Chapter 6

"Yes, well…" The witch began, unsure on whether or not she should turn and leave or stay. Or palm her face at the fact that they'd be sharing at least one class starting the following week. She went on, "You did mention that. But I need this section, Malfoy, and you're in it."

"This isn't your library, Granger," he answered, his face looking nothing if not amused by her statement.

She frowned and rolled her eyes, then answered with her voice still gruff, "I think we can agree that I get first dibs, considering I've been here since the beginning of the year and you just showed up last night."

He looked her up and down, noticing the obvious aggression in her stance, and shook his head with a sigh while replying, "Fine. What is it?" He looked to the book in his hand and held it out for her to read the cover. "Did you need this particular book, or something?"

She looked at the black leatherbound book, the title- "Advanced Charms for Young Wizards and Witches: Vol. 1"- embossed in silver, and frowned deeply as she said, "No. I need the one after that, though."

It took her four quick steps to close the gap between them, wherein he seemed to flinch and take a step back from her advance in fear. She hardly paid attention to these actions, though, as she reached just past his head to grab the second volume of the one he held, as well as the book beside it, and she tucked them under her arm as she moved around him to leave the aisle.

But she stopped, turned on her heal, and said to his back, "The elves made you breakfast. It's sitting inside the kitchens near the portrait. One or two students aren't enough for them to send it to the great hall. Just in case you didn't know."

Then she left without waiting for an answer, in the direction of the very back of the library. Her usual spot, at least while she'd been alone in the castle, had been more toward the front, but if she could hide from Draco she would, and the usual spot wouldn't do.

The witch settled into a well-furnished corner, ready to study; a pastime that once was all she could think about, but now did out of habit and as a tool to drown out all other thought. The spot she chose was one of the nooks that had four chairs, each one respectfully representing a house in color, that surrounded a long coffee table on which she set her bag. She then flopped down onto the plush, high-backed Gryffindor chair.

She resealed her plate and set it down on the table just as the hint of a smile found her lips, due to suddenly recalling the look of fear and panic that had hit Draco's face as she'd walked toward him. The witch had lost the itch to punch the blonde since she'd watched Ron do so during the final battle, figuring that had been enough physical assault for a while, but she still found it slightly amusing to think he feared her lashing out at him.

With a shake of her head she dropped her smile, and the memory, and went on to unpack her bag and set the books in the middle of the table, humming the tune to 'Zombie'. She used her wand to ignite the fireplace that sat a meter or two away, the flames roaring to life immediately, and she kicked off her shoes as she got comfortable to take notes on at least one of the entire books before her, if not more.

After twenty minutes, when her food was finished and she'd made a small dent in her first book, the tell-tale sound of shoes on stone reached her ears, and she sat in dread and silence as she noticed they were getting closer and closer to her. She rolled her eyes and grabbed her wand, readying it in her fingers as Draco came into sight. The urge to curse him was so strong as he approached, her hand twitched as a spell sat at the tip of her tongue.

That is until she got a good look at him, her head tilted slightly to the side.

Earlier, when they'd met in the charms section, she'd been too annoyed to really look at him. But now that she had the time, she noticed how different he looked; quite different from being in the candlelight of a carriage, or in the setting of a bright pink restaurant. Or sitting with magic-suppressing irons locked on his wrists during his Wizengamot trial.

His hair, which was as platinum as ever and a bit longer than last she'd seen him, reached mid-neck, and was tucked behind his ears, the left of which was pierced and sported a small silver ring. His face was far less sallow than when he sat in wait in the courtroom, and was somehow less pale, if that were possible. She'd been under the impression he was always as white as the driven snow, but she was wrong. There was a healthy hint of color in his cheeks that morning.

The "ex-con" was still as lank and tall as he'd always been, and he looked sort of intimidating (if Hermione didn't know any better) while wearing slim-fitting black jeans, a black t-shirt and scarf, and a dark grey blazer with black elbow patches. His shoes, though, were Slytherin green snow boots, and said boots came to a dead stop just behind the Hufflepuff chair that sat directly on the other side of the coffee table from her own.

The witch let her wand go, the wood resting between her right thigh and the chair, and she looked him in the eyes that had haunted her the night previous as she stifled a sigh, asking, "Can I help you?"

A/N: A late update! I'm glad I finished this chapter.