It was the first day back after the Christmas holidays, and the Great Hall was abuzz with chatter as everyone caught up with each other and their Christmas shenanigans. Seated at the Gryffindor table, Hermione couldn't seem to get her mind to focus on any of it.

All she could think about was New Year's.

She'd kissed Draco.

Draco Malfoy, her best friend.

She'd kissed him, on the mouth, in a romantic gesture.

Had it been romantic?

Had it been because it was New Year's, because it had been a lovely moment, and he'd looked beautiful, the fireworks reflecting their magnificent colours in his hair, his face tilted towards hers, like two magnets drawn together in the same kinetic pull? Did she like him? Did she have feelings for him, so soon after Ron?

Did he like her?

It was all so new and confusing, and the kiss had sat between them since it had happened two days ago, a phantom weight between them that did not appear to be going anywhere anytime soon.

Ginny tapped her on the forehead.

"Ow, Gin!" Hermione exclaimed. "Morgana's mercy, what was that for?" she asked angrily.

"I've been trying to get your opinion on whether or not Dean's had a haircut over the holiday for the past five minutes," Ginny exclaimed. She swiveled on the bench, eyes inquisitive. "The soup, as delicious as it may be, can not be what's caught your mind. So, what is it?"

Before she even knew what she was saying, Hermione blurted, "I kissed Draco at New Year's and I think I any have feelings for him but I don't know what to do about it or if he feels the same way and if it will ruin our friendship or if I'll die alone with loads of cats and musty books, wishing I hadn't ruined my life."

Ginny frowned. "First, calm the heck down. Secondly," she clapped, her expression the very definition of giddy. "This is so exciting! I knew it! I knew it! I knew it! Neville owes me five Galleons."

Hermione was baffled. "You knew? And you bet on me?"

Ginny gave her a disappointed look. "Duh, the whole universe probably knows except from the two of you." She leant her elbows on the table, not even noticing she was getting gravy on her sleeve. "Details, details," she said conspiratorially, fingers tented under her chin.

"It was amazing," Hermione said, biting her lip, desperately trying not to blush.

"And?"

"And what? We kissed. End of story."

Ginny raised a brow. "You haven't talked about it?"

"What is there to say? 'Hey, Draco, I kissed you and I think I have non-platonic feelings for you. How does that make you feel?' Don't be ridiculous, Gin," Hermione chastised, going back to her soup.

"You're the one that's being ridiculous," Ginny said. "He likes you, can't you see that? I bet, if you turn around, he's probably looking at you right now, waxing poetic about your curly hair in his mind."

Hermione looked over her shoulder. And, indeed, she did catch Draco's gaze on her. Not knowing what to do, she waved pathetically and turned back around.

"That proves nothing," she stated, like a scientist who's colleague was jumping to conclusions without the proper data to back them up.

"It proves everything!" the red-haired Gryffindor blurted, passion overtaking her. "You think I didn't see Harry looking at me like that? Or Ron looking at you like that? Merlin, I even used to look at Harry like that, especially when I first came here."

"Like what?" Hermione asked, entirely confused and oblivious.

"Like you're the only thing he sees," she said wistfully.

Hermione sighed. "Ginny, this isn't one of those rom-coms we watched in fifth year at my cinema. This isn't Pretty Woman or You've Got Mail or Bed of Roses. This is real life, and me and Draco aren't going to get together and live happily ever after."

"Why not?"

"Because it's not realistic. His father would never approve..."

Ginny cut her off. "But do you like him?"

"What?"

"The first excuse you gave me had absolutely nothing to do with how you feel about him, only about other people and their stupid views. So, I'll ask again, Hermione, do you like Draco?"

Hermione thought about the last few months. Of lunches spent on the grass, of arguments in the library, of being huddled around a cauldron together, writing side by side. Of the nights they'd stayed up together, comforting the other. Of holding his hand, how it fit so perfectly in her own, felt so natural and right. Of the tent, of kissing him as the sky exploded with light. Of his smile, the one he had only for her.

It wasn't hard to say, "Yes, I do like him," certainly not as hard as she'd thought it would be.

"Then there you have it," Ginny said. "Now, all we need is to get you two together so that you can tell each other how you feel."

Hermione shook her head. "Gin, please, don't play Matchmaker," she warned.

But she would have none of it. "It'll be great. All we need is."

Hermione put her hand over her friend's mouth. "Please. You may be getting carried away. This could be nothing."

Ginny drew away, going back to her dinner. After a moment, she set down her spoon. "I give it three months," she said.

"Three months until what?"

"Until you're together and hopelessly, desperately in love with each other, of course."

"We really need to stop meeting like this," Blaise said, sitting on the floor, leaning against the Reflection Pool.

"Why's that?" Luna asked, legs tucked under her, proofreading the latest issue of the Quibbler.

"Because this floor is too damn uncomfortable," Blaise bemoaned, reading over her shoulder.

Luna moved out if his reach. "There's plenty of cushions," she said with a decisive flick of the page.

"Their either pink, purple, or have flowers on them."

Luna raised a brow.

"I'm a Slytherin; I can't sit on a pink flowery cushion. There's no going back from that," he said, as if it was the most reasonable thing in the world.

"Do you want to know what I think?" Luna asked.

"No, but I imagine that you'll tell me regardless."

"I think that you complain too much about the little things so that you can avoid talking about more serious topics. Like whatever happened over Christmas."

Blaise tried to feign nonchalance, but Luna saw right through it, like looking at a glass of water and seeing the wall behind.

"Nothing happened over Christmas, Luna."

"Don't pull that bullshit with me, Blaise, I won't have it. You came to me. You wrote letters to me. You asked me to meet you here. And I know why. Because you're lonely, because you're a human being, and human beings need people in their life, even if it's only one, someone they can confide in me. Whatever it is, Blaise, you can tell me."

Blaise got up in a jerky scramble, pacing the length of the room. He turned on his heel, eyes blazing. "You wouldn't understand," he spat.

Luna threw her magazine on the floor, it's glossy cover hitting the stones with a wet slap, like a soaked dishcloth. "Oh, really?" she drawled. "And why is that? Because I'm not a Slytherin? Because I'm not a Pureblood like you?" she shouted.

Blaise pulled her in by the chain of her necklace, fingers tangling in it's coils, the plastic charms shed collected and strung on there.

"No, he said, it's because you're too good, because you'd never do the things I've done. Because you're right, Luna, you're right about everything. The truth is, I'm not a nice person, I never have and I likely never will be. And I guess...I guess I was trying to delude myself with the letters I sent you, or coming to meet you here. I thought, if I had one person who cared about me, then maybe I could change. But I see now, that that's not fair to you, to expect that from you. If I'm going to fix my life, it's down to me to do so. It's only that... only that I enjoy spending time with you. A great deal. You're like no one else I've ever met before, and I only regret that it took so long for me to realize it."

"You're not so bad, either," she told him, not moving from where she stood. She could feel the warmth of him, seeping into her children clothes. Her and Hermione really needed to sort out some sort of hearing system in here. "You're actually quite charming, when you want to be."

Blaise raised a brow. "You find me charming?" he practically purred, a smirk blossoming on his face.

"Didn't I just say that?" Luna asked, somewhat breathlessly.

"Perhaps," he said, pulling away from her. "But that doesn't change anything, little eagle. This is only another thing that will..." Blaise trailer off.

Luna took his hand. "That will what?"

Blaise ran his thumb over her knuckles, eyes full of heartbreak.

"That will be used against me, of course."

"Theo, you've had romantic feelings for girls before," Draco said by way of greeting, that first night in the Slytherin common room.

Theo looked up from his Wizard Chess board. Sometimes he played against himself, sharpening the mind or whatever. Secretly, Draco thought it was because Theo was guaranteed to win, either way.

Theo gave him a glare that was both withering and full of mirth, somehow in equal measure. "Your point being?" he asked.

Draco picked up the queen, it's weight reassuring. His father had taught him to play, and he'd often played against Theo, right in this very room.

Draco stopped stalling.

"Secret?" he asked.

It was an old habit between them: they never asked, 'Can you keep a secret?' that was too ordinary for them. So, they merely said, 'Secret?' They'd thought they were being cool. They were only eight at the time.

"Secret," Theo said.

"Me and Hermione kissed," Draco said, trying not to smile. "Well, she kissed me, but the fact remains."

Theo grinned. "Well, it's about bloody time. I can't say I'm surprised it was Granger who made the first move; Merlin knows that you're too chicken to do it yourself."

Draco threw the chess piece at him.

Theo caught it with deft fingers and an unimpressed snigger. "Are you asking me for advice, Draco? I didn't think you'd need it."

Indeed, Draco had had many girlfriends, over the years. But this wasn't about girlfriends. "We kissed, and that's it."

Theo rolled his eyes. "Oh, I see," he lamented. "You haven't defined what you are to each other yet, have you? Oh, you poor, lovesick thing. You're like a puppy. It's priceless," Theo said, laughing softly.

Draco growled, "This us serious, Theo. And I don't love her."

Theo wiped at his eyes. "It's you: of course it's serious. As for you not loving Granger, well, that remains to be see. But seriously mate, why are you spewing all your diary entry ramblings at me?"

"Because you've known me a long time, and I value both your opinion, your perspective, and I know that you'll be rational," Draco explained calmly.

"What, and you won't? So, you're looking for reasons not to go out with her then, is that it? Am I to be your obstacle on the course of true love? A talking tree stump saying, 'No, go back, young traveller, this path is unwise?' Bullshit, Draco. This is about her being Muggle-born, isn't it? Still concerned about what your dear old father would have to say if his only heir married the brains of the Golden Trio, the Light of Wizarding War? Well, you know my stance on the Pureblood mentality: it's a load of crap, and love is love."

This face became contemplative, more tender. "Your dad's in prison, Draco. He can't do anything to you. He certainly can't control who you do or don't date." Theo sat back in his chair.

"That's not true, Theo," Draco said.

At Theo's raised brow, he elaborated, "My mother has been conversing with my father through a Floo network set up in Azkaban. I talked to him myself last week. It went as well as you could expect. Afterwards, my parents got into an incredibly heated argument. I could hear it all the way from my room upstairs."

If it was anyone else, Draco would not have likely admitted to such vulnerability, such weakness, especially another Pureblood Slytherin. But Theo was different. Their friendship was different. Although they may not have been as close as they once were, Draco could still admit something like that to him without shame.

"Is your mother alright?" Theo asked. Theo had silently adored Narcissa from a young age, his mother had been incredibly close with her and he'd needed that sort of closeness after she died.

Draco nodded. "She's fine. She's my mother, so she's putting in a brave face but in her mind she's likely plotting brutal murder. He was even going on about marriage contracts, the bastard."

Theo chuckled. "What year is it? 1687? The man needs to get with the times. There was talks, a few years ago, about banning them altogether. I don't know why, though. Maybe it was budget cuts: one less department for Fudge to run and all that."

"Indeed," Draco said with a smirk. But it fell a moment later. "I've found myself in a right state, haven't I? I didn't think growing up would be so bloody damn complicated, feelings and all that."

Theo frowned. "But that's the point, mate. Feelings are messy. Life isn't some walk in the park with nicely paved paths and birds chirping in the trees. Some days, it's all you can do to get out of bed. But everyone needs a reason, Draco, a reason to keep going. Everybody needs love, in whatever capacity they can aquire it. And I think... I really think Granger might be it for you."

"Don't be a sap, Theo. It's not like we've exchanged rings or anything," Draco said mockingly.

Theo tented his fingers under his chin. "Say you had a bookcase that you shared, together. You've both got a book you want to put on there, but there's only room for one. Who puts their book on the shelf?"

"Hermione," Draco replied instantly. "If not, I'd never hear the end of it, and I've got lots of bookcases."

His friend smile in obvious victory, the same way he did before he was about to crush you in Wizards chess. "My point, dear Draco, exactly. You could have just made the bookcase bigger, in hindsight, but your first thought was about Hermione, not yourself."

"Hermione likes books," Draco said exasperatedly, folding his arms.

"Yeah, I know, mate. But so do you. And you picked her. It's bloody adorable."

Draco snorted. "Cheers, Theo. I feel like such an adult now."

Theo tilted his head, a mock-bow. "You're welcome. Now, here's what you need to do..."

The plan was easy. The plan was simple. The plan was full-proof.

But it was nearly a week after his talk with Theo, and he still hadn't enacted it. He'd barely seen Hermione outside of the classroom, they were both so swamped with homework. And lately, she was always around Ginny, Luna and Neville, a big piece of parchment spread out before them, writing notes and talking well into the night in the Room of Requirement.

Draco didn't mind; in fact, he was happy that she was spending time with her friends, that she was having fun.

But he still wanted to talk to her. Desperately.

It was a Wednesday, and Draco was about to go to their first Inter-House Committee meeting of the month when Hermione came running up the stairs behind him, hair falling in her face, tie loose around her neck.

"Hi," she said breathlessly, resting her hands on her knees.

"Hi," he said.

Her cheeks were flushed.

Merlin, he really wanted to kiss her. But more than that, he wanted to talk to her. He missed his best friend.

Then, without a word, Hermione grabbed him by the hand, dragging him back down the stairs. After a few turns, Draco realized her intended destination: McGonagall's office.

So, not a romantic heart-to-heart then.

"Carpe diem," Hermione said, and the griffin guarding the stairs moved, allowing their entrance.

Draco was reminded of the last time Hermione had hauled him up these stairs. Hopefully, this would be a pleasanter venture.

Hermione knocked.

"Enter, Miss Granger," said the Headmistress from behind the door.

The door opened, and the two stepped inside.

Luna, Ginny and Neville were all crowded around the table.

McGonagall looked up at him through her glasses. "Welcome, Mr Malfoy. Although you haven't been involved in this project, Miss Granger was adamant about getting your input."

Draco frowned. What had they been up to?

Hermione handed him the piece of parchment resting on the table.

Draco opened it.

And smiled.

It had started with Neville.

Him and Hermione and Ginny and been up the previous week, studying for a Herbology test. They'd been exhausted, mostly running on Energy charms and sugar, when Neville had told them about his parents, and about how he wanted to have more experience when it came to getting a job.

Naturally, Hermione had told them about work experience.

Chewing on a liquorice quill, Ginny had smiled brightly and proposed something similar for the Hogwarts students. A way to put their classwork to use, to experience the Wizarding World after they left education and see where their fields of interests may be.

So they planned.

Luna had even pitched in, saying she had been thinking of something similar and wanting to bring it up at their next Committee meeting.

And from there, it had grown, seeds taking root and twisting off in impossible directions.

So that was how they ended up here, Hermione wringing her hands as Draco looked over their work so far. She'd wanted to include him from the start, but he'd been so busy, and she knew he had a lot on his mind.

But Hermione couldn't take the silence anymore.

"So," she said, "what do you think?"

Draco turned to her, smile beautific and eyes brimming with possibilities.

"I think it's brilliant," he told her, and Hermione's heart veritably melted. "But we're going to have to organize schedules, possibly a roster. We need employment details and businesses that would be willing to train people. I'm jealous I didn't come up with it myself, actually," he told her.

"Well done, guys," he said to the trio by the desk. "Now, who's got a quill?"

Author's Note: Surprise! My surprise is magical work experience! I've been obsessed with the idea for a while, and I'm so excited to dive into it with you. Each character will have their own unique placement, and their time there will be integral to their overall character arc. So, what do you guys think? I'd love it if you let me know!

Until next time.

All my love, Temperance Cain