A/N: I know it's been a while, and this one isn't that long, but I really enjoyed writing it. I hope everyone is staying safe, and I hope you like this chapter! Love, CrazyAsACupcake

On Monday morning, Hermione wakes up at 5:23. She lays on her side in bed, facing away from Parvati's bed, her arms curled under her head. For a second, she just stares at the wall – just past Fay – before she sits up and reaches across to her trinket box which is resting on the cabinet. She opens it silently, running her fingers adoringly over the unmoving ballerina that stands in the centre, and pulls out Malfoy's ring, closing her hand around it and holding it close to her. She gently moves the other jewellery out of the way, eventually pulling out a necklace with a thin silver chain. The necklace charm gets removed (a ballerina – a gift from her grandma when she was 13) and she slips the ring onto the chain, fastening it around her neck and slipping it underneath her pyjama shirt. She's not sure, exactly, why she does it; maybe it's because she just thinks it looks nice, or perhaps it's because it's far too big to go around her finger. Or (the most obvious reason to anything that isn't Hermione) it's because she wants to keep a piece of him close to her – close to her heart, to be more specific.

She stretches, her shoulders clicking as she raises her arms over her head, then gets out of bed. Without really caring if it looks neat, she throws the covers over the bed, telling herself she'll sort it out later (she won't), and pulls her shirt and skirt out of her trunk. She tiptoes to the bathroom, careful not to wake any of the other girls, locking the door behind her and slumping against it with a sigh. After a quick shower and a fight to try to get her hair into something that resembled a bun, she gets dressed, making sure her shirt is tucked properly into her skirt before fastening her tie, grumbling under her breath whenever she makes the tie too long or too short. She's ready by 6:45, so, with nothing else to do, she sits awkwardly on the end of the bed, playing with the hem of her skirt.

Parvati wakes up next, squinting at Hermione as her eyes focus. "Aren't you going to make your bed?"

Hermione jolts at her voice, as if woken from a trance. "Yeah, I am." She stands, pulling the sheet so it's straight and tucking the edges underneath the mattress. She tries to ignore Parvati's eyes drilling holes into her back.

Lavender sits up groggily, basically rolling from her bed to the bathroom to get ready. She comes out less than ten minutes later smelling of flowers with a smile on her face. There are no dark circles under her eyes and Hermione scowls; how come girls like Lavender and Parvati never have dark circles? Why couldn't she be like that?

"Hey, Hermione," Parvati swings her legs over the side of the bed, smirking at Lavender as Hermione fluffs her pillows up on her bed. "How about the three of us play a game?"

Hermione glances at the clock beside her bed, blowing a loose strand of hair from her eyes. She turns towards Parvati. "I suppose we could…"

Parvati claps like a child, grinning at her and tucking her legs up under her nightgown. "Let's see, what game could we play…" Lavender tries to supress her a smile, her eyes glinting. "Oh! Let's play Kiss, Marry, Kill!"

Hermione frowns. "Okay… We can play it a few times, but I'm meant to be going for breakfast at half past."

Parvati waves her hand, batting away Hermione's words. "You have plenty of time. Let's start easy then: Seamus, Dean, or Theodore."

Hermione snorts – Parvati was right, this one was easy. "Well…kill Nott, kiss Dean, marry Seamus."

"How about a harder one: Fred, George, or Zacharias Smith."

"Kill Zacharias, kiss George, marry Fred." Lavender makes a slight ooh sound, giggling to herself. Hermione glares at her. "I thought you were joining in, Lavender?"

"She'll only talk if we mention Ron," Parvati rolls her eyes, and Hermione gets the slight feeling that she's being toyed with – that Parvati is pretending to be nice to her to get information out of her. She leans towards her trunk, pulling her clothes out of it. "Last one, then I'm going to get ready. Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley, and… Oh, who should the third one be?" Lavender snorts behind them. "Oh, I know – Draco Malfoy!"

The world seems to stop as Parvati smirks at her. She begs her cheeks to not heat up, to not become that bright tomato red that they did every point of the day. "I suppose…" She pauses, swallowing. She can't say anything about Ron as Lavender would probably rugby tackle her from behind (not that Lavender knows what a rugby tackle is). She feels like she's been set up.

"Well, kill Ronald, obviously." Lavender lets out an overexaggerated gasp behind her, followed by giggling. "I wouldn't want to upset you by saying anything otherwise, Lavender." Hermione says over her shoulder, her voice even and cold as she stares at Parvati with emotionless eyes.

Don't let them see that they've got to you.

"I guess… kiss Harry and marry Malfoy." The words come out in a rush and she almost stumbles over them. Parvati's mouth is open in fake shock, her eyes glinting. "I wouldn't want to do anything intimate with the creep. And no one said we had to do anything once we were married; I'd marry him then live in the opposite side of the house to him. We don't need to see each other at all."

Parvati's face falls slightly, her eyes darkening as she realises Hermione cheated her game. "You can't do that."

"Oh really? And who says I can't?" Hermione snaps.

"I do."

"You should have said so before we started then," she replies curtly, pulling her cardigan on and grabbing her robe and wand. She throws the strap of her bag over her head. "You can't change the rules to a game once it's already begun." She leaves the room, the door slamming behind her as she pulls her robe on.

Ginny is waiting in the common room, draped across one of the sofas as she stares at the unlit fireplace. Hermione wonders what she could be thinking about as she taps her on the shoulder, jerking her out of her trace-like state.

"Morning, 'Mione," she smiles, revealing perfectly straight teeth. "Just waiting for the boys now." Almost as soon as she says it, Harry enters the common room, his hair a mess and his glasses slightly skewed over dark eyes.

"Come on then," he grumbles, marching towards the portrait.

"Where's Ron?" Ginny picks her bag up from the floor, following him with a frown.

"Says he's eating with Lavender today."

"Why?"

"I don't know," Harry snaps as they make their way to the Great Hall.

"No need to be like that, Harry." Ginny sniffs, annoyance crossing her face.

"Like what?"

"Like this," she gestures at him.

"I'm not doing anything!"

"Why are you getting so defensive?"

"Why are you having a go?"

"I'm not having a go! I-"

"Stop it!" Hermione shouts from between them. "Both of you, just stop!" She glares at Harry from under her lashes and his face glows.

"Sorry, Hermione."

"You will be," she snarls, pushing that annoying loose strand of hair behind her ear (or at least she tries to; the strand is too short to go behind her ear, and instead falls back in front of her eyes). "I'd like to at least have a nice breakfast before Defence Against the Dark Arts with Snape and the Slytherins."

They enter the Great Hall – greeted by the smell of fresh grilled bacon and just-brewed tea – and take their seats towards the middle of the Gryffindor table. Hermione can see Dean Thomas sat with Seamus further down from them, and she is caught awkwardly in the middle of Ginny and Dean's silent flirting. To try and distract herself, she picks up a slice of toast, shoving it into her mouth without buttering it first. She chews the crisp bread into a mushy, flavourless pulp, before swallowing it uncomfortably, cursing herself for being such an awkward person.

She leans across Ginny and grabs some bacon, and a sausage, dropping them onto her plate beside her un-buttered, half-eaten slice of toast. She eyes the bowl of scrambled eggs, deciding to treat herself to a spoonful as Ginny bats her eyelashes at Dean over her head.

Maybe she deserves two spoonfuls.

As she cuts her bacon into small pieces, Harry glowers past her shoulder. She puts two pieces in her mouth, the burst of flavour making her shove two more in, then another two. When she looks back up, still chewing the delicious bacon, Harry's stony expression is ever present. "What, Harry?" She sighs, pouring herself some tea.

"Malfoy is up to something." His voice comes from somewhere deep in his chest, the sound dark and angry.

Hermione rolls her eyes, stabbing another piece of bacon with her fork. "And what makes you think that?"

"He's been staring at us since we walked in."

Hermione tries her hardest to not go stock-still, tries to not let her spine stiffen and her cheeks flush as she glances at Harry. She sets down her fork. "Well, that's probably because you've been staring at him too. You know how he likes to wind you up."

Don't look at him.

"I don't know, 'Mione. He's not even looking at me. He's just looking vaguely at the table."

"So how do you know he's up to something if he's not even looking at you?" She hisses with annoyance, leaning forwards across the table to try and capture his attention. "He's probably just tired and staring into space. Stop making something out of nothing, Harry, please. Just let us enjoy breakfast without your conspiracies."

He holds her gaze for a moment before looking away, sighing and throwing his hands up. "Fine, you're right." He pours himself a bowl of cornflakes, grumbling under his breath.

Hermione turns, looking towards the Slytherin table all the way on the other side of the Hall. She sees him instantly, his grey eyes trained on her. When he sees that she's turned towards him, he smirks and wiggles his brows at her.

Pansy is not beside him; instead he is flanked by Zabini and Nott – neither of whom are giving him any attention.

She gives him a look, a look that says stop it, you're going to make things Difficult (yes, difficult with a capital 'D'), only to be met with his normal shit-eating grin. And then he does the strangest thing.

He winks at her.

All the way across the Slytherin table, the Ravenclaw table, and the Hufflepuff table, Draco Malfoy winks at Hermione Granger.

Her eyebrows shoot up in shock, and she sees his head go back in a laugh as he watches her reaction. She glares at him – she's done quite a lot of glaring for one morning. He smiles, winking again before he turns to Nott and starts a conversation, leaving her turned around on the bench, watching the Slytherin table.

She watches the way that he interacts with them and she is blown away by how at peace he seems, how effortless it looks for him to have fun and be free with them. Even this far across the Hall, she can see how the mirth from the conversation makes his eyes glitter, how his hands aren't itching to touch his hair, how his eyes don't look too sunken, or his skin too pale or too sallow.

His eyes flicker over to hers, and he turns his head slightly. His voice carries over all of the heads in the Hall.

"Do you like what you see, Granger?"

Hermione feels her cheeks flare as she spins back to the table, eyes wide. His laughter – his gorgeous, light, care-free laughter that makes her heart feel like it's about to burst – dances around her, and she thinks maybe her mind is amplifying it until she feels a gentle hand on her shoulder and hears Harry growl across from her. The bench beside her groans slightly as someone lowers themselves onto it.

"Relax, Potter. I'm just here to tell Granger that if she enjoys staring at me so much, she can be my partner today in DADA." She can't help but roll her eyes. Of course he abbreviates it.

"She doesn't want to be anywhere near you, Malfoy. Get your hand off her."

"I think she can make her own decisions, don't you, Potter?"

Harry's eyes don't leave Hermione's, and she can see the fire in them behind his glasses.

"Snape said that we were learning Nonverbal jinxes today, didn't he? I'd rather test them on someone who deserves it." She finally turns towards him, surprised to see the smirk playing across his face as he regards her.

"Right back at you, Granger," he murmurs, and Hermione hopes that she is the only one who notices the lack of malice in it. He smirks at her once more, standing from the bench. He sneers at Harry. "Maybe you should let her speak for herself every once in a while. She is a rather intelligent young woman, you know." With that, he strides out of the hall, his robes billowing behind him.

Hermione forces herself not to watch him leave.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Harry seethes, glaring at the doors of the Hall long after they slam shut.

Hermione sighs, picking her bag up and slinging it over her shoulder. She plucks a green apple from the fruit bowl in the middle of the table without thinking. "It means, he got to you."

She marches out of the hall, not listening to Harry grumble to Ginny about Malfoy. All she can think is one thing.

Draco Malfoy, you are going to pay for that.