It was almost two full weeks into October now, and Hermione had tired herself out studying. Back home, most of her non-magical friends were already starting their A-levels. As a witch, she knew the system was different, and that finding post-Hogwarts education would be a lot tougher for her. Especially as she was someone with no connections who wanted to work at the ministry of all places.

Hermione was just finishing up doing two hours of notes on her History of Magic paper. Sitting in the library alone for the third day, as Malfoy had not returned since the last time they spoke. She reasoned that they weren't friends, so it didn't matter. But despite this, she couldn't stop herself from feeling some level of disappointment and wondering what she'd done. After packing her things, she tied her mess of curls up in a ponytail, having not taken the time to brush it yet that day. Hermione then headed down to meet the rest of the prefects for another patrol.

As the weeks passed, schedules had gotten tighter. Many prefects had ended up scheduling their patrols for specific nights according to when they were available. One perk of having her work done in advance was that Hermione could help fill whatever slot was needed and take a little stress off of Allen and Raya. However, this meant her after-school schedule had been quite all-over-the-place.

She ran into Neville in the hall on her way. He was standing in front of a painting of some fruit that Hermione knew to be the secret passage to the kitchens.

"Neville? Are you trying to get into the Kitchens?"

He started and turned around, revealing a tupperware filled with tarts clasped in his hands. "Oh, hi Hermione. I actually already did. Luna taught me how a while back. I decided to grab something to share with Padma while we're on patrol."

With that, he offered one to Hermione, who took it thankfully. She wrapped it carefully in a napkin and stored it in her own bag.

"You know Neville, I forgot to check who we're paired with today. You didn't happen to read who my partner was did you?"

Neville nodded solemnly. "You're with Malfoy again,"

"Oh," she said. She wasn't sure how to feel about this. On one hand, she was glad to have a chance to talk to him, and perhaps understand what was going on. But on the other hand, she worried that for some reason their temporary truce had ended. What if their conversation had caused him to go right back to his normal brooding self. What investigative progress she had made would be gone!

She shook herself at this thought, thinking it was more likely that Harry's prediction about Malfoy was untrue, and it wouldn't matter anyway. This would be just like the ones he'd had about Snape that were always disproven by the end of the year. There must be another explanation.

When they finally met up with the other prefects that night, there was already some low chatter from those standing around. It appeared that Ernie MacMillan and Anthony Goldstein were partners this time. They and Padma Patil were standing around Hannah Abbot in the corner of the room.

Hermione overheard Anthony say in earnest, "You'll be okay, it's only a few hours."

"Last time she said a word to me, it was to call me a blood traitor," came Hannah's whispered response.

She could only mean Parkinson, thought Hermione.

In the other corner of the room were the Slytherins. Of course, there was Malfoy. Ever-distinct with that platinum blonde hair that made him stand out in any crowd. Especially in this room with its variation of dark greys and browns as the only backdrop. But today it wasn't just him and Pansy Parkinson. Blaise Zabini was there, muttering something to Malfoy, who seemed utterly disinterested, as he slouched against the stone wall of the classroom. Parkinson was scowling slightly, arms crossed, as Zabini spoke.

Neville gave Hermione a sympathetic look and headed immediately over to where Padma was. They both waved at Hermione before heading off, each with a tart in hand.

As she got within a few feet of them, Zabini stopped his muttering, and he and Pakinson turned to the Gryffindor. Malfoy didn't move. In fact, he was looking decidedly in the opposite direction of her.

Parkinson gave Hermione a disapproving once-over, "Did you decide to wear a rat's nest on your head today, or is that just your hair?"

Feeling a rush of anger well up in her chest, Hermione forced a smile and said, "Keep talking Parkinson. I'm sure one day you'll say something intelligent."

The girl's face contorted in fury. "How would you like to feel the way you look?"

"Could you shut up for once Pansy?" Malfoy said with a look of distaste at the girl.

This elicited a chuckle from Zabini, which made a now even more irritable Parkinson huff and glare at him.

"Anyway, we've all got things to do," Zabini said with a pointed look at Malfoy, before leaving the room.

Malfoy motioned at Hermione to follow him. The two walked out of the now almost empty classroom, leaving poor Hannah Abbot to deal with an enraged Parkinson. Hermione almost wished she could switch partners right then and save the Hufflepuff. But strictly speaking, that wasn't allowed. And anyhow she felt that she needed to talk to Malfoy, and so continued after him. She walked just to his left, though struggled now and again to match his pace.

"You've gotten ahead on your work then? I'm still having some trouble with our last Transfiguration Assignment," Hermione said, trying to break the tension.

"I'm working on other things at the moment. I don't have time to study nonsense like how to turn a slug into a broomstick."

"Oh- that's another thing. I noticed you're not playing quidditch this year."

"Well spotted Granger. And why do you know that?" He asked icily.

Hermione blushed and stammered, "Oh well my best friend is the captain of the Gryffindor team..."

With a harsh scoff, he said, "Of course. Potter."

There was a moment of silence as they turned around another hall corner. In profile, Hermione watched Malfoy's icy-grey eyes stare ever forward as she struggled to find more words. But he spoke before she could think of anything.

"What?" It was somehow more of a statement than a question.

"What?"

"You still have something to say."

Hermione wondered how he knew this, as he had not looked back at her once. Halfway through this thought, she realized that she had been staring at him the entire time. "Oh, uh, thank you. For stopping Parkinson," she managed.

"What I said to Pansy had nothing to do with you. I'm just tired of hearing her bitch constantly. Besides, it seems you were a fair match."

"Right. Well, thank you anyway."

Hermione suppressed a grin. She was glad to know that she hadn't appeared as flustered as she felt while responding to Parkinson's insults. As they walked, she fidgeted with her fingers and gazed through the large glass window panes at the grounds. Everything this time of night was lit by a blue-grey half moon.

"So what are your plans after Hogwarts?" she asked hopefully.

"Excuse me?"

"Just making conversation."

Hermione bit her lip in thought. Had she pushed too far? Was he catching onto her? She wasn't being as subtle as she should be. But she thought this kind of question would be innocent enough, seeing as they are both in their last few years of school. Maybe she should backtrack-

"Not planning on doing anything really."

Of course… she mentally kicked herself for forgetting. The Malfoys were extremely rich, and he was the sole heir to generations of wealth piling up. No one in his family would have to work for generations if they didn't want to.

Trying to smooth over her mistake, she said, "I thought since you've had family work at the Ministry, that might be of interest?"

"Maybe before last year," he said, with a slight edge to his usual drawl.

Merlin, is he infuriating! It's like having a conversation with a petty child.

"I think I'd like to work in the Ministry myself." She restrained herself from elaborating about her goals. Talk of improving relations between wizards and other magical races like house-elves and goblins would just add fire to any mockery she may have to endure.

Suddenly Malfoy stopped walking and held out his arm in front of Hermione, causing her to bump into him. He scoffed and strode into a classroom a few paces ahead of where they'd stopped.

What is he doing? she wondered, and made to follow him. But she had taken no more than a step before she heard a vaguely familiar voice squeak, "Aw lay off will you?"

That was when Malfoy emerged again, this time with a third year in each hand, held by the scruff of their shirts. It was Amina Qureshi of Ravenclaw and Angus Matlock, a fellow Gryffindor.

"What are you two doing out of your dorms so late?" she demanded.

"We were just messing around," said Angus, while attempting to pull his collar from Malfoy's grip.

Once Hermione pieced together what he meant, her face flushed red.

"Please don't say anything! It'll never happen again, I swear," Amina pleaded at her.

Gulping down her discomfort, Hermione glanced at Malfoy, who shrugged his shoulders with mild irritation as if to say, What do I care?

"Fine," she responded finally, "But you'll both head straight back to your dorms. And if you get caught out after curfew again, you're being turned in."

They both nodded feverishly, and Malfoy dropped them. The two then sprinted in opposite directions, each toward their own house's towers.

"Maybe you have a future in magical law enforcement," she teased, "You seemed to handle those two fairly easily."

He cocked an eyebrow at her, "They're children."

"Yes, but still," she said with a shrug.

"Why are you so concerned with my life Granger?"

"I'm not concerned." She paused, wishing more than anything that she could read his emotions. "There's just not much else to talk about besides school."

The corner of his mouth twitched, but he said nothing, and just continued down the hall. Once again Hermione began after him.