bring half of Scrivenshaft's with you." She picked up her purple quill.

"I have a system."

"You have neuroticism." She fought the urge to spill his inkwell onto his notes. The professor was preoccupied, waving his hands animatedly. She chanced the whisper back to him.

"I do not. I care about my grades." He glanced at her discreetly and raised one eyebrow. She knew she had to do better than that. Think of something insulting, Hermione. "You're just apathetic." She thought she saw Vector's gaze land on them for a moment, but then it flitted back to the chalkboard.

"I'm apathetic? Why are you acting like you haven't been in a miserable little bubble for the past week? Trouble in paradise?"

Her quill nearly scratched through her parchment from the force she was putting on it. "It's hardly any of your business, Malfoy."

"Don't get me wrong, Granger. I literally could not give less of a fuck what's bothering you. But I have to say, it is getting boring. We haven't had a proper fight in days because you're so lost in your own head."

"You're twisted," she snapped. Professor Vector paused his lecturing, and she realized just how loud that last retort was.

"And do you know the answer, Mrs. Granger?" He stared at her expectantly. She could feel the hot gazes of her classmates on her faces. She had no idea what he had asked the class.

"Um, could you repeat the question please." Her voice sounded timid and mousy. Professor Vector looked disappointed. The class gave what seemed like a collective intake of air. Hermione Granger not paying attention. She hated that. She helped defeat the dark lord but it would never be enough. She would always feel the need to live up to a higher standard than anyone else.

"I was asking who wrote Three Books of Occult Philosophy, the very important source I expect everyone here to reference in their projects." She racked her mind, trying to think back to the last lecture, shoving her sweating palms under her thighs.

"Heinrich Cornelius Agrippa, professor." And to make up for not paying attention, she threw in an additional fact. "In the sixteenth century." She sensed her peers look away from her. The golden girl knew the answer. All was right in the world.

"Yes, that is correct Mrs. Granger," her professor conceded, turning back to the board. "But do pay more attention next time." She sat back in her seat, deflated. The scolding felt like having all her inadequacies exposed. She didn't need to look at Malfoy to know his mouth was twisted in a self satisfied smirk.

After class was dismissed, Hermione jogged to catch up with him in the corridor. "Malfoy!" She called over the commotion of students rushing off to their next class. The press of bodies was thick and overwhelming and she felt incredibly small. The flicker of a memory, the castle courtyard choked with smoke and soldiers, danced before her eyes for a moment and she nearly stumbled. She fought to keep her eyes locked onto his fair head, thankful his height left him visible over the crush of students clogging the hallway. Was he pretending not to hear her? "Malfoy!"

She watched as he turned on his heel with what looked to be a sigh of annoyance. The flood of students parted around him and she was forced in close to the Slytherin. She bent to look up at him. "What, Granger?"

She picked a piece of lint off her shoulder, determined to appear as though she hadn't felt like she was about to be trampled a minute ago. "Our project?" She drew the words out like he was a small child. Surely he should have seen the importance of getting started right away. "We need to set up a meeting place and schedule."

He pulled at the knot in his green and silver tie impatiently. "Fine." The fabric came loose and he left it hanging around his neck. "When and where?"

"Today. And it has to be in the library." He tipped his head back and barked out a mean laugh.

"You've got to be joking. I have quidditch practice today and we have weeks to do it, Granger."

"Malfoy, this is a complex project. It could take a while to get it perfect. I want to start today."

"Well, we can't always get what we want."

"After dinner if you have quidditch. Please." She hated pleading, but she couldn't think of anything else. Malfoy seemed to enjoy her humiliation enough to concede. He rolled his eyes.

"Fine. I'll meet you in the library." And then he was turning to leave. The corridor was nearly empty at this point and she still had to make it to the greenhouses for Herbology.

"Wait, Malfoy!"

"What now?"

"As head boy, you should fix your tie. It's expected that we adhere to proper dress code during school hours," she lectured.

"And who says that?" He tilted his head like a bird of prey, staring her down.

"The student handbook," she sputtered. " Honestly. We can't flaunt the rules."

He scoffed at her and started off down the corridor. "Then what good is being head boy?" He tossed the remark over his shoulder casually, but she knew he was dead serious.

The rest of day was a blur of answering questions, spilling ink on her hands, and stirring deadly nightshade into her cauldron. The afternoon dragged on until she was finally able to get to the infirmary for her shift.

Madame Pomfrey waved to her on her way out, now fully trusting Hermione to work without her supervision. In the small receiving office, she took her mediwitch cap and apron out of her cubby absentmindedly. She almost didn't notice the piece of paper that floated to the ground. It must have been tucked in next to her things. Maybe a note from Poppy. She scooped it up and unfolded it.

To Hermione Granger,

You are an embarrassment to wizard kind. I never would have expected a girl like you to stoop so low. At first I made excuses for you. But then you had to go and act this way. You've disappointed me.

Sincerely,

Your former secret admirer

Her hands shook as she put the note back into her cubby. It was a nasty joke. It had to be. Someone was having a bit of fun with the know-it-all. Since the war ended, she had been thrust into the public eye, right alongside Ron and Harry. She got equal parts fan mail and nasty letters owled to wherever she was staying. Some wizards and witches praising her heroism, others criticizing her every move. From, her actions during the war, to her choice to testify for Malfoy, to the way she dressed. She had stopped reading them, no matter whether they were good or bad.

Coming back to Hogwarts, she thought she would be able to get away from the press and the fans. And she hadn't received any letters since the start of term, but now someone in the castle thought it would be funny to rile her up. Well, she wouldn't let them. She had done nothing wrong, nothing that a stranger should be aggravated over. On impulse, she grabbed the note back up again and incinerated it with her wand.

She had more important things to worry about. Like her friends, her grades, her head girl duties, and currently, the first year with the bloody nose trying to get her attention. She shook her head and returned to her work.

To her surprise, Malfoy met her at the entrance to the library after dinner, as promised. He hadn't been at dinner, his seat empty along with Blaise Zabini and Theo Nott's places in front of the fireplace. She had sat at the end of the Gryffindor table, attempting small talk with Parvati Patil, wondering if he would even bother showing. It briefly crossed her mind that he may have left her that note, but the thought was dismissed as quickly as it came. He had no issue riling her up in person. Creepy notes didn't seem like his style.

Now they were deep in the stacks, looking for books that might be helpful with their project. The library was quiet but still populated by students at this point in the evening. The lanterns served as their only light, casting a buttery glow over the books, and over the slytherin in front of her.

His hair was damp from what she assumed was an after-quidditch shower, if that was where he was during dinner. Wizards and quidditch. She fought to avoid thinking of Harry and Ron. They would have skipped dinner for extra practice time too. Well, maybe not Ron. His appetite was unmatched.

"Pay attention, Granger. I'm not doing this all over again." His voice startled her out of her thoughts. He had two books tucked under his arm, books she had picked out to use as references. "I asked you if you wanted anything from the restricted section."

"Yeah, I'll go get it. Just wait here." She grabbed the grate to enter the gloomy wing of the library, bracing for the chill of the section.

"Whatever."

By the time she exited the restricted section with the book she needed, Malfoy had already wandered off. She found him at a two person table in one of the aisles. There were only a few lone students studying nearby, and it seemed like a nice quiet spot. She placed the book down and planted herself in the chair next to him. She could smell his soap or his cologne, whichever it was. It was becoming familiar to her now and what a sick realization that was.

"What do you want to start with?" She figured she would extend the olive branch for the sake of their project.

"I already translated the letters of your name into numbers so just pass me a book on interpretation." She handed one to him and unrolled her parchment. She had also come prepared with his name already translated to numerical values, but she couldn't help but be a little impressed. It wasn't easy and she knew that if she was partnered with anyone else, they would have waited until tonight so she could do the translation for them.

He flipped to the first chapter and slid the book between them. She glanced at the chapter title and internally groaned. Arithmantic Predictions On Matters Of Love. Great. That was just great. Her love life was exactly what she wanted to discuss with Malfoy. Especially considering the sorry state of it as of late.

"How exciting," he murmured, sarcasm dripping from his voice. "Just what I wanted to know about the Gryffindor princess."

"Shut up, Malfoy. It's not like I want to look into your love life. Considering all you're interested in is sleeping with every witch that moves." She was careful to keep her voice near a whisper, considering they were in the library. She was relieved that he seemed to be doing the same.

"Well, what is it they say? You only go to boarding school with a bunch of horny witches once right?" She bristled at his vulgarity and tried not to think about overhearing his night with Pansy. Her cheeks heated anyway.

"That is not what they say. And the fact that you said it only strengthens my point."

"Fine then. Let's dig into your romantic life. How is the Weasel these days?" His brow arched in challenge. She felt like a canary caught under a cat's paw. He must have noticed Ron's absence in her life lately. It felt like everyone knew.

"I don't want to speak to you about Ron," she settled on.

"Why not?" He didn't even bother feigning innocence or ignorance. He just stared at her, silver eyes glowing in the lamp light.

"You know why." She didn't want to play his games. He flipped a page in the book between them.

"It's fine, I'll just read it." His eyes scanned the yellowed pages, dark lashes ticking against his cheekbones. He traced the words with his finger like he was pointing out a juicy piece of evidence. "It says here that witches with three and four in the last half of their names have luck finding partners that are trustworthy, and will always prioritize their wellbeing and safety. Fascinating."

She refused to analyze what he said. Ron had been trustworthy, but the rest of it she wasn't sure. But it didn't matter, because she knew in her heart they were wrong for eachother. She could only hope that the next man she dated fit the description. Because it sounded nice. Really nice.

"It also says here that witches with letters that have values that total up to a multiple of five are at risk of falling into relationships that feel comfortable but lack the qualities they really desire. Your letters total to thirty. Does that sound right to you?" He turned to her and she could see the spark of amusement in his eyes.

"It does not say that!" Her voice screeched and she saw a few students' heads poke up out of their books. One Ravenclaw girl gave her a nasty look.

"Shhh, Granger. We're in a library," he taunted. It didn't go unnoticed to her that this was the second time today he made her lose her temper in a situation where silence was golden. She dropped her voice back down to a furious whisper.

"You are such an asshole."

"Doesn't change the facts." He picked up his quill and started writing down his interpretations of her future. She humphed and did the same, focusing on perfecting her part of the project.

The next time she looked up from her parchment was when she was suddenly disturbed by the creak of his chair as he sat back and stretched his arms behind his head. His quill lay abandoned on the desk. She looked around to find the library completely empty of students, the lamps burning low.

"It's time for rounds," he glanced at her. "The library's closed."

"So it is." She stood and gathered her things. When she turned around, he was leaning against the shelves, his things already shrunk down and tucked into his pockets. She preferred an undetectable extension charm on her bag but his magic skills were impressive. Except she didn't want to be impressed by any of the things he did.

"Let's go then," she said. He rolled his eyes and started walking. The corridors were empty save for a few stragglers making their way back to their dorms. She watched Malfoy joyfully dock points from a Gryffindor couple making out in an alcove. They scampered away, cheeks red.

As they were turning the corner near the dungeons, they bumped into Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabini.

"Fancy seeing you out here, Drakey. You never come see us anymore," Theo whined. Hermione stood off to the side of the three Slytherin men, feeling slightly out of her element. She was used to gryffindor boys and the trio before her had quite the reputation as Slytherin troublemakers.

"Like I don't already see enough of you two," Draco replied.

"Rude," said Blaise.

"Ahh, and you have the golden girl with you," Theo observed jovially. Hermione was starting to hate being called that. "Hey there, Granger."

"Hi." She held her hands behind her back. "How is your leg doing?"

"Good as new."

"Did any of you actually report the incident?" The three of them looked around at each other in a way that reminded her of when Harry and Ron were debating whether they should tell her the truth or try to avoid her lecturing. Blaise opened his mouth to say something but closed it just as quickly. "So that's a no then," she mused aloud.

"Haven't gotten around to it," Theo lied.

"We didn't see the point," Malfoy spoke up from behind her.

"What are you talking about, Malfoy? It's a bold case of rule breaking and the headmistress should be informed. You, the headboy, should know that."

"There isn't much she can do about these kinds of things. You should know that. Although I guess you wouldn't, being a precious little Gryffindor."

"That's not true."

"Well let's go see then," he bit, already turning. "Come on Theo."

Theo looked at Blaise for help, clearly not wanting to be caught in an argument. Blaise shook his head. "I don't have all night, Nott," Malfoy called to his friend.

"Alright then. I guess." he followed Malfoy and Hermione stormed after the both of them towards the domain that formerly belonged to Dumbledore. The headmistress' office was largely unchanged from when it was under the care of the famous wizard. There was a slight feminine touch to some of the decor and tea service settled on a cart in the corner, but that was all Hermione could spot as being different. She wondered what it had looked like under Snape's headmastership. The former headmaster peered at them from his portrait as they entered the room, arms crossed regally in front of him. His dark eyes met Hermione's with a barely perceptible nod. Dumbledore's portrait hung empty.

"Oh, Miss Granger, Mr. Malfoy what a surprise. I was just about to retire for the evening." McGonagall waved them in from her desk. "And you have Mr. Nott with you, I see. Is everything alright?"

"Good evening professor. Theo has something he needs to report to you," Hermione spoke up. Theo looked at her awkwardly and then back at McGonagall.

"Well, what is it Mr. Nott?" She gestured to the seat in front of her desk.

"Uhh, well something happened during quidditch practice that I probably should have reported to a professor before now," Theo began. McGonagall nodded for him to continue. Theo told the story of how a cursed bludger had chased most of the team before going after him and bashing into the side of his leg. With Hermione's prompting, he also revealed that this wasn't the first prank directed at the Slytherin students who had ties to the losing side of the war.

The headmistress sat back in her seat when he finished. "Well, this is certainly concerning Theodore. And Mr. Malfoy, you can confirm these instances?" Malfoy nodded from where he stood. "Alright then, I will address the students as a whole and notify the professors but unfortunately, many students are still dealing with the aftermath of the war. Lashing out this way is to be expected. And what's more, it would be very difficult to narrow down the potential suspects. But I am glad I was informed and I will be vigilant to this issue, I can assure you."

Hermione was surprised not much more could be done but she still felt like it was the right move to inform the headmistress. She met Malfoy's eyes to find him observing her with a cooly arched brow.

"Now if that's all, I expect that you should be returning to Slytherin house now Mr. Nott." Minerva peered at the brunette as he stood, holding a bowl of lemon drops out to him in a gesture so reminiscent of Dumbledore that a pang of surprise struck Hermione right in the gut. "If you have a moment, Miss Granger and Mr. Malfoy, there are two things I should mention to you."

"Of course, professor." Hermione was quick to oblige. Malfoy gave a quick nod but remained silent. Minerva unraveled a scroll of parchment in front of her.

"I find it curious, Minerva." The deep, monotone voice came from the far wall. Hermione turned to Snape in surprise. The last time she had heard his voice was right before he died. It was eerie, to have his portrait form interact with them, haunting the castle as much as any of Hogwart's many ghosts. "The pairing you've chosen as head boy and head girl. It seems a volatile match, does it not?"

Snape's words were directed at the headmistress but his eyes were occupied on someone else. In her periphery, she watched a look pass between the former headmaster and Malfoy. A look that she could not quite identify; one of knowing.

"They are my top students, Severus. And rivalries are something to be put behind us. They are more than mature enough to navigate a partnership." MgGonagall's tone was final. Snape nodded but continued to eye her and Malfoy, as if he had information they did not.

"Alright then," McGonagall continued. "As you would have heard by now, there is to be a ball in a little over a month. As head boy and girl, you will be expected to lead the class in the traditional wizard's waltz. Now, I am not requiring you to attend with one another but the dance is a necessity."

The headmistress was still speaking but Hermione couldn't hear her over the roaring in her ears. She had never heard of the dance. It wasn't in her textbooks or any of the books she had read on wizarding life. Whenever something like this came up, a facet of magical society that she didn't grow up knowing and that wasn't included in the curriculum, she felt a distinct sense of otherness. Like she was caught between the muggle and magical world, not fully belonging in either. How was she to go out onto the dance floor in front of their entire class and perform a dance she had no idea how to do? She would be made a fool of.

"Also, I wanted to remind you of your detention supervision duties," Minerva continued. That she knew how to do. Sit and watch all the students who had gotten themselves detention write lines on their parchment. "And that is all for tonight. You should both return to your rounds. I've kept you too long."

They bid the headmistress goodnight and exited the office, Snape's eyes following them out of the room.