A woman's terrified scream jolted Hermione upright in her bed. Her heart raced in her chest, pounding like someone charmed a dozen drums to beat frantically against her ribcage. Each staggered breath forced to fill her lungs felt like white-hot knives being shoved down her ravaged throat.
Of course. The screams had been hers.
Thank Merlin she remembered to put up a silencing charm on the room before falling asleep.
One breath. Wince.
Two breaths. Wince more.
Three breaths... She clutched her throat, ignoring the awful, sticky feeling on her skin.
In her mind, this had to be the worst one yet.
Hermione squeezed her eyes shut, holding back sobs that would only irritate her throat more. After a few minutes of letting this homesick, hopeless feeling pass, she forced herself to regain her bearings. "Right," she croaked. Without another word, she peeled her blanket off her skin. That would need to be washed immediately.
Stifling a sigh, Hermione pulled her limp curls off her face and neck. The cool air prickled at her damp skin. She shuddered at the drastic change. Hermione briskly crossed the room, ignoring the way her tank top and shorts clung to her like a second skin.
Her saving grace: her own private bathroom just off her room. Hermione gently opened the door, hoping she wouldn't disturb Robert at such an early hour. She wasted no time in yanking off her pajamas, discarding them almost carelessly in hopes that she would wash the sweat and fear from her body.
Logically, she knew it was foolish, but an hour later, her mind was clear once more. At least, as clear as it ever got these days.
As the sun crept into the sky, Hermione's nose was stuck in her Arithmancy text, deliberately avoiding her sweat-coated bed. She made the mistake of glancing up. The ghost of her past crept into her mind, unbidden: Are you a witch or not?
The corner of her mouth turned up. Oh. That's right. She is a witch. Of course.
She turned her eyes back toward her text with a smile as she blindly reached for her wand and cast a cleansing charm on her bed. After all this time, even as she sat in a school for witchcraft and wizardry... she still didn't think to use magic to solve things.
Oh, Merlin... Hermione thought and quickly checked her wrist watch. She still had plenty of time. With a heavy sigh of relief, she stood, ready to head into the kitchenette she'd wanted to use the night before.
She froze just as her hand reached the doorknob. Her encounter with Malfoy the night before filled her mind as a hauntingly beautiful melody filled the air. Her last class for the day was with Malfoy. How would that go... especially after last night? Furthermore, was Malfoy even Malfoy? Was this another case of Fourth Year, when Barty Crouch Junior had used Polyjuice Potion to impersonate Professor Moody all year? Or... was something more going on with Malfoy?
Would his personal dislike for her reflect in her grades this year?
Hermione squared her shoulders. No. It would be fine. If Malfoy decided to abuse his post as this year's Defense professor, she could go see McGonagall. It would be fine, no matter how much she and Malfoy disliked each other. Right? "Right," Hermione croaked, and shook her head at herself again. First thing's first. She would need to gargle some salt water.
Tap! Tap, tap, tap!
Without a second thought, Hermione let the official-looking owl in her window. Lost in her own thoughts, she took the letter and sat it down on her desk, looking for owl treats. Before she could find them, the bird simply flew away. Hmm, she thought. It was likely just another statement of failure, so she stuffed it in her bag for later. At present time, she really needed to ease her sore throat.
She followed the wonderful music through the common room and into the kitchenette, where she found a sight that made her smile for the first time since she woke. Just on the other side of the opened glass double doors, a handsome man sat on the balcony that overlooked the sea playing a small, almost oval-shaped wind instrument. Long, skilled fingers flew across the holes on the oval piece, creating a perfect melody that pulled at parts of her spirit that she hadn't known existed until that moment.
His light ebony face was tilted up towards the new sun, eyes closed almost in reverence. For him, all time ceased to exist in the moment.
For lack of a better term, she was bewitched. And she envied him.
She turned back, wanting to give him a bit of privacy, but she couldn't help herself. She found herself swaying to his Siren's song all the way to the cabinets. Hermione had already mixed her glass of salt water and had begun to gargle before she noticed that the music had stopped. She stopped, horrified, when she locked eyes with her dorm's resident musician.
Salt water instantly spewed from her mouth into the sink.
A light, booming laughter filled the room. "If I'd known that all it took was a little bit of music to take Hermione Granger off guard, I'd have played just for you years ago!"
Hermione wiped her mouth on her sleeve, completely mortified at the situation. "Good morning to you, too, Robert," she said, her voice still a bit raspy. He snorted and pulled his wand from his pocket. "Do you mind?" She arched a brow at him in question. He sighed. "Your throat. How bad does it hurt?" A deep blush warmed her cheeks. "That's what I thought," he said, a small grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. With a quick flick of his wand, her throat warmed and instantly felt soothed. Her hand flew to her throat in embarrassment. "Thanks," she mumbled. He shrugged, though his dark eyes told on him in their warmth. He wordlessly pocketed his wand.
Now that her throat wasn't on fire, she could focus on other things... like coffee. She quickly began gathering the grounds, creamer, and sugar and called back, "What is that instrument? And when did you learn to play?" The fact that she already had two mugs placed on the counter was not lost on either of them. He grinned. "You're welcome, Mimi..."
Hermione's head instantly snapped in his direction to pin him with a glare she normally only reserved for the boys. "I told you never to call me that, Ezekiel. Of course, I could always just start calling you some embarrassing abbreviated pet name too," she said thoughtfully, a sly grin spreading across her face. "How do you take your coffee, Zeke?"
The corners of his full lips pull downward in a frown as he narrowed his eyes at the petite witch before him. "That's not fair, Jean, and you know it." Hermione's grin broadened widely as she poured a morning brew for both of them. "So, we are doing middle names now."
She nearly lost it when he literally started pouting. "You started it," he grumbled. "Well," Hermione said, her cheeks starting to hurt from how much she was smiling, "you should have dropped the pet name second year when I told you it was awful." Just then, an alarming thought occurred to her, causing her to stop mid-stir. Her eyes widened in shock and she spun to look at him.
"I never did thank you for helping me with the basilisk research," she squeaked. "If it weren't for that..." Her hands flew to her mouth in horror. "Or for..."
Robert then did something she didn't expect. He reached out, gently squeezing Hermione's shoulders. "Yes, yes, I know my unsung contributions to saving the wizarding world are great." Hermione snorted in response. With a wink, he said, "There is one way you can thank me, if you feel you absolutely must." Hermione arched a brow at him once more, feeling more light hearted than she had in a while. "And that is?"
"Have a cup of coffee out on the balcony with me before we head downstairs." Hermione eyed their mugs on the counter behind them. When had the creamer and sugar been...? Oh. Right. Magic. She glanced up at him, smirking. "You must tell me when you learned such impressive nonverbals."
He grinned widely. "Impressive? Coming from you, that has got to be the compliment of the century. You might want to watch out. I might grow too big of an ego." Hermione rolled her eyes, grabbing her mug and passing him his. "Might? I think we're a bit late for that."
She didn't think twice about it when he took her by the hand and led her outside. There was something about the slight sparkle in his eyes when he glanced back at her that made her stomach flip. She couldn't explain it, nor did she want to. She was actually enjoying herself.
"What? You're impressive. I'm impressive. Nothing wrong with two amazing people like ourselves enjoying the morning air and listening to the sounds of an ocarina." Robert held up the small instrument she heard earlier, and a lightness filled her heart as it began to play itself.
Hermione could almost forget about everything as the pair approached the Great Hall. Well, maybe not forget, but better accept her new reality. The heaviness that normally weighed on her seemed to have all but disappeared. They gave each other a small parting wave as they made their way to their separate tables with a promise to see each other later, and for a moment everything seemed like it might be alright.
As soon as she spotted Neville and Ginny, she quickly joined them at the Gryffindor table, placing herself between them. "Good morning," she said, sounding cheerful even to her own ears. The other two perked up instantly. "You seem better," Neville said. "Did I miss something?"
"Or someone," Ginny grinned.
"No, Ginny. It's nothing much," Hermione smiled. "I'm simply excited to start classes. What about you, Neville? We didn't get much of a chance to catch up yesterday, with you getting named Head Boy and all." Hermione's smile was infectious.
"Oh, Ron's going to love that," Ginny laughed. "He's still recovering from Percy getting that badge!" The three of them groaned. "Not. Helping. Ginny," Hermione said, her hands covering her face at the memory of Percy's pompous attitude back then. He hadn't changed much since, now that she thought about it.
"Thank goodness," Neville mumbled. "Mail."
"Either of you notice that Malfoy's not here?" Ginny muttered thoughtfully. All three of their heads snapped towards the Professor's table. Sure enough, the blonde who never wore anything but black was conspicuously absent. "He better not be plotting anything. Like keeping Gryffindor from practicing on the quidditch pitch." Her eyes darkened at the sentiment, and all Hermione could do was gently pat her hand.
"You mean again," Neville muttered. Hermione swiftly elbowed him in the ribs, casting a wide eyed warning look. Shut up, Neville!
"Ow! Hermione!"
"It's going to be alright, Ginny," Hermione soothed, ignoring the way Neville rubbed his ribs. "I'm sure McGonagall won't allow it." Ginny nodded along, seeming to take in her friend's words.
An owl brought Hermione a copy of the Daily Prophet, and she tried not to think too much about the letters that both Ginny and Neville had on either side of her. The boys were busy. They'd write her when they could. "Neville, do you want my paper?" Hermione asked, decidedly focusing on her breakfast. Something like "sure," and "compost" reached her ears, so she handed it over without a second glance. Ginny, on the other hand, got eerily quiet as her eyes scanned the letter in front of her.
Hermione had trouble wrapping her head around the fact that her classes felt like a pleasant review. Maybe it was the advanced magic she had to learn during their time on the run. Maybe it was simply all the books she'd read in an effort to be on par with her fellow students. Maybe it was her obsessive need to prove herself. Either way, it was like falling back into step throughout the day.
In Charms, Neville's snort of laughter was unmistakable. Although, Hermione couldn't blame him at all. The subject: protean charms. "You'll have this one in the bag, Hermione!" He exclaimed. "That's quite enough, Mr. Longbottom!" Professor Flitwick scolded, although when Neville, Hermione, and Hannah erupted in a fit of chuckles, not even the former dueling champion could hide his mirth. Robert glanced at his partner in a silent question, leaving Hermione to say between giggles, "I'll tell you later." Neville simply shook his head and held up a gold coin with a grin. Hermione's eyes widened. "You still have it?"
Professor Flitwick had to use a sonorous charm to bring the class back to order with a heavy sigh.
Alchemy was much the same, except for this class, Hermione would have to use quite a bit of restraint. "You're looking a bit peaky," Robert whispered across the table at her. Hermione, whose curls were already dreadfully inflated and in a ridiculous bunch atop her head, currently had no idea why she thought it would be a good idea to sign up for this class. "I mean, I know it can be difficult to be around someone this charming..."
"Shove off, Robert," Hermione whispered, though it sounded more like a squeak.
He chuckled. "No, seriously. You want a sugar quill? I find it helps to calm me down."
Her eyes flew to his. A sugar quill?
"Trust me. They work wonders."
She took the small pack of them from his outstretched hand and thanked him with a small, wordless smile. Sure enough, it worked. Mere moments later she felt a thousand times better. Calmer. A bit giddy, even.
When she glanced at him once more, she saw him differently than before. Had he always been this kind underneath his slightly self-absorbed exterior? Maybe... she glanced down at her sugar quill. Could he be Ink?
"Psst," Robert whispered. "Check out those two over there." Hermione cut a discreet glance at a Ravenclaw-Slytherin pair across the room. "What about it?" She asked her partner. "They're working." The blonde Ravenclaw girl was leaned over her book, her hair shielding her face while the dark haired Slytherin boy seemed to be focusing intently on the cauldron. Robert snickered. "Five points says they're secretly dating, and they don't want anyone to know."
Hermione locked eyes with Robert in alarm for a moment before curiosity set in. "Are you... people watching?" A slow, heart-wrenching smile spread across his face.
Wait... heart wrenching? Robert was just a friend. Nothing more. Where did that come from? Internally, Hermione sighed. Hannah must be getting to her.
"Well?" Robert grinned. "Are you in?"
"What about our potion?" Hermione said with an eyeroll. "It's due by the end of class."
He sighed, still smiling at her in a way that made her insides want to melt. "You'll come around eventually, Mimi." Hermione scoffed at the notion but found herself returning his good humor as she turned back towards their work. It shouldn't have surprised her as much as it did that their potion was coming along nicely. "Shove off, Robert. That Gryffindor-Hufflepuff couple in the front row are about to botch their potion and get us all out of class."
Robert leaned forward with a triumphant smirk. A loud explosion followed seconds later, leaving both of them gaping in shock.
"I thought you said you didn't believe in Divination?"
Hermione gulped. "I don't."
Thankfully, Ancient Runes, Arithmancy, and History of Magic were much less eventful. As a matter of fact, Hermione couldn't remember feeling this calm and collected since... Hermione paused, trying to remember the last time. When had she ever felt so normal?
Not a single thought had been given to the sugar quill in her mouth when she entered the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom until Draco Malfoy stopped her with a single arched eyebrow.
There he stood, tall and proud, at the front of the class in billowing black robes that would even make Snape jealous. The Malfoy that watched her now was the complete opposite of the one she knew in school, the one who walked into her bookshop, the one on the train, or even the one that caught her on the seventh floor the night before. Just how many different faces of Malfoy were there?
This Malfoy was cool, collected, poised... literally the definition of an aristocrat-turned-teacher. Hermione swallowed. "You could at least be a bit more discreet about smuggling sweets into my class, Granger," Malfoy drawled. The whole class watched in awe as the sugary treat flew from her hand straight into the bin by his desk. "My class requires absolute focus, which means your wand hand should not be occupied with... other objects."
Snickers erupted throughout the room, leaving Hermione's face to burn. How dare he humiliate her like this!
"SHUT IT!" Malfoy yelled. Surprisingly, a quick hush fell over the room. For one seemingly long moment, silver eyes locked onto brown ones. "It appears we have a volunteer," Malfoy continued, his voice having dropped back to his usual drawl. "Granger, find a seat, put your bag down, and take out your wand." Hermione could only listen. Malfoy or not, she was entirely unaccustomed to being called out like this by a professor.
No sooner than Hermione had gripped her wand, a Ravenclaw boy had his hand in the air. "Yes, Cooper?" Malfoy replied. Hermione's head slightly tilted in fascination. His tone was rather... professional.
"Excuse me, Professor, " the Cooper boy asked. Hermione had to stifle a grin. He sounded a lot like herself. The fact that Malfoy's lips twitched, too, was not lost on her. "Is it true that you were actually a Death Eater during the Second Wizarding War?"
Hermione fidgeted a bit, completely unnerved by such a probing, controversial question. It was also entirely unnecessary.
Malfoy, however, maintained his composure. "Any questions that are not related to this class can be discussed after the lesson." Cooper, however, was unfazed. "This would be related to this particular subject, Professor Malfoy. We are learning how to defend Against the Dark Arts." Malfoy's face hardened. "Fair."
Malfoy's jaw clenched and unclenched several times, seemingly at war with himself. Without warning, he thrust both of his fists inside his pockets, staring toward the back of his classroom defiantly, the venom in his expression thinly veiled. The sight chilled her to the bone.
Hermione couldn't tell if Malfoy spoke to any one student or the wall, but when he spoke, not a soul in the room dared to open their mouth. "I will not repeat myself. From this point forward, I will not speak a word of my past nor my personal life, and anyone who dares to try and bring it up will lose at least fifty points and earn themselves detention. Am I understood?"
The entire class practically nodded as one. Seemingly satisfied, Malfoy continued in a tone that carried a shrewd bitterness. "I was, in fact, forced to take the Mark in my sixth year. I was put on trial, and I received my sentence."
Hermione cringed at how many students in the class wore looks of pure outrage. One Gryffindor girl whose name Hermione didn't know actually jumped out of her seat. "McGonagall's got DEATH EATERS..."
Without knowing why, Hermione actually stepped forward. "Stop right there."
A deathly hush fell over the class. Before Hermione knew it, she was suddenly inspired.
"You're forgetting the key word here: forced. What I'm seeing here is a lack of faith in Headmistress McGonagall's judgement. If you don't trust that she has every single student in this school's utmost protection in mind, please, do feel free to explain to her why you're dropping this class."
Several of her fellow classmates dropped their gazes. A few more squirmed uncomfortably in their seats. Hermione could empathize. She's been on the receiving end of McGonagall's stern gaze. "I don't know about you," she huffed, "but I am here to get my N.E.W.T.s, not to gossip about someone's past. With that being said, a person who was forced to live with Lord Voldemort should be well equipped to teach others how to defend against the dark arts, I think."
When Malfoy cleared his throat, it sounded excruciatingly loud against the continued silence in the room. "Right. Granger, in the future, do feel free to let me handle the opinions of my own students. Which... erm... also includes you."
Hermione sighed. "Right." Both Malfoy and Hermione straightened their spines, the awkward tension in the room so thick you could cut it with a knife.
Finally, Malfoy broke the silence again. "As I was saying. Don't think for a moment that just because Voldemort is gone, we will remain safe. He wasn't the first genocidal maniac, and he won't be the last. I won't bore you with the history of it, though. That's Binns' job."
A swell of suppressed chuckles filled the room. To Hermione's surprise, she wanted to laugh, too. "The most important thing when defending yourself is focus," Malfoy continued, seeming to finally find his sense of calm again. "Emotions are your worst enemy when you're trying to dodge the Sectumsempra Curse or trying to keep a Legilimens out of your head."
At that, Hermione internally winced. She remembered the Sectumsempra fiasco all too well. Malfoy didn't know it, but Hermione had snuck into the Hospital Wing that evening to check on him. It was the first time she had ever seen him looking so weak and frail. At the time, Hermione desperately wanted to try and make amends for Harry's recklessness.
It wasn't like when Malfoy had been stupid enough to antagonize Buckbeak. No, He could have killed him! The whole situation rattled Hermione so much that Madam Pomfrey took pity and allowed her to start helping tend to him while he slept. Little did either of them know, that week of part-time work in the Hospital Wing would help her immensely while on the run.
Malfoy's voice brought her back to the present. "For demonstration purposes, our volunteer here will assist me in showing you lot what a real life duel might look like." Hermione, slightly amused, blew a stray curl out of her face, taking care to subtly dart her eyes toward the class. A hint. "You lot might want to move your desks backward and to the side," Malfoy muttered. The class scrambled to make more room, eager to see two real-life war veterans have at it. From opposite sides of the war, at that!
Malfoy and Hermione turned to face each other. Once more, the Professor spoke to the class. "A real life opponent won't follow any sort of dueling etiquette. They'll simply... begin."
Malfoy immediately shot a spell toward Hermione, which she effectively blocked. The surge of magic flowing through her veins, ironically, made her feel truly alivefor the first time in a while. "You don't think that verbally casting spells would be helpful to the class, Professor?" Hermione quickly shot a nonverbal stunner back at her old class nemesis. She was surprised to be so pleased that he blocked it. Almost... like some sort of strange pride.
His signature smirk was back. "Given everyone's age, Granger, I think that nonverbals will be alright. That should have been covered already." One, two, three more spells, back-to-back, he fired in her direction, which she effectively dodged by rolling out of the way. Now Hermione was really getting fired up.
Crouched on the other side of his desk, Hermione fought a snicker as she cast a particular jinx she knew would get him riled up. The result was priceless. Malfoy, trapped in a rather large bubble, with his face twisted in frustration was quite possibly the highlight of her day. She could just barely make out his groan of, "GRANGER!"
Granted, he popped it quickly enough, but it was still quite the sight to see. The floorboards beneath her, one by one, came lifting up like the tiles of a piano. No matter. Hermione cast a levitation charm on the desk and hopped on top of it.
The pair each cast an "Aqua Eructo" simultaneously. The rush. The rush! It was like nothing she had felt in years. Neither Malfoy nor Hermione could keep the stupid grins off their faces as they fought for dominance. What neither anticipated was that both their wands would fly from their hands at the same time too.
The desk came back down with alarming speed. "Woah!" Hermione squealed. As the desk hit the floor, she lost her balance and fell right into a set of surprisingly strong-and even more surprisingly-waiting arms.
Hermione had never once in her life willingly wrapped her arms around Draco Malfoy's neck.
She had never once found her head against his chest.
She never once, in a million years, ever thought that it would be him who would catch her if she fell.
There was that smell again. Books and sandalwood, and something else she couldn't quite place... Hermione rigidly jolted upright, dropping her arms as though he'd shocked her. Mercifully, Malfoy dropped his arms and took a swift step backward.
"You alright, Granger?"
Hermione didn't have a clue how to process the lack of mocking or malice in his tone. In fact, he seemed... genuinely concerned. In a polite, professional way, of course. "Yes," she admitted stiffly. "Thank you."
The class broke out into a loud, booming applause. She heard cheers and whistles all around her, as though this were the Gryffindor common room instead of a teacher's classroom. "Alright, alright," Malfoy said, stepping towards his students. Hermione found this another mercy. She couldn't see his face. From the back, he looked just like the Malfoy she'd known forever-and not the one who kept her from falling on her face after a duel. She could take in some air that wasn't laced with everything that quite literally smelled like home.
"No homework tonight..."
The class erupted in cheers once more, but this time Hermione wanted to roll her eyes.
"But I want all of you ready to actually get down to some real work tomorrow when you get in here," Malfoy finished. As the last of the other students filed out, Hermione took the opportunity to try and sneak out with them.
"Granger."
Hermione stifled a sigh. She stiffy turned around, ready for whatever Malfoy was going to throw at her. "Yes, Malfoy?" She hadn't been prepared for the awkward tension that instantly filled the room. Malfoy leaned against the desk she had just levitated, arms crossed over his chest, but with a look of resignation painted on his face.
"This is awkward."
What?
An unexpected bubble of laughter burst from her lips. Something neither of them ever thought would happen. "Incredibly."
Finally, the Malfoy signature smirk appeared. "If anything, it should be you up here."
Hermione sighed, relieved that, at least this time, Malfoy didn't seem to be out to antagonize her. "It is strange, having to call you a..."
Malfoy groaned loudly, tipping his head back. "Merlin, Granger! Don't!"
Hermione all but skipped back towards the front of the room. She would not skip. Not around Malfoy. "So, it seems I've found a way to get on your nerves for a change. That doesn't involve merely existing."
Malfoy heaved out a deep, frustrated sigh, his face still pointed at the ceiling. "I... I don't hate you." Slowly, he turned the deep silver of his eyes on to her, and she couldn't look away. "After learning what true hatred is, I don't think I ever did."
It took sheer willpower for Hermione to rip her gaze away. "Malfoy..."
"Granger, I did and said some horrible things to you. Wished you dead, even, in second year..."
"Not helping, Malfoy," Hermione said bitterly.
"Look. I'm rubbish at these things, but can we start over?"
Hermione eyed him skeptically. "Why would you..."
The steel in Malfoy's eyes nearly made Hermione reach for her wand. "Did you actually believe anything you said at my trial?"
Hermione's chin jutted out in defiance. "Of course I did."
"He was just a child!" Hermione declared coldly, glaring at the entire Wizengamot, daring any of them to retort. "We were all children, thrown into a war all of you refused to fight! Pawns, if you will, in your monstrous game of Wizard's Chess. Now you all want to punish those same children to cover your own arses? You want to put all the repercussions on those same children YOU LOT refused to protect! If you go through with this; If you lock up people in Azkaban that were MINORS during the war; people who were burdened with the consequences of your poor choices, because YOU wouldn't shield an entire generation through your own cowardice, then you are no better than Lord Voldemort."
Hermione yanked her sleeve up, brandishing her scar for all the world to see. A collective gasp filled the room, louder than any round of applause she had ever heard. "I deserved to get this slur on my arm no more than Harry Potter deserved his lightning-shaped scar. No more than Draco Malfoy deserved his Mark. We, the generation the Wizarding Word has FAILED, are not defined by our scars, no matter how much it wishes us to be."
"Then you know the answer, Granger," Malfoy said, his tone bordering on bitter.
"You're not defined by your scar," Hermione muttered. "For me, you're defined by every memory I have of you." As she turned to leave, she was stopped in her tracks once more. "Why did you come back?" Malfoy demanded.
She gave him a bitter smile and gave him the only answer she could. "Honestly, I don't know." She closed her eyes, willing herself to speak the words. He was the personification of all her worst memories. Every single one of her nightmares. Yet, the Malfoy she knew wouldn't have hesitated to dock points or give her detention. Wouldn't have hesitated to mock her had he had this position over her before. He would have let her fall flat on her face during a duel, had he been the Malfoy he was before the war.
What kind of a hypocrite would she be if she preached forgiveness and second chances if she didn't practice it? A deep, shuddering breath rocked through her.
She extended her hand quickly before she could second guess it. "I'm Hermione Granger. And you are?"
For once, she didn't mind seeing that smirk of his. Without the malice or contempt behind it, it was actually kind of nice. Not that she'd ever tell him that. No. Absolutely not. The blonde immediately took her hand in his, though neither one would admit to the uncomfortably warm feeling that spread between them.
"Draco. Draco Malfoy."
"Nice to meet you, Draco."
Malfoy reached back with his other hand and ran it through his hair.
"Umm-"
"Umm-"
"Maybe we're not at first names yet," Hermione conceded.
"Let's face it. To me, you'll always be Granger." He shrugged.
"I think I'd be worried if you didn't call me Granger," Hermione said thoughtfully. You'll always be Malfoy as far as I'm concerned."
"You know," Malfoy said, "I think I'm okay with that."
It was Hermione who looked down at their still-joined hands. "Oh!" she exclaimed, dropping it immediately. "Sorry." Malfoy merely shoved his hands in his pockets with a slight shrug. "I guess you'd better be getting down to the Great Hall. They'll be starting dinner soon, if they haven't already."
Hermione nodded thoughtfully. "Aren't you coming? I noticed you weren't there this morning."
Malfoy smirked. "Looking for me now?"
The pair stopped just before they reached the doorway. Hermione rolled her eyes. "It was Ginny who first noticed, actually. I keep expecting to see your smirking face at the Slytherin table, but..." She let the sentence trail off. Both of them understood the meaning. Now it was Hermione's turn to smirk at him. "She's expecting you to book up the quidditch pitch so Gryffindor can't practice. Again." Malfoy shook his head as they stepped out into the corridor. "Bloody Gryffindors."
Hermione turned, only to start walking backwards down the corridor. "Bloody Slytherins."
With that, she left a speechless Malfoy alone in the corridor, wondering what he had just gotten himself into.