And now here we are, at the beginning of regular interactions between our lovelies. Beta love to Misdemeanor1331 as usual, she is so sweet and talented go read her stuff if you haven't! My personal fav is her Pretty Woman remix 'Opportunity Cost', you are missing out if you haven't read that one yet!

Suggested listening is Holy by Pvris =]

Early that Saturday morning found Draco sprawled out on a blanket on the grounds. A warming charm was in place, but it hadn't gotten extremely chilly yet. There was a spot that he'd always liked by the water, calm and serene. He enjoyed going there to study. It had been his spot for years, even if he'd hardly had the time to put it to use last year. There was a massive tree to lean against, and if he positioned oneself just so, he could lean on the trunk and still see the Lake.

It was far enough away from where the Callum incident had happened that he didn't see that bit of land. Or feel overly guilty about what had happened on it.

He'd been feeling that a lot, especially when it came to Callum. He hadn't the slightest clue what to do about it, so he let it eat at him and buried what he could. Those feelings, along with everything else he'd endured this year, made his Occlumency ocean floor tremble with the determined force of holding back what was within.

Draco shifted about for an hour or so, repositioning his book and holding it in place with a Sticking charm to the bottom of the spine so he could turn the pages. He was surprised at how good it felt, to throw himself into school again. To focus. To have clean-cut instructions and expectations. To know he wasn't being set up to fail. To have something to strive for, that upon accomplishing made him actually feel good about himself.

Every so often, he paused to record something on a piece of parchment. The sun wasn't exactly shining, instead shyly hiding behind the clouds, but the day was still bright.

Eventually, the grounds came to life, and he saw a few students wandering the area near him. His spot wasn't exactly off the beaten path, but it wasn't far enough to hope to never be disturbed by the presence of another walking through.

Draco laid on his back, one knee bent and the ankle of the opposite foot hooked over it. The book gently rested upright on his stomach, while one arm supported the back of his neck. He hadn't been paying attention to anything other than his reading for quite some time when a frustrated huff somewhere to his right cut his concentration.

Casually turning his head to catch a glimpse of the owner of said intrusive sound, a shock of flaming red hair was impossible to miss not twenty feet away. Followed by a painfully familiar curly chestnut head.

His stomach lurched.

Draco growled in annoyance.

Why was Granger everywhere this year? Was it because he was so aware of her, now? He'd always been aware of her for various reasons, but it seemed this year fate was playing a sick game.

Today, her fuzzy jumper was the color of the blue sky on a clear day. Dark Muggle denims clung to her hips but flared by her ankles, and she wore odd trainers that looked to be made of grey canvas with a white sole and a giant white circle on the side.

Weasley wore regulation Auror trainee robes.

They weren't close enough that Draco could tune into what was being said, as their tones were somewhat hushed. He wasn't keen on either of them thinking he'd been eavesdropping.

Granger didn't grate his nerves anymore, but Weasley probably always would. And that was a fight he didn't need to have.

He could, however, see their expressions and body language. Granger seemed mildly irritated, sassy but coolly firm with her nose high and hands on her hips. As if challenging the redhead to continue pushing her.

Weasley gestured emphatically with his hands, eyes large and face flushed. They'd stopped walking to focus on their words and had not noticed Draco yet.

Draco didn't move, just observed. Ready to jerk back to his original position and turn his face away at a moment's notice.

After a few minutes, Weasley seemed to run out of steam. He said something Draco still couldn't make out. Granger shook her head, looking sad but unyielding. Her arms were crossed, with palms gently against her shoulders as if to hug herself. Weasley threw his hands in the air before dropping them to his sides with a fervent shake of his head. Then he stormed off.

Granger's head tossed subtly from side to side, and her arms dropped as if in simultaneous defeat and relief. Her hand rose to return part of her wild mane to behind her shoulders.

Their gazes collided, and the brunette took a surprised step back. She put her palms to the sky and shrugged her shoulders playfully before turning on her heel and heading slowly back to the castle.

Draco contemplated all that just happened, wondering what they'd been fighting about. Trouble in paradise? She hadn't seemed too concerned by whatever was happening. Accepting, more like. Weasley seemed more worked up, frustrated.

He thought about this until he realized that it was well and truly none of his damned business. He did his best to put it out of mind for the rest of the afternoon, intently scanning the pages again.

There were a few hours left until he had to show for the tutoring in the Charms room. He wanted to be done with his weekend schoolwork before then so that he would have no responsibilities that evening or the following day.

Maybe even have a drink.

Draco only had a few nips of his firewhisky stash through the week. He couldn't afford to be at anything less than the top of his game so soon after the previous weekend's madness.

If he finished his schoolwork and made it through the tutoring session unscathed, he planned to indulge himself and give in to the urge to get smashed.

Draco felt like he'd have earned that much.

Naturally, Granger was also a tutor for struggling students.

He didn't know why he hadn't expected that. When he entered the Charms classroom at the proper time, he noticed her hair and bright jumper. She'd already sat down with her pupil.

Draco absorbed that piece of information and continued up to the desk where Professor Flitwick was waiting for the tutors to come to get their assigned students.

It took Draco a moment to recognize his assigned pupil, unable to place the face and build that was definitely familiar as he strode over to the kid. Right before he'd sunk into his seat, he figured it out.

Second Year Nolan Shaw raised his head to peer at him. Dark hair hung around his chin in fine waves, and his eyes were bright blue eyes. He reminded Draco a litte bit of a young Theo.

Nolan was a Gryffindor who should have been Sorted into Slytherin. He was a half-blood whose wizard father had decided to live without magic with his Muggle wife in the Muggle world. The man encouraged his son to explore his magical side once there'd been obvious magic in him.

Nolan had been Sorted during what Draco was now referring in his head to as 'The Dark Year'. The year that had somehow managed to top his Sixth Year in horrors.

As a Slytherin Prefect that year, Draco knew this about the boy because Nolan had told him shortly after the Sorting. At the time, Draco had felt like the boy was wasting his time on something frivolous and out of his control. He'd snapped that Slytherins weren't accepting half-bloods anymore.

They hadn't spoken again until the Carrows made the upperclassmen practice the Unforgiveables on the young ones.

The Dark Year, indeed.

Within ten minutes, a few things were apparent.

First, Nolan was wary of him. The kid radiated hostility and would hardly look at Draco. Not that he could truly blame him.

Second, Nolan did not care one smidgen for Potions. Now that he knew Draco was his assigned tutor, he had clearly decided not to even pretend to care.

And third, Draco had to keep trying no matter how irritating or else his ass was on the line.

"Alright. Here are a few correct and incorrect options I've written down. Which ingredients would you need for Sleeping Draught?"

The dark-haired boy looked on determinedly, staring straight ahead in silent insolence.

Draco took a deep breath and tried again. Refraining from tapping the quill agitatedly against the table or allowing his irritation to show in his tone. "Just pick one. What do you think?"

Nolan's face scrunched up in a scowl, eyes rolling in the overly dramatic way that only a young teen could accomplish. He stood, angrily pushing the textbook and Draco's parchment to the ground. "I think this is bullshite!"

With that, the boy rushed out of the classroom in a fury that was almost palpable.

Draco sighed, feeling every eye in the place on him and knowing Nolan probably didn't intend to come back today. He grabbed the discarded supplies and put them back on the table. His hand fiddled with the pages in front of him for a moment, resolutely ignoring the stares he was still acutely aware of.

"Yeah, me too." Draco muttered under his breath, feeling the helpless exasperation rise.

How was he to help a kid who didn't want to be helped? And despised him to boot?

Draco wished he could bang his head off the table in frustration and knock himself out cold. That was he wouldn't have to deal with this. With any of it.

Draco dutifully stayed in the Charms room until the end of the hour. Since his assigned student left, he grazed through the Second Year Potions book to find a simpler brew in preparation for next week. Not that Sleeping Draught was terribly difficult. He figured the simpler the better to get the kid's cooperation. After that, he'd successfully finished his own work for the rest of the weekend.

The blond was minding his own business, making his way to the Great Hall for dinner. He was daydreaming of the warm burn of the firewhisky that awaited him after his meal when he heard someone call his surname.

Draco turned, watching Granger catch up to him, slowing but never breaking stride. He had an eerie, deja vu feeling wash over him of her rushing up to him this way, and for a moment he got distracted, thinking of a time where the Astronomy Tower didn't make him feel as if his chest was going to collapse. A time warm fingers and fierce eyes had, despite whose they were, given a shite for a moment.

Granger wasn't deterred. She looked him dead in the eye while falling into step with him.

"Hey," she said. Casually no less.

How odd. She just greeted him, like it was totally normal for them to walk this close to each other, let alone speak, and civilly at that. It was the first time he'd been in a situation to speak with her since the trial and the incident a few days before with the star frame. Draco made a face, suddenly uncomfortable. Not to mention he had yet to thank her for testifying at his trial and, while grateful, he didn't like feeling in debt to her.

Nor did he want her pity. Just like he didn't want it the last time she butted into his business. He knew that wasn't exactly fair and struggled internally to figure out how to proceed.

"Are you enjoying tutoring Nolan?" Granger asked.

Draco stared at her, his expression blank. Still, he didn't say a word. What was he supposed to say?

Fuck no, he wasn't. Clearly.

Granger took the hint, quickly changing the subject and continuing chatting jovially at him. "Would you be interested in buying some raffle tickets for a fundraiser I'm doing for benefit of the orphans of the war?"

Draco choked on his exhale as guilt ripped through him like wildfire. His feet halted so suddenly he almost tripped over them but righted himself. He stared at the back of her head for a moment as she kept walking.

Since meeting his cousin's son Teddy over the summer, there'd been this ache burrowed deep within him. It stirred whenever a child tragically left parentless was mentioned and only grew deeper every time he laid eyes on little Teddy.

It was his fault.

Not entirely, but at least partially. He fixed the cabinet and began the domino effect that had started the second war.

Draco had no choice; neither did all of those little ones.

And now both of Teddy's, and countless other children's, parents were slaughtered for an ideal that no longer mattered. Murdered because they fought for what was right.

While he cowered in his mansion with a reptilian overlord breathing down his neck, choosing the selfish way out. Always, always selfish. It didn't matter that he didn't truly have a choice.

He still had to live with the fallout.

Unwilling to drown in his own guilt any longer in such a public place, and with current company too close for comfort, Draco took a few long strides to catch up to her before it was obvious he'd faltered. Finally, he found the words.

"Yes. I'll talk to my mother and Aunt, I'm sure they would as well," he replied curtly, trying to walk ahead of her again. Granger's pace quickened to keep up, her open robes billowing behind her.

"Don't you want to know what the raffle prize is?"

She had to go away eventually if he just didn't answer her. Right?

They walked in blessed silence for a whole minute. A minute in which Draco couldn't help but wonder what her game was. Why was she suddenly talking to him? Why did she seem so set on keeping him talking? Lightning crackled in the recesses of his mind, reflecting on the churning waters and morphing into something that was beginning to amplify. He just wanted her to go away. Didn't she realize that people were gawking at her for speaking to him casually and willingly?

When she spoke, Granger's voice was gentle and a little tentative. "I know it can be difficult teaching someone who is so resistant to learning. Maybe you could try a different tactic?"

For that one she got an eye roll and a sigh. Her feet still pitter-pattered after him, the soft rubber of her strange Muggle shoes squeaking in her haste every so often.

Granger just couldn't stop while she was ahead. He supposed that infamous Gryffindor tenacity was to blame. "Are you going to go visit Cal?"

"Is this your idea of small talk or something? Because if so, it leaves something to be desired," Draco finally acquiesced with a grumble.

"Like what?" Granger didn't miss a beat, brightly questioning him instead of rising to the bait.

"Oh, I don't know. Like holding the interest of the person you're talking to? Your social skills need some work, Granger. And no one forced him to jump," Draco snapped, gritting his teeth. While that was true, it didn't take a genius to work out why the boy had.

An admonishing look was thrown his way, but her voice remained light. "It's called peer pressure."

"How would you know about peer pressure? Like you've ever done anything you didn't want to just because someone told you to." Draco scoffed under his breath, the idea preposterous. "Did you read about it in some precious book?"

He couldn't place his finger on why he was being such a dick to her. Something about her entire demeanor was off this year, and it was driving him a little mad.

Because if know-it-all Granger wasn't the predictable book worm, what was even real anymore? If he couldn't shoot a barb at her effortlessly, or she wouldn't all but visibly spark from anger at him, then what was the point?

Granger smiled a little sadly at him, shaking her head in private amusement. "Please don't act like you know me."

The thin cord holding Draco's patience pulled taut with irritation and snapped. He was irked at her serene persistence. He still felt the hot licks of embarrassment and shame in his gut at the revelation that he'd ruined even more lives than he'd allowed himself to comprehend. To make matters worse, there were children suffering endlessly because of it. And he still didn't understand why the fuck she was talking to him at all.

"Oh, but I do. We all do." The blond's lips curled into a sarcastic grin. "We've all had classes with you since First Year, and those that haven't surely know who you are. Why, you're Hermione Granger. One third of the Golden Trio, the Muggle-born brains of the operation. You wear the same few pairs of Muggle denims with holes in them and absurd sweaters on your days off. Your hair is it's own entity. You never look where you're walking because your nose is always buried in a book like the prim and proper swot that you are."

Her brows furrowed a bit at the scathing inflection in his tone. Granger looked a little annoyed, but Draco forged on with a hint of a sneer. "Oh, and for fun you like to crusade around to help the underdogs, the less fortunate, and the house elves."

Draco's chest heaved slightly when he drew a deep breath. He shook his head slowly as he mocked her with his version of the truth. And since she still hadn't interrupted him... "So bloody brave and righteous. The clever, exceptional war heroine who stands up for any pathetic creature that can't for itself. Even if it doesn't deserve or appreciate it. Changing the Wizarding World one charity case at a time."

He thought she'd be insulted.

He thought she'd stomp her foot and point a finger in his face and sling some witty comeback.

He thought she'd do almost anything other than what she did.

She threw her head back and laughed. Just outright laughed at his obviously correct assessment. "It's nothing I haven't heard before," she stated, tilting her head back down to once again look at him.

Draco studied her features for a moment, realizing how much people generally talked about this woman and her life. She'd been in the Daily Prophet since she was a young teenager for one reason or another. He was struck again by the question of why she would risk empty small talk with him when it could lead to rumors and whispers.

Not that he truly cared, but she probably should. After all, she was strolling through the halls with the resident Big Bad Death Eater. His voice was a bit softer than he'd intended in his curiosity. "You really don't care what people think about you?"

With another laugh that seemed to make something about her more vibrant, Granger shook her head from side to side with an eye roll. Her riotous curls bounced in the air for emphasis. "Not really, no. Never really have."

She meant it.

Draco wondered what it must be like, to have expectations and opinions of others pushed at you and to be able to shove them right back. How freeing it must be to be the only one in control of your own destiny.

Nothing in this or any life was going to tell Hermione Granger what to do.

As they walked, the somewhat perturbed expression dropped from the witch's features as she churned over their odd conversation in that big brain of hers. Her whole face brightened with genuine delight. "So, you think I'm clever and exceptional?"

He gaped at her like a fish but couldn't seem to find the vitriol within himself to deny it.

After all, why bother? She was brilliant, and the whole world knew it. He still couldn't believe she hadn't hit him for his words before. While not outright cruel, they had been openly scornful. He definitely had expected her to hit him. He almost wanted her to. At least that would make sense.

Why did she care what he thought? Hadn't she just said that she didn't care what other people think about her? Why in Merlin's name would his opinion even register?

Granger just shrugged at his disbelieving silence, cracking a sunny smile his way as her amber orbs lit up.

Something inside Draco's gut inexplicably swooped at the sight, but he couldn't begin to decipher why. For some reason, he couldn't seem to tear his gaze away from those shining eyes.

Why wouldn't they light up at his words?

He'd spent years berating her for being who she was, so of course she'd be elated at the fact that he had admitted she was worth something. Worth more than the mud beneath his feet.

If it wasn't because she cared what he thought, it had to be because it meant she was right after all.

At that moment, they reached the massive entrance to the Great Hall. Draco was never so grateful to steer left and head towards the Slytherin table. He'd actually preferred the Eighth Year table thus far this year, but Theo was nowhere to be seen, and Draco wasn't enough of a masochist to go sit there by himself. Nothing had really happened to inspire this feeling within him. However, he could feel countless eyes on him, judging him a little more than the rest of the Hall because they were all keen on just who he was and what he'd done.

His Mark itched, but he stubbornly ignored it.

The back of his neck felt hot, and he didn't want to think too hard about why. What had he been thinking, running off at the mouth like that? Why couldn't he keep his mouth shut around her?

This seemed to be quickly turning into a habit, and he'd only had two genuine interactions with her this year. At least on the train he'd been so frozen he hadn't spoken. Ever since, it was like he had this compulsion to answer her. Was it because he felt he owed her for her testimony? Probably. He knew he should thank her. Rather than throw snarky comments her way when all she was trying to do was have a friendly conversation with him.

Who wanted to have a friendly conversation with a broody, fucked up shite like him anyways? Why was she so hard to set off this year? It was like all of the buttons he was used to pushing had suddenly jammed.

None of it made any sense.

Draco held strong for most of his meal, turning over the strange moment he'd just had with the Golden Girl. Add it to the list, really. They'd now had quite a few odd moments. He couldn't suppress the urge to glance over any longer. Silver eyes lifted to the Eighth Year table, locating her immediately. She was already peering at him.

Granger gave him another one of her smiles. His stomach did the stupid swoop again, causing a scowl to take over his features and his gaze to drop once more.

He finished his meal as quickly but with as much grace as he could, eager to get back to his room. When he was done, he rose to his feet and made his way out of the Hall.

Right before he got to the entrance to the corridor that would branch off and lead to the Eighth Year dorm on the fifth floor, he heard someone rushing after him. Again.

Granger. Again.

"Hey, wait! Before I forget, one more thing!" She caught her breath, placing a hand on her thigh for a moment before straightening and holding something out to him.

Confused, Draco looked down and fought the tiny smile that wanted to overpower his control over his lips. In her outstretched hand was one of those shuttle pens she'd been showing her group while he'd been mopping the Great Hall.

"I saw you watching and thought you'd maybe want one." She gave an exaggerated wink, clearly poking fun, but it oddly didn't bother him. His hand gingerly rose. She placed the item in his open palm and used her small, warm fingers to close his over it.

The moment their skin touched, his skin buzzed. Like static.

Draco recalled a similar moment, when he had laid his hand over hers during the Astronomy Tower incident. He'd been drowning in his own Occlumency ocean at the time and remembered feeling a rush of warmth, but it and everything else had been extremely dulled. Everything had been so complicated that he hadn't allowed himself to dwell on it. In fact, he'd completely forgotten that incident until dinner.

It wasn't dulled, now.

The wind in his mind space picked up, accompanied by a crack of lightning that lit up the surface of the slowly churning water

Then she shuffled away, as if it was nothing.

He absolutely refused to acknowledge the strange sensations she'd stoked within him today.

Draco stared down at the pen, thumbing the tabs at the top and getting used to the feel. What a strange device. He was absolutely dying to find out how it wrote, and how it was possible to switch ink colors using only said tabs.

The blond tucked the pen into his pocket and made his way back to his dorm.

That drink was waiting, but maybe he'd play with this new toy first.

Draco spent the rest of his weekend reading and drinking at his leisure. Since he'd finished his schoolwork, he was able to read whatever he wished. He found himself paging through a Potions book he'd checked from the library and reading ahead in the Muggle Studies assigned book, The Crucible. Not that the book was very long. He ended up finishing it, pausing every so often to write down some key points he assumed would be relevant in class discussion.

With the shuttle pen.

He had to admit, it was an awfully convenient little device. No dipping your quill tip for ink, and he could easily switch colors to organize his notes.

Come Monday morning, it became apparent that the pen was even more useful during class to categorize his notes and further help the organization. Theo gave him an odd look when he saw it, before attempting to snatch it for use in his sketches. He didn't succeeded, but Draco made a mental note to maybe ask Granger if he could have another for Theo.

And maybe inquire about what other art supplies Muggles had. Strictly for Theo.

When Granger walked by their table to gather ingredients, her face cracked in a grin upon noticing the pen. Draco rolled his eyes at her but couldn't stop the little smirk of amusement from taking over his features.

The days rolled on, and before he knew it, the Muggle Studies play meeting he had been dreading was upon him. The group was to meet Thursdays and Fridays after classes to rehearse and plan until the play itself happened the last night before the winter holidays.

Draco still couldn't believe he'd been dragged into this. Alas, he had no choice but to show up and do whatever they required of him.

The group was meeting in the Muggle Studies classroom.

His ankle had healed enough that he blessedly didn't need the crutches anymore. It was impossible not to literally drag his feet along the journey, and in doing so he'd made himself a few minutes late.

Making his way in, the door slammed behind him, causing him to wince.

Every head in the room turned to face him, including Professor Weasley who at least gave him a frail but genuine smile as he spoke. "Mr. Malfoy, better late than never. Please, join us."

Fighting an eye roll, Draco took the nearest empty seat and promptly stared at the floor for the first few minutes.

As Professor Weasley explained the workings of the play, Draco couldn't resist raising his eyes to take in his peers and see who he'd be making a total ass out of himself in front of.

He wished he could pretend to be shocked upon noticing Granger in the corner across from him because of fucking course she was. With the She-Weasley in tow. They were whispering to each other, giggling about something and looking excited. He dropped his gaze again in case she looked up and caught him.

Professor Weasley explained that the play was an original, written by Dean Thomas who seemed to be running the show alongside the professor. It was described as: "A story of blazing passions and smoking tommy guns following the rise and fall of 'Tommy the Gun Thornton' in the prohibition era of New York." But what in Merlin's name was a tommy gun? Draco knew what a Muggle gun was of course, but didn't recognize this specification. "

He may as well have been speaking elvish for all Draco understood, but he supposed he'd learn quickly. A script was passed around, and the 5th year Hufflepuff girl whose name he did not know sitting next to him hastily shoved a copy into his hands. The blond flipped through it, skimming the contents and tuning out whatever Professor Weasel and Thomas were going on about.

It seemed like some lame story about a womanizer speakeasy owner, who was unaffected by life and love in any permanent way until he fell for some singer he hired for the club entertainment.

How cliche. And sappy. Draco felt his upper lip curl a little.

Curiosity sated but feeling no better about this blasted play, Draco tuned back into the conversation. Professor Weasley had just begun announcing who was to play each role.

"Ginny, you will be playing Caroline, a fling of Tommy's that frequents the club. Hermione dear, you will be playing our mysterious singer Alicia. And Draco will read Tommy Thornton."

Draco's eyes nearly bulged out of his skull. He just barely managed to choke back the colorful protest that rose on his tongue. He couldn't say a damn thing. He was their bitch now. If he hadn't already made sure of that by his actions before and during the war, coming back and recklessly being involved in the hazing and near-death experience of another student while on already strict probation definitely made sure of it.

Resigned to his fate, Draco simply let loose a weary sigh and nodded his acceptance.

Professor Weasley smiled, continuing to list off roles. When everything had been assigned, they did a soft read through the beginning of the play.

Draco couldn't help but quietly scoff at some lines and stumble over others. He felt ridiculous, acting out these cheesy lines in front of his peers. It was all he could do not to blush, his mindscape determinedly snowy and cold to keep his composure.

They were at a part where his and Ginny's characters were having a conversation. He didn't think it could possibly get more ridiculous, and they were only in the first few scenes.

"When did you know, Tommy?" Ginny asked, looking towards Draco expectantly.

Suppressing an eye roll, Draco reluctantly played along with the script. "Know what?"

Enthusiasm enriching her tone, Ginny continued, "That we were in love?"

"Love? Baby..." Sighing, it was all Draco could do to force the words out, awkwardness settling heavy in his gut. "Believe me, you don't want to go falling in love with a guy like me."

Ginny didn't react to his sullen tone or let it slow her momentum, that spark still coloring her tone. She was clearly excited about this play. "It's too late, Tommy. I'm crazy about you! I'm breathing it, drinking it all in. Aren't you?"

Draco chuckled a little at the utter ridiculousness of the entire thing but dutifully continued, taking in the words along the way. "I don't know what I'm drinking, Dollface, but if this is love… Pour me another glass?"

He couldn't quite stop the scoff at that one.

Professor Weasley exhaled, patiently addressing the blond with a tone that was somehow exasperated yet kind. "Mr. Malfoy, are you trying to be bad at this?"

Before Draco had a chance to reply, an Eighth Year Ravenclaw sniggered to his friend loud enough for everyone to hear. "No, seems like failure just comes naturally to Malfoy here."

Draco's expression darkened as the environment of his inner mind suddenly lit up with sharp, bitter cracks of lightning. Accompanied by a loud, foreboding clap of thunder. He bit his tongue, though. Resentful, he could do nothing more than sit there and take it. He resolutely kept his eyes on the script, feeling embarrassed and out of place.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Granger throw a glower at the Ravenclaw who had taken a shot at him.

That made him feel a little better. At least one person in the room other than Professor Weasley wouldn't make his life hell through all this.

How he was going to get on a stage and convincingly act this character out he had no idea, but resigned himself to try.

A traitorous voice in the back of his thoughts pointed out that he now had multiple reasons to spend time with Granger this term despite the seemingly treacherous circumstances.

Draco internally scolded himself, and buckled in for the rest of practice as he realized it was his turn to read out loud.

As usual, thanks for reading! And for every kudos/comment/bookmark/subscription! Much love to you all =]

I'm going to attempt to keep my ass in gear and give you guys an update every two weeks, but my muse is not nearly that ambitious sometimes so we shall see how if I churn the words out to do that. The next few chapters are written though. Update on 5/31!