Hello! I hope everyone is well! We're entering the phase in this story where Hermione and Malfoy are really starting to interact with each other. Since they're not antagonistic with each other (for the most part) it's fun to play around with how they would act around each other. To some, Malfoy may seem to be pretty soft in this story, which is how I usually write him, but he's still got some snarkiness to him. Anyway, I hope it puts a smile on someone's face today!

Also, thank you to everyone who commented, favorited and just took time to read this. It means a lot! My usual apologies for any mistakes.

The next morning, Hermione was still trying to make sense of her conversation with Malfoy. He was different yesterday. Nice was too strong of a word but it was the first time they had a real conversation that wasn't full of insults and anger.

It was unsettling. His behavior reminded her of the time they shared the carriage a couple of weeks ago. He was quiet and thoughtful—barely a sneer. He was not unkind. That was the only way she could describe it. That was how she explained it to Neville and Ginny when they crept back to the common room last night. Not unkind.

She could work with that. And it was a good thing too, since they would be spending a lot of time together researching his mysterious diary.

Glancing across the Great Hall, she spotted Draco, chatting with his housemates. She looked away quickly, not wanting to get caught. Instead, she focused on her oatmeal, stirring it listlessly in her bowl.

"Thinking about last night?"

Hermione looked across the table. Ginny was watching her with the same worried look she had seen on Ron's face countless times.

She smiled at Ginny. "Yes. It was so..." She struggled to find the correct description.

"Weird?" Ginny said.

Hermione nodded.

"Maybe it wasn't him," Ginny said thoughtfully. "Maybe polyjuice was involved."

Hermione stared at her friend. "What?"

"It makes sense if you think about it." Ginny shrugged. "I mean, it would explain why he's acting so different."

"I...guess," Hermione said slowly. "With magic, anything is possible." Then she saw the Ginny's mouth twitch into a smile. "Oh, you're winding me up."

Ginny couldn't hold back her laughter.

"Ha. Ha. You're hilarious," Hermione said, cracking a smile. "Is this a Weasley thing? Always messing with me?"

Ginny snorted as she laughed harder. "Yes!"

Hermione giggled in spite of herself and shook her head.

It was then that the owls came sweeping into the Great Hall. A familiar, dark owl flew over her and dropped a small envelope right next to her oatmeal.

Heart stuttering, she slipped the note out of the envelope, her eyes skimming the neat handwriting.

I have the copy of the journal.

Meet me in the library

after breakfast.

-DM

Ginny was watching her closely as Hermione told her what the note said. She could tell Ginny wanted to argue against her going but there was no good reason for her not to. This was the only way to fix her scar and Hermione wasn't going to pass up the opportunity.

She waited until Malfoy left the Great Hall first then said goodbye to Ginny and headed to the library. She found him lingering toward the back next to a row of enormous bookshelves. Their eyes met and she quirked her head for him to follow her and she made her way to her secluded table.

Setting her things down, she wiped her hands on her jeans. Ugh, was she always going to be nervous around him? It wasn't just the painful reaction to her scar either. It was as Ginny said—weird. Unlike her, Malfoy didn't look nervous when he appeared. His face was, as usual, carefully neutral as he set down his things.

He pulled a few sheets of folded parchment out of his bag and flattened them with his hands before sliding it over to her.

Hermione's breath hitched.

"How did you get these so fast?" she asked, tracing the parchment with her fingertips.

"I owled my mother after we talked last night. She sent me these immediately," he said. "In the middle of the night, of course," he added dryly.

"Of course." She smiled before she could stop herself.

He almost smiled back and Hermione quickly dropped her gaze to the parchment again.

Reeling back her focus, she rifled through the pages, impressed with the quality of work. On one side of the parchment was the copy of the diary then on the corresponding side were his mother's detailed notes. The amount of work she put in was staggering—with its neat columns and flashing arrows—all moving the information in a pleasing, organized way.

"You look impressed," Malfoy said.

"I am," she said. "Your mother's done a great job." She dragged a fingertip across the parchment. "I wouldn't have thought to use multi-colored ink for the different languages." She let out a breath. "This is good. This is really good."

"Don't sound so surprised, Granger," Malfoy said. "We Slytherins are a crafty, clever bunch, remember." He stood up. "Now, if you excuse me."

"Where are you going?"

His eyebrows jumped. "We need books to translate those notes, right?" he said slowly. "And we are in a library so..."

She narrowed her eyes at him. His face stayed expressionless but there was something in the tilt of his head that gave her the distinct impression he was enjoying himself.

"This is probably a good time to let me know if you speak several different languages along with hundreds of years old slang as well," he said, shrugging. "Just so I don't languish in the foreign language section of the library for no reason."

"Languish?" she said with a snort. "No, I don't speak any different languages unless you consider saying yes, no and please in French enough to carry us through."

Malfoy's mouth twitched. "Definitely not." He sighed loudly. "I'll be off then—languishing," he said, over his shoulder as he left.

Hermione made a noise in the back of her throat. Was he...joking with her? What the bloody hell was happening?

She shook her head and gazed down at the parchment in front of her. There was no making sense of Malfoy's behavior so she wasn't even going to try. Instead, she focused on his mother's notes and formulated a strategy.

Most of the easy translation were done already but it was probably a good idea to go over them again. Not that Hermione thought Malfoy's mother was wrong but it was easier to get a full picture of the text if Hermione was familiar with it. Next, it was important to isolate the more difficult words. She pulled a notebook out of her bag and scribbled her plan of attack.

She was almost done with her outline when an enormous stack of books slammed onto the table. She jumped so hard, she dragged a long black line across her notebook with her pen.

"Did I surprise you?" Malfoy said, barely holding back a smile.

She glared up at him, flicking her wand to erase the ink from her notebook.

He smiled fully now. "Sorry."

He sat down staring at the stack of books and let out a loud breath. "Well, we better get to it."

They sat there for hours, both working methodically and only speaking to each other to compare notes or ask a question. A few times, Hermione caught herself looking at him, still astonished to see his blonde head bent over a book across from her.

"Almost lunch," he said, breaking the silence.

Hermione straightened up, rubbing the stiff muscles in her neck.

He watched her closely. "Are you going?"

She stared down at her notes and shook her head. "You go. I'm kind of on roll here."

"You sure?"

"I'm not hungry yet," she said. "I'll pop into the kitchens lat—"

The pain hit her like a blow from a bludger. She gasped, her hands curling into fists as the burning sliced into her. Suddenly, there was a hand on her wrist and the pain receded so fast, Hermione was left breathless.

She stared at his hand on her wrist. "Thank you," she whispered.

"Are you okay?" He looked worried and that only made Hermione's cheeks grow warm.

Nodding, she slid her arm away from his hand. "Yes, sorry."

His eyebrows furrowed. "Why are you sorry?"

"I...I don't know why I said that." She slid her hands under the table, clasping them together. "I guess..." She sighed loudly. "...this situation we find ourselves is just strange."

He nodded slowly at her. "I suppose it is," he said quietly.

The silence ticked on.

Finally, Hermione couldn't stand it. "When should we get together again?"

Malfoy's eyes widened slightly and he began gathering his things. "Wednesday?"

"Okay."

"I'm keeping my mother informed with our progress. She's still researching on her own too," he said. "If I send her our research tonight, that will give her enough time to get back to me by Wednesday with her own findings."

"That makes sense."

He stood abruptly. "Good. See you then, Granger."

And with that, he left, leaving Hermione blinking where he stood. She flipped through her notebook to the back where she kept track of her scar flareups and scribbled the time, date and the relevant details. There was still no discernible pattern yet. Sighing, she pulled her hair back into a hasty bun and returned her attention back to work.

The next few days were somewhat productive. Hermione spent the next two evenings in the library. Ginny had joined her Tuesday evening. They spent half their time working and the other half giggling over Harry's latest auror-training fiasco which consisted of a weak shield charm and him singeing half the hair on his head.

Well, his hair would grow back.

Hermione had accepted Malfoy as her research partner. In fact, she wasn't nervous at all at the idea of spending more time with him.

Until...she got an another owl from him Wednesday morning.

My mother sent me her notes.

See you after supper.

-DM

Hermione wasn't sure why, but staring down at his handwritten note made her stomach flip. Ugh! She hated this feeling.

She did her best not to think about it which was pretty easy considering she had a full day of classes—with the exception of seeing him during lunch which was made easier by Philip waving at her enthusiastically across the Great Hall.

The weather was chilly but pleasant and she decided to visit Hagrid after her last class. The moment Hagrid answered his door with welts on his face and strange shrilly noises emanating from behind him, she should've just turned around and marched right back to the castle. Instead, she got roped into helping him feed these strange little, fuzzy creatures.

"Arcaturras!" Hagrid announced, beaming. "That's what they're called. Aren't they cute?"

They were cute—they looked like small, round balls of rainbow-colored fuzz with beady black eyes and claws. They seemed to be in a frenzy—hopping around and squealing in the picnic basket Hagrid was keeping them in.

"Quite harmless creatures," he added.

Hermione stared down at them doubtfully. Their tiny claws looked awfully sharp.

Fifteen minutes later, she had scratches on her hands and the beginnings of a nasty series of hives all over her body.

"Don't worry!" Hagrid boomed. "Those welts only last about 15 minutes!"

"Well, that's almost a relief," Hermione muttered. The hives were already itchy. "I think I'll be going now."

"You don't want to burp them?" he asked, looking at her like she was the mad one.

"No, thank you," she said and she quickly escaped.

The walk back to the castle was uncomfortable to put it mildly. The itching had intensified and the hives turned into an unnatural red color, like those formaldehyde cherries her dad loved so much. Her plan was to go back to the common room and take a cool shower long enough for the hives to go away.

She got a few stares once she entered the castle which was understandable. If her face looked anything like her hands, she must've been a frightening sight. She headed straight for the stairs, hoping to avoid as many people as possible.

"What the bloody hell!" a very familiar voice said behind her.

Hermione hung her head. Of course she would run into him. Slowly, she turned her head to face Malfoy.

"Holy hell! It's even worse head on," he exclaimed, his eyes wide.

"It's not that big of a deal. It was only baby arcaturras—"

His mouth dropped. "What? You actually touched one?"

"I...fed a couple?"

"With your bare hands? Merlin, what were you thinking?"

She was starting to feel self-conscious now. "What? They're cute."

Malfoy stared at her like she had grown another head. "How is it you're the top of our class but don't know you shouldn't go anywhere near an arcaturra?"

She was starting to feel dumb which always made her defensive. "Look, it's not that bad. The hives will go away soon."

He looked flabbergasted. "Who told you that?"

Now, she was getting irritated. "Hagrid. He said the hives will go away in 15 minutes which was 10 minutes ago—"

"Oh, Granger, please don't tell me you believed him." His voice was dripping with condescension. "Never mind, let's go see Madam Pomfrey," he said, gesturing for her to follow him.

"But Hagrid said—"

"Look, Granger, I know he's your friend so I won't insult him in front of you but you have to admit, he's not the most reliable person when it comes to dangerous animals."

"That's not...okay, maybe that's true but I'm sure the hives will go away—"

"True, they will go away eventually," he explained to her, like she was some first year who could barely hold her wand straight. "The key word here is, eventually." He stepped toward her and looked at her closely. "Ah, the hives are already turning orange. They go through the entire color spectrum, you know, and they last much longer than a few minutes." He narrowed his eyes. "Also, one of the side effects is explosive diarrhea."

"Alright, let's go to the hospital wing," Hermione said.

Madam Pomfrey's reaction was similar to Malfoy's—dumbfounded and judgy. She had given Hermione a salve with strict instructions to rub it all over herself, wait for a half hour and then wash it all off.

"And the explosive diarrhea?" Hermione asked her.

"What?" Madam Pomfrey blinked at her, looking even more dumbfounded than before.

"Isn't that one of the side effects?"

Madam Pomfrey shook her head like she was in need of a long vacation. "No, dear."

Hermione glared at Malfoy who looked absolutely unflappable.

Once they were outside of the hospital wing, Hermione rounded on him.

"You lied to me, Malfoy!"

He shrugged. "Yeah, I did." He didn't look guilty at all. "For some reason, you didn't seem all that convinced you needed to go to the hospital wing so I gave you a much needed push. No one with half a brain takes explosive diarrhea lightly."

She scowled at him.

He smiled then and nodded at the salve in her hand. "Uh oh, your hives are starting to turn yellow. You should probably go take care of that." He turned and left, calling over his shoulder, "See you after supper!"

After smothering herself with the very stinky salve, then sitting shivering in one of the shower stalls' floor and finally showering in scalding, hot water—all the while contemplating her life's choices—Hermione's was relieved to find her skin looking back to normal again. Although she did look a little flushed, probably from the salve or the unrelenting scrubbing or the piping, hot water, she wasn't sure. Thankfully, dinner was uneventful and soon she was making her way to the library.

Malfoy arrived minutes after she did and sat down.

"Thank Merlin, those hives are gone," he said, biting back a smile.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Yes, I'm sure my hideousness would've been a huge distraction."

His smile gave way to a frown. "I didn't say that."

"Whatever, Malfoy."

"I didn't say you were hideous," he said quietly. "But the hives would've been a distraction." The tiny smile was back. "I would've guessed they'd be indigo by now."

"Ew." She wrinkled her nose. "Can we never bring up this up ever again?"

"Only if you promise not to touch animals you're not familiar with again."

"Okay, but what if it's a cute, baby animal—"

Malfoy groaned. "Sweet Salazar, you're hopeless."

"I'm not hopeless. I'll have you know—"

Hermione's voice died in her throat as wildfire sparked across her scar. Without thinking, she reached for Malfoy's hand, clinging to it like a lifeline. The fire faded and she let out a relieved sigh.

She met Malfoy's intense gaze.

"Are you alright?" he said.

She nodded and took a deep breath.

Did she just imagine the subtle squeeze of his hand around hers? Merlin, she was losing it!

She slid her hand from his and cleared her throat.

His lips tightened for a moment then relaxed. He leaned down and pulled out his mother's notes from his bag.

"There wasn't much she added," he said. "But something is better than nothing."

"You're right. Any progress is a step forward." Hermione glanced down at the notes. "It doesn't make any sense," she mumbled, mostly to herself.

Malfoy raised his head to look at her. "What does?"

"The scar," she said. "The differing intensities. Our distance to each other. Our moods." She pulled out her notebook and flipped to the back where she kept her log. "There's no pattern."

"You're right," he said. "Why hasn't it happened in our shared classes?"

"I think it did."

Malfoy looked at her sharply. "What?"

"It didn't hurt, more like a tingling sensation," she said, shrugging. "I thought maybe I imagined it but...I remember feeling really angry—uncontrollably so."

Malfoy slumped back in his chair. "Like I said before, some of these old curses make little sense. They're just..." He shook his head, like he was searching for the right word. "...cruel, just for the sake of it."

"You're probably right," she said heavily. "And I think eventually it will happen in class—it's just a matter of time."

He frowned at that. "I really hope it doesn't."

He held her gaze and, in that moment, she could see how worried he was. She nodded once and looked away.

She was worried too.