Hello! I hope everyone is doing well! Another day, another chapter. Updates may be a little more erratic as we get closer to the end. I usually struggle with endings. Ah, we'll see! My apologies for any typos, I reread this chapter a ton but they're easy to miss :)
Sunday arrived in a misty drizzle. Hermione spent the morning lazing around with Ginny until Ginny had to go to quidditch practice. Then, she spent another couple of hours helping Neville with his Potions' essay. The weather turned nasty and lunch resumed with flashes of lightening and rumbling thunder underneath the Great Hall's magical ceiling.
It was early afternoon and Hermione made her way to the library to meet up with Draco when McGonagall intercepted her.
"Ms. Granger," McGonagall said, walking toward her in a brisk step. "A moment please."
Hermione paused. "Of course, headmistress. Is everything alright?"
McGonagall gestured for Hermione to follow her down the corridor that led to her office. "Yes, you have a visitor."
Hermione faltered for a moment, then quickly caught up with McGonagall. "Oh?"
McGonagall gave her a stern look. "Yes, but please don't get used to it. I'm making this exception just this once."
Hermione nodded, her curiosity piqued. "Of course, headmistress."
They reached the gargoyle, then moments later they were climbing up the curved stairs and entering McGonagall's office.
There, standing next to the fireplace was—
"Ron!" Hermione exclaimed. She raced over to him and jumped into his awaiting arms.
He laughed, lifting her off the ground as she squeezed him as hard as she could.
McGonagall cleared her throat behind them and Ron glanced at her.
He set Hermione down gently and stepped away. "My apologies, headmistress."
McGonagall nodded once. "You have 15 minutes, Mr. Weasley," she said. Then, she swept out of her office leaving them alone.
Hermione took a step back and gave Ron a good, long look. He looked relaxed and healthy, his blue eyes bright but there was a trace of trepidation on his face.
"Is everything okay?" she asked.
Ron took a breath then nodded at the two chairs in front of McGonagall's desk, gesturing for Hermione to take a seat.
Hermione's nerves grew as she settled into one of the chairs, twisting in her seat to look at Ron fully.
"Is it—is it your parents?" she asked, now worried as Ron hesitated.
"No," he said, brushing a hand over his mouth. "No, everyone is fine. I'm just..." He rubbed his knee with the palm of his hand, a gesture Hermione knew all too well.
He was worried.
"I've..." Another rub to his knee. "George got a letter from Ginny asking about fresh jumping ginger. Not something Ginny would do out of the blue and with no explanation."
Hermione's stomach twisted. Sometimes Ron could be clueless but when he wasn't, it was almost impossible to get anything by him.
"I've also heard things," he continued. He looked at her then, head-on and unblinking. "I've heard you've been spending a lot of time with Malfoy."
There it was. Of course he heard about that. It was no secret she spent a lot of time with Malfoy. They didn't even try to hide it at this point.
"With those two things happening at the same time, it couldn't be a coincidence," he said, now looking even more concerned. "What's going on, Hermione? Are you okay?"
Hermione took a deep breath and held it for a moment before blowing it out in a rush.
"I'm going to tell you what's going on," she said slowly. "But I need you to not freak out, okay?"
He gave her a long look. "Hermione..."
"I'm serious, Ron. This is something you would normally freak out about. Please be openminded?"
He nodded slowly then, his mouth in a tight line—like he knew he was going to hate what she was going tell him.
She started with telling him about the first instance of her scar acting up and Ron began rubbing his knee again. When she told him about the episode outside of the greenhouse, his face got so red, it looked like it would pop off his head. By the time she got to part where she and Malfoy were working well together and getting closer to a solution, Ron's red face almost went back to its normal color.
"And Malfoy's been okay with you? Respectful?" Ron said, trying to keep his voice level.
"Yes, we get along surprisingly well," Hermione said. She almost told him she considered Malfoy a friend—but that was probably too much for Ron right now.
Ron's jaw tightened, like he was trying to keep his words from spilling out of his mouth. He took a deep, slow breath. "And you think you translated the cure?"
"Yes, I think it'll work."
"And the Jumping Ginger?"
Hermione hesitated. This part Ron would absolutely hate. "It's to test out the incantation."
His eyes narrowed slightly. "Why?"
"Malfoy would use the Jumping Ginger as a test dummy for the incantation before using it on me. To make sure its safe."
Ron squeezed his eyes shut. "Merlin, I don't like this, Hermione."
"Theoretically, I should be fine. I don't even think testing it is necessary," she said calmly. "But its best to be safe."
"You don't think he's doing this to...I don't know—hurt you in some way?" Ron asked, his voice strained. "To get back at you for being a...muggleborn?"
"No, I don't, Ron," she said with absolute conviction.
It must have been enough because Ron's shoulders relaxed a little.
"Okay," he said. He was silent for a long moment, his expression clearly struggling. Then he nodded slowly. "If you think this is the right thing to do, I support you." He looked at her steadily. "I trust your judgment, Hermione."
"Thank you," she said quietly.
"And this Jumping Ginger—when do you need it?"
Hermione did a quick countdown to the next full moon in her head. "In a week and a half."
"Okay, I'll owl it to you directly," he said.
Hermione smiled at him, relieved to have one less thing to worry about.
"Thank you, Ron." She reached her hand out to him. "Thank you for being such a good friend."
He grasped her hand and returned her smile. "Best friends."
When Ron disappeared in a plume of green fire in McGonagall's fireplace, Hermione's had a strange ache in her chest. She wasn't sure why. She didn't feel sad exactly, or happy. It was just...a lot.
She swallowed hard as she watched the green flames flicker out. Her eyes burned but she wiped them away quickly. She straightened her back and left the office, making her way down the spiral staircase and out into the corridor.
She thought about Ron as she made her way to the library. She hadn't realized how much she missed him until she saw him. She assumed it would be the same with Harry as well. But—even missing them—she had found others who filled those empty spaces and she was grateful.
Entering the library, she walked to their table. Draco was there, his head bent over a scroll when she joined him.
He leaned back, assessing her as she sat down. "I didn't think you'd show up," he said in his usual teasing tone. "I'm glad you finally graced me with your presence."
She snorted at that. "Consider yourself very fortunate, Draco."
He smiled. "Yes, very."
"I had a visiter today," she said. "Ron came to see me."
Instantly, the soft smile on his face fell. "Oh?"
Hermione wasn't surprised by Draco's reaction. He and Ron still considered themselves enemies, after all.
She took a deep breath and told him about her conversation with Ron. Draco listened impassively, his expression impossible to read. When Hermione explained how Ron had heard about the two of them spending time together, Draco had stiffened slightly and he hadn't relaxed even when she explained Ron's support.
"Ron will be sending us fresh Jumping Ginger soon," Hermione said.
Draco glanced down at his book, his fingers brushing the pages. "That's nice of your boyfriend to do that."
Hermione made a face. "My boyfriend?" she said. "He's not my boyfriend."
Draco's eyes snapped to hers. "But, I thought..." He jerked his neck to one side. "The Daily Prophet said you two were together."
"Yes, for about five minutes until we realized how strange it was." She shook her head again. "We're better off as friends."
"Oh," he said dumbly. "Oh..." Abruptly, he grabbed the book in front of him and stood up. "This...this isn't the book I wanted." He hesitated for an awkward moment then turned and left.
Hermione stared after him. That was weird. He left his bag so clearly he was coming back. Before she could think too hard about it, he was back with another book. She watched him closely as he sat back down. He seemed back to normal.
"Did you start that Charms essay?" he asked, placing the book carefully in front of him.
"Do you actually know me?"
He smiled then, loose and easy, his eyes sparkling. Hermione's breath caught in her throat. Something shifted—something light and bubbly. It was disorienting but not unpleasant.
"Dumb question," he said, cracking his book open with a flourish.
"Yes, a pattern of yours, I've noticed," she said.
He laughed at that. "Ouch." He watched her for a long moment, his eyes mischievous. "Do you want to walk down to the lake?"
Hermione stared at him, disoriented. "Now? The weather is awful."
He glanced up out the window. "It was, but I see patches of blue sky."
She looked doubtful. There were no blue skies from where she could see.
"Come on," he said. "I'm feeling restless."
"It looks like it might rain again."
"Oh, Granger, do I need to explain how magic works again?"
"Making fun of me isn't the best strategy to getting what you want," she said pointedly.
"How about this, you and I go for a walk and I'll make a trip to the kitchen and personally beg the elves for some hot chocolate and cake."
"I can do that on my own," she scoffed. "That's hardly a bribe."
"Please, Hermione," he pleaded. He gave her a little pout and she folded. For some reason, she couldn't say no when he was making that face at her.
She sighed, feigning annoyance. "Fine, but if I get wet out there, you're dead."
They both dropped off their things in their common rooms and agreed to meet at the main entrance. Draco was already at the entrance when she arrived. He looked excited, bouncing slightly on his toes as she approached him.
"Ready?" He held out his arm to her. She eyed it suspiciously but took it.
"Remember what I said, Draco," she warned. "Me: wet. You: dead."
He grinned down at her and they walked outside.
She didn't get wet...in the first ten minutes of their walk. The path was slick and Hermione clung to Draco's arm as they picked their way down to the lake. Then the rain started. And it wasn't a light rain either. But Draco was right—he knew an arsenal of water repellant spells and they both were dry until Hermione stepped on a particularly slippery part of the path.
Her foot slid right from under her. Panicked, she squeezed Draco's arm. Fortunately, he kept her upright but in doing so, his wand slipped from his fingers and was swallowed up by the tall grass that lined the pathway. His water repellant charms vanished instantly. He swore, still trying to keep Hermione on her feet.
The cold rain hit her like tiny, stabbing icicles.
"Oh my god!" she screeched. "It's bloody freezing!"
She fumbled for her wand but her fingers were slippery and it took an inordinate amount of time for her to wrestle it out of her cloak.
When she finally did, she could feel the icy raindrops running down her neck and soaking her shirt as she accoi'd Draco's wand in his awaiting hand.
Immediately, he renewed his charms but too late. They both were soaked and Hermione was already shivering. He stared down at her, grinning, framed by the raindrops bouncing off his water barrier.
She glared at him. "Are you serious right now?"
"Your hair gets really curly when it gets wet, doesn't it?"
"Wet, is the optimal word here, Malfoy," she ground out.
He twirled his wand and his water barrier expanded, now covering the area around them by several extra feet, then he did a quick drying charm to get most of the water off of them. Hermione cast a warming charm and felt a little better.
"I take it our walk is over, Granger?"
An arc of lightening flashed overhead, followed by a loud rumble of thunder.
"What makes you say that?" she said.
"Lucky guess," he said with a happy shrug.
A gust of wind billowed uphill, carrying enough rain to spray her directly in the face. She squeezed her eyes against the onslaught. When she opened her eyes, he was still smiling at her, his hair only slightly damp.
"You are so dead," she said.
His smile grew wider. "And will my impending execution be now or should we wait until after hot chocolate in the kitchen?"
With as much dignity as she could muster, she flicked a few soggy curls away from her face. "After," she muttered.
The kitchen was blessedly warm and the elves were ecstatic to see Hermione again along with her new guest. The elves ushered both of them to a tall table with stools, then plied them with hot chocolate, piping hot french onion soup and fresh bread. Hermione almost wept with joy when the head chef informed her the cake would be out of the oven soon.
Draco had dried them off once they entered the castle but she didn't think he looked contrite enough to satisfy her. In fact, he didn't look contrite at all! He just sat in the stool next to her, facing her, his outer robes stripped away and his dress shirt rolled up to the middle of his forearms. Usually hidden, his darkmark peeked out of his shirtsleeve and Hermione had stolen a few quick glances when Draco wasn't looking.
"Still mad?" he said.
She just glared at him and took an aggressive bite of bread. He chuckled at that.
"So, I was thinking..." he said, smiling when he heard Hermione's unimpressed huff. "What's going to happen after we get rid of your scar?"
She looked at him, confused. "I'll be happy?" she said.
"No, I mean..." Gradually, his face shifted into a completely neutral expression.
And that's when Hermione realized he was nervous. He hid it well—too well and that's how she could tell.
"This year has been the best academic performance of my entire time at Hogwarts," he said.
"Well, duh, we've been studying with each other every night."
"Exactly, it's been...well, it's been really," he paused for a moment.
When the silence ticked on, Hermione tried to encourage him. "What do you mean, Draco?"
He sighed loudly. "Once your scar is gone, are we going to..."
"Are we going to?" She repeated, still confused. Then, it clicked. "Wait, are you asking if we'll still...spend time with each other?"
"Well, yes—" Now, he looked distinctly uncomfortable.
Her stomach dropped. "Why? You don't want to—"
Draco straightened in his seat. "No, I'm not sure! Wait, what are you saying? You still want to, right?"
"Do I still want to hang out with you? Yes, Draco, I do!"
"Okay. Me too." His shoulders relaxed.
"Don't scare me like that!" she admonished.
His eyes widened, surprise breaking through. "I didn't mean to. I thought..." He paused and took a deep breath. "I wasn't sure what was going to happen the day after."
"Well, I guess I didn't think that far," she said. "I just assumed we would still hang out."
"Imagine that, a Gryffindor not thinking ahead."
She threw a piece of bread at him and he caught it easily, smiling widely.
"Okay, well, I'm glad we got that all sorted out," she said.
He looked at her then, his eyes capturing hers. "Yeah, me too."
A few days passed, and Hermione was having breakfast when Draco's owl had dropped a note right on top of her toast.
We have to talk.
After breakfast.
-DM
When she looked across the hall at the Slytherin table, Draco was already watching her. He jerked his head toward the door. She took one last sip of tea, murmured a goodbye to Ginny and grabbed her bag, then immediately headed out of the Great Hall. Draco had sidled up next to her, his face impassive.
She peered up at him as they walked down the corridor. "Is everything okay?"
He gestured toward an empty corridor and whipped around the corner, Hermione had to walk quickly to keep up.
"My mother found a linguist," he whispered.
"Oh! That's good news, right?" she said, struggling to match his long strides.
"It is. I leave for the Manor on Friday."
"That's in couple of days?" She was now breathless.
"Yes, and I'll work with this linguist over the weekend."
"Wait, Draco, slow down."
He stopped, looking confused. "Oh, sorry."
She waved away his apology and stared at the collar of his shirt. There was an odd sensation in her ribs—a heaviness spreading there. "When will you be back?"
"Sunday afternoon."
She swallowed. "Okay."
"I would imagine it will be a nice break," he said, shoving his hands in his trouser pockets. "Not worrying about when your scar will flare up."
She was quiet for a moment. "I've gotten used to you. You're kind of okay."
He smiled at her. "High praise."
"What time are you leaving?"
"After my first class. I'll floo directly from McGonagall's office," he said softly. "Don't worry. I'll know the incantation backwards and forwards when I get back. No mistakes."
"I know, Draco." She looked down, trying to figure out why the heaviness seemed to be intensifying.
He bent down a little, trying catch her eyes. "Hey, Hermione, everything will be okay."
"You're right." She sighed. "Sorry, I don't know what's wrong with me."
"There's nothing wrong with you," he said quietly. "Except your voice." His mouth twitched. "Your voice is bloody awful."
She gasped out a laugh. "What?"
He broke out into a grin. "Absolutely horrendous."
She shook her head, trying to hold back her laughter. "Your hair is horrendous!"
He snorted. "Excellent comeback, Granger."
She laughed fully then, basking in the light moment, but the heaviness in her chest still lingered.
The next two nights, they went over the incantation and instructions meticulously until they knew every detail by heart. The Jumping Ginger would arrive on the following Monday, a couple of days before the full moon, so they only had a short time to test the incantation for its safety. They decided to use the abandoned prefect room to test it out.
If everything went smoothly, they would sneak into the southern greenhouse at the start of the full moon at midnight and begin the seven-day process and, hopefully, the scar would be well on its way to becoming a distant, bad memory.
Draco grew quiet as the weekend approached, his expression serious—impatient to get back to the Manor and get the process started, Hermione guessed. But she didn't like how he stopped smiling, how his were eyes hard—and that heaviness in her chest didn't go away.
When Friday morning arrived, Hermione was the one to send him an owl for a change. She watched as the school owl she had attached a note to earlier that morning descended into the Great Hall and dropped off her note. Draco looked at it in surprise, then he carefully pulled out the little card.
Smiling, she watched him read it—watched him huff a laugh.
Dear Draco,
My voice is great.
Sincerely,
Hermione Granger
p.s. You better owl me while you're away!
He looked up and locked eyes with her, his expression light and grateful. It made her belly flip.
She figured her note was probably their official goodbye since they didn't share their first class together. It wasn't until she was nearing the end of her class—staring at the clock—when she started feeling antsy.
That ever present heaviness now intensified. She needed to see him before he left.
The moment class was let out, she headed straight to McGonagall's office. She picked up the pace as she neared, almost breaking into a run. When she turned down the corridor that led to McGonagall's office, her heart sank. It was empty. Draco wasn't there.
Did he already leave? Maybe he was on his way to McGonagall's office?
She hung around outside the office for a few minutes, all the while feeling more foolish by the second. Sighing, she figured he must have left and she turned back down the corridor. She rounded the corner and—smacked right into him.
He looked rushed and breathless. "There you are! I was looking all over for you."
Stunned, she blinked up at him. "I was looking for you too. I wanted to say goodbye before you left."
He smiled then, bright and teasing. "Miss me already?"
She rolled her eyes so hard, it was a wonder she didn't hurt herself. "So, so much, Draco. Whatever will I do without you?"
He let out a laugh and shook his head. "I can't linger. McGonagall will have my hide if I'm late," he said. "I just wanted to say goodbye."
Suddenly, she felt shy—which was bloody ridiculous!
"I'm glad you did," she said, shoving the feeling aside. "Goodbye, Draco."
His eyes softened. "Goodbye, Hermione."
He turned to leave but she grabbed him by the arm. "Wait."
He turned his head, his face expectant.
Before she knew what she was doing, she pulled him down toward her, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. He froze, then she froze. Then her face exploded with heat.
What in Merlin's name was she doing?
Hastily, she began pulling away. "I-I'm sorry. I shouldn't have—"
Draco moved then, winding his arms around her waist. He was much taller than she realized and he had to bend over to hold her close. But he was warm, said a small voice in her head. The hug was quick but it was enough to keep her face flushed when they drew away from each other.
"Sorry," she murmured. She had a hard time meeting his eyes. "I'm...a bit of a hugger."
His cheeks were pink but other than that, Hermione couldn't read his expression if her life depended on it. "And I am not..." he said. "Generally."
She was about to usher another round of apologies when he peered down at her. "But for you, Granger, I'll make the exception."
She opened her mouth, but no words came out. However, her face felt hotter than ever.
"I'll owl you soon, yeah," he said. Then, he turned and headed toward McGonagall's office.
Mouth still open, she watched him walk away. When he reached McGonagall's entranceway, he glanced back at her and nodded once. She waved at him—a small, awkward gesture that made her feel like a moron.
A moment later, he was gone, disappearing up the winding staircase and that heaviness in her chest felt like a bowling ball.
It was then she realized what that feeling was.
She was going to miss him. She was going to miss Draco Malfoy.
Hermione continued missing him but she had fun too. After her last class that day, she made the decision to still have a good weekend. It wouldn't do for her to mope around.
That evening was spent hanging out in the Gryffindor common room. She, Neville and Ginny snuck Luna in and they played Exploding Snap well into the night, then ate enough candy to give both her parents conniption fits if they ever found out.
She went to bed feeling relaxed and happy but as she drifted off to sleep, her mind lingered on soft, grey eyes and a smile only meant for her.
The next morning, she woke up with a headache and she could hear her mother's voice in her head scolding her about eating too much candy before bed. A hot shower followed and she felt a little better as she drifted down to the Great Hall for breakfast.
Draco's owl dropped her a note right on her bacon and she was beginning to think the owl had it out for her. She tried to bribe the bloody thing with a piece of bacon but it only gave her a withering look, ignoring the bacon entirely before taking flight.
Granger,
The linguist is a gazillion year old wizard
who is very good at his job and
even more boring than that.
Please send me a missive that will
entertain me. I'm desperate.
-DM
p.s. Your voice is still horrid.
She smiled as she read his note, imagining the long-suffering look on his face as he recited the incantation over and over again.
Without him around, Hermione kept busy working on her homework in the common room which then evolved into her helping her housemates with their homework. She was so successful that a long line had formed at her table. She managed to escape during lunch, grabbing Philip and dragging him down to Hagrid's cabin.
She spent a nice afternoon giggling at Philip's awestruck face as Hagrid had him feed a visiting unicorn and her foal. Once Hagrid pried open a crate filled with a giant, hissing, slimy-looking amphibian, it was time for them to go.
After supper, she hid in the library and spent an hour writing to Draco, filling him in about her weekend and recounting how Philip had made new friends at the Gryffindor table during supper.
She felt good after she sent the letter, but as she climbed into bed, the heavy feeling of missing him crept back. He was coming back tomorrow so why did she feel so unbalanced and—if she were being honest with herself—pathetic?
Groaning, she rolled over and buried her face in a pillow. She was irritating herself. Never a good thing. At least she would see Draco tomorrow and this feeling would be gone.
Most of the next day was spent anticipating his arrival—her eyes constantly scanning the Great Hall or the main corridors. She had finally gotten sick of herself and ended up in the library after lunch. When he arrived back to the castle and felt like looking for her, he most likely head to their table anyway. No use making herself barmy in the meantime.
It was well into the afternoon and Hermione was lost in her Arithmancy homework when she heard a soft scratching sound. She froze and glanced around the table, then checked underneath it. The sound stopped.
She shrugged and turned back to her homework. Then, out of nowhere, a tiny, white mouse bolted across her homework. Hermione just about fell out of her chair, shrieking so loud it was wonder the windows didn't shatter around her.
There was a loud laugh. She turned, her heart pounding in her chest. There, halfway hidden behind a bookshelf, was Draco bloody Malfoy, laughing his arse off.
"Merlin, your face—" he gasped, hunching over to laugh even harder.
"You prat!" she hissed. "Madame Pince is going to kill us!"
He wiped his eyes. "I already conjured a silencing spell. No one heard you screaming bloody murder."
"Careful, Malfoy," she said, plucking her wand from the table. "I know several hexes that don't leave any marks."
He smiled wider at that, looking utterly delighted.
"You know, I never really appreciated Transfigurations, but it may be my favorite subject now," he said, flicking a large, white button in the air. When he caught it, it turned back into the little mouse. This time, the mouse sat calmly on his palm and looked almost as smug as Draco himself.
Hermione flicked her wand and the mouse turned into a slimy, grey slug. Gasping, Draco jerked his hand, flinging the slug away from him.
He grimaced and cast a quick scourgify on his hand, then returned the slug to its button form.
"Touche," he said, sliding in the seat across from her.
"So," she said, leaning back in her seat. "How did it go?"
"Like I said in my letter—utterly boring," he said. "But it was useful." He pulled out a scroll from his robes and unrolled it. "I now know the proper pronunciations of all the text. And I discovered there were a couple minor changes to some of the words that we translated." He pointed to a passage. "The wand movements are bit worrisome."
"There was no indication of wand movements in the text though," she said, peering down at the parchment.
"Exactly," he said. "We just assumed it meant point and speak—which is a normal assumption. But this word here." His hand brushed down to the incantation's directions, tapping a finger on the word virgula. It was one of the first words they translated. The Latin word for wand.
"Then this." Draco dragged his finger down a few lines and stopped at another word, verrunt.
"Sweep," she translated. "They're pretty far apart from each other. Are you sure they're connected?"
"No," he said, worrying his lip. "I may just be paranoid."
"You're being careful. There's nothing wrong with that," she said. "Tomorrow we should be getting the Jumping Ginger then we'll be able to test it out."
He nodded then, his face still troubled. "I don't like surprises," he muttered.
"Says the boy who transfigured a button to a mouse to scare me half to death," she said with a glare.
He smiled then. "Correction: I don't like most surprises."
She shot him one more glare. "I know what you mean though. Surprises with something like this..." She gestured down at the parchment. "...are never good." She sighed loudly. "Well, we have no choice. We just keep moving forward and figure out problems if or when they come up."
He nodded slowly and was quiet for a moment. "So," he said, his voice suddenly light. "Please tell me you and Philip didn't touch any strange creatures down at Hagrid's while I was away."
Grinning, she recounted her visit in all its details—the worries of the incantation forgotten.