A lot of thanks for the feedback! You are the best! And of course thank you to my betas Nantai and chcocomieux.

And sorry about being late. This semester is way too crazy x.x

"We need to talk."

Hermione almost jumped out of her skin. She didn't need to turn around to know who was standing behind her. It was the person she wanted to avoid most, right after Draco Malfoy, who had been branded undesirable #1 for life, and Cormac McLaggen: Pansy Parkinson.

Hermione pushed her textbook out of her spilled tea, her whole body so tense she was sure she would actually manage to jump out of her skin if there were any more surprises.

"I know you heard me," Parkinson walked towards her, her heels clicking loudly with every step on the stone floor.

Hermione didn't react and concentrated on wiping away the tea that was now dripping onto her skirt. Just great.

Parkinson sat down opposite of Hermione and started tapping on the table with her fingers, the sound way louder than possible in Hermione's opinion. But that could be just her nerves, making her mind play tricks on her.

"What do you want?" Hermione asked with a sharp edge in her voice when she couldn't take it anymore, the tapping was driving her mad. It was like the devil was counting the seconds until he delivered the punishment for her sins - not that she had ever believed that. Religion had never been her thing, being who she was.

Parkinson smirked in satisfaction, obviously pleased that she not only got Hermione to look at her but to actually acknowledge her.

"Talk to Draco."

Hermione's fingers clenched around the wet tissues, her knuckles turning white as she tried to control her breathing in the rage that suddenly overtook her. Who did this woman think she was? Waltz in there and order her around?

"How about no?" she spit out. "You should stay out of other's business."

"Draco made it my business the moment he asked me to help him solve this situation," Parkinson said simply, her face blank, controlled. But that was normal with her. She had managed to keep up appearances even during the most gruesome times back at school and there had been many. Most people took Parkinson for an emotional idiot, but Hermione had seen her under pressure and doing business and knew that there was more to her than she let on. It was one of the major reasons why she avoided her like pest: Hermione hated two-faced people. That, and Parkinson was a major bitch.

Hermione snorted, an ugly sound, really, but she didn't care if she acted like a troll, not now.

"Fine," Pansy stood up, "I thought talking to you would be the best way to get about this, having assumed that you listen to reason, but now I see that getting Draco laid or locking the two of you into a cupboard would have been a better solution."

Hermione opened her mouth to say something, preferably witty, but Pansy was already walking away. She stared after her, stunned, the rage coming up again.

It was rare for her to get really angry, but when she did, Hermione wouldn't rest until she burned everything in her path with the endless rage. That's how she found herself typing into her phone with more force than necessary and an ugly scowl on her face.

Persephone: the old tree behind the main library. now

She didn't wait for an answer and grabbed her things, not caring that she crinkled a few papers as she stuffed the book into her bag, and marched out of the cafeteria.

Of course, Malfoy wasn't there when she arrived and Hermione took to walk up and down in front of the tree, an oak if she remembered correctly and she wouldn't be Hermione Granger if she didn't.

When she heard steps, Hermione turned around sharply.

Malfoy was standing there, slightly out of his breath and red in his face, his hair falling into his eyes. He must have run there, Hermione concluded, but didn't particularly care.

He opened his mouth to say something but she wasn't having any of that.

"What do you think you are doing?" she shouted and he winced at the sound. Her voice was way too shrill, a few octaves higher than it should be. But then again, she was hysterical so that had to be expected, Hermione thought .

"Telling Parkinson to talk to me? Are you completely insane? Or is this some terrible joke?"

"Wait! What?" Malfoy held up his hands. "Pansy talked to you?"

"Don't play dumb!" Hermione barked. "You asked her to! What brings me back to my question. What the hell do you think you are doing?"

"I'm gonna kill her," Malfoy muttered under his breath, but Hermione ignored it, stomping closer to him in blind anger. She was actually seeing red.

"And I don't mean just about Parkinson! I actually expected you to make fun of me with your friends! But everything else? What are you planning?!"

When Malfoy didn't answer, Hermione reached out, shoving him slightly. "Answer me!"

That must have broken the spell that was over him as he rose to his full height immediately and made a step towards her.

"I am not planning anything you paranoid bitch!"

Draco wanted to take those words back as soon as they left his mouth when he saw Granger's expression. She tried to act as if it didn't affect her and continued yelling at him about what a pretentious arse he was but her eyes had widened for a split second and were just a little bit shinier than before.

"If you think I am all that, you didn't get to know me at all!" he said, the bitterness and hurt he had been feeling over her ignoring him spilling suddenly. Draco had to choke back tears as everything started breaking apart. If the most forgiving and charitable person he knew wasn't able to even consider talking to him like to a human being, he probably really was a lost case. But then again, she had been always pretentious and he had been terrible to her. An endless circle of hate and blame and mistakes.

"Exactly! And yet you act like I should! Let's pretend you are serious and this is not some sort of joke," Hermione ran both hands through her hair, pulling at her long locks. "How can I know you? You treat me like trash for over a decade and now you come to me and pretend we are friends because of a few text messages?" She laughed, a tear rolling down her face as she picked up the pacing again.

Draco gulped. He had fucked up. He was a moron and an entitled one too. He had been a terrible person and was now getting all of it thrown back into his face.

"This is not a joke," he said quietly, looking at his shoes. He really felt bad. He had been thinking only about himself and had never considered how it must have looked to her. Thinking about what he had done to her and her friends before, there was no doubt that she would consider him cruel enough to pull a stunt like that.

"What the fuck do you want from me, Malfoy?" Granger asked in that tone of hers that always felt like she was dissecting him like a frog: cold, calculating, cruel. The interrogation was on.

"A chance," he replied simply.

"A chance for what?"

That was indeed a good question and Draco had literally no idea how to answer it. He knew that he wanted the friend he had intended Persephone to be, but that was hardly possible if she knew him in person, no matter her identity.

If Pansy, and Theo, were right he had a crush on her too, which was an incredibly scary idea and Draco wasn't in the proper state of mind to get down that path.

But he was in the state of mind to know that the sex would be amazing if it ever came to that, with or without the feelings. They had been already amazing using only phones and with all the hate there was between them it had even more potential. But there was no trust and that meant no grounds for what he wanted.

"To be a better person."

Hermione wanted to laugh, to shout, to cry, but the look on Malfoy's face told her that he was serious. She had never seen him so distressed and unsure before. Not even when he had been sitting in front of the school library all alone after the shooting.

"That has nothing to do with me," she said, wrapping her arms around herself. It was getting cold and she was exhausted. With the fire of her rage gone, exhaustion was all that was left. She felt drained both emotionally and physically. It made her shiver.

Malfoy stripped of his coat wordlessly and offered it to her.

Hermione looked at it for a moment before reaching out to throw it over her shoulders. While she wanted to flee, she finally understood that they needed to have this conversation or they were bound to clash endlessly until they did. As they've already started it, it was easier to simply get it over with.

"Considering I have been downright awful to you I think it has a lot to do with you."

Hermione glanced at the sleeves of the coat dangling on her sides and she pulled the coat tighter around herself at another cold gust of wind.

"It has more to do with your internalized racism, sexism and elitism," she said, not looking at him.

"I stopped believing in that race crap a long time ago," Malfoy replied, crossing his arms. It was hard to say if it was because he felt attacked or if he was cold, but somehow, Hermione didn't have the strength to contemplate that. "I would be an absolute monster if seeing my classmates and teachers slaughtered hadn't shown me that those values were wrong."

Hermione felt bile rise up as the images from that terrible day flashed in front of her inner eye. The rows of dead in the Great Hall. Fred, Tonks, Lupin, Snape… Hermione's head spun and suddenly she was guided to the table and benches to sit down.

She shook her head to try to get rid of the picture of Tonks' bloodied body. She had been shot way too many times, not having bulged in the face of death as she tried to protect the students.

"Are you alright?" Malfoy asked. He was looking at her with what Hermione assumed was concern, a foreign expression on his face, and was clearly very uncomfortable.

"Yes," she said, bringing up a hand to put on her forehead. It helped to concentrate on the cool fingers touching her skin.

It had been years but on the days her emotions were acting up, Hermione had trouble not breaking down any time somebody mentioned the shooting. Clearly, it was one of those days.

"Look," she said, looking up at him through her eyelashes. His hair shone golden in the cold autumn sun. "You need to tell me what exactly you want from me so I can tell you why it won't work and we can get over with this. I really don't understand why you want to talk to me so bad."

A thousand things raced through Draco's mind, a thousand reasons why he wanted to talk to her, but none of them seemed good enough. He simply wanted it. Sometimes his mind was like that: set on things he couldn't have.

"I like you," he blurted out. "And I am sorry. So sorry."

Granger shifted in her seat, seemingly studying the fallen leaves under her feet.

"And you are beautiful. And so smart."

She looked up, her lips parted slightly in surprise. She searched his face so something and Draco sincerely hoped she found what she was looking for.

"And I want to be your friend?" he continued hesitantly. "You are genuinely an interesting person and nice and funny…" Draco took a deep breath. "And I've always wanted to be friends with you and Potter and even Weasley," he admitted.

Granger blinked and Draco bit his lip, waiting for her judgement. He had promised himself that he would open up to Persephone to win her as a real friend and he wasn't going back on his promise to himself now that he knew she was Granger. This was his last chance and he wasn't going to let it go without fighting. After all, he cared, for once.

She ran her tongue over her lips and Draco watched, mesmerized.

"And how exactly do you imagine that friendship?" she asked, her voice more than doubtful.

He really couldn't blame her. It didn't happen often that your bully almost begged you for friendship.

If he was honest with himself, Draco wouldn't have forgiven her if their places were reversed. But she was the bigger person so maybe she would give him a chance?

"Start small? Grab a coffee together? Things like that? I know you don't trust me and I honestly can't blame you, but maybe we could try to get to know each other? I mean, you liked me when I was just a faceless stranger."

"Maybe I liked you because you were just that," Granger said, running her hands over her skirt to straighten it out, even if there were no folds. "And maybe you liked me because of that too."

Draco closed his eyes, counting slowly backwards from ten until he was sure he wouldn't say something he didn't mean. How could she be so dense? "I know that I am partially at fault for your low self esteem, but for god's sake Granger, you should not listen to idiots like me. You are brilliant and beautiful and so, so fierce! And I am not saying it just to get into your good graces. Seriously, just look at you!"

Only when her shoulders began to quiver, did he realize that she had started crying again. "Fuck," he muttered, looking around hectically as he tried to figure out what to do. He hated it when women, or anybody really, cried. He never knew what to do.

His mother had always disappeared into her rooms when she wanted to cry so he wouldn't see it. He never saw, but he had heard - especially during the time his father spent in prison and the huge manor had been too quiet to bear, his mother's sobs the only sound in the whole building.

Pansy didn't cry. She raged, she destroyed, but she didn't really cry, despite the faint tear lines running down her cheeks and the mascara strains under her eyes when she finally calmed down. She was a storm.

And Astoria? Astoria hadn't allowed him to see her in distress, her head always held high and lips tight. Her mother had raised her traditionally and it showed. Draco liked to think that they would have worked out if they both hadn't been taught how to suppress their emotions and pretend that all was well, even if the world around them was on fire.

He looked at Granger's shaking form and sighed, closing the distance between them in a few quick steps, trying to recall what Blaise had told him about comforting women. It wasn't much.

"Are you okay?" he whispered, crouching in front of her so he wasn't towering over her. He contemplated to reach out and put a hand on hers but decided against it.

She looked at him, blinking away the tears, as if she had forgotten that he had been there. "I-" she started but stopped again before finishing the sentence, taking in a deep breath.

"I don't think I am in the right state of my mind to finish this conversation," she said finally and Draco nodded.

It really was quite unusual for her to be this emotional. He didn't know what was the reason for that, and he didn't dare to ask.

"Should I bring you home?"

She looked at him for a moment, as if contemplating her answer before shaking her head.

He wanted to insist, but then he remembered that she didn't like him, didn't trust him. He wouldn't want his enemy to know where he lived either.

He took his coat back wordlessly and watched her wipe her tears away and gather her things. She really didn't look too well.

"Please think about the coffee," he said as she walked past him, not making the impression that she was going to speak again.

She stopped and looked at him over her shoulder before giving him a short nod.

Draco clutched his coat as he watched her stomp through the fallen leaves with her head hanging.

He really could not have chosen a more difficult person.

He didn't know if it was his tendency for self-destruction that made him do all of this, or the thrill of the challenge. He sincerely hoped it was one of those reasons, even though he knew that wasn't the whole truth.

He kicked the leaves and started the walk back inside, his hands deep in his pockets as he contemplated where everything went wrong.