S/O to my newest addition : My beta WiseOwl_26 !

The second week of October had already arrived. Everyone's routine was mundane, repetitive and boring. From time to time, Hermione and Draco had to make rounds after curfew to make sure everything was in order. Sometimes they were paired with one of the Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff Prefects, so they weren't always together. And luckily for both of them, because their silences seemed to drag on forever. They had never been friends and so had nothing to talk about. Hermione had no interest in asking him what it had been like to be around Voldemort and his followers for the past few years. Nor did Draco have any interest in asking her what it had been like to hunt Horcruxes across the country with Scarhead and Weasel. They made their rounds in a very professional manner, exchanging only a few benign words with each other throughout the evening.

But tonight, as Hermione was leaving her room, trying to fix her Head Girl's badge on her robes to prepare for her evening rounds, she came across Draco leaning over the table, his nose in a small pile of parchments.

"Uh, are you okay?" she asked as she finished attaching her badge.

He didn't even look up at her when he answered. "This can't be happening," he muttered. "I can't believe we forgot this!"

"What are you talking about?" She walked over to the table to look at what he was examining with such urgency.

He grabbed the stack of papers and held it up to her, finally daring to look her in the eye. "I may not look like it, Granger, but I've always wanted to be Head Boy and I'm very proud of it!"

Now, what has him so upset tonight? Hermione wondered to herself. She had never expected Draco to start calling her by her first name consistently without mistake, but she had noticed, first, when Draco used Granger, it was usually when he was not thinking straight and/or was already upset. Second, she had decided that if he called her Granger, she would call him Malfoy. End of story. She wouldn't do him any favours and let him realise for himself that as long as he didn't call her by her first name, she wasn't going to play the polite princess who would just correct him every time.

But tonight, what was wrong with him?

"I'm proud to be Head Girl too," she said with a shrug.

"Well, I don't know what you've been telling yourself, Granger, but we have a Ball to plan according to our contract! We have to get our project submitted to McGonagall for approval in two days. TWO DAYS!" He shoved the stack of papers into her arms, completely annoyed, and walked around her to his bedroom.

Hermione, distraught and horrified at her omission, looked frantically at the Head Boy and Girl contract that he'd just pinned to her, which detailed every single one of their individual and joint responsibilities, as well as the deadlines.

In October, there was indeed a Halloween Ball to plan. Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw's seventh-year Prefects were planning the Christmas Ball, and the Heads would supervise them. There had never been two Balls before in Hogwart's history, but McGonagall thought it would be a good idea to 'boost morale' after the Great War they'd been through, and also to celebrate the rebuilding of the castle that had taken place over the summer. And how could she forget the fact that the Heads had to start the dance with one another? Great, thought Hermione bitterly.

Draco was rummaging through his dresser, presumably to find his own badge before starting rounding with her. The Gryffindor bit her lip and decided to play it optimistically, even if she wasn't convinced herself. "Malfoy, we'll just have to work our arses off for two days! We'll make it."

She heard him snort sarcastically. He reappeared a few seconds later, also trying to fasten his badge, but with an almost fierce intensity. She could understand the importance of the Heads' responsibilities, but she was surprised that it was Draco who was so bothered up by this.

"One can tell that the War has loosened you up a lot," he hissed. "You're no longer the little filthy bookworm who did all her homework weeks in advance."

Irritated, Hermione threw the papers in his face. "We'll do it, the planning, I told you! What's the matter with you, getting so worked up about a ball?"

"What's wrong with me," he retorted sharply, pointing at her, "is that with all your problems, you've completely distracted me from my responsibilities! That damn badge is the reason I came back!"

The Gryffindor's face broke down, but she quickly controlled herself. A bitter taste filled her mouth. She didn't like what she was hearing at all. She turned on her heels quickly.

"We've got rounds to do," she said sharply.

She stepped out of their dormitory, not even bothering to look back to see if the Slytherin was following her. To her displeasure, he continued to rant behind her, walking quickly to catch up with her in the dark, silent corridor. "You didn't even bother to look at the contract more than twice!"

She turned suddenly and glared at him. "I'm not the only one with this contract, as far as I know! Stop putting everything on me, this is unacceptable!"

She started walking again and turned the corner of the corridor.

"It's unacceptable that you've let yourself go so much," he grumbled. "This puts us both in trouble, Granger! It wouldn't have hurt you to spend more time on our Heads' duties instead of wandering the castle like a fucking ghost in your spare time!"

Hermione stopped dead in her tracks, her partner behind her. Silence fell over them. Was this really what Draco was thinking? The same as Pansy? A dull anger seized her as she closed her fist on her wand in her robes. She was about to send him flying into the wall. Just do it, just stupefy him... That was all that filthy Slytherin deserved for saying those things to her. She hated being reminded, or worse, pointed out, how much of a ghost she looked because she preferred to have moments alone.

Slowly, she turned around to stare at him. She wanted to put on a hard face to show him how much she would not accept him talking to her like that, but as soon as she looked into his eyes, she felt terribly sad. This was not how she wanted to handle things. This was not how Sam would have done. Her throat tightened and she fought with all her might not to burst into tears, so she pulled her wand from her pocket and pointed it at his chest.

"Do you want me to be sorry that my brother is dead?

"Don't put fucking words in my mouth, Granger, that's not what—"

"Do you want me," she repeated louder and slower, "to be sorry that my brother is dead? Don't you think that maybe, just maybe, I have a little too much on my plate?"

"Don't play the pity card—"

"I told you we'd manage to plan the bloody Ball."

She took a step forward, concentrating all her energy on making her voice as firm as possible. "If you tell me one more time that I'm taking too much free time..." Wand still pointed at his chest, she stepped forward, pushing the tip in a little, really hoping it would hurt him.

However, before she could finish her sentence, Draco pushed her arm away with a hard push of his hand. "Don't threaten me," he growled. "You forget I already know what you've been through, so you don't have to fucking lecture me with your grief. I was just reminding you not to forget your bloody responsibilities!"

Hermione frowned slightly and her features twisted. She lowered her wand completely. Malfoy was being mean again, but she didn't want to show him that she was hurt. She couldn't get the better of him. She wasn't trying to use her grief as an excuse, or as a weapon. Was she? Is this really what I do? she thought disheartenedly.

The Slytherin smirked and nudged her around to continue on their rounds. He had just ended the discussion because he had been in control of it. Why did she let herself be treated like that? She was not a creature to be tamed or domesticated. He wasn't her parent who had to remind her to do her homework. She clenched her fists and decided to walk the other way, no longer able to stand being near him for a second. Going against the direction her partner had just taken, she walked swiftly, her breath quick with anger.

It wasn't long before Draco noticed that Hermione wasn't following him. He turned and saw her, much further away, turning back. He swore, really annoyed, and rushed towards her.

He grabbed her elbow to stop her and shook her. "You're wasting my time, Granger!"

"I'm doing the same rounds as you!" she exclaimed, pulling away. "I'm just going the other way because I can't stand you being near me anymore! You just have to keep going your way, we'll end up in the same place anyway! I'll take the 6th floor and you stay on the 7th, so we won't run into each other in the middle!"

"There needs be two to make rounds!"

"There are two!"

"Two of us together, at the same time, walking the same fucking way! If the slightest thing happens, there needs to be TWO of us to intervene! It's just for safety, damn it! DID YOU READ THE CONTRACT?"

He raised his voice so loudly that figures in the portraits on the walls began to wake up and complain. Hermione was breathing hard, nostrils flaring, trying to control all the emotions and thoughts that were running through her head. She was not, truly not able to endure the sight of Malfoy right now. How was she going to escape him? Was he, by Merlin's holy grace, going to leave her alone?

The image of the Owlery's window flashed through her mind at full speed. The harshness of the memory pierced through her and took her breath away. All she needed was to be put in a situation emotional enough to trigger the memory of the Owlery. The easy solution. The leap into oblivion. All it took was for her to feel trapped to remember that the pale lure of death was still there.

Her throat clamped down as the pain of the memory shot through her. And, as she feared, treacherous tears began to escape, burning against her cheeks. She hated them. She clutched her hand to her chest, really feeling a burn from the lack of oxygen and the panic.

"Granger?"

Her shoulders had slumped but she readjusted her posture and stood straight. She began to walk again, more slowly, her breathing choppy, leaving him once more behind, stunned and speechless. Move away. Get away from him. Control yourself. All she wanted was a modicum of his respect.

Draco didn't answer. What had he done to her? Why, for Merlin's sake, was she still crying? Because of him? He stood behind her and watched her walk away, sniffling, torn between shutting her up himself or letting her go and doing his fucking rounds alone.

"You're still crying, Granger," he sighed more quietly, finally deciding to follow her.

"Just go the other bloody way."

He sighed again, loudly, unable to find the solution to this umpteenth crisis. Had he been too hard on her? Yet all he had done was remind her of her duties! To her, Miss Know-it-all! Was that what made her cry? Her homework?

"Let me break the rules for tonight," she implored, breathing hard, wiping her tears on her sleeve. "Go the other way. Malfoy, please. I cannot and will not be with you tonight."

Draco gritted his teeth. "It takes two of us to—"

"Spare me the contract talk!"

She looked up at him with shining eyes. She had regained her composure, banishing the call of the window. There was so much hatred in her gaze that Draco felt himself falter. He swallowed hard and inwardly cursed that he was unable to fight back and make his point.

"Tonight we'll make the rounds separately," she decided, mastering herself. "And when we get back, we'll start discussing the ball and forget all this shit you've just put me through for twenty minutes."

"Get it together, for Merlin's sake!" Draco exclaimed, beside himself. "Have you seen yourself? No matter when we look at you, you always look like you're suffering! It's infuriating, I swear! I don't know what to do to make you come to your bloody senses when it happens to you!"

"Malfoy, I'm not gonna tell you again. Stop saying things like that to me. You have no idea how inappropriate it is... and it hurts me."

To hell with her dignity.

Crybaby, the Slytherin thought immediately.

Hermione looked at her watch. "We're running late. I'm asking you to make your rounds on your own. I told you that tonight we will break the rules."

"You may have authority over the rest of the school, but you have nothing on me."

"Malfoy, we're going round in circles here!"

Without gentleness, he pushed her back to move forward. "Then move," he said through his teeth. "And I'll go this way, as you ask, Princess." He had spat the last word with a well-felt hatred before turning away.

Finally, he left her. Hermione watched him walk away for a few moments with quick steps before resigning herself to continue on her own. God, he had offended her tonight, knowing fully he was saying mean things to her. The desire to cry had evaporated. She realized that, in spite of herself, she had played the victim card and it was itching. Draco had been insolent, but seriously, what else did she expect?

But you know and accept that I will never, ever be like Scarhead, Weasel and Weaslette?

Hermione almost smiled as she recalled her partner's words a few weeks earlier. Tonight, no matter how much she tried to convince herself otherwise, she had trouble accepting that Malfoy wasn't acting the way she expected her friends to act around her.

We'll try to be decent, but we will suck and we'll fail too many fucking times.

Walking down the dark hallway, preparing to descend to the sixth floor, the Gryffindor was almost, but not quite, comforted. They had failed tonight, at least he had failed, but it wasn't over. He would have other chances to make up for it. As long as he realized he had to make up for it.

No. No!

Hermione kicked herself on the inside, angry with herself. Stop projecting your own unrealistic expectations onto him! He probably won't apologize, and that's not your problem!

Walking past the bathrooms, she suddenly heard a thud behind the boys' door, as if a door had closed. Checking to make sure her badge was in place and visible, she drew her wand and approached, determined to find out who, or what, was hiding there. Perhaps more first years were having fun with the Weasley Wizard Wheezes products.

She opened the door, glancing inside. Someone was mumbling incomprehensible words, but she couldn't see anything and couldn't make out where the voice was coming from. According to their contract, the Prefects and the Heads had to announce themselves when they intervened, so Hermione stepped into the bathroom.

"Head Girl," she said. "Who's there?"

The candlesticks over the sinks crackled faintly, casting a macabre glow over the entire bathroom. The incomprehensible litany continued without interruption. Hermione knew she was living in a magical world, but the atmosphere here was supernatural.

Holding back her breath, she raised her wand. "Homenum revelio."

A cubicle door flew open, startling her. A figure held his wand up to his or her face with the Lumos spell, and Hermione, blinded, could not make out who was behind it. The mumbling increased in volume and the Gryffindor could almost make out a few words. Next... Pain... Winter.

"Lower your wand!" Hermione exclaimed.

The figure ignored her and began to walk towards her. Vengeance... Danger... The large robe covered his or her entire body and the darkness made it impossible to recognize any small detail that would have helped Hermione identify the student; hair color, skin color or face shape. He had a masculine silhouette, though, with short hair, so Hermione guessed he was a boy.

"Lower your wand or I'll stun you!" she warned, her heart racing.

"Stupefy!"

Hermione received the spell with full force in her chest and was thrown backwards with extraordinary force. Her back crashed into a stall, which shattered into pieces on impact. A terrible pain tore at her lips. Her left shoulder felt completely numb, a sharp pain pulsing against her shoulder blade. Stunned, the Lioness tried to get up, but could not. What in the fucking world was going on? Had a student just attacked her?

Still on the ground, Hermione looked up to assess the situation. The boy was motionless, about ten meters away. Winter... Pain... The strangeness of what was happening filled Hermione with a biting fear. The words that the boy was saying called out to her in a curious way, as if she had a deep conviction that they were addressed to her, Hermione Granger, and not to the first person who crossed the threshold of the bathroom. A cold fear made her tremble.

"This winter," the boy exclaimed clearly, "there will be revenge."

Hermione, still shaking from stress and pain, was not clear-headed enough to think of a defense without harming her attacker. The boy's voice was neither male nor female.

The boy began to walk slowly toward the broken stall where the Head Girl lay, wand raised once more, as if preparing to cast another spell. "Your time will come."

A startling revelation shook Hermione's spirits. The boy seemed to be under the Imperius Curse. He was not in control of himself. Someone had cursed him... The Lioness pressed her palms against the ground beneath her and pushed hard to get to her feet, crying out under the crushing wave of pain that pounded into her shoulder. She picked up her wand that had fallen beside her. She was in terrible pain in her shoulder blades and her right shin.

"This winter," the boy continued, "there will be pain." He raised his wand to cast yet another spell, but Hermione was ready. As she shouted Protego, the bathroom door flew open, smashing against the wall.

"Petrificus Totalus!" Draco had burst into the bathroom, his wand pointed at the boy who was quickly and completely paralyzed from head to toe. The boy fell backwards, his body stiff and straight as a board. The Slytherin, with a serious face, paid no further attention to him before moving towards Hermione.

"Malfoy?" she exclaimed, lowering her wand in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"Sorry, Granger, I followed the contract," he grumbled, his jaw clenching. "Call it superstition, but I had a feeling. You can fucking thank me later."

He looked at the broken stall and the small cuts that covered Hermione's hands and face. She was dumbfounded and couldn't help but feel ashamed. The one time she had wanted to break the rules, something happened that reminded her why rules should not be broken. She gulped, waiting for the moment when her partner would say 'I told you so'.

"What happened here?"

"Don't tell McGonagall," Hermione croaked, embarrassed by her mishandling of responsibilities.

"Just tell me what the fucking hell happened…"

Hermione did just that. As soon as she finished the details, Draco scanned at her from head to toe, looking for some sign of weakness or injury on her. The episode on the train and in the infirmary a month earlier came back to him.

"Are you hurt?" he asked.

Hermione shook her head, not knowing why she was lying to him. Once she was in her dormitory, she would try to heal herself. Draco didn't seem convinced of her answer, but he sighed and finally walked over to the stranger on the floor.

The yellow patch on his robe could not lie. "It's a... Hufflepuff?" gasped Hermione, her brow furrowing.

"Probably a third year, from the looks of it."

Hermione knelt down in front of the young student who was looking at them both, his eyes wide, definitely terrified. God, it hurt when she bent over! She had to use a lot of energy to stop herself from moaning. It was likely she had a dislocated shoulder.

"He's... awake," she said. "I mean, he doesn't seem to be in a trance anymore."

"Because I petrified him," Draco pointed out.

"Finite Incantatem," She muttered.

The young Hufflepuff regained control of his movements and began to squirm, looking visibly panicked.

"What happened?" he gasped. "Why am I on the floor, what—"

"We were hoping you could tell us," the Gryffindor interrupted gently. "Are you all right? What's your name?"

"Er, Lawrence. Brixton. My head hurts, I can't remember how I got here..."

The Gryffindor glanced at Draco, as if consulting him or asking for help. She had a strong feeling that telling the boy he had been Imperiused was not the right thing to do.

"I think... someone pulled a prank on you," Hermione reassured him.

"Why were you on the sixth floor?" Draco asked coldly.

Lawrence shuddered, intimidated by the Slytherin's stature and obvious authority, not to mention that everyone knew the Malfoy name for their role in the Dark side. The Lioness glared at Draco for his lack of tact.

"I-I don't know," the young Hufflepuff hiccupped. "I-I made a bet with a friend to go and steal a cake from the kitchen overnight, th-that's all..."

Draco sighed, discontent, and walked away, wand raised towards the stall. He began to put the pieces back in place and clean up the area, calmly. Hermione turned her attention back to Lawrence and made a decision.

"Listen. We're gonna come with you to the kitchen. It will be easier," she said. "And your friends will never know about this…"

She stood up, followed by the Hufflepuff. Hermione joined Draco and leaned towards him so Lawrence couldn't hear them. "At the kitchen, we'll obliviate him," she whispered.

Draco's brow raised high. "Are you fucking serious?" he muttered in a low voice.

"Look at him! He's completely lost and confused! We'll go to the kitchen, then obliviate him, then give him his cake and tell him he won his bet."

He rolled his eyes in indifference. "I really don't care, Granger. You decide this one. I don't need your help for it, actually, I'll take care of it."

"I thought you didn't want us to be alone."

Draco lowered his wand and walked back to the boy, squeezing Lawrence's robe collar, looking smart. "I won't be alone, Brixton will be with me. Won't you, Brixton?"

Lawrence looked back and forth between them, not knowing where to stand. Hermione gave in, too eager to go and look after herself. They parted without another word. Hermione knew, somehow, that she could trust Draco with this task.

As soon as Draco was out of sight, the Lioness clasped her hand against her shoulder, bit her lip and allowed herself to gasp, groaning in spite of herself at the stabbing pain. She certainly wasn't going to write a round-up report for this evening.

Fifteen minutes later, Hermione was back in her dorm, locked in the bathroom, in a tank top. With her back to the mirror, she tried to point her wand as precisely as possible at the point where her shoulder, at the level of her shoulder blade, was straining the most. Trying to push away Lawrence's foolish words to her, she couldn't help but feel shocked. This winter, there will be revenge. She could see the dislocation, the bone was obviously protruding too much. She would deal with her small cuts later. She wanted to hurry before Draco came back. But no matter which way she twisted, the spell never reached the precise spot of dislocation.

She swore in frustration, slamming her hand against the counter defeatedly. She didn't want to ask Malfoy to do it, and she didn't want to go to the infirmary. Bloody hell! she swore to herself. She still felt stupid for deciding to bend the rules of the contract to suit herself, just because she couldn't stand to see her partner anymore. And it was as though the Universe, or Merlin, had just given her an almost spiritual sign to say 'See, this is what happens when you disobey!'. And oddly enough, the Universe sounded like Draco.

Two minutes later, the portrait of the dormitory opened. Shit, shit, shit! Hermione panicked, trying for the umpteenth time to cure herself by looking at her reflection in the mirror. This winter, there will be pain. She was able to hold her wand to within four inches of the tip to get it pointed accurately, but the spell didn't work like that. Her hand had to be on the other end. DAMN!

"Granger?"

Hermione slammed her good hand on the counter again in frustration. She knew this was inevitable. Your time will come. Closing her eyes, taking a deep breath, she concentrated on slowing her heartbeat and controlling her pain.

The bathroom handle shook. "Helloooo? Open up, I know you're in there."

"So what?"

"Open the bloody door, I know you're hurt."

Of course he knows! She opened the door and Draco stared at her for a brief moment, his eyes on her bare collarbone. The Slytherin was trying hard not to let his eyes wander over her, but it was difficult. He had walked Lawrence to the kitchen without problem, had obliviated everything that had happened to the boy since he first left the Hufflepuff tower, fetched a slice of cake and told him he had won his bet. Then he walked him back to the Hufflepuff tower, overwhelmed by a thousand and one questions. He didn't understand what had happened in the bathroom, and not because Granger had explained it wrong. A third year, under Imperius at night, attacked a Head? What the fuck was going on? And Draco wasn't fooled. He'd noticed the broken stall and the posture of his partner standing right next to it, her face twisted in pain as she tried uselessly to control it.

She'd had too much pride to admit that she was hurt, because she knew precisely that it was her own fault and that it would never have happened if she hadn't decided that they would split up. Damn Gryffindor, too proud to admit her mistakes.

So he walked unceremoniously into the bathroom, wand in hand, eyes fixed on Hermione. "Where's the boo-boo?" he spat.

She glared at him, already irritated by his intrusion. Without saying a word, she turned her back to him. "My left shoulder," she said through her teeth. "Dislocated. I can't reach it accurately."

Draco stared at the spot, taking advantage of her turned back to let his eyes roam over the Lioness' bare skin. The curve of her shoulders, the delicacy of her neck. A feeling of hypnosis seized him, as if he were obsessed by the sandy complexion of his partner, her beauty mark just to the right. Impure blood under that skin, he reminded himself with contempt.

"I know what you're gonna say," Hermione said coldly. "Just don't, okay? Yes, I made a mistake, I shouldn't have decided to do the rounds alone. It was foolish of me. I only wanted to do my duty when I heard a noise, I couldn't help it and—"

"It's okay. There's no need to justify yourself. Now do you want me to help you or not? It doesn't look good from here."

"In my defense, I never thought it was likely that this would happen. It was like—"

"Fucking stop for a minute! Do you want me to heal you?"

"Yes."

The Slytherin then gently placed his hand against her shoulder to steady his aim —she flinched under the pain— and raised his wand. "I'm warning you, it's gonna hurt like a bitch."

Hermione placed her wand between her teeth and clenched it, ready. "Go ahead. Just bloody do it."

"Umerus Emendo," said Draco. The bone snapped back into place with a loud crack. The Gryffindor let out a long cry before letting her tears fall, unable to hold them back any longer. But Merlin, the feeling of her shoulder back in place felt good! She removed her wand from her mouth and turned back to the young man.

"Thank you," she whispered, her eyes glittering.

She inhaled and exhaled sharply, feeling the shock of the pain gradually diminish. Now that the pain was subsiding, her head had more room to think about Lawrence's words under the Imperius.

"That little Hufflepuff brat," she heard herself grumble.

Draco couldn't help but smile mischievously. That's exactly what he would have said to Lawrence if Hermione would have let him at that moment. He pointed to her face. "You still have some small cuts."

"Never mind, I'll take care of it later. We have a Ball to plan…"

The Lioness took a step out of the bathroom, looking eager, but Draco blocked her way. He was actually enormously surprised by her fervour and determination. His words during their quarrel in the corridor came back to his mind, and a twinge of remorse stung him. He had definitely overstepped the line once again and had been very bold. He decided not to tell her. Not just yet.

"The Ball can wait," he muttered. "Heal your cuts first."

She tried to make her way out but he remained unfazed. "Malfoy, we only have two days to—"

"Granger," he said seriously.

Fear and discomfort returned to her stomach, because she too had not understood what had happened in that bathroom. What did all those words mean? Your time will come. This winter. Revenge. Pain. Hermione swallowed hard and tried to close her mind. All she wanted was a jumper to cover herself with and to start planning the ball to forget this whole frightening episode.

"You're white as a sheet," Draco remarked.

"It's just... do you think what he said meant something?"

Drago shrugged. He couldn't deny that he hadn't thought about it. "Honestly," he replied, "no. I think it was a bitter Slytherin who wanted to scare you."

"Why?"

"Because you and your buddies defeated Voldemort."

Hermione considered his hypothesis for a moment. It wasn't unlikely. Were there really still students, perhaps who had been Dark followers, who held a grudge against her and wanted to make her pay for the Dark Lord's death?

"Are you being honest with me?" she asked.

Partly, Draco thought. It was an idea that had crossed his mind, but it wasn't the best one. To be honest, he hadn't found any plausible explanation for what had just happened on the sixth floor. It was more comfortable not to think about it.

"Yeah," he replied. And without wasting another second, he had raised his wand again, "Episkey."

A gentle warmth ran down Hermione's face, arms, hands and legs as the spell healed one cut after another. It tingled, but it was wonderful.

"Thank you," she whispered.

The Slytherin nodded in welcome. He pivoted to leave the room and walked over to the table, picking up scrolls and quills as he went. The brunette fetched a jumper from her room and returned, settling into the sofa, ready to work all night if necessary. She watched her partner gather the materials, still softened by the gentleness he had just demonstrated.

"Draco?"

He set the scrolls and everything else down in front of the chair and took a seat on the armchair opposite her.

"About earlier..." Hermione began.

She wanted to apologise for their fight and for the way she had reacted. Sure, the Slytherin had had his fair share of blame for it, he had been insufferable, but she was holding on to the little pact they had made together a few weeks ago.

Draco recognized the look in his partner's eyes. Besides, he wanted to say the same thing as her, but neither of them could do it at the moment.

"Don't worry about it," he said. "Me too."

"The greatest glory of our life is not in raising every time we fall but in raising everyone who falls"

J. Nedumaan

oOoOoOo

So... Let's talk about what just happened. Theories ? I hope you liked it! Consider leaving a review or comment ^^

Cheers and see you soon,

Axiomea