November 1998—

Tuesday morning dawned, and Hermione slept right through her alarm. She woke up to way too much light, and her watch told her that she had already slept through most of her first free period. She dashed around getting ready and took the stairs two at a time to the kitchenette. Breakfast had long since ended, so she made herself a quick slice of toast before her first class began.

Her day started with double Potions. Professor Slughorn had rearranged the desks to surround a series of benches with a variety of contraptions in the center of the room. Hermione took a desk closest to her usual and held her breath as Ernie came in. He smiled at her briefly but took a seat at the other end of the room. She exhaled and smiled back.

All desks filled up as the rest of the class filed in except the one connected to hers. Her heart sank as she glanced around and realized who was missing. At that moment, Malfoy stumbled in with his hair mussed and his robes askew. He was slightly out of breath. He probably woke up even later than she did and had to run to class. His eyes cast around the room then fell on hers. She felt heat creep up into her face.

"N.E.W.T. students!" Professor Slughorn bellowed. "Today we begin working on an exciting branch of potions that only the most skilled potioneers dabble in. Who can name it?" he asked as he gestured to the new equipment in the center of the room.

Malfoy shuffled to the seat at her side.

Padma's hand flew up. "Are we making our own supplies, professor?"

"Quite right—five points to Ravenclaw! We call this process 'compounding,' a term that you may have also learned in Muggle Studies, if you have already covered the Muggle medicine unit. Interestingly, it is also the gateway for the most serious of practitioners to transition into alchemy." He cast his eyes around the room with a few knowing winks. With the exception of Ernie, who puffed up slightly, the students did not react with either intrigue or interest.

"Now," he continued, undeterred, "what you see before you are instruments to help us extract, using both manual and magical means, the precise components we need for our potions, and then capture them in tinctures, extracts, solutions, and other means of preservation. Many potioneers will spend their whole lives purchasing these ingredients, and they will do just fine. We, however, will be learning how to create several different preparations ourselves that maximize on freshness and quality, which in turn may be used in our potions to heighten their potency."

Slughorn continued with his lecture by demonstrating the first tool, helpful in crushing materials that needed to be contained due to their corrosive nature, but Hermione was frozen. Her pen was poised over her paper to take notes, and she realized with a jolt that it was the quill Ernie bought for her. She wanted to check if Malfoy had noticed, or if he used their Twinned Quill in class, but she could barely meet his eyes. Now she had to work with him? The tension between them was so thick, it was palpable. And, it was no help that Ernie was now eyeing them from across the room. How on Earth was she going to—

"Begin!"

She blinked. She had missed the instruction on what to do, and now she was going to have to ask Malfoy. She chanced a look over at him. He was hastily running his fingers through his hair and straightening his robes. Had she ever seen him so undone before? Her eyes were glued to him and could not pull away. She blushed.

"Er, Malfoy?"

He looked at her and—oddly—also blushed. They both reflexively turned away.

Hermione abandoned her attempt and got Professor Slughorn's attention. He jovially recapped which instrument she and Malfoy would start with. They spent the rest of the lesson alternating turns at the instruments. While Malfoy was grinding, stripping, extracting and all manner of other means with which raw materials were processed, Hermione would collect the processed materials and add the right oils, solutions, and acids to prepare the ingredients for storage and use. Then, they would swap. When the materials required spells to stay stable and preserved, they worked together in silence. In fact, throughout the entire class, they worked in perfect rhythm—without talking. She watched his body language and avoided his gaze. To her absolute wonder, he took her lead and did the same.

When the double period drew to a close, Slughorn called out over the class, "Well done! We'll continue with more compounding and preservation methods next lesson. You'll keep this partner for a while, so I hope you chose your seats wisely today!"

Hermione gaped at Slughorn. Then, she packed her bag and rushed to Transfiguration, where she was paired with Malfoy, Parvati, and Terry Boot on large-scale, combined transfiguration. The groups of four practiced turning their desks and chairs into elephants, giraffes, and rhinos in the magically enlarged classroom. The timed work was exhausting, and all students had removed their robes, most rolled up their sleeves, and some even discarded their ties. Malfoy was no exception with a loosened tie and sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Hermione watched Malfoy agilely dodging hooves, tusks, and trunks as he cast his spells in time with hers. When he caught her gaze, hair in his eyes and breathing hard, her dream came flooding back to her.

She was panting and sweating, and she could tell her hair was a right mess, but still Draco's eyes darkened as they took in every inch of her—something she failed to notice. Instead, she fixated on his casually exposed firearms and, by extension, his Dark Mark. It was little more than a red, disfigured splotch. She smiled to herself at his bravery and acceptance, something she did not yet feel equal to. This, of course, was the reason for her inability to tear her eyes away from his exposed skin. Yes, that was it, she told herself, nothing else.

When the class was mercifully over, they rushed to Defense Against the Dark Arts where she was paired to practice new offensive and defensive nonverbal spells with, surprise surprise, Malfoy. At least their lesson was supposed to be silent. However, she had a hard time concentrating as his sparring forced her to focus even more on the way his body moved. They cast spells back and forth in an intricate dance, and Malfoy smirked each time one of them came close to a hit. Hermione was grinning by half way through the lesson.

At they end of the evening, Hermione felt like herself again. She was exhausted from all of the day's physical work, and she fell asleep quickly after her bath.

The next day began with Charms, and by then she was convinced the staff had connived to place her and Malfoy together for everything.

Flitwick paired them up and explained to the class, "Today, we are working on casting charms in tandem. You've seen and may remember synchronized stunning a few years ago when our school played host to four dragons at the Triwizard Tournament."

She found it easy to meet Malfoy's eyes after the previous day, and they managed to keep all of their attempted charms synchronized so well that Flitwick awarded each of them 20 House points.

In double Herbology, Hermione was paired with Malfoy yet again (at this point they were both smirking and rolling their eyes) on a lengthy project that involved developing a custom salve, growing certain ingredients in the right magical conditions, and testing the salve with measured results. Healing salves were off limits to prevent students from injuring each other to test if their salves worked, and all projects needed to be approved by Professor Sprout by next class.

Thus far, Hermione and Draco had been managing with little to no verbal communication. This project, however, would mean discussion and collaboration, so there was no avoiding talking anymore.

"Any ideas yet?" he asked her.

"No. I have a couple of healing salve ideas, but that's no help. Maybe something color changing?"

"So like paint?" he drawled.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "No, not like paint. I was thinking more like hair dye."

"Is that a Muggle thing?"

"Yes, but they have really advanced options. The problem is that a lot of them use harsh chemicals."

"Let me get this straight. Your idea is a color changing salve for hair, which solves a Muggle problem with magic, and therefore is something no Muggle could ever use?"

"Y—Yes."

Malfoy stared at her.

"Well, what are your ideas then!"

"I… have one." His jaw clenched. "Something to reduce, or mask, the appearance of—of scars." It looked almost painful for him to say the last word.

Hermione moved to put her hand on his shoulder. He was warm under her touch.

"Why don't we ask Sprout if that counts as a healing salve," she said softly. "Draco… you don't have to do this, you know. Everyone has scars. Yours are no different."

Draco's eyes met hers at the same time as his hand covered hers. He slowly pulled her hand off his shoulder and turned it over, palm facing up.

"No. Not mine."

Hermione looked down at her own forearm, held lightly in his hand. The "D" was just peeking out of her sleeve.

"Oh," was all she managed to say.

Professor Sprout made a special exception and approved their project with a pained look in her eyes. She gave them a gruff warning that some magical scars could not be covered and encouraged them to test on any smaller scars they might have instead.

"I'll show you mine if you show me yours," Malfoy said with a smirk.

"Fat chance. Mine are mostly on my chest."

"So are mine."

That sent Hermione's eyes involuntarily raking over his body again. When she caught him doing the same to her, they both flushed. After that, they were polite to each other—too polite—and the end of the lesson had them both scrambling to pack up and leave. Thankfully, their schedules finally diverged, and Hermione's next two periods were entirely Malfoy-free.

Even so, Hermione's nerves were wracked by the time she plopped down next to Ginny in the great hall at dinner. Ginny was scowling.

"There's a Hogsmeade weekend coming up, and Harry can't manage the time away to visit."

"Oh, Ginny, I'm sorry. The holidays will be here before you know it, I promise."

"That's not the point! I need a break, and I want to make out with my damn boyfriend." She slammed her hand down on the table, causing a few people to turn.

"Don't you have the quidditch pitch booked all weekend?"

"Yes, why?"

"Well, could you really get away for a, er, snog with Harry?"

Hermione clamped her mouth shut from the look Ginny leveled at her.

"Whatever," said Ginny. "Maybe it'll be fine in a month, but right now I have an angry letter to go write." She left Hermione feeling every bit as jittery as when the meal started.

After dinner, Hermione soothed her nerves in an early bath. Then, she decided it might be time to formally bury the hatchet with Malfoy and see if they could get onto normal (well, normal for them) terms again. She pulled out her blue journal, sat herself down, and reached for her Twinned Quill—except it was missing from its usual spot.

"What?" Hermione asked aloud. "Where in the blazes did it—" Her eyes fell to the floor right between her bed and nightstand, where her hasty journal entry from the previous morning had fallen unnoticed. Poking out from between the pages was a beautiful, deep blue feather. Hermione ran to it, toppling her chair along the way, and snatched it up. Please no, please no, please no!

The journal fell open in her lap to the same page where she had unceremoniously stuffed the quill on that terrible morning. She let out a wail. Staring back at her was her confession of the dream with enough detail to make her squirm. Her only saving grace was that she had not said his name or described him in any way. But, even if not, she still wrote so much that no one was supposed to read but her! Panic started to rise in her chest.

No, she thought, I cannot freak out before knowing for sure if the quills connected.

She thought back to that day. She remembered Malfoy's disheveled appearance, his uncharacteristic blushes, and his suspect silence. Maybe he was just embarrassed about being late and a mess? Yes, that was it. He clearly put a lot of stock into his appearance. He was always well-dressed and groomed. Probably a weird pure-blood thing.

She resolved to see if she could suss it out of him in a subtle way. She picked up the quill, righted her chair, returned to her blue journal, and thought. The minutes slipped away. She finally let go, frustrated, but the quill stayed poised.

'Did you need something?'

Shit. Of course the quill was already connected, and of course he noticed. That did not bode well for her. And, she still had no idea how to reply. After a bit, the quill started scratching again.

'I'll do my part of the work, if that's what you're worried about.'

'No, that's not it.' Think, Hermione, think! 'I just wanted to check in on you. See how you're doing.' Pathetic.

'Oh. I'm fine.'

'Okay, great.'

'Anything else?'

Hermione held her breath as she wrote, 'You didn't get a note from me, did you? I may have accidentally used the wrong quill for something.'

It took an agonizing minute—or it could have been hours, or milliseconds—for the reply to come through. 'Writing love notes to Pompous Bighead, then?'

'No!'

'What's the matter? Aren't you two getting on better than ever?'

'That's none of your business,' she wrote, then added, 'but if you must know, there's nothing happening there anymore. Or ever.'

'He's an idiot then. Doesn't he know you have a line of suitors?'

'Malfoy! I didn't share those things with you to mock me about it later! And no, this was my choice. Again, NOT that it's your business.'

She heard his chuckled through the wall and imagined his matching smirk.

'But it's so fun to rile you up.'

'Well, I'm at quite the disadvantage here. I don't have any ammo about your love life.'

'Please, you know all there is to know: nothing. Have at it.'

'So just you, alone, with your hand then?' Hermione smirked at her daring and waited for whatever biting retort she knew Malfoy would have to come up with.

'Is that something you've been thinking about? Me and my hands?'

Hermione froze. That was exactly what she had been dreaming about. How could he know? He said he got no messages from her! She read back through his replies and realized that he had avoided answering her. At least, he never confirmed that he got one. But would he? Would she if she got a message like that? She could feel herself spiraling.

'It's a joke, Granger. I'm not trying to corrupt your purity. Don't let that pretty little head of yours explode.'

She snapped back. 'It's not. And I'm not some fragile, naïve child.'

'In that case, you would love what my hands can do.'

Okay, she thought. She could be playful. The more normal she acted, the better. 'Are you inviting me to watch how you spend your nights alone? No thank you.'

'Would it turn you on if I did?'

'Don't be gross.'

'Just remember that these walls are thin. If there's anything you want to hear, say the word.'

'Goodnight, Malfoy.'

'Oh, it will be now.'

'Good Godric, will you stop!?'

'No fun.'

'I am plenty fun, just not with you!'

Hermione muttered the incantation to disconnect the quill and groaned in frustration. She was no closer to knowing if Malfoy got her journal entry or with figuring out how to deal with him. To add to it all, she now had to puzzle through Malfoy's new weirdly suggestive side. And work with him closely in multiple classes. But one thing was for certain, if she had any more dreams, she would NOT be writing about them.

Snapping her journal shut, Hermione returned it and the quill to their regular places. Looking down at her desk, she saw Viktor's letter still awaiting her reply. She groaned and collapsed onto her bed.