CHAPTER 13

Middle of May 1998

Draco found Zabini down at the Quidditch pitch. Only a few other Slytherins were around, practicing their laps around the pitch, so Draco didn't mind pulling Zabini away from the extra fun training.

At the sight of Draco standing at the edge of the pitch with his arms crossed, Zabini began a slow circled descent from the air. A long, annoying moment later, Zabini touched down a few meters away from Draco, leaning his broom on the side of the stands.

"What brings you out here? Care to join us?"

"No, Zabini."

"Uh oh. Glad I have my gear on." Zabini took off his helmet, though, also setting this on the ground next to his broom. He held up his hands, as if in surrender. "What's going on?"

Draco seethed, but kept his voice under control. "You shouldn't have done that. I told you I lost."

"Are you still on about this?" Zabini sighed. "What, do you want to give it back?"

"Yes, actually, I do," Draco said, pissed. "I didn't care about the beach house in the first place."

"I don't either," Zabini practically laughed.

"I'm transferring it back to you, tomorrow morning. I don't want that thing on my hands."

"Fine," Zabini said. "Is that all you wanted?"

"No," said Draco.

There was a pause, and Zabini tilted his head in confusion.

"If you're mad about the Sex God thing, that's a rather arbitrary title. My pride and the entertainment you provided is enough for me."

"You shouldn't have told anyone what the bet was," Draco said, annoyed by his comments.

"Told who?" Zabini said. "You said not to tell anyone what the bet was. I didn't tell anyone."

"You did an interview with the Prophet. You didn't say what it was, but you came damn close."

"Are you mad about it being in the paper?"

Draco's eyes turned dark. "I'm mad about Hermione knowing."

"What?" Zabini said, letting out a shocked laugh. "Wait, she found out?" He bit back an amused look on his face. "Oh, that's rich. That's fucking rich."

"Well, what did you expect? You had it all up in the headlines."

"Mate, I didn't say anything in that interview. A lot of people make stupid bets all the time. It could have been on Quidditch, for all anyone cares."

"Then you should have said that to those fucking pricks at the Prophet."

"I don't know what you're going on about. I didn't tell her. Can I be any more clear about that?"

"Then who did?" Draco said, stepping closer threateningly. Blaise shrunk back, but not enough to show he was afraid.

"I don't know. But it wasn't me."

"Who else did you tell, then?"

"Merlin's fucking wand, mate, I'm a fucking Slytherin and I keep my fucking word. I didn't go telling anyone about it. The only people who knew were me and Theo."

Draco paused, glaring a hole into Zabini's head. "Theo," he repeated. "He wouldn't have."

"What does it matter anyways?" Zabini offered quietly. "We're out of here in just a few weeks."

The reminder shot through Draco like an arrow through the chest. He wasn't wrong. It was all ending so soon anyways. Had he forgotten? He had been so wrapped up in preparing for finals and finishing the paperwork filing and fucking Granger. He hadn't given much thought to what came after they were no longer living in the same dorm with each other. Everything beyond the present moment had sort of disappeared, which had been so… nice. That was part of what he loved about the perfect, undisturbed hollow space of the past week.

But Zabini was right. They were leaving soon. And he had no idea what was going to happen past graduation, especially with Hermione. Had she been thinking about it too? He cursed the reality that was flooding in.

"Seriously, don't kill Theo if he somehow forgot it was a secret. It's only Gryffindor Granger, isn't it? You said it yourself, it was all for the gag. It doesn't matter anyways."

Draco had said it, to get Blaise off of his tail. Before he really wanted to admit what he was feeling. Again, reality seeped in through the cracks of Draco's brain and he was fighting the flood.

"It does matter," he said. "I'm sorry. I was stupid to ever make this deal with you. We were all stupid." He looked back to the castle, then to Zabini. "Maybe Theo, especially. I need to find him, where is he?"

"I last saw him in the dorms."

"Blaise," Draco said before he walked away. But there wasn't anything he could say to encompass how sorry he was. Sorry for the realization that they couldn't be friends anymore, not in the way they were. Sorry that Blaise couldn't understand. Sorry that Draco needed to figure this out before he could talk to Blaise about it anymore.

"Goodbye," Draco said with an unsaid finality, turning around and heading to the castle to find Theo.

.*.*.*.

Just a few hours before she had confronted Draco, Hermione had heard from Pansy, of all people. She didn't want to believe her, because why would she, but it was the last thing in the world she expected for Pansy to approach her all alone in the Library.

She didn't want to believe it. She wanted to scream at Pansy to fuck off and go back to sneaking around with Ron, but it was the Library and Hermione had too much respect for the rules of the sacred place. She was angry that the news ruined the vibes of her favorite table. She was furious that she had to hear the news from Pansy, rather than from Draco himself. Or someone she knew and trusted.

Of course, Hermione had to check her sources, so she tracked down Theodore Nott as he was leaving the Great Hall and vaguely gestured with her wand until he told her everything. After all, Pansy had said it was between Draco, Zabini, and Nott, and Hermione knew from his demeanor that getting information out of Nott would be a lot easier than from the other one.

"Shit," Nott cursed, squeezing his eyes shut tight. "No one was supposed to know. Who told you?" he squeaked, and Hermione pursed her lips.

"It doesn't matter. But I need to know what the bet was. In your own words."

Nott hesitated, glancing around the hallway for some sort of escape or rescue. Hermione twirled her wand in her hand casually, and Nott fidgeted uncomfortably at it. It took very little to intimidate the boy. She wondered what he had heard about her.

"Did you talk to Draco?"

Hermione frowned. "Not yet. When I do talk to him, I want to know if I should be angry."

Nott looked at his feet.

Hermione sighed, feeling the burning anger wear at her. Underneath it all, she was just about to cry. She dropped her shoulders a bit and joined Theo in looking at his shoes. "Listen. I… This is really painful for me." She didn't want to break down in front of this Slytherin she barely knew. But there was something different about this one, something a little more willing to bend in him. She bit her lip hard as a single, hot tear slipped out of the corner of her eye.

"I know you know something. I can't… It would just break me."

Nott was staring at the tear stream on Hermione's cheek, looking conflicted. Finally, he drew a breath.

"It's true. I'm sorry. We were just being stupid, you know, and seriously, I respect you, I–I do. I guess I was just being stupid back last year, and I egged them on, but then I started to actually see you and… I feel awful about it."

Another tear slid down Hermione's cheek. She had gotten her confession.

"I was only around for some of it, when they'd discuss it and stuff. But I knew it was happening. I'm sorry."

.*.*.

Draco held it all in his head as he walked with purpose to the Headmaster's office. Now he knew the truth. Theo had slipped and told Pansy and Daphne. Pansy had told Hermione herself. Why in Merlin's name would she do that? To get back at Draco for busting her and the Weasel? He didn't know. But Hermione had gotten it confirmed and then gone to him. When he should have told her. When it never should have happened in the first place.

He knocked on the door and was immediately let inside. He had sent an emergency notice to McGonagall telling her he was coming in to discuss important, private business. He knew what he had to do and he was going to do it.

"Mr. Malfoy," greeted the Headmaster, gesturing to the chair across from her desk. "Good to see you."

"Headmistress," Draco said, not even bothering to sit. This was a standing conversation. "I'm here to renounce my position as Head Boy."

McGonagall stared at him like he had two heads.

Draco stood his ground, staring back at her to show how sure he was.

"You're graduating in two weeks."

"I need to be removed from office. It's of utmost importance."

"There will be no such thing done," she said with an air of incredulity. "You haven't done anything wrong."

"Yes, I have. I'm… having troubles with the Head Girl."

"Whatever do you mean?"

"We cannot live together these last few weeks. I need to be out of the Head Prefects dormitory. I can't explain it very well, because it's… complicated."

"I thought you two have been annoying each other since the first day you were here. I remember it all very well."

"Professor, this is different."

She looked down at her hands on the table, obviously annoyed. "It's the end of the year. I can't release you from your duties because you're having a squabble with your co-leader."

"It's not a squabble. This time, it's big."

"You said that at the beginning of the year when you came to me to complain."

Draco was frustrated. Sure, that had happened way back before he had even really talked to Hermione, but… why couldn't she see that this was bigger?

"I can't remove you, since you haven't done anything against the Prefect rules. You've been doing a great job this whole year."

"I have done something very bad though. I…I've broken a rule, actually, Headmistress! Sex in the dorms."

McGonagall paused, then laughed, an unexpected reaction. Draco must have betrayed the panicked confusion on his face. The Headmistress cleared her throat. "... If I'm being real with you, that's not really a formal rule. You know, with magic, you can be safe…"

"Professor, I'm serious, I need you to remove me as Head Boy."

"Well, I won't be able to do that. So I'll need you to make amends with Miss Granger so that you can carry out the rest of the year's duties together. Don't forget you are co-speakers at our graduation ceremony."

"What? No, you don't understand."

McGonagall stood from her chair, gave a sympathetic look to Draco. "Tell me what I'm not understanding, then. But please, sit down with me."

Draco stepped forward and awkwardly set himself down in the chair across the desk. McGonagall also sat, nodding to show she was listening.

"I made a mistake," Draco said. "I did something awful and I… I don't know how I'm supposed to fix it."

McGonagall looked at him. "What happened?"

Draco looked down at the ground. "I hurt her. I… treated her badly. This whole year. And I didn't stop to think about it. How she's this full human being and she matters so much. I treated her like… like some sort of game."

McGonagall pursed her lips. "Did you apologize?"

Draco opened his mouth to speak, then stopped. "Well–I tried to explain."

A pause. "What exactly did you do?"

Draco frowned. Maybe if he told her, she would understand the enormity of the situation and punish him. But he couldn't do that. He couldn't let it spread any further. "I played with her heart." He cringed at himself immediately after saying it. What was he talking about?

McGonagall, for the whole conversation, was looking at him with a sort of pained expression that did not betray whether she was amused or bored. It appeared to be a recipe of pity, condescension, and empathy, a confusing mix that unnerved Draco in the silence. She let out a sigh, finally dropping her gaze to the table.

"I am technically not supposed to be giving dating advice to students, Mr. Malfoy, but it seems you are in need of a listening ear."

Draco's face pinched. "Well, we're not really dating, Headmistress…"

"Whatever you want to call it. I've had a feeling for a while that something was going on. I guess you could say I saw this coming."

"Since when?" he asked, morbidly curious.

"When you were both the top selections for Head Prefects, I had a feeling that I would be having this sort of conversation with one of you at some point," McGonagall continued confidentially. "You've always been at each other's throats. There's a certain point where the bickering isn't really about anything, it's just to bicker. You both have been doing that for years, much to the chagrin of the teachers here… When you came in here at the beginning of the year, you weren't really ready to give up the Head Boy position. Otherwise, you would have. You just wanted me to know your objection to sharing the position with Miss Granger. And even then, I could see it was mostly for show."

Draco's characteristic smirk was upside-down.

"Perhaps you'll understand when you're older," McGongall said, waving her hand to dismiss the thought. "Wow, it feels good to get that off my chest."

"McGonagall, I honestly have no idea why you just told me all that, but it doesn't change a thing. Hermione doesn't want to talk to me anymore. She told me not to even try to. I can't fix this. I need to be removed."

The Headmistress listened, thinking. "Do you want to fix it?"

Draco knew the answer, but gave it pause anyway. "Yes. I want to fix it. I just don't think I'm able to."

McGonagall looked at him sadly. "You still have two weeks, Draco," she said, using his first name quite caringly. "I can't remove you from your responsibilities, as there's no one else that can take them over at this point, but I can tell you of your options. There is an extra bed in the Slytherin dormitories, with the 6th years. That is available to you should you need to relocate. And I'm sure there are ways you could divide up the Head Prefects labor remotely, until you're able to sort this out," she advised.

Draco nodded tersely.

"And as a last piece of advice," the Headmistress said cautiously, "she probably just needs some time and space. It is never too late to apologize, even if it may not be accepted right away."

Disappointed in his lack of desired response from the Headmistress, he nodded, unsure of what else to say. His punishment, he supposed, was going to have to be dealing with the mess he made himself. Perhaps she was preparing him for the real world, as they hovered on the edge of graduation. Or perhaps, she knew that there could be no better lesson for Draco than to let him dole out his own suffering through painstakingly attempting to put back together what he had so foolishly and carelessly broken.

"Thank you," he said, standing to leave, knowing he wouldn't get anything else. Then, he stopped before turning towards the door. "But please, Headmistress, let Granger speak alone at graduation."

McGonagall shrugged. Draco nodded. Then he left.

.*.*.

Hermione was getting a little bit tired of Slytherins. Just in the past week, she had slept with one, been broken the truth by one, and hunted one down to confirm the truth through. Now, there was another one, requesting to meet with her after Transfiguration, the last class of the day. Hermione stared at the note that had been passed to her so hard that she secretly hoped it might explode just from her glare.

Please meet me after class. Have to talk. I want to apologize. - B. Zabini

With dull, hot anger, Hermione turned around in her chair to look at the note sender, who was a few seats behind her to the left, absently tapping his quill on the table. He must have felt her gaze, because he looked up to meet hers, immediately looking sheepish.

Hermione looked away quickly, back to the note in her hands and the notes for the class she had been mentally missing for the past 10 minutes. If she failed the next test, she would blame it on Zabini. Why did he want to talk to her anyways? To rub salt in the wound? That's why Pansy had told her, she was sure, and that's why Draco and Nott and Zabini had made the bet in the first place. She was getting a taste of Slytherins that she really didn't want or need, and it was all coming pretty suddenly.

In the middle of her mulling, she had barely noticed that the class had been dismissed. She sat, still firmly glued in her chair, as the students moved and muttered around her. Finally snapping out of her heavy brain fog, she started to pack up her notes and books.

The sound of someone clearing their throat to Hermione's side startled her, and she looked up from her bag. It was Zabini. "Could we talk out in the hall? I think it'll be more private."

"What do you have to say to me?" she asked.

"I want to tell you I'm sorry. But I want to tell you what I'm sorry for, and that's kind of private."

Hermione took a deep breath to center herself. "Okay. Let's go."

Out in the hallway, Zabini sighed loudly. If he was nervous about meeting with her, he didn't look like it, and the sheepishness was only when she had caught his eye unexpectedly. She wanted to leave, but she didn't. Zabini did a scan of the hallway, making sure no one was around. He drew in a breath, and that's when his expression changed.

"Alright, here's the thing," he began. "I'll make this brief so I'm not wasting your time." He looked down at the ground, then back up at Hermione. "Malfoy cares about you. He really does. I have to admit that I didn't, at all, so I was the one who had the idea in the first place."

Hermione blinked at him. He kept going, as if trying to get in what he wanted to say before she could stop listening or walk away.

"And I was the one who kept pressing him about it this whole time, and teasing him for looking like he was starting to care, and I guess he really does. He really does, I think he even, like, loves you, and I'm not going to get in the way of that anymore. So I had to say that I–I'm sorry, and I hope you don't blame him. Too much, I mean. Obviously he's a prick and an idiot and he never should have done this to you, or anybody. But I am also a prick who started this in the first place." He took a small pause. "Also, he gave back the beach house, so… the prize wasn't worth it anyways."

Hermione digested Zabini's words. She nodded once, to acknowledge she had heard him. She was fighting back hot water building up in her eyes. "Okay," she said simply. "Okay, is that all?"

"That's all," Zabini said, shoulders dropping. "Whew, I hate that sappy stuff."

"Zabini? Please don't approach me again."

"Yeah," he said. "Heard."

"Okay, thanks," Hermione said. "I'm going to leave now."

.*.*.

End of May 1998

Draco came ready with his wand in his pocket (for defense only, though he would probably let any hexes she might throw land, because he deserved them), an apology on his tongue, and an apple candy in the palm of his hand.

He had to come grab paperwork anyways, as it was the last round, and there was quite a bit to split up between the two of them. He thought, a week and a half after the incident, that this might be the time to truly try to say he was sorry. Not that he hadn't already said it, just so that she knew. Not that he hadn't tried his best to show it by letting her have the space and time and bad feelings. Not that he expected anything, really. He just wanted it to be clear.

When he entered the dormitory, she was already in the office, standing as if on guard, papers in front of her that she busied herself with. He solidified his purpose, nodded in greeting, even if she didn't see, and stepped into the office.

"Hi," she said shortly, not meeting his eyes.

"Hi," he replied. Then, he plucked up his courage and he held out his palm, the one containing the sweet.

Hermione looked at his outstretched hand with surprise, then defensiveness, then hurt. He almost pulled away, before she took it, quickly, without touching him in the process.

"I hope I haven't ruined apple candies for you forever," he said softly. She turned it in her fingers, examining it.

"You have," she said plainly, setting the candy down on the desk. Then she sat down in her chair, with a look of anger suddenly refreshed on her features. "No, I lied. They're too good to be ruined by you."

Draco laughed, despite himself. "Granger–"

She looked weary.

"After this I'm going to take the paperwork and that'll be the last we have to deal with each other, work-wise," he began. "But while I still have you trapped here, in this fucked-up coworker relationship, I just want you to know that I don't expect anything from you at all. If you hate me forever, I would understand. But I don't want to leave here without you knowing that there's a lot of things I regret. I regret hurting you. I regret being an idiot of the male species. I regret that I've fought with you and called you names and worse. Hell, I regret not getting to actually know you sooner. There is something I don't regret, however, and that is getting to meet you, truly. And I don't regret that I fell for you."

He paused, cursing at the way it had come out. It wasn't like how he had wanted it to sound at all. "What I mean is, Granger, I like you. Maybe even love you? I don't know, I didn't think I was capable of love. Whatever love is. And I keep asking myself, how could I do that to someone I love, and I think it's because I didn't want it to be love. Or you. I have no idea what we are. I have no idea why it's you. I kind of hate that. All I know is, you make life one thousand times more interesting, and bright, and I miss bickering with you because it was probably one of the only times I truly felt alive. But you are the biggest mistake I ever made in my long 18 years of living. Well, not you in general. But fucking everything up, yes."

Draco took a breath. When was he going to stop babbling? "Anyways. I used to think I hated you. And maybe I do, but I don't think I understand what hate is, or what love is, or if they're really opposites. I don't understand anything. My life has been dark, to say the least. But you're like the sun and I didn't know how to look at you. I still don't think I do."

Hermione didn't say anything. She hadn't really been looking at him, but at the table to his left. She swallowed thickly, and he didn't know if he should keep going on. Perhaps he was done. Carefully, he reached for his stack of paperwork, neatly stacked for his quick retrieval. It was probably time for him to go.

"Wait," she said, stopping him before he could leave. "You can't just say something like that and leave."

Draco listened and did stop. "Okay."

"And you can't just drop that word and then get to walk out," more agitated this time.

"Okay, okay," he said, almost holding up the stack of papers defensively.

"So forget all the bullshit you just spewed and tell me what you want," Hermione said.

Draco waited. He didn't know. But at the same time, he did know. "I love you and I want to be with you."

She shook her head. "No, say what you really mean."

"I want to keep hating you for as long as you'll allow me," he said, "in the apple candy kind of way."

The air magically cleared with these words, a pregnant hush falling over the pair, hearts almost audibly beating in the familiar final frontier of their office.

"Okay," Hermione said. "I forgive you."