Whispers started as soon as Hermione stepped into the corridor outside of her dormitory the next day.

"Is that Hermione?"

"It can't be! How can such a plain girl look so…"

"And is that Malfoy beside her?"

"I thought he bullied her for 7 years! How—"

Hermione shifted uncomfortably, her gaze averted and head down.

"Granger, if you're trying to get revenge on the Weasel," hissed Malfoy under his breath, "You've got to act like you don't care about the breakup. Hold your head high."

"Right, right," Hermione breathed back, straightening her posture.

"And," Malfoy huffed, grabbing Hermione's hand reluctantly, "If we're going to make this work, we have to actually act like it."

The moment Hermione's fingers touched Malfoy's pale, long ones, a sharp tingle travelled down her arm and made her shudder. It wasn't because she was scared of the wizard before her, she was just surprised that hands from such a prestigious family could have been so rough on the inside. She felt the uneven callouses on his palm, and met something even more sinister — burnt scars.

But before she could raise a questioning look in Malfoy's direction, they had reached the large double doors of the Great Hall.

"Ladies first," Malfoy drawled, flashing her a charming smile for everyone to see, before holding the door open for her.

"Thank you," Hermione synced quickly into the act, "Draco." The word felt foreign on her tongue; foreign and strange, but not bad like she had expected. Instead, the word flowed smoothly, with all its cacophonous syllables, on her tongue.

They entered the Great Hall to complete and utter silence. Professor Dumbledore looked up from the teacher's table, still chewing on his slice of toast. After swallowing painfully, he opened his mouth to speak. But before he could utter a single word, the Great Hall burst into a loud flurry of conversation — all of which were about the pair standing in front of the double doors. Dumbledore sighed and went back to munching his toast.

"Do you want to go separately now? For breakfast at our own tables, I mean." Hermione whispered.

"No, Granger," Draco smiled evilly back, "I need to see the Weasel's face when he sees this. The Gryffindor table it is." Then catching Hermione's glance at the Slytherin table, he waved it off, saying, "They can wait."

"Hermione," Ron stared at her face when she approached the Gryffindor table, "You look beautiful… How…?"

Then, he spotted their intertwined hands, fingers laced together tightly, and his gaze moved from her face to the tall figure standing slightly behind her. Draco Malfoy's lips curled into a smile of triumph.

"HERMIONE GRANGER, WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING WITH THIS — THIS —"

Ron's voice could be heard clear across the hall and Hermione had to duck behind Malfoy in order to escape the torrent of spit hurtling from Ron's mouth in every direction possible.

The hall, had, once again fallen into complete silence. All pairs of eyes were fixed on the three standing figures at the Gryffindor table.

"This what?" Malfoy sneered, "No one asked your opinion, you filthy Weasel."

"THAT'S MY GIRLFRIEND'S HAND YOU'RE HOLDING, YOU SON OF A —"

"Ronald," Hermione interrupted then, her head held high and her voice steely calm, "I don't think you have the right, or the power, to dictate what I can or cannot do. Plus, what's wrong with holding my boyfriend's hand anyway?"

"Your —" Ron looked bewildered, "What — I — Hermione, we're together! What are you talking about? You can't be serious. It's Draco Malfoy! Our tormentor for 7 whole years!"

"Well, I've discovered that there was more to him than that. And I love him, very, very much," Hermione forced out. She could feel the hair on her neck stand and the blood boil beneath her skin.

"I apologized!"

"Ron, stop. You're just making a fool of yourself."

"Hermione, you can't!"

"Draco, let's have breakfast down at the lake, this place is far too noisy." Hermione turned her back on Ron. Her eyes had moistened, not from sadness, but from anger and frustration. How could Ron think that after he apologized, he could get everything back? How could he!

"Yes, ma'am," Malfoy grabbed a platter of toast, saluting. Hermione nearly laughed. Like she had said, she was starting to see Malfoy in a different light. He was funny, he was caring, he was protective… Maybe he really did change after the war.

Too caught up in her own thoughts however, Hermione failed to realize that, behind her, wands had been drawn. Ron stood, his face red with anger, his stubby wand pointing directly at Malfoy's face. Malfoy, too, had stiffened, his hand whipping out his own wand and posture adjusted for combat.

"Hermione," Ron's eyes blazed as they glared at Hermione, "I give you one last chance. Come back and we'll leave this be."

"Come back?" Malfoy jeered, "Come back? After the shit you did behind her back?! You must have been stupider than I thought, Weasley."

Hermione had now returned from her short reverie and now assessed the situation before her eyes. She would have to time it just right, before something major broke out. 3… 2…

"No, Ron," Hermione said, "I'm never coming back." And 1.

"Petrificus Totalus!" There was a loud bang and Ron's arms clamped to his side and his legs cemented together. Like the hand of a grandfather's clock, he swayed from side to side, trying to regain his balance. Soon, however, there came another loud thud as Ron fell sideways onto the cold stone floor.

"Hermione…"Ron's voice was filled with disbelief, "I can't believe you're doing this."

"And I can't believe you lied to me all these months," Hermione tugged on Malfoy's arm as she stepped away from the ruckus, "Let's go."

As they neared the double doors, they could hear Ron yelling again. Malfoy's jaw tightened as he heard what he was saying.

"You never knew how to dress properly!" Ron could be heard spitting out curses as he bellowed, "You never had any makeup on! You were plain and ugly and I was KIND. I WAS KIND TO HAVE EVEN DATED YOU IN THE FIRST PLACE."

Hermione's eyes welled up with tears again and she tried to push it back. So Malfoy had been right, Ron had left her because of this. Her looks. She blinked furiously and tugged harder on Malfoy to follow her outside but found that the latter had gone still.

She turned back, her eyes locking onto the pale grey ones immediately.

"Come here," he said softly, his hands rummaging in his pocket. Hermione took a few steps back. Ron was still shouting obscenities and Hermione could see his blue eyes fixed furiously on her face.

Malfoy had finally located the thing he was looking for and pulled it out of his pocket. It was a pack of wet wipes. Hermione looked at him, surprised.

"Makeup remover wipes," Malfoy murmured, as he took out a piece and started to dab at Hermione's face, "Claude stuffed them in my pocket last night." He was still talking to her, but Hermione could not hear a word he said. Instead, ocean waves roared in her ears — a feeling of calm settled in around her.

His fingers, light and soft as a feather, dashed the wet cloth on her face. Hermione could feel his eyes traveling from her eyes, her nose, down to her mouth, her chin… His light breath was a cool breeze on her face and she could smell his peppermint toothpaste.

An eternity seemed to have passed, Hermione felt, and yet felt it still too short when Malfoy finally pulled away. The makeup was all gone now, Hermione realized. Her face didn't feel caky and uncomfortable anymore.

The hall was silent and Ron had stopped shouting, no doubt squinting over to see what was happening.

"Why…?" Hermione asked, her voice trailing off at the side.

"You look fairly adequate without all that anyway," Malfoy's whispered, trying to sound aloof. But the tone that came out was with such tenderness that Hermione almost did not recognize it coming from him. The cold, manipulative Slytherin who had tortured her for seven whole years.

Then, he grabbed her hand and lead her out the great double doors.

From what the onlookers saw, including Ron, Malfoy had removed Hermione's makeup, with the former whispering something to the latter and the latter breaking into a small smile. The retaliation to Ron's curses could not have been clearer. And well retaliated, at that.

As the couple left, the Great Hall burst into conversation once more, but now of which are accompanied by searing glares in the direction of a redhead who was still flopped awkwardly on the ground.

Harry Potter was about to get up and perform the counter-curse before his girlfriend pulled him back down again, stuffing a boiled egg in his mouth.

"He deserved everything he got," Ginny Weasley had a stony expression on her face, "That bloody git."