A/N: Hi Everyone! We're finally back :slight_smile: Thank you for all the wonderful comments, favorites/kudos, follows/subscriptions. Hopefully, you'll all enjoy this new chapter—it's a long one! As always, shout out to our beta Irma66. She put in some serious overtime helping us get this one ready to share!
Chapter 5 Fridays Are for Friendship Building
Hermione – November 25-26, 1996
Hermione dug her fingers into Crookshanks' thick fur and turned the page of the house-elf charms book she was reading. Mal...Draco, had expressed an interest in vanishing charms, and some of the most impressive vanishing magic was possessed by the Greater House Elf of Europa, though the other common species of house-elf worldwide seemed to possess similar magic. It was quite frustrating, really; no one had written extensively about what all they could do. Sadly, house-elves didn't write books themselves.
Hermione had been skimming the book and enjoying all the new information she was picking up. House-elves really were so complex. She had just gotten into a section that focused on the different types of vanishing they seemed capable of when the door to her shared dorm space was flung open. Judging by the dramatic tuts and sighs, there was really only one person it could be.
This ought to be lovely.
"Hermione, I have a bone to pick with you!" Lavender Brown squeaked, causing Crookshanks to hiss and spit.
"It's okay, Crooksey. Lavender is just a little upset. I'm sure she has a reason for storming in here" —Hermione glanced at the clock on the wall— "at half-past eleven."
Lavender continued to stand and sputter, brushing the fly-away hairs from in front of her face. She looked as though she'd just come from either a bout of frenzied cleaning, or an uncoordinated snogging session. Whichever it was, she looked disgruntled.
Oh, gods. What have you done now, Ron?
"You as well then? Ugh!" she shouted, flailing her arms about. "Is curfew all you bloody Prefects care about?"
"Firstly, I just commented on the time. As you can clearly see," Hermione said, gesturing to her pajamas. "I'm not on duty. However, to answer your question, no. I quite care about the safety and academic support of my fellow students as well, thank you." Hermione snorted, rolled her eyes, and turned back to her book.
Lavender gasped and pointed a shaking finger. "Hermione Granger, you will not dismiss me!"
"Won't I?" Hermione mumbled to herself. She slipped a scrap of parchment into the book to mark her place and closed it on her lap. "Is that better?" She forced a smile. Whoever was on patrol tonight would pay for this unnecessary grievance in the morning. Hermione had half a mind to seek them out tonight!
"Did you have a problem you wish to discuss with me? On a night when I'm not on patrol and am minding my own business?"
"Yes!"
With a much-beleaguered sigh, Hermione waved her hand, beckoning Lavender to air her perceived offense. Hermione attempted to maintain a neutral expression as she watched Lavender's face change color, reddening until her cheeks matched the crimson curtains hanging from the fourposter.
"Ronald is my wizard!"
A groan came from the other beds in their shared dorm, followed by the cool wave of several silencing charms. She couldn't help but laugh; she so wanted to cast one herself. Instead, she tried to channel Draco as she offered Lavender absolute indifference.
"I'm aware."
"Then...then stay away from him!" she demanded, stomping her foot.
"Oh, gods," Hermione sighed, wishing she could return to her book. "Lavender, I've barely spoken to him in a month."
"Lies! You're using Draco Malfoy to try to get his attention. And it will not work!"
This daft dumbo...
"For goodness sakes, Lavender. Stop yelling. You're going to wake up the whole tower," Hermione said, massaging her temples.
"I don't care if I do!"
She really didn't understand where this was coming from. It was the first verbal interaction she'd had with Lavender since she'd begun dating Ron, and she had no idea what he could have said to her that would have caused such an outburst. "What makes you think that I'm any sort of threat to you?"
"Malfoy said you would back him up."
Hermione shrugged. "Well, when he's my rounds partner, that's true, but I can't imagine what that has to do with you and Ron."
"Because those bloody snakes took points!"
The entire conversation was a ridiculous waste of time. Hermione had just reached a section in her book that she thought could be beneficial for Draco and she wanted to get back to it. Instead, she was stuck listening to this poor girl talking nonsense. It was bad enough when Hermione had to listen to Lavender moan about Ron, but now she was talking about the Slytherins and points!
"Again, I'm not on duty tonight. I don't see—"
"Ron argued with Malfoy about YOU!"
Hermione frowned, unable to comprehend why she'd ever be the topic of conversation between the two of them.
"Sorry, is this an issue about the disciplinary action of a Prefect? Because Marigold Gears is Head Girl, and she'd be the one—"
"Argh! Would you for once, just stop pretending to be so...so...oblivious and admit you know what I'm on about?" Lavender's lips flattened into a thin line, and she stepped in closer to Hermione's four-poster. "You stay away from my Won-Won, Hermione Granger!"
Lavender looked close to bursting now, her fists clenched at her sides as she continued to loom over Hermione. "He has enough to worry about now, being star player of the Quidditch team and all. He doesn't need you and Draco Malfoy in his business!"
Hermione's eyes closed and she inhaled slowly to stop herself from sniggering. Star player, indeed. Her patience was wearing incredibly thin when Romilda Vane stuck her head into the room. "So sorry to interrupt" —she looked anything but sorry— "Hermione, Harry asked that I see if you'd come down to the common room."
"Oh, well," Hermione stammered and then saw the out, and quickly replied, "of course, no need to let him know, I'll head down directly."
Hermione turned to Lavender. "It's clear that you're frustrated, and while I'm happy to try and help, perhaps it would be best if you slept on whatever it is you're upset about, and we can talk in the morning?"
"Argh! Just, stay away from him!" Lavender stomped her foot and threw herself onto her bed, grumbling under her breath all the while.
"Okay, right then. Good night," Hermione said and trotted out of the dorm and down the stairs. Though they'd never been particularly close, she wondered if Lavender would become a permanent fixture in their lives, as smitten Ron seemed with her. She smiled to herself at the thought of Mrs. Weasley's face when she found out about the pair.
She found Harry pacing past a sofa by the grand fireplace, looking stressed. Hermione walked up to him and set her hand on his shoulder. His body went rigid and then relaxed as he realized it was her.
He studied her for a moment, brows furrowed as though he were inspecting her for injuries or other issues. She raised her brows at him in question, dropping her hand and crossed her arms. His inspection complete, Harry said, "Hermione, I'm worried about you."
"Okay." Hermione nodded, trying to understand but coming up blank. "Why is that? I can assure you, I'm quite well," she said, her worry for Harry growing.
His eyes flitted away from hers. "I overheard some things tonight involving you."
Goodness, is everyone talking about me? She'd learned to brush off that people talked behind her back a long time ago. Harry knew that.
"Harry." Hermione released a deep sigh and pulled him to the sofa. "I appreciate your concern for my well-being, I really do, but I stopped caring about what other people say about me in First Year, and I'm perfectly capable of dealing with those that do." She was quite proud of her clever solution to Rita Skeeter, whom she was quite convinced wouldn't come after her again.
Harry shifted on the cushion next to her, turning his body so that he sat facing her, with his leg bent on the sofa. "No, it isn't that." He shook his head. "I know what you're capable of—bloody terrifying in the best possible way." She smirked. "No, it's Malfoy. I'm worried about how much interest he is taking in you."
Her heart sank, disappointed that this was the topic she'd left her warm bed and research for. Not this again...
"Oh Lord, why is it always about Draco." Hermione pulled her legs up onto the sofa to sit tailor style so she could face Harry properly. She knew he meant well, but this unhealthy obsession with the Slytherin passed the point of ridiculousness.
"Hermione, I..." A look of disdain settled over his features and his jaw twitched. "What did you just say?"
"Pardon?"
"Draco, is it? Brilliant, Hermione. Now I'm even more worried." She hadn't even noticed she'd called him by his given name. Given Harry's obvious annoyance, she'd have to think on it another time.
"Oh, please, Harry. You know as well as I do that, Dra—Malfoy is harmless. He doesn't have any particular interest in me." Harry scoffed and rolled his eyes.
If she was honest, it felt like a half-truth, because she'd already ascertained that Malfoy considered her as more than just an acquaintance—perhaps more like a friend. She'd certainly begun to feel that way about him. But that was beside the point. They'd been through so much together already, and Harry had almost always trusted her judgment. Why was this any different?
Hermione let her head rock back, staring up at the vaulted ceiling of the common room, and let out a slow breath. She didn't like this feeling, having to defend herself, especially to Harry. With Ron already acting irrationally towards her, the last thing she wanted was for Harry to do the same. And over Draco Malfoy of all people!
She turned her attention back to Harry, knowing he'd need some kind of explanation before he would drop it. However, the more she thought about it, the more it bothered her that she even needed to. "He's a fellow Prefect, and I've done a bit of revising with him recently. But it's only schoolwork" —another half-truth— "and you know perfectly well that I revise with a wide range of our classmates because you and Ron refuse to focus on our studies." She huffed, annoyed that this was becoming an 'issue'. "Not to mention we just discussed this yesterday."
He pushed his glasses up a bit as he frowned. "Yeah, but that was before I heard him talking about you! You need to stay away from all of those snakes."
She blinked. "Stay away from those snakes? Harry...I really don't appreciate being told who I should and should not speak to. I've already had enough of that for one night, if you don't mind."
There was nothing Harry could have heard that would have him reacting like this. It wasn't like she was plotting with them to throw a quidditch match! Hermione took another deep breath and sought her center. Difficult, when instead she found an odd bubbling anxiety. Hermione didn't lie to Harry and even if it was only partial truths, it left her feeling wrong. But what was there to do about it, Harry wouldn't understand her new friendships. So, she pushed the strange sensation aside and counted to five. "Listen, I'm not going to sit here, and have you question my decision-making abilities when at nearly every turn you have chosen to ignore Dumblebore and Professor McGongall's—"
"Don't you remember last year, Hermione? Malfoy, his two buffoons, and even Nott were all part of the Umbridge's brigade. They attempted to ruin everything we were working towards last year."
She contemplated that for a moment before nodding in agreement. "While that's true, I'm positive that it had more to do with the illusion of power than anything else. Not to mention that it is entirely beside the point. Aren't you supposed to be focused on befriending Slughorn and obtaining that memory?"
Harry waved her off. "Slughorn is a waste of my time—"
Hermione was stunned. "Not according to Dumbledore!" She reached for his hand and grasped it. "Harry, he wouldn't have taken you to persuade him in Budleigh Babbertonprior to school starting if he wasn't important!"
"Don't worry about that, 'Mione, okay? I'll deal with it later. That's my business anyway."
She scoffed. "Your business! Honestly, Harry, what's gotten into you? The information Slughorn has may be crucial, not only for Dumbledore but for the Order as well! If anything is a waste of time, it's this...unnecessary obsession you have with Malfoy."
He pulled his hand away with a shake of his head. "I can't lose sight of what I know. Draco Malfoy is a Death Eater."
"You don't know that." She sighed. She was so tired of this argument.
"Fine, but even if he isn't, he must be reporting back to the Death Eaters. I'm worried Malfoy is using you to get to me." He leaned in, his voice lowering. "What if that's his mission? I know I'm right about him, Hermione."
"You really think Voldemort would task him with deception via studies?" She shook her head and sighed. "Don't be daft, Harry. It's only revisions, something you could benefit from as well if you bothered. I've sat with quite a few different students, including Malfoy, and I've actually found revising with them all to be quite...stimulating."
Harry held her gaze silently for a moment before his brows furrowed and he snorted, filling Hermione with disappointment and a desire to hex him. She wanted to be careful, they were both on edge, and saying the wrong thing at the moment would have consequences. She let her eyes close as she drew a slow breath in through her nose and let the last few minutes of discussion replay in her mind. Harry's expression hadn't changed from earnest interest to mocking amusement until she'd called their revisions stimulating. Realization dawned—teenage boys were the worst. She gave him a light shove, fighting a smile. "Cheeky git."
He joined her facing back toward the fire, clearing his throat to cover a laugh. "I overheard a bit of what happened tonight when Malfoy and Parkinson were with Ron and Lavender as well," he offered. Hermione was thankful that Harry, whether he realized it or not, allowed the conversation to shift away from the dangerous ground they had been approaching.
"Ah, yes. Based on Lavender's temper tantrum earlier, I assume whatever happened wasn't very pleasant." She glanced up at the staircase that led back to her dorm. "Thank you for the rescue, by the way."
He nodded and gave her a thin-lipped smile. The ball of anxiety in her stomach tightened, worried this respite wouldn't last long. "Let's just say, Ron's in the doghouse."
"I do love when you use Muggle references," she said, smiling and tentatively rested her head on Harry's shoulder.
"Well, you're the only one who ever gets them," Harry replied, leaning his head down to rest atop hers.
She let herself settle closer into Harry. He was her best friend, even when he was behaving like a right arse. "I know you're under a lot of pressure. Your lessons with Dumbledore—"
"Yes, it feels like too much and not nearly enough information, you know? But I can't shake this feeling. I'm scared, Hermione. You have to know that you can't trust Malfoy; I just know he's up to something." Whatever relief she'd begun to feel evaporated.
This needs to stop.
"Harry, you have to let this—" Hermione started to pull away, but Harry stopped her with an arm around her shoulders.
"I can't." His eyes pleaded with her to understand. She didn't. But too tired and confused to fight about it anymore, she reluctantly nodded.
"But more importantly," he continued, "I heard him tell Parkinson some things about you."
"Oh, did he?" she asked, surprised. She'd been ready to brush off Lavender when she'd mentioned Draco earlier but now with Harry's confirmation, she was intrigued.
"He's using you, I'm sure of it. He implied something to Parkinson about his role with Voldemort. Though, what worries me more is how he reacted." Harry scratched his head as his focus shifted to the fire. Hermione began to worry her lip, anxious about his thoughts when he shifted his shoulder out from under her head and moved to face her. "He accused me of being jealous of him for all the time he spends with you." Her brows shot up at that. Draco freely admitting that they'd been around each other willingly was not something she'd expected.
"Hermione, how much time are you spending with Malfoy?" he asked, looking her straight in the eye.
She wasn't ready to tell him about that yet. The tenuous friendship they'd been building was so fragile. If Harry knew all of it, he'd never let it go. There were far more important things for him to worry about than her social life. She cleared her throat, feigning indifference, never once breaking eye contact. "Oh um...well, we have rounds together at least once a week, and we've been revising." The realization of how easy it was to give him snippets of the truth was terrifying.
He frowned, once again seeming to pick up on what she wasn't saying. "And spending time in Myrtle's loo?"
Hermione felt her face heat, not with a blush but anger. She jumped off the couch and rounded on him. "Harry James Potter! Have you been spying on me!? The nerve!"
He raised his hands in surrender. "No, of course not, but I have been watching Malfoy. It's just that you keep showing up in the same places as him."
"Harry, that is a huge violation of my privacy. It is none of your business what I do with my free time. Dumbledore has told you not to concern yourself with Malfoy. Not to mention, that map isn't a toy, you shouldn't be using it to stalk a fellow student. What if you were caught with it? Or someone else got hold of it? Do you even realize how dangerous that could be for you?"
"Oh, come off it, will you? It's fine, no one is going to get it from me. I've got my dad's cloak with me all the time, just as Dumbledore said, and I wear it whenever I use the map." He tugged a corner of the cloak out of his pocket, having noticeably shrunk it down to fit. "And I'm not stalking Malfoy; this is data gathering."
She crossed her arms and glared, disappointed he still wasn't taking his task seriously. "Which you're supposed to be doing with Slughorn."
Harry waved her comment away. "I'll figure it out eventually. Don't you want to know what I overheard?"
"Well, given this little intervention I just sat through, I suppose I should know what brought it about." She sighed, gesturing with her hand for him to continue.
"Much to my surprise—heard him defend you to both Ron and Parkinson."
"Defend me? And that upset you?"
"I believe he called you brilliant and said he didn't believe you would ever consent to be anyone's plaything. But Hermione, why would he say that?" he asked. "What game is he playing? He hates you."
She was reminded of the conversation she'd had with Draco previously about living in the grey area for the sake of her friends. She feared that no matter how she responded, Harry wouldn't be able to see past his and Draco's ongoing animosity. Harry's hatred of Lucius Malfoy for his role in Sirius' death colored his every thought where Draco was concerned. She could only hope that Harry would consider that she had developed a more nuanced relationship with Draco.
"Well, Harry Potter," she began. "Sometimes things are not so black and white. Has it occurred to you that maybe Draco Malfoy is capable of growing up?" Surely, she wasn't the only person that could see it. "And is it so far from possible that he respects me?"
"Yes!" His voice was firm; she had her answer. She willed herself not to well up.
"Well, then." She swallowed back her tears and wished she was still arguing with Lavender. It would have hurt so much less. "I think I'd best go to bed." She nodded to herself, knowing any further attempt at conversation with her best friend would be too difficult. "Maybe after you've had some time to think about how grievously you've just insulted me, we can talk some more."
Harry scrambled off the couch and reached out to her, missing her arm as she sidestepped him. "Hermione!" he called after her.
"Good night, Harry."
As she reached the top of the stairs, she wished it was Myrtle's loo she was headed into instead of her dorm, and Draco behind the door instead of her roommates.
After that, Hermione tossed and turned all night. If she got more than two hours of sleep, she would be shocked. It was so bad that Crookshanks had left her bed with a loud huff.
Since she couldn't sleep anyway, Hermione decided to get up early, run by Myrtle's loo, and grab one of the Pepper-Ups she'd made for she would start a new batch, she needed to replenish some of their other stores anyway, and it would be relaxing. Perhaps he'll be there already.
While making her way to pick up the Pepper-Up, she got to thinking about the value of them creating a small greenhouse in the lavatory. No one used it anyway, and it would be so much easier than stealing ingredients from the school greenhouses and Slughorn's stores. She smiled to herself; Slughorn's stores were much easier to steal from than Snape's had been. He was so much less meticulous, but that was also a problem because it was hard to find what she needed quickly at times.
It might be worth a discussion with Neville. Especially if she wanted to further pursue more advanced healing potions.
Hermione found herself smiling as she downed her Pepper-Up and headed for the Great Hall. She was excited to share her idea with Draco. In all likelihood, he'd mock her idea as ridiculous as he sketched out where they could place the planters.
It was a strange experience getting to know Draco Malfoy. He could be very different from the persona he projected around the school. Hermione couldn't help but wonder if it weren't for the blood prejudice, if she might have quite a few more friends than she did. Not that she ever had an easy time making friends.
She shook her head, the pressure from the potion finally releasing with a refreshing gust of steam from her ears.
Friendships were such a strange thing. Hermione tried applying logic to them and regularly found that it came up short. Like the previous night with Harry. Thinking of Harry also made her think of what Draco had apparently said in her defense. Harry might not have believed that Draco was developing respect for Hermione, but that was what made the most sense to her. Not some convoluted plan to spy on Harry through her. As if she would spill Harry's secrets, even if she was developing some trust for Draco.
Hermione lingered in the vestibule outside the Great Hall and considered her options. She wanted to speak with Draco and find out just what had happened the previous night. A quick peek into the Great Hall revealed he wasn't there yet, so she opted to sit on a bench that he would have to pass and waited.
Ever the keen observer, Hermione watched all the different students who passed. She was surprised when she saw Pansy Parkinson and Daphne Greengrass just a bit down from her bench huddled together. They spotted her, and the glare she received from Parkinson was enough to support what Harry had told her the night before.
Preparing herself for a confrontation, she was, instead, shocked when Parkinson turned her glare on just who Hermione was looking for, Draco.
Hermione jumped up from the bench and caught Draco's eye, then nodded her head toward a hall leading to some unused classrooms. She didn't want an audience for their discussion.
A few moments after she swept into the empty classroom, Draco came through the door looking a bit harried and definitely tired.
"I don't know whether to thank you for the escape or be frustrated that you're keeping me from my breakfast, Granger," he drawled, running a hand through his hair. How it managed to remain perfectly coiffed after was something she'd never understand.
"I don't see why you can't be both." She smiled and felt lighter as he returned the gesture.
"So other than being a pest, was there a reason you have detained me in this dusty classroom?" He wrinkled his nose as he took in their surroundings.
She shifted her weight and dropped her bag to the floor. "Oh, well, yes," she said, fiddling with her hands. Despite time waiting on the bench, she didn't know what she wanted to say. She just had this overwhelming urge to be near him. To thank him.
A strange wave of emotion took her, and she rushed forward, colliding with Draco's hard, muscular chest. She wrapped her arms around him as a pleasant blanket of warmth wrapped around her. Her blood rushed as his arms slipped around her waist, pulling her closer to him. It was like slipping into a warm bath. Perfect. Weightless. She heard his breath catch when she tucked her face into the junction of his neck and shoulder and inhaled the scent of him, sandalwood, and something spicy.
As she realized she was sniffing Draco Malfoy, she pulled back, stumbling. "I'm sorry..." she started to say as she took him in, his cheeks flushed a bright pink, all the way to his ears. "Oh, Draco, I really do apologize—"
"Ah...yes, well." Draco slid his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels. "Care to explain what that was about?"
She let out a laugh and willed herself to appear calm, though she was completely mortified at her actions. Bloody brilliant, Hermione. Throwing yourself at him like a childish little schoolgirl.
"I heard about what you did last night, sticking up for me, and... well, I wanted to thank you properly," she said, toeing the stone floor. "What you said" —she swallowed hard— "it makes me feel...valued. Validated." She met his eyes. "Especially coming from you."
A beat passed, their gazes locked before she cleared her throat, tucking her wild hair behind her ear. "Though of course I'm quite cross with Ron and Harry," she added, frowning as she recalled what Harry had said about Draco taunting them. "Though would it kill you not to goad them?" she asked with a tilt of her head.
He smirked, with a twinkle in his eyes as he took a step closer. "Quite possibly, yes. Honestly, Granger, what do you expect, for us to be singing Kum-bi-yah together by now? The git wouldn't even shake my hand the first time we met," he teased. Then his demeanor shifted, his eyes narrowed, and his lips turned down in a frown. "Though, I'm more than a little surprised that you're thanking me."
She shrugged. "I was in bed reading when Lavender came storming in, ranting about how you upset Ron saying nice things about me."
Draco's brow arched. "Ah right, Brown, but—"
"Yes!" She agreed, cutting him off. "And then Harry. It was quite unpleasant. Oh! I did find some interesting information for you in that house-elf charms book."
His eyes widened at that, clearly pleased. Her stomach did a tiny flip when his lips quirked. She was positive it was a natural reaction to a fellow student's enthusiasm for new knowledge. "Thank you, I appreciate your assistance."
Hermione waved him off. "I like research, you know that. Besides, I had no idea anyone had attempted—"
"Granger."
"—to dissect their magic using arithmancy. Though I was disappointed to see—"
"Granger."
"—they didn't get very far. Someone really should conduct a more thorough study—"
"Hermione!"
She swallowed back her words with an awkward giggle, her cheeks heating with embarrassment. Control yourself, Granger! "So sorry, I'm rambling."
He nodded, his eyes on the ground. "A bit."
Another beat passed, and Hermione could practically feel the growing tension between them. The inexplicable urge to reach out to him began to rise again when he cleared his throat. She shoved the odd sensation down again, though it felt almost wrong to. They were as good as friends by now.
"About last night. I said some things, you should know I was just trying to get a rise out of Weasley."
"Oh yes, I know. Out of Harry and Parkinson, apparently, as well. I am no one's plaything, and I appreciate that you can see that. That you see... me." She crossed her arms in front of her to stop herself from placing a hand on his arm.
His brows furrowed, seeming confused. "Wait, how do you know I said that? Are you and Pansy friends now too?"
A burst of laughter escaped Hermione at his ridiculous assumption. "Certainly not! Sometimes it's better to not ask questions that cannot be answered," she said, tucking a wayward curl behind her ear. She met his eyes and continued, "I'm sure we both have secrets, right?"
He nodded and moved another step closer. "Yes," he said, his voice a choked whisper.
"Just... trust that I know what you said." She smiled, her eyes shifting down to their feet, he stepped close enough she could have reached out and taken his hand.
"I do see you. You are so much more than that punter." His voice dropped in register as he spoke.
"He's a Keeper," she corrected, pursing her lips together in an attempt to hide her smile.
"Semantics."
Light began to filter in through the classroom windows, as the shuffling of footsteps and voices began to fill the castle. The last twelve hours had been full of emotions that had left Hermione feeling exhausted and confused. Inhaling deeply, she dropped her arms and straightened, catching Draco's eyes again.
"Still, I am sorry for accosting you. I took some Pepper-Up, I guess it has me acting a little off this morning."
"I'm a little off most mornings," Draco said, pushing up onto the balls of his feet and rocking into her space. Then he seemed to realize what he'd done and did a graceful pivot that brought him to Hermione's side. "We should get to breakfast."
Hermione felt a swooping sensation behind her navel and swayed with a moment of lightheadedness. That Pepper-Up had been too strong apparently. She shook her head, hoping it would release some more steam, but nothing came. "Yes, before there's only toast left." She cleared her throat and turned to look up at Draco. They were definitely friends now; of that she was certain. No going back now. "I'm here for you, you know that, right?" The same wave of emotion that launched her into hugging him took over her voice.
Hermione could see Draco's Adam's apple bob as he swallowed. "Even if we both have secrets?" he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper.
Hermione reached out and took his hand, giving it a quick squeeze before releasing it.
"Because we both have secrets."
Draco – November 27, 1996
Silver water rippled and spread through Draco's mind. He tried to visualize seeing into the depths of the water, but instead of transparency, the surface was mirrored. He could see himself and then the silvery tones morphed to sepia and dark eyes stared back at him, wide with surprise. A petite but strong body wrapped in his arms. A gasp of surprise. Apologies and awkward ramblings. Promises. Secrets.
The image collapsed and Draco found himself staring at the frowning face of Snape.
"Draco, if you aren't going to take our lessons seriously, I do have better things to do with my time."
Pulling a deep breath into his lungs, he held it for a count of five and let it out slowly. He'd been floored by Hermione's actions earlier, and her sincerity behind them. "I am trying to take this seriously, but I find these visualization exercises" —Draco groped for the word that wouldn't reveal too much to his godfather or offend him— "difficult."
"That" —Snape sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose— "is because they are difficult. You have not had to confront the Dark Lord at his most...shall we say—enthusiastic. You must be prepared, which you are not."
Draco scoffed, insulted. "I can occlude. I've been doing it since childhood."
Snape stood up from his desk and walked over to one of the many bookcases, leaning on the shelf. "I realize that," he said without turning back to Draco. "But this is different. Unless you can tell me right now that you have no—and I do mean absolutely zero—reservations about your mission."
Snape turned back to him, his dark eyes piercing Draco, sending a shudder through him. Draco shook his head. He wasn't confident enough in his skills to bury the lie.
With a brisk nod, Snape retook his seat across from Draco. "Then we must take what you can do naturally and expand it. Your position is too precarious for anything less."
"Okay, okay. I see your point. But how does visualizing water with my memories at different depths do that?"
"Perhaps water is not a good element for you," Snape said with a shake of his head. "It is not your only option, though I can say from personal experience the Dark Lord does not see—depth."
"An element?" Draco frowned, confused.
"Yes!" he snapped. "You would do well not to question me, boy. If you're going to be as insufferable as Potter, I have better things to do." Snape rose and crossed the room to the multiple cauldrons he had brewing, giving them each a quick stir.
Draco smothered his questions and gave Snape a serious nod of acceptance.
"Think of it like...shielding. You use an element as your focus, and it is what the Legilimens sees, or feels, depending on the wizard or witch. For instance, your Aunt Bellatrix uses fire. Anyone who enters her mind finds themselves burned."
"Well, then I'll do that!" It seemed logical. She was part of his bloodline; it would be natural for them to share the element.
"No, Draco, you cannot," Snape chastised, much to Draco's annoyance. "That would be a certain way to demonstrate you are hiding something. The Dark Lord—thanks to his close relationship with your aunt—is quite adept at penetrating such an occlusion."
Bile rose in his throat at the visual. "Please, sir, stop. That's absolutely vile." Draco rocked back in his chair trying to banish visions of the noseless bastard railing his psychotic aunt.
"You're a childish fool if you believe that is the worst thing to fill your mind now that you're in line with The Dark Lord," Snape growled. He stormed back to his desk, stopping in front of Draco, and leaning into his space.
"You'll be seeing plenty of things this holiday that I believe you will wish to never think of again. This practice will help you keep them contained, will help you to prevent the others from sensing your disgust. Or am I mistaken, Draco, and you're excited by the idea of seeing defenseless men and women brutalized? Do you honestly think he'll stop there? You're a child, and yet you bear his mark. Don't assume your peers are immune."
Draco shuddered and shook his head. "If it's all so horrible, why are you part of it? My father, my mother?"
Snape shoved a finger in his face. "Do not mistake your mother's situation; she is not a willing participant in any of this, nor has she ever been." He held his eyes before rounding the desk and sitting down again. "Unfortunately, the Dark Lord is already aware of her displeasure. As for your father, I cannot speak to his motives beyond that your grandfather, Abraxas, was a contemporary of the Dark Lord. Were it not for his untimely passing, he too would be part of the movement. They have a certain vested interest in purebloods remaining in control, and once you join there is no resignation policy."
"And what of you, Godfather?"
"My motives are my own, and until you master this skill, they will remain so. Prove to me that your thoughts are your own, and I will consider sharing some of mine. Until then, focus, visualize water, now hide your thoughts beneath it… Legilimens."
An hour later, Draco stumbled from Snape's office, desperate for relief. The thought of Granger's Pepper-up potions crossed his mind, but he'd need to head back up to Myrtle's for it. His head was throbbing from the constant invasion; he hoped Theo still had the fire whisky he'd nicked from Slughorn's stores.
He hadn't gotten any better at hiding his thoughts in the depths of the silvery water his mind conjured. He'd attempted to explain to the man twice more that he didn't particularly like the odd mirror-like surface. It held nothing of significance, and he couldn't seem to form the necessary connection to the visual. Nevertheless, Snape seemed convinced that water was his best elemental choice and would not budge on the use of it. At least he had been able to create and sustain the surface in his mind after the seventh attempt.
Needing a moment before heading for the dorms, he propped his foot up against the wall and leaned back, resting his head against the cold stone as he gazed mindlessly up at the ceiling.
More importantly, even if it wasn't as advanced a form of occlumency, Draco had been able to keep the more intimate details of his building friendship with Granger private. Or at least he was reasonably sure he had. Draco couldn't imagine that Snape wouldn't have confronted him had he seen the memory of Draco letting himself melt into Hermione's embrace or of how he hadn't wanted to let her go. No, that would not have gone without comment. He thought it was a tribute to his efforts at practicing separating out his different memories of her: those that were appropriate and expected versus those that would put them both in danger.
What he had not been successful at hiding were his misgivings about the cause as a whole. The fact that Snape hadn't admonished him for that, but instead for not being able to hide them left Draco confused and conflicted. It also served as another good reason to do as he was told and get better at this. There was more going on than he was aware of, and he needed to know the specifics.
Knowing his mother wasn't a willing participant in the movement was one thing, and wasn't entirely new information, but the fact that there might be others was. It made Draco think of Blaise's comment from the previous week. He wasn't alone in questioning blood purity ideals. Draco had too many things he needed to hide and too many people that he needed to protect. He was meant to fail, but now failure was even less of an option than it had been before.
I am so fucked.
It seemed to be a common thought now, knowing even the smallest decisions could bring forth the largest consequence.
Like with Pansy, who had sneered at the box of her favorite chocolates from Honeydukes when he presented them to her earlier as an apology for his outburst over Hermione. He hadn't meant to lash out at her, but Hermione Granger was a touchy subject for him now.
Potter and Weasley's incessant hounding about her was irritating enough. Adding Pansy to the mix would be bloody torture. It would be nothing but "Granger this" and "Granger that." He could hear himself when he'd reached his limit. Enough about Granger, Pans! For fuck's sake!
"This is what you're giving me? Do better, Draco," she'd said before storming off. He'd already written to his mother asking her to have Miffy fetch the ones straight from Paris instead. Blaise had mentioned it would have been better to just let her stew over it, knowing she would never give up the connections to his family, but Draco didn't want to do that to her. As frustrating as she could be, she was still a friend.
Pushing himself off the wall, he began to shuffle back down the hall when he heard someone mumbling from around the corner. Sneer in place, he was ready to issue a points deduction for being out past curfew—Granger would be impressed!—when Potter came around the bend. He was hunched over a piece of parchment mumbling to himself when he looked up and noticed Draco. The pathetic attempt at a scowl he shot was amusing.
"What are you up to, Malfoy?" Potter's green eyes flashed, and his hand twitched at his pocket, clearly itching to grab his wand.
"Excuse me?" Draco drawled, trying for disinterest.
"Why are you meeting with Snape?"
They were across from each other now; the rolled-up parchment was clutched in Potter's fist and Draco could have sworn he saw the ink shifting on it. Frowning, he straightened to his full height and took a step towards him.
"Not that it's any of your business, but Professor Snape is my head of house, and I'm a Prefect. This often necessitates discussions." He looked him up and down disapprovingly. "A much better reason to be meeting with him than for detention."
The git's face flushed red. "I'm only here because of you, Malfoy."
Draco tutted. "Can't even take responsibility." He shook his head. "Shame, Potter. And they all thought 'The Boy Who Lived' had such potential."
"Potential." Potter emitted a bitter snort of a laugh as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Remind me again how many times you've run away, threatening to tell your father? I'm sure he's so pleased with how much you've lived up to your own potential."
Rage bubbled in his core at the mention of his father. What the hell does Saint Potter know about actual expectations? He wanted to hit him, to make him hurt for his remarks. He gripped at his wand, ready to lash out and hex the stupid Gryffindor when Hermione's words from early flashed through his mind. "Would it kill you not to goad them?" she'd asked. At the time, he'd brushed it off, considering she'd just rushed him moments before. Now though, seeing Potter's demeanor, clearly itching for a fight, perhaps goading him wasn't necessary. He looked ready to go for the jugular and considering how exhausting his session with Snape had been, Draco found he wasn't up for it.
"Enjoy scraping out my cauldron, Potter." He gave him a wink before turning to leave.
"What have you been doing in the Room of Requirement?"
The comment caught him completely off guard for a moment, before understanding hit him.
The buzzing that had become a low-grade nuisance to Draco rose. For the first time, Draco realized where, or rather who it was coming from.
Has he been following me this entire time?
Careful not to let his concern show, Draco turned back around slowly, angling himself back to lean against the frame of the wall. He let his lips curl into a sneer as his patience dwindled. "Hosting an illicit dueling club? What else would I be doing in it?"
Potter took a step further into Draco's space. "Don't think I don't know!"
There was no way he could. The room was filled with centuries worth of objects and furniture; there was no reason the old cabinet would stand out.
"Don't know what?" he asked, brushing non-existent lint off his robes. "Honestly, if I wanted to have a cryptic conversation, Potter, Theo is vastly more entertaining than you."
Potter's face flushed a deeper shade of red this time. "You've been spending time with Hermione!" His wand pointed directly at Draco's chest.
So, they'd come to the heart of it. "Is that a crime?" Draco asked, considering batting Potter's wand away.
"You hate her."
He laughed at the accusation carelessly. "Hardly. If I hated Hermione, why would I spend time with her?"
Well fucking done, Malfoy.
Potter shoved his wand right between Draco's eyes. "Don't use her name, you're not her friend! You're just using her!"
He swatted the wand out of his face, his irritation growing. Should've decked him earlier. "Hypocrite!" he chastised, deciding to ignore the bit about her name, which had just slipped out. "How much homework does she complete for you lot? And speaking of, I thought you were supposed to meet her in the library before these little detentions. If I were to go there now and ask, would she tell me about your shared revision?" Where did Potter get off on accusing him of using her, when he and the ginger git had done nothing but take advantage of her since the moment they'd met?
Potter rolled his neck in a disturbingly familiar way that made Draco want to recoil. He held his ground and instead rolled his eyes as if he were only annoyed. "Aren't you expected elsewhere right now? You know how much Snape loathes tardiness," he said, shoving out of his lean against the stone wall and gesturing toward the end of the hall.
Flustered, Potter stepped back, and Draco began walking toward the staircase that would get him away from Potter as quickly as possible.
"What are you doing in there?" he called after him. "Tell me, Malfoy."
"None of your business," he snapped, continuing to walk away.
"It is my business."
Spinning around on his heel, he shortened the distance between them again with three large strides. He needed to bury this entire conversation into the ground before his temper got the better of him. "Maybe paying more attention to your friends would be a better use of your time than stalking me."
Potter frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Why would Hermione be inviting me to the library?" he asked, pointing a finger at himself. "You're upset she's spending time with me, maybe ask yourself why."
They stood there for a moment, snarls on both their faces before Harry shook his head and began to back away towards Snape's office.
"Stay away from Hermione, Malfoy." he growled, the threat of 'or else' implied.
"Don't treat her like shit, Potter."
Abandoning his plans to head to the Room of Requirement as he'd originally planned, Draco retreated to the stairs, intent on downing one of Hermione's potions and passing out when he heard Potter calling after him.
"I'll be watching you."
Exhaustion weighed too heavily on Draco to give Potter the satisfaction of turning back around to engage him. Instead, he shook his head and called back, "For Merlin's sake, man. Just fuck off."
Hermione - November 28, 1996
Hermione checked her watch again. Harry's detention wasn't set to start for at least another hour and there wasn't quidditch practice that evening. Yet there was no sign of him. No note to let her know he wouldn't be joining her. Nothing.
She purposely kept this block of time clear since it was the only night that week when Harry didn't have quidditch practice in addition to his detention. Detention he never should have gotten. Sometimes he could be such a hothead.
Doesn't help that Draco eggs him on…
Resigned to another no-show Harry research session—the third in a row—Hermione reorganized her stack of books. She'd been waiting to discuss the books Remus suggested, she even diagramed out the wand movements, done the arithmancy to better understand the foundation of the primary Patronus spell, and the communication Patronus. And what she was most excited about discussing was the possibility of limiting who would be able to hear the Patronus' message. The potential for the modification was there, and she suspected with the right book or discussion she would be able to master it. But instead, she was sitting alone at her favorite table.
Her thoughts turned to Draco, and how productive—and more frequent—the revision sessions they had shared were becoming. He could engage at a much higher theoretical level than most of her other revision partners, excepting Padma and, now that she was getting to know him better, Theo. No surprises there when it came to Padma and Draco, who she regularly and consistently shared the top place with, but Theo had been more of a surprise. Never ranking more than average, except in Charms, it turned out that he was very adept and clearly, he was intentionally underperforming.
Padma was familiar with the Patronus charm, so maybe a discussion with her would be possible. It might be more productive than Harry anyway—he had no skill in arithmancy to speak of. But that wasn't the point. Hermione wanted to spend time with Harry. The fact that she was still a bit mad at him didn't mean she didn't want to spend time with him, though apparently, he didn't feel the same way. It was more than a little disappointing.
She knew she should probably be sadder about not missing her time with Ron as much, but the longer their estrangement continued, the more Hermione couldn't help but realize how frequently Ron made her feel badly about her desire to learn and research. On one hand, he'd push for her to help him with his homework and help him construct his essays, since she was a "walking encyclopedia" but then he would turn away or mock her when she wanted to discuss connections across the subjects they were learning or her own theories on the magical signature of certain spells. She was more than just a walking database of knowledge, she thought deeply about what she knew and thrived on challenging discourse.
Challenges that Draco has no trouble rising to…
She found herself nodding to her inner commentary. But sadly, her distracted thoughts were a bit too consuming and the plan to focus on research was a lost cause. Maybe a bit of reflection and planning would be worthwhile at this point. A bit of time to consider what she still needed to work on and what was ready to turn in. Hermione pulled up her bag and rifled around for her planning diary and revision timetables.
"Hermione Granger, fancy running into you in the library."
Hermione tensed at the familiar voice that greeted her and sat up. "Hello, Cormac. How are you this evening?" she asked politely, the manners her parents had instilled kicking in despite her ambivalence about the boy.
"I'm lovely. Actually, I'd hoped to find you here. I thought you might like a break. Perhaps a stroll around the grounds?" He winked.
Hermione glanced at the window. The sun was all but set. "It's a little late." She looked at the table, reaching for an excuse. "I'm actually planning to turn in early. Try to get a little extra rest before the professors give us more essays."
"Oh, well, I was hoping to talk to you about the upcoming Slug Club party—"
"Yes, yes. Very nice of him to host a holiday party. I did so enjoy the Yule Ball in my fourth year. But surely you understand the demands of N.E.W.T. level courses."
"It's about balance, Granger. One must" —he bit his thumb— "allow time for the things that really matter in life."
Good Godric save me!
"I couldn't agree more, a solid eight hours of sleep is the foundation of a sharp mind. Don't you agree?"
He stared at her confused, so Hermione took advantage of his lack of Muggle sleep science and dumped all of her things into her bag.
"Have a good night," she called out.
"Oh...um, yes, you as well," he responded, still looking confused.
Hermione hustled out of the library before he could offer to escort her back to the tower, which was a real shame since it was her preferred location to work. But she had backups. The unused classroom favored by the prefects for meetings would work for tonight.
She settled in at one of the long tables and dug into her planning materials. At the beginning of the term she had mapped out most of the year. There had been changes and adjustments, of course, though her time for socializing hadn't actually changed, just some of the company she kept. Flipping further ahead in her diary, she saw the winter hols blocked off. Her parents.
The closer to the holidays she got, the more certain Hermione became that she needed to draw as little attention to her parents as possible. The protections provided by the Ministry were gone now that Hermione was of age and while she did feel more confident in her skills at warding there was no way to protect them outside of their home. Sometime soon she would need to bring up her concerns with the Order.
Hermione rolled her neck and shoulders, pushing her worry to the back of her mind, and flipped back to the current week. After assuring herself that she was still comfortably ahead in all her courses, Hermione dug out her book that had a discussion on house-elf vanishing magic and its adaptations in the wizarding world. If she didn't need to work on coursework, she could enjoy a little time helping Draco on his efforts to catch back up. Besides, Lavender had interrupted her when she'd last indulged in a bit of pleasure reading, and Draco had sounded quite interested when she'd mentioned it. So, really, she had more than earned this.
So immersed in the discourse, not just on house-elf magics but also on several other non-wizarding magics, Hermione was shocked to hear the bells toll for curfew. She hadn't meant to stay so late. She swept the few things she had out back into her bag and kept hold of her book, hoping it would provide obvious evidence for why she was still out so late.
She managed to make it through the Great Hall and past the staircases, but as she rounded a final corner before reaching the final set of stairs up to Gryffindor Tower, she heard them. Footsteps and the hearty laughter of two male Prefects—laughs she knew all too well. Ron and Anthony Goldstein came into view as she skidded to a stop, silently relieved it wasn't Cormac.
"Well, well, well, what do we have here, Weasley? Is that Hermione Granger out of Godric's Tower after curfew? Why, if you weren't a Prefect, I would delight in taking house points."
"Oh, lay off, Goldstein." Ron elbowed the Ravenclaw. "You know Hermione, she probably got distracted in the library."
Hermione felt her face heat and regretted having her book still in her hand; she was more than just a bookworm—she could be unpredictable. Instead, she held it up and offered a sheepish smile as she approached her fellow Prefects. "You caught me. Lost track of time. But I'm headed straight up."
"Better be!" Ron said, giving her an odd look.
She frowned, confused. "Excuse me?"
Much to Hermione's surprise, Anthony also looked shocked at Ron's words. "Weasley, what's that about? It's Hermione, I was just teasing her."
"She's been fraternizing with Slytherins," Ron sputtered.
Anthony laughed out loud and balanced himself on the stone wall. "You're taking the mickey out on me! Fraternizing with Slytherins!" Goldstein mimicked Ron mockingly and laughed, bending over to slap his leg.
Hermione glared at Ron. "Is there a problem with working with our classmates?"
Goldstein caught his breath and turned to Ron as well. "Oh, you're serious." He met Hermione's eyes and added, "Of course there is no problem, Hermione. I value Zabini, Nott, and Greengrass depending on the course."
"As do I."
"Not just them," Ron tugged his tie loose, looking away from them. Hermione could tell he was upset, but her patience was at its end.
"Oh, for heaven's sake, Malfoy is excellent at potions and arithmancy! I do not have to justify my every decision and minute. Now, as you cannot take those precious house points, I'll be on my way. It was nice seeing you, Anthony. I believe we'll be patrolling together this weekend." He nodded. "I'll look forward to it, perhaps we can discuss the Transfiguration extra credit practical?"
"I'd like that."
"Excellent, I would value your input. Good night." Hermione made a point of meeting Ron's eyes, hoping he could pick up on her displeasure with him. If he had a problem with her, he should have the decency to come find her and have a discussion, not blurt it out in front of a fellow Prefect.
It was shades of Third Year when she had reported the Firebolt to Professor McGonagall. The boys never apologized to her over that, despite the fact that she had been correct. It was offensive and painful that after everything they'd been through both Harry and Ron wouldn't trust her when it came to how she chose to manage her academic pursuits. But clearly, their hatred of Draco transcended rational thought.
Yet, amid all the unpleasantness, Hermione did have something to look forward to, tomorrow she would be spending time with Draco. Who, while still infuriating at times, was also intelligent, thoughtful, and, apparently, loyal to those he counted as friends. Which Hermione was starting to believe included her. She was more than a little curious to see what being Draco Malfoy's friend could be like.
Draco – November 29, 1996
As promised, Draco met Hermione at the quidditch pitch after their last class of the day. The Friday afternoon sky looked a little grey, with the threat of an impending storm, but the winds hadn't picked up yet, and it wasn't uncomfortably cold. In other words, a perfectly acceptable time to try to convince Hermione that flying could be fun.
Who in the bloody hell would have ever thought I'd be the one to do it!
Draco looked up toward the castle and took in the sight of Hermione making her way to him. Her mass of curls was tamed into a thick plait that rested over her shoulder. The wilder curls that usually surrounded her face were tucked into a Gryffindor pom-pom knit hat that matched her scarf. If it weren't for the whole house rivalry business, Draco would have freely admitted that red and gold were definitely her colors.
"Hey," she said with a bright smile on her face and cheeks pink from the cool air and exertion of walking out to the pitch.
"Hello," he greeted and gave her braid a little tug. "I like this." He felt his cheeks fill with heat—the words having spilled out without his permission.
A shy smile pulled at Hermione's lips, and Draco was struck with the unexpected desire to see her in one of his Slytherin jumpers.
Draco swallowed back his nerves and cleared his throat. "I thought maybe we'd go down by the lake since it's a little less in the line of sight of the castle."
"Sure, that sounds good."
Draco slowed his usual pace to meet Hermione's natural gait and let a not uncomfortable silence fall between them. After they'd moved off the pitch and onto a footpath to the lake, she broke the silence.
"Draco, I know you haven't volunteered it, but I think maybe we're friends now, and I want you to know that you can talk to me."
Draco kicked a clog of dead grass. It wasn't her first offer, but he couldn't tell her anything real, and he didn't want to lie to her. It was the sword's edge he lived on these days.
Even if I have secrets?
"What if I talk?"
How did she do that? Reading him, seeing him. He chuckled and said, "As if I could stop you."
"I'm afraid of not being in control."
"I'd figured out that much, Princess."
She shoulder-checked him, and it hurt more than he expected. "Ouch! You have pointy shoulders!"
"Oh, who are you to call me pointy," she said, bumping against him but with less force.
"What was your boggart?" he asked.
"In Third, it was Professor McGonagall giving me a failing grade. But I think it would be different now. I'm different now."
"Aren't we all," Draco said, giving her arm a squeeze. Tingles shot through his hand at the contact. He quickly released her, clearing his throat, and looking away, hoping she didn't read too much into it.
"Yes, we are. I feel like…" Hermione shrugged as her words trailed off.
Like that day in the library, when he'd been sure she was upset, he felt sharper spikes of her magic. Draco wasn't sure how he knew, but it was as if she was unsettled or on the verge of lashing out. He considered pushing her, but sometimes you just needed quiet and a moment to think. He knew it was true for Hermione, just like it was for himself. So he left the silence between them and guided her to a spot by the Black Lake. The further from the castle they got, the softer her magical aura became. With the quiet lapping of the water came the return of the warm waves she normally emitted.
Reaching into his pocket, Draco withdrew his broom and enlarged it. This wasn't his quidditch broom; today wasn't about going fast and pulling tricks. He wanted to show Hermione another side of flying.
He held the broom out to her. "This is a Voyage 200 series broom."
Hermione accepted the broom and turned it over, checking all the angles. "I've never seen a broom like this."
"That's because your idiot friends" —he saw her start to open her mouth— "no, no, don't argue that point with me, we both know they are idiots. Even if you do care for them."
"Fine, I'll concede the point. Please, continue."
"Like I was saying—before I was so rudely interrupted—your friends have only taken you out on quidditch brooms. Again, because they are idiots. Those things are temperamental and require that you already be quite good on them."
"Harry learned on a broom like that."
"Well, he's...fine, he's quite good on a broom, isn't he? I can admit it. I'm not sure how he pulled that off. But the point is, for most of us—myself included—we learn on something much more stable and less responsive. Like the one you're holding."
"So, this is for what? Regular travel?"
"Exactly, there's a whole range of training brooms as well, but I don't have any here. Do you remember how to call it to you?"
Hermione set the broom on the ground and held her hand above it. "Up."
The broom slowly levitated up into the palm of her hand. She turned to Draco with a beaming smile.
"See, easy," he said. "Now, swing your leg over and find your balance." Draco held his hand out to Hermione as she swung her leg over the low hovering broom. She teetered a bit, but the high-quality broom moved to compensate for her shifting weight.
"Oh! The school brooms don't do that."
Draco laughed. "No, they don't. I don't know a lot of muggle sports, or any actually, but did you play any?"
"A brief, unsuccessful attempt at football and I took dance until I left for Hogwarts," she said, shifting around and making minor adjustments to how she was seated on the broom.
"Okay, well, I don't know what foot-ball is, but from the name, I assume it involved feet and a ball. Now dance, I know about that."
"Oh, I know."
"Do you now?"
"Well, sure, who doesn't? We all saw you dance at the Yule Ball Fourth Year."
Draco couldn't help but preen at the admission that she'd watched him. "I was rather dashing, I suppose."
Hermione burst out laughing. "Such a prat. Yes, you were. Though, not as much as my date."
"Now, witch, don't get me riled up while you're in such a precarious position. I could just walk away," he teased.
Her face flushed with fear. "You wouldn't."
He stepped closer. "No, I wouldn't. But before we got too distracted remembering just how impressive we both were at the Yule Ball, the point I wanted to make was that you need to just think of the broom as an extension of your own movement. If you've had dance, then you know at least a bit about muscle control." She nodded her agreement. "That's where we'll start. Just direct the broom around me in a slow circle. Remember, this isn't a sporting broom, so it isn't going to jolt around and unseat you. It was designed both for comfortable travel and learning on."
"Okay, yeah," she said, with a look of utter focus. She leaned into the broom the smallest amount, and it moved forward in the same small way, matching her movement to its speed.
"That's great. Now, look where you want to go and let your body weight shift with your eyes."
"Huh?" she asked, turning to look at him, causing the broom to swing toward him. "Oh! I see."
"Yes, I think you do; go on then. You can go a little faster if you like."
Hermione took several turns about him, moving a little faster each time. Her magic pulsed around him as she seemed to begin enjoying herself, despite still going at barely above a snail's pace.
"Ready to try something?"
She sat up, slowing the broom to a stop. "Maybe."
"Some Gryffindor you are!"
"Yes, yes, within reason. What did you have in mind?"
Draco smirked and pulled another broom out of his pocket, enlarging it. "Race around the castle?"
"What! No!" He felt her magic pitch with her voice and a twinge of guilt flashed over him.
"I'm only teasing. I just thought maybe if I was side-by-side, you'd try flying a little higher?" Draco offered, hopeful that she would agree. This was something he wanted to share with her.
"Oh, um...yes. Yes, I think I could do that. But not too high."
"Not too high," he agreed, mounting his broom, and moving to hover beside her.
It took a few minutes and much disparagement of Gryffindor courage, but Draco finally coaxed Hermione up high enough to enjoy a real view of the Forbidden Forest and some of the grounds.
For several minutes Draco took in the view and let Hermione relax and acclimate to the height.
"You know I have seen this view before." Her voice was calm, but Draco noted her arms were rigidly holding her broom's course.
He smiled at her. She was flying quite well, if still a little hesitantly. "Is that so?"
"Mmhmm. Both times were quite harrowing. Dramatic tales, really."
"Do tell."
"Well, one you already know…" she said and looked away, bright pink appearing on her cheeks.
Draco swallowed and nodded. "It's okay, you know. It's not like you wrote my father and said, Lucius, do be a doll and attack the Boy Who Lived and his insane friends, by the way, you'll end up in Azkaban."
Hermione gasped next to him. "Draco, I really am so sorry about your father."
Draco nodded, letting the gentle warmth of her empathy fill him. He wondered if he was just getting to know her better or if he was starting to pick up emotions with her magic. Whatever the case, it gave him the confidence to stay with her, to push past the uncomfortable place their conversation had taken them.
"As am I; likely not for the reasons you might think. But we were having fun, so please, as you know, I'm aware of your death-defying adventure via invisible, or I suppose for many of us, that would be visible skeletal horse monsters. When was the other time?"
He saw her flinch and then steady herself. "On Buckbeak."
"What!? The bloody menace hippogriff that tried to eat me!"
"Rubbish, he did not try to eat you. Well, I mean...mostly."
"I have a scar, you know." Draco cleared his throat. "Anyway, you rode Buckbeak?"
"Yes, the night Sirius Black escaped."
"Did you help keep them from executing him?"
"Something like that."
Draco swung his broom around so he could see Hermione's face straight on. "Do tell."
She squirmed, and her broom shuddered just a bit, causing her to grip on more tightly. Just as Draco was about to push her, a raindrop hit his nose, and then he felt more of them on his scalp.
"Any chance you want to try to race now?" she asked, wiping moisture from her brow.
Draco nodded. "Sure, but don't think I'll forget that story; you can finish another time. I'll give you a five-second head start. Go!"