It had taken a lot of work and several cups of coffee, but they had managed to plan to Ball. In their respective free time, they had agreed to meet in the library to continue planning. Neither of them were very happy about spending so much time together, and they often got on each other's nerves. Finally, thank Merlin, they had finished in two days, just as Hermione had predicted. That night, or rather already after midnight, they were finishing the final details. Tomorrow they could submit their project to McGonagall.

"So, are we finally fucking done?" Draco asked.

"I think we are. Let me just check that we aren't forgetting anything."

She checked the contract items one by one to make sure they hadn't missed anything. Draco leaned his head back on the sofa, resting an arm against his eyes, looking tired.

"The theme?" read Hermione, her eyes still fixed on her list.

"Make love, not war," Draco muttered.

The Lioness elbowed him, and sighed. It was late and they had been working like crazy. She wasn't in the mood to laugh. "Be serious."

"An elegant fright."

"The colours?"

"Pink, soap bubbles and raspberry."

"Draco!"

"Grey, black and purple."

"The music?"

"Your bloody voice."

Hermione jumped to her feet, totally pissed off. The Slytherin laughed, pleased with his jokes. Oh, how he loved to get her worked up, literally! She threw her list in his face.

"Don't get mad, Granger!" he grinned. "We're already done!"

"I just wanted to check one last time! I'm tired, and we've been at it for two damn days."

"We haven't forgotten anything."

"How can you be sure? We're both probably too tired to think straight," she looked at her watch. "Good Godric, it's 2:25 in the morning!"

"Just relax already. Sit down." Draco leaned over to take another sip of coffee, now lukewarm in his cup. Hermione, too tired to argue, obliged without reply. Without looking at the list or the contract, her partner stared directly into her eyes and opened his mouth:

"Our theme is "An Elegant Fright". We didn't want a Halloween ball that was too scary given the obvious post-war trauma that everyone is dealing with. So we held back on things and decorations that remind us of death. Our colours are black, grey and purple. We have decided to be discriminatory and prevent anyone who does not dress in these colours from participating. Our music is the Weird Sisters, just like at the Yule Ball. They will arrive at 7pm and leave at 11pm. The ball will officially open at 7:30pm and close at midnight for—"

"Alright, alright, I get it—"

"THE BALL WILL END," Draco continued, raising his voice to cover Hermione's interruption, "at midnight for the partygoers. The Great Hall will be decorated with black curtains hanging from the ceiling. A spell will be cast to project a huge full moon on the bewitched ceiling, which will sufficiently illuminate the whole room. The dance floor will look like the frozen Black Lake on which we can see our reflections. Pumpkin juice will be served to all, and champagne for the eighth year students. Which is us. Yay. In less than a week's time, we'll have to start putting up posters around the castle to advertise the party. After the ball, we have to remove the charms. The end."

Hermione couldn't help but smirk. Even tired, his memory was impressive. She nodded and took the list from her partner's hands. "Good," she said. "I think we're all set then."

She stood up and threw her arms over her head to stretch. Merlin, she was so tense! After two days of bending over a table with her neck bowed, it felt good. She yawned loudly.

Draco watched the witch stretch her arms over her head, which had raised her shirt a few inches. He saw only a small patch of skin on her stomach, and for a moment he remembered her bare shoulders when he'd reset her shoulder. The strange urge to push her came over him. How could she be so fucking bold just showing herself like that?

"I'm going to sleep," she announced.

Draco stood up in turn, picking up his cup from the table. He yawned too. "Me too, then."

Hermione headed for her room. Before she crossed the threshold, she looked at her partner, who really looked exhausted. His eyes were rimmed with heavy dark circles, his features were drawn with fatigue.

"Draco?" she said.

He looked up.

"We did a good job," she smiled weakly. "I'm pleased."

He gave a small, proud grin, before making a dramatic bow, as if addressing a royal member. "If Granger is pleased, then the whole school better fucking be."

Hermione's smile widened. She closed the door behind her and leaned against it for a moment. For one small second, right there, she hadn't felt inferior. Crumpling heavily onto her bed, her head buzzing with plans, failed ideas and saved ideas from the ball, she let herself be overcome by oblivion. She realised, just before sleep overtook her, that she had hardly thought about Samuel for two days, so focused had she been on doing other things. She didn't know if it was right or wrong, but she couldn't help feeling ashamed.

Grief isn't supposed to leave me just like that.

The next morning, the Lioness woke up exhausted and aching, the morning sun beaming through her window. As she cleaned up in the bathroom, she looked at her face in the mirror. She looked like a ghost. Her complexion was rather pale, and her cheeks felt rough when she touched them. She didn't remember crying the night before.

She stared at herself for a moment more, trying to smile to appear more natural. But her heart was just the opposite. She didn't want to be a hypocrite and lie about her condition, but she didn't want anyone to remind her of how sick she looked. She realized that her smiles looked fake. She gave up, telling herself that smile or no smile, her face would remain just as glum.

When Draco emerged from sleep, he was half an hour ahead of schedule even if he had only managed to gain a few redeeming hours of sleep. The first thing that came to mind was not the intense planning they had been doing for the past two days non-stop, but rather the words of his friend a couple weeks earlier. You're out of shape. Both himself and Blaise had noticed because twice, which was two times too many, he had struggled to carry Granger.

And Draco didn't know why, but he felt that this situation would happen again and this time he would need all his strength.

Tired, his head heavy with sleep, he pulled himself out of bed and slid to the floor, immediately beginning a series of quick push-ups, the veins in his arms snaking to his biceps.

Hermione wrapped herself in a towel and walked out of the bathroom into her room, but her body hit a hard bump.

"Granger, look up when you walk!"

Draco had finished his little workout only a minute ago and he was covered in sweat. A few blond strands of hair were falling in front of his eyes, and he was surprised to stumble face to face with Hermione, but he didn't push her away like his first instinct had made him want to do. He stepped back and held out his arm to let her pass, biting back a growl.

The witch stepped forward, flushed with confusion, excused herself, and walked around him towards her room. She had expected him to make more remarks, but either he had refrained from doing so or he had not thought of it. Draco, on the other hand, watched her pass right in front of him and couldn't help but study the drops of water beading on her shoulders. He should have said one more small remark, just for the sake of it, but he lacked the inspiration. He locked himself in the bathroom.

Twenty minutes later, they were together in their common room, each collecting their school books. Their respective dark circles were clearly visible.

"Granger," hailed the Slytherin. "You remember we're going to submit our plan today."

That was not a question.

"Oh please!" Hermione sighed, annoyed. "Of course I remember! But I can go alone."

"We are both Heads. Maybe we'll get instructions."

"You and your obsessive need to stay paired up... Are you so worried about me that you want to tag along wherever I go?" she teased him lightly.

Her partner's face darkened. He didn't like this hint of familiarity she had just implied. It felt strange to think that he was engaging in normal verbal contact with a Mudbl... a Muggle-born. Was this the civility she'd hoped and dreamed of? Were they already there?

"Hey, Draco!" snorted Hermione. "I was kidding!"

"Yeah, yeah, I know," he replied. "Don't push it, Granger, I'm not worried about you. That's only in your dreams. But I'll still go with you, it's my duty."

"Okay," Hermione sighed, ignoring his remarks. "We'll go together! After lunch, just before our Potions class. Is that alright?"

He nodded. The deal was done. She grabbed their plan from the table and left the dorm. Draco followed her. They parted without words and went their separate ways to their respective classes.

At lunch, Harry, Ron and Ginny had all tried to get the details of the Ball out of Hermione, but she hadn't budged. They had met together after lunch to enjoy the sunshine outside before heading to their afternoon Potions, except for Ginny, who was heading to History of Magic. Hermione, on the other hand, accompanied them until she had to leave to submit her plan to McGonagall. Walking down the corridors, she enjoyed hearing her friends talk, even without joining in the conversation. It helped her focus her mind on other things.

Suddenly, a hand gently grabbed her wrist to hold her back. The trio stopped short, and Hermione turned towards the interruption. "Blaise?"

"Hi, Granger."

Harry and Ron glared at him, as if to let him know he was not welcome, but it was Hermione who gave them both a look. "Go on. I'll see you in class." she said.

She sensed the enormous reluctance of her friends to leave her in the hands of the Slytherin. They eventually went on their way, but not without a few glances over their shoulders.

Blaise smiled kindly at her. "I don't want to hold you up," he began.

"Don't worry, I was a bit early."

He looked around as if to check for eavesdroppers, then put his hand against Hermione's shoulder, pressing her lightly against the wall. "Look, I haven't taken the time to come and talk to you since what happened two weeks ago."

The Gryffindor blushed. She hadn't expected anyone to talk to her about it, in fact. She already knew all the blaming speeches that could be said to her about it. It's not the right way. There are other ways out. There are always solutions to problems. You don't have to keep things like that to yourself. She waited patiently for Blaise to get into it and lecture—

"I want to know how you are doing," he said in a breath, looking at her earnestly.

Hermione stared at him blankly, blinking. A Slytherin had stopped her on her way to check on her. Had the world changed that much?

"There are good days and bad days," she finally said truthfully.

Blaisa nodded, seeming to understand, a half-smile on his face. "How's that wanker Malfoy treating you?"

Hermione couldn't help but smile and shrugged, suddenly more relaxed. "There are good days and bad days," she repeated.

The Slytherin laughed. "You're a terrible liar, Granger!"

"I already have a partner who calls me that," she sighed.

"I need a nickname for you, then."

The lightness and ease of the discussion she was having with Blaise pleased and surprised her. However, something was nagging at her. She suddenly remembered what it was. "I don't think you're supposed to develop any kind of relationship with me."

He shrugged carelessly. "Because I'm Slytherin and you're Gryffindor?"

Yes, that's exactly what Hermione thought. Her cheeks flushed.

"That's old news. I don't care what other people think of me anymore, Mia. I do what the fuck I want and I ignore gossip."

"What?"

"The gossip, the—"

"I know that," she interrupted. "But what did you call me?"

He shrugged a second time, displaying a line of straight, white teeth. "Mia. The end of your name sounds a bit like that. It's short and simple."

She instantly released her tension with a grin. Mia. That was a first. She liked it.

"If you don't mind me asking," Hermione started, "how do you put up with him every day? Malfoy, I mean."

Blaise raised his eyebrows. "It takes a while, but you develop a kind of anti-Malfoy mental barrier."

"You're joking..."

"I'm telling you. You end up not being bothered by his foul language and you don't take him as seriously as you used to. Don't worry, soon it will be your turn. You'll live so much more peacefully."

She gave him another smile, and then a question popped into her mind. "How is your mum?"

"She' s fine. She's worried, but the Aurors have put spells on the house, just in case it happens again."

"Good, I'm glad to hear it."

"Before I let you go, I just want to say one more thing."

Hermione waited.

"I'm truly sorry about your brother," Blaise said softly. "I'm sorry that you have to live through this when the War is finally over and peace has returned. You must feel like someone came along and destroyed the peace that you deserved as much as anyone else."

A small hint of tenderness grazed Hermione's heart. Strangely enough, this was perhaps the first time that she didn't feel like dismissing someone who brought up the topic of her brother. She realised that people needed to give their condolences, because it was a sign of empathy and respect that helped them to label the truth as it was. Hermione didn't scold Blaise, nor did she feel angry that the subject had been addressed. The tears were held back for today.

"Thank you, Blaise," she replied, more sincere than ever.

They exchanged a smile and parted. Hermione felt as if a small flame of friendship had just been ignited between them.

"I like that idea," concluded the Headmistress at her desk.

Hermione and Draco exchanged a look, then the old lady handed them back their plan.

"You've done a good job together, congratulations."

"Thank you, Headmistress," Hermione said.

Then she elbowed Draco lightly in the ribs. He quickly added, "Yes, thank you Professor, we've been planning this for weeks."

Hermione rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to the Headmistress.

"You will have to display it in the castle, starting tomorrow if you want! That will give our guests time to get their formal clothing if they need it. I just have to hold you to a tradition, and I hope you haven't forgotten the section of the contract that mentioned that the Heads must lead the ball."

Hermione nodded, looking not so cheerful, but Draco opened his mouth and closed it neatly again. Either he had definitely missed that part of the contract, or he had simply refused to understand it when he came across it. Yet he had read the contract carefully and had even lectured Granger for not doing the same. Either way, he was not thrilled to be opening the ball with her. They were just in that ridiculous phase between hate and tolerance, somewhere between discomfort and civility.

"Could... this section, by any chance, means that all the Heads and Prefects mix," Hermione gulped, "or do we have to form the original pairs?"

"What do you mean, Miss Granger?" asked McGonagall, frowning.

"Can we open the ball with a Prefect, or do the Heads have to do it with each other?"

Draco let out a sarcastic snort. So Granger was no more pleased with this tradition than he was.

The Headmistress raised her eyebrows and glared at Hermione. "No, Miss Granger, you have to do it with each other. It's your ball, after all."

The Gryffindor nodded, her cheeks flushed, and swallowed her protests. She was quite capable of enduring a dance with Malfoy anyway, especially if this happened to be a 'good day' for him. He was tolerable, actually, on a good day.

"Headmistress," Draco attempted, a little shocked, "sorry, but Granger won't be my escort all evening, will she?"

McGonagall sighed, a little annoyed at the visible discomfort of her two Heads, and looked at them in turn. "Miss Granger, Mr. Malfoy, I know you both dislike this tradition. I'm almost tempted to believe that you have not read your contract in detail. Am I wrong?"

Hermione felt herself blushing from head to toe and was about to confess her fault, when Draco beat her to it. "We read it together at the same time, Headmistress," he lied. "I only wish to check what our options are and what potential exceptions we can make to the terms of the contract during the ball."

Why had he fucking lied for her? If it ever got him into trouble...

"I understand," said McGonagall. "No, you don't have to be each other's escort all night. You just have to Waltz to start the ball off. That's all. I'm sure you'll be able to avoid biting each other's heads off. Now I'll leave you to your Potions class."

Hermione wanted to retort, but suddenly Draco grabbed her arm and pulled her towards the door, making sure to thank the Headmistress behind his shoulder.

"What the hell is wrong with you!" Hermione grumbled once she was out of the office. "Let go of me!"

Draco released her and walked away without a glance for her.

"Malfoy, what—" She caught up to him and it was her turn to grab his arm to stop him. He turned back to her sharply, his face hard.

"I don't want to lie for you anymore, is that fucking clear?"

"No one asked you to!"

"If you told her the truth, she'd—"

"She would do what, Draco? Demote me? Find another Gryffindor for the badge? So what?"

"I thought you liked your position."

"I do, but I'm capable of honesty and accepting the consequences of my mistakes. Explain to me how it would have been a problem for you if she had sacked me?"

Draco stammered, not knowing what to say. He didn't know the answer himself, he just didn't like the idea of Granger getting replaced, not after he'd spent so much energy arguing with her about their bloody responsibilities.

"Whatever," he grumbled. "I just wish we didn't have to dance together, you and I."

"The idea isn't any better for me either, but can I ask you what's so disturbing about the idea of dancing with me? Is it because you'll have to be close enough to look at your reflection in my eyes? Is it because your hands will have to touch me? Is it because it's still a question of Purebloods and—"

"No," he interrupted her firmly. "It's just—"

Just what exactly ? thought Draco. Why can't you dance with her?

"Just what, Draco? Do I repulse you that much?"

The Gryffindor had breathed out the last sentence with a certain twinge of regret. The idea that she could actually be repulsive to her partner did not thrill her. And yet, it was possible.

"No," the Slytherin replied.

"Then what is it?" Her tone was higher.

His grey eyes turned away, trying to hide his confusion. He was trying to figure out exactly why. Why didn't he want to share one dance with her, even if it was just for a fucking contract?

Hermione's eyes flashed with intensity under a new hypothesis that she knew to be the right one. "It's because we won't be alone, right? It's because dozens and dozens of students will be looking at you and seeing you with me. You're actually able to be decent inside the walls of our common room, but outside of it, you're ashamed to be seen with me, aren't you, Malfoy?"

A tiny part of her was still trying to get him to contradict her, but she knew in her heart that she had been right. And when Draco didn't look up, the truth of the matter jumped right out at her. Hermione swallowed and looked up, trying to hide her dismay. She should not have been surprised by this.

"Let me tell you something," she spat. "It's just a stupid dance, Malfoy. Don't tell me, with that mark on your arm, that you haven't experienced anything worse."

She turned on her heels without glancing at him. Draco, his heart racing, swallowed and let out a long sigh of frustration. His partner had just trashed his opinion and normally he would have wanted to lash out at her to argue and get the upper hand, but that urge did not appear. He just wished she would be able to respect his fucking discomfort about that dance. Then the actual fucking fact that Granger didn't want to dance with him either stroke him and he disliked that thought. He pushed it away.

He made his way to Potions class, following her but carefully keeping his distance. It only took a few minutes to reach the Dungeons and the classroom. Again, all the students were gathered outside. Slughorn was not the most punctual teacher.

When Pansy Parkinson saw Hermione and Draco arrive almost at the same time, but not quite together, she couldn't help but clench her fists and completely ignored Blaise's criticism a few weeks ago. Blaise wasn't near her now anyway.

"Well," she chuckled. "Miss Distress is walking the halls with our beloved Slytherin? How humiliating for you, poor Drake!" she squeaked as she pressed herself against him.

He pulled away sharply and rolled his eyes. Hermione did not react. She had almost expected it. Pansy could not bear the idea of any female standing too close to her Drake. She continued towards the door of the Potions room, Draco trailing behind, Pansy right on the Slytherin's heels, cackling.

"Mudbloods should stay hidden in their hole," she continued, "just like she did when she disappeared for a whole day! No one can see her ugly, lifeless face like that! Bloody hell," she added, looking Hermione up and down with a disdainful glance, "she should be ashamed of herself."

At her first sentence, Draco had turned abruptly to Pansy, but had said nothing. Hermione, on the other hand, had frozen. Mudbloods should stay hidden, just like she did when she disappeared... It was that day when she had wanted to kill herself. The sudden memory of the balcony made her dizzy and she did her best to control herself. She clenched her jaw, closed her eyes to forget that moment and that bitch Parkinson, then prayed that Draco would stay out of it. A lot of students had ceased chatting. Ron and Harry stood aside, watching the scene, irritated by Pansy's juvenile behaviour.

"I think we should do something!" Harry spat angrily at Ron. "I need to—"

"Wait a minute. I think Hermione's gonna say something."

Just then, as Hermione opened her mouth to retort, even though she didn't know what she was going to say, it was Blaise who beat her to it, taking two steps towards Pansy. "Oi, Pansy?! Give her a break and grow up!"

Pansy stared at him, surprised and bitter, her eyes wide. Embarrassment made the blood rush to her head as she noticed all the annoyed looks from the students around her. No one was enjoying the dramatic scene she was making. She tried to keep a straight face, once again hiding how much her friend's words hurt her.

"You're defending Granger now?"

"If you call that defending... suit yourself! It's just that I don't think I'm the only one who thinks you're talking too much. Like every bloody time you open your mouth, anyway."

Pansy breathed heavily and walked away, embarrassed and ashamed. Blaise winked discreetly at Hermione and smiled at her, which did not go unnoticed by Draco, who did not appreciate this little friendly gesture between them.

Well, he sure gives no fucks anymore about his reputation, Draco thought, flabbergasted. He could have done the same and snapped back at Pansy, but he wasn't ready yet. He had immediately felt uncomfortable when Pansy had insulted Granger, because on top of that, she'd mentioned the day she' d gone missing. But why on earth was it Blaise fucking Zabini who was able to take a stand without worrying about what anyone else thought?

Slughorn arrived and the students rushed into the classroom. As she walked past Blaise, Hermione placed her hand on his forearm and squeezed gently. She mouthed the words 'Thank you' and the Slytherin responded with a similar 'You're welcome'.

As Draco walked past Blaise, Blaise clutched his arm in an iron grip. "Not able to face Pansy yet?" Blaise scowled.

"Let go of me, Zab. That wasn't my problem."

"One day you'll have to learn how to be nice to her."

Draco leaned towards him to whisper eagerly, "I don't care about Pansy, Zab! She's cocky and impulsive, like always."

"Not Pansy. Hermione. How to be nice to Hermione."

Draco sighed and jerked away.

"But he who dares not grasp the thorn
Should never crave the rose."

Anne Bronte