The group arrives at Hogwarts, where more than a few surprises are in store...


The remainder of the trip to Hogwarts was without any notable incident. Ginny, Blaise, and Neville kept conversation flowing easily between them, and though Hermione attempted to participate, her mind was too occupied by the world-spinning exchange with Ginny in the restroom. She couldn't help but constantly steal glances at Draco, who merely sat in silence and ignored his friends' attempts to draw him into conversation, only offering his attention to the book in his hand. He caught her staring a couple times, leading them both to quickly look away.

The awkwardness made Hermione want to bang her head on the wall.

The witch was desperate to talk to him about everything she'd just learned; as if she weren't already confused about him enough, all this stunning new info had unearthed a degree of questions and mystery that Hermione didn't even know where to begin with. The most urgent query currently wracking her brain was why none of this information had been brought up in Draco's trial. Logically, it made no sense; judging from Ginny's story, a number of students could have testified on his behalf.

The bond roiled with aggravation at the thought of its mate not receiving all the aid he'd deserved.

Hermione was practically vibrating with curiosity, no, a need to know more about the devastating previous year at Hogwarts and Draco's part in it all-

But with the Slytherin already so withdrawn paired with the obvious unwillingness to share about his past that he'd shown at Andromeda's, she feared bombarding him with questions would only cause him to close off even more. Hermione didn't have to be an expert on relationships to know that trust between herself and Draco was going to be hard earned.

The Gryffindor continued pondering such thoughts as they disembarked the train, absently listening to Luna chatter away in her boyfriend's ear. Nott still had yet to speak a single word – or maybe he had and Hermione simply hadn't heard, she certainly hadn't been paying much attention – but the quiet boy seemed content to listen as his sunny girlfriend talked his head off about some rare breed of hinkypunks.

Parkinson, who'd only spoken up a few times to snipe or sass someone, approached the carriages with a high head and a poised step, acting as thought the students turning to stare and glower at her weren't even there.

Draco on the other hand, was tenser than a bowstring, nostrils flaring and head twitching this way and that as though he were waiting for a hex to come flying at him. Hermione swore she could almost feel his apprehension through the bond, which was currently pricking at her chest and sitting heavily in her stomach.

Or maybe that was just her own fear making itself known now that she'd caught sight of Hogwarts.

The familiar sight of Hagrid corralling the first years into the boats eased her a little-

But then some bloke from Ravenclaw not-so-subtly hissed, "Death Eater scum!" as she and Draco passed him, and Hermione suddenly felt cold.

The Golden Girl turned a molten glare on the boy, her hair growing slightly larger as furious magic cracked around her. The Ravenclaw blanched and scrambled away quickly.

"Git," she murmured. Feeling a heavy gaze on her, Hermione peeked up to see Draco looking at her with a mixed expression. He averted his eyes quickly, but the insecurity and emptiness she saw in them made her chest constrict.

Instinct taking her in its clutches, the Gryffindor extended her hand and curled her pinky around his in a silent show of support.

"Ah-"

She wasn't sure if that tiny gasp of surprise came from him or her, but the bond sparked at the little gesture, practically singing with glee that they were finally touching again. Suddenly afraid he'd pull away – which was ridiculous and selfish of her, Draco had no obligation to touch her if he didn't want to – Hermione slipped her hand fully into his, attempting to be casual about it.

"Let's go," she said quietly, leading him to the carriage their friends had chosen.

Immediately, her logical brain came sputtering back, demanding to know what the hell she was thinking. They weren't even technically a couple yet – yet!? – and here she was grabbing his hand like a needy, lovesick fool in need of validation. Mind racing, Hermione realized she wanted Draco to know that she wasn't ashamed to be seen touching him in front of others; though admittingly, that wasn't as much about him as it was that she simply didn't possess the headspace to care about other's opinions of her anymore.

But…

But-

None of that could negate the simple fact that she wanted to touch him, liked the feeling of his skin against hers.

It was this realization that scared Hermione into letting go of his hand just before boarding the carriage. She didn't dare look up to try and gauge Draco's feelings on her actions; he hadn't tried to shake her off, but had he actively held her hand in return? The witch had been far too occupied with her own whirling thoughts to even notice.

Heart pounding and mind shouting an endless loop of, "shit, what have I done," Hermione pointedly looked out the carriage window as they shoved off to watch Hogwarts grow closer and closer; and she tried to ignore the lingering warmth Draco's touch had left behind.

Upon arriving at the gates, the curly haired witch had not heard one word of conversation that occurred during the short journey. After unloading her luggage, she dragged her gaze up, up, up the old castle and slowed her approach as she took it in.

Hermione wasn't the only one to hesitate; the Gryffindors and Slytherins alike were studying the ancient structure that had once been their home and now would be again with various levels of somberness. Absently, the Golden Girl realized this was likely the first time a few of them had been back since the battle.

"Well, I'm not going to stand around here and get sun burn," Pansy declared, shattering the moment.

One by one, everyone seemed to shake it off. "Oh come on, Pans. Sunlight is essential for one's complexion!" Blaise countered.

"Not when your skin is as fair as mine," Parkinson shot back as she strode forward. Hermione thought she might have heard Draco mumble in agreement, and she smiled.

However, the odd feeling and slightly forced joviality persisted as they made their way into the castle. Though much of the school remained unchanged, a sense of off-ness hovered overhead. Stones that Hermione swore were once cracked and worn with age were suddenly shiny and new. A tapestry was missing from the southern-facing wall. The hallways seemed emptier, devoid of certain fixtures and décor that used to be there.

Little things, things that most wouldn't notice, things that were inconsequential by nature; but those same things were glaring reminders of what had taken place in this very building just a few months earlier. Much as she tried, Hermione knew she wouldn't be able to look at Hogwarts in the same way ever again. Not when she could see the ghosts of broken bodies everywhere she looked. When she blinked, she swore the walls flashed red for a moment.

"Bit odd, isn't it?"

Hermione jumped when Neville spoke, having not even realized her friend was beside her. "Sorry," the Gryffindor said with an easy smile. "It's just…everything seems the same on the surface, and yet at the same time it…isn't? You see what I mean, yeah?"

Pursing her lips, Hermione nodded. "Yeah…it is odd."

"Looks pretty much the same to me," Blaise interjected with a shrug.

"Well, you're not exactly the fastest broom in the shed, Zabini," Ginny snarked.

"No need to be nippy, Red. All I'm saying is that in every way that matters, nothing around here has-"

Blaise faltered upon the doors to the Great Hall swishing open.

"…changed?"

The entire group stood still and silent in shock. The familiar long tables and benches that represented each house were gone; in their place were countless round, identical wooden tables and cushioned stools. They varied in size, seating around six to eight students per table. Hermione's mind briefly spiraled into memories of her primary school cafeteria.

"What in the name of Merlin?" Ginny spoke.

"Oh, how nice! I much prefer it when I can see the faces of everyone I'm eating with," chirped Luna, completely unruffled by the unexpected change.

Pansy's perfectly shaped brows were high on her forehead as she looked around the Great Hall. "Just what cotton-headed ninny thought this was a good idea?"

"That would be me, Miss Parkinson."

Every neck snapped to the side as Minerva McGonagall appeared out of nowhere, stern-faced and no-nonsense as ever. "If you lot wouldn't mind, you are quite blocking the entrance. Kindly find a seat and plant yourselves there. All will be explained in due time," the Headmistress ordered shortly.

Eager to escape McGonagall's wrath, they scurried to a nearby table.

Sitting down with only a slight degree of awkwardness, the ragtag group exchanged uncertain glances. Hermione distracted herself by observing the arriving students, all of whom had similar reactions to the new seating arrangements. Whilst people watching, she spotted the remainder of the returning eighth year students trickle in one by one:

She recognized Anthony Goldstein, Michael Corner, and Padma Patil from Ravenclaw as well as Ernie Macmillan, Susan Bones, and Hannah Abbot from Hufflepuff.

Hermione recalled the vast group she'd arrived with in her very first year at Hogwarts, and couldn't help but compare it to the measly fourteen students it was now reduced to.

Hannah walked up to chat with Neville, though the girl visibly faltered upon noticing who else was present at their table. She wasn't the only one.

All around, fellow students sent them an array of expressions ranging from confusion, to disgust, to fear. Some were even outright hostile, and Hermione sighed inwardly. So this was what she had to look forward to this year?

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say most of these goody-goodies don't look very happy to see us," Blaise said out of nowhere.

"O for outstanding bloody observation, dumb arse," Pansy deadpanned.

The Italian merely shrugged with a conspiring grin. "Hey, I'm up for a challenge. I bet I'll have reminded a few of these cute little lambs just how fun we snakes can be by the end of the week, if you catch my meaning."

As the customary groans and eyerolls went around the table, Theo brought his fist to his forehead in an odd jerking motion.

Hermione blinked. Did he just-

"Good evening, students." McGonagall's commanding voice boomed throughout the Hall, silencing the chatter at once. "Now then," the Headmistress continued, her gaze stern with a hint of somberness. "I would like to personally commend each and every one of you. Despite the hardship…the struggles…the tragedies we have all suffered in the past years, you have all shown nothing but the utmost of courage and resolve in returning here to continue your education. I am truly proud of all of you."

A heavy silence passed over the Great Hall, and Hermione couldn't help but notice how her Slytherin classmates all cast their eyes down.

"Before we get on with the Sorting Ceremony, I'd like to introduce the new professors joining us this year," McGonagall continued.

At her words, two individuals stood up from the faculty table, the only table that remained unchanged. One was a woman, who Hermione recognized as Hestia Jones, one of the Order members who'd been assigned to protect Harry.

"May I present Hestia Jones, who will be teaching our Defense Against the Dark Arts course."

Hestia gave a nod as polite applause rang through the Hall.

"Professor Jones is an auror, and previous member of the Order of the Phoenix. She has years of field experience and extensive knowledge of dark spells, unnatural history, and the occult. I ask that you offer her your utmost respect this year."

"As long as she's not another Dark Lord in disguise or a crazy bint in pink, I'll not have any issue," Blaise whispered. An assortment of dirty looks was his response. "What? Too soon?"

"And now, I shall introduce both a new member of the faculty, and an entirely new course never before offered here at Hogwarts."

At this, Hermione perked up with interest. A new course? That was odd…surely, she would have heard something about a new class.

Hestia retook her seat, leaving an unfamiliar face still standing. The new professor was an elderly man, dressed unusually in trousers, a button down shirt, and a blazer; an outfit that no one would blink an eye at in muggle schools, but for one of the oldest and most prestigious wizarding institutions, traditional robes were still considered the norm. The man smiled, his wrinkles accentuating a warm and kind face, giving him a rather grandfatherly visage.

"This is Dr. Howard Bowman, the head of our newly established Counseling and Psychological Healing department."

A wave of confused mutterings passed through the Great Hall, which McGonagall swiftly silenced. "Dr. Bowman is a highly acclaimed scholar with a dual Masters in wizarding history and cultural studies, as well as a PhD in psychology."

Hermione's brows rose into her hairline. She saw the resulting puzzlement of some of her peers, clearly unfamiliar with muggle degrees.

Regardless, McGonagall barreled on. "He has years of experience in mind and trauma healing, and has carried out many humanitarian services and missions in foreign countries following wars and natural disasters. He has kindly come all the way from the United States to aid us in forming our Counseling program. As of tomorrow, Dr. Bowman will be offering both optional and mandatory sessions for both students and faculty. Details will be made available to you in your lesson plans."

Another wary murmur arose, the student body unsure what to think of this unexpected development. Hermione was rather stunned herself; Mind Healers existed in the wizarding world, but services such as counseling and therapy were largely muggle staples.

"In light of the events of these past years and the horrendous battle that was fought on these very grounds," McGonagall said softly, "we at Hogwarts have decided it is imperative that we offer our students a means to cope. To talk, and be heard. And ultimately, to heal. We have much healing to do, as individuals, and as a school. As part of that process, we have elected to do away with the old House assigned tables to encourage unity and camaraderie amongst our students. 'Tis time to put old rivalries behind us and come together as a student body."

Several disbelieving snorts and scoffs echoed around the table. "Like it will be that bloody simple, everyone already hates us," Pansy mumbled just loudly enough for Hermione to hear. She frowned, but before she could reply, McGonagall announced the start of the Sorting Ceremony.

One by one, the jittery first years were called up, some noticeably more nervous than others. The Hat announced their houses, its tone lacking the same joviality of past years, making it seem almost monotonous.

Gryffindor! Ravenclaw! Gryffindor! Hufflepuff!

The applause felt more obligatory than anything. Hermione recalled the excited cheers and laughter from her own Sorting Ceremony, and felt a pang of sorrow.

Ravenclaw! Hufflepuff!

Slytherin!

A tense hush fell over the Hall. The young girl sat atop the stool had all but frozen in terror as whispers scattered throughout.

Hermione was horrified; she'd known prejudice and fear against Slytherins would be prevalent, but she hadn't predicted it would be this bad.

"For Salazar's sake."

All eyes turned to their table as both Ginny and Pansy stood up and made their way to the front. The little Slytherin girl looked up, fearful and teary-eyed as Ginny knelt down and said something only for her ears. The girl then smiled tentatively and nodded, stepping down off the stool.

"C'mon, kid," said Pansy, placing a hand on her new housemate's shoulder as she led her to a table.

"Like I said," Blaise murmured, "they're pretty scary when they work together." Despite his words, a fond smile tugged at the Italian's mouth.

The rest of the ceremony passed without incident, Hermione having counted seventeen first years, making for one of the smallest classes Hogwarts had seen.

"Now, I know we are all hungry, so I'll not waste your time droning on," said McGonagall. "But allow me to remind you that suffering has occurred on all sides in these times. Let us not add to it."

The Headmistresses' stern tone cause more than a few students to squirm. "Now, with all that fuss out of the way, you may eat."

Food appeared on the tables, and Hermione's stomach twisted.

As chatter once again filled the Hall and everyone began serving themselves, the Golden Girl was busy twisting her fingers around in her lap.

"What's wrong, 'Mione? Are you not hungry?" Ginny asked.

The curly haired witch tried to smile. "No…I am."

Are you?

Swallowing, she reached for a bowl of minestrone soup. "I guess I'm still just trying to shake off the oddness of being back here."

Ginny hummed, though Hermione couldn't tell if the redhead believed her or not. "Well here, have some of this shepherd's pie. That's always been a favorite of yours, yeah?"

Hermione held back a grimace as Ginny plopped a heaping spoonful onto her plate. "Yeah, it-" was, "-is. Thanks."

The Head Girl nodded and returned to mixing up everything on her plate into some sort of thick concoction, then proceeded to drizzle gravy all over it.

"Merlin's sodding left testicle, Red," Blaise exclaimed, eyeing Ginny's meal with acute disgust. "Just when I was finally starting to believe your family isn't a bunch of savages after all!" Without missing a beat, Ginny flicked a dollop of her odd mishmash straight into Blaise's face. The Italian yelped dramatically. "My nose! My perfect, beautiful nose!"

Neville chuckled. "I thought you'd have learned not to get on her bad side by now, mate."

"Don't worry Blaise," Luna chimed in, "your nose still looks normal to me."

Theo's shoulders shook up and down as though he were laughing, but not a sound came from his throat.

Blaise grumbled, frantically wiping his face with a napkin.

"Never mind this tosser's nose," said Pansy. "Weasley's not the only one with a lack of manners at this table."

The Slytherin girl looked pointedly across the table, leading everyone to follow her gaze.

They were met with the unexpected sight of Draco viciously slicing into his roast beef, a scowl marring his brow as he stuck the too-large chunk into his mouth and tore it with his teeth.

Hermione blanched as the rest of the table stared. Having noticed the sudden silence, Draco paused mid-chew to look up.

"Uh, mate? You know you've got a knife there, right?" Blaise pointed out, looking both amused and disconcerted.

In response, Malfoy showed off his middle finger.

"Why's everyone taking the piss out of me today?" the Italian complained.

"Well, you do make it easy. No offense, Zabini," Neville teased.

Rather than grow annoyed, Blaise laughed. "You've come a long way, Longbottom. Try not to trip over your own bollocks while you're at it."

The table once again descended into light conversation, allowing Hermione to take a breath of relief. She mentally added this to the list of things she needed to talk to Draco about: why he hadn't told his friends about his lycanthropy. Though she understood the need for it to be kept secret as much as possible, she also thought it'd be good for him to have a small circle of friends in the know for support. Surely, there was at least one friend here he trusted enough to tell…

Hermione pondered these thoughts as she listened and occasionally contributed to the talk flowing around her, hoping everyone was too distracted to notice her pushing food around on her plate more than actually eating it. Ginny kept sneaking peeks at her, prompting the Golden Girl to force a few bites down, praying they wouldn't send her running to the loo. No doubt, Harry had informed his girlfriend about Hermione's struggles to eat and asked her to keep an eye on his friend.

However, it was not Ginny's stare that made the curly haired witch wary, but rather Pansy's. The Slytherin girl was watching her closely, an odd, knowing glint in her dark eyes.

Hermione returned her gaze questioningly.

Pansy pursed her lips and went back to cutting her carrots into precise, bite-sized pieces with no explanation.

Looking down into her soup, a feeling of discomfort swirled within Hermione's chest as a memory assaulted her. In fifth year, when she'd stumbled upon Pansy and Draco huddled together behind a tapestry during patrol. Somehow, she'd forgotten that those two had a…courtship? An arrangement? A…thing?

Granted, she hardly knew the details of whatever had been between them, nor did she want to know, but the thought remained troubling none the less. Though Hermione didn't care about Draco's history, she did care about how it may affect his other relationships. The last thing she wanted to do was unintentionally drive a wedge between him and his friends, especially while their bond was so new.

The Golden Girl sighed. Perhaps that's why he'd not told any of them yet. Though his friends didn't seem to have a problem with muggleborns, that didn't mean they wouldn't have a problem with her.

And Pansy…if Pansy were to find out, just what would she do? Hermione had no clue if the other girl still held feelings for Draco or not, but she doubted the news would go over well regardless, if her past experience with teenage jealously was anything to go by.

As she swirled her soup around in its bowl, Hermione allowed her eyes to flit between Pansy and Draco, trying to gauge the air between them. Unfortunately, with her mate virtually ignoring everyone around him, she wasn't able to draw much from his end. Though to Hermione's confusion, Pansy wasn't making any effort to engage Draco either. In fact, she seemed to be actively snubbing him, not responding when his name was brought up, nor even sparing him a glance.

Did they have a bad breakup?

The Golden Girl gave an absent sigh, the questions just piling up. The last thing she needed this year was needless, petty drama.

The feast came to an end, the menagerie of students making their way to their rooms for the night.

Hermione looked up when the Headmistress approached them. "Miss Granger, Mister Malfoy, if I could speak to the two of you in my office before you retire, please."

Draco and Hermione exchanged an uncertain look. "Yes, certainly, Headmistress."

"Hermione?" came Ginny's voice, looking questionably between her, Draco, and McGonagall.

"Go on ahead, Gin. I'll be there shortly," the Golden Girl assured.

The look in Ginny's eyes said there would be questions later, but for now, the redhead let it go.

The pair followed McGonagall to her office, Draco's expression carefully stoic whilst Hermione's was pinched with curiosity. The Headmistress announced the password – lemon drops – and the gargoyle leapt aside.

"Now then," McGonagall began as they took their seats. "I'm aware that you're both likely tired, so I'll keep this brief. Mister Malfoy, your mother has made me aware of the situation between the two of you. As I understand it, you are both seeking to deepen your bond, is that correct?"

Hermione's face flared while Draco's eyes hardened with occlumency. "We're…exploring it," the Gryffindor explained tentatively. "At this point, neither of us are really sure what's going to come of it."

McGonagall's expression betrayed nothing. "I see."

Draco remained silent, though his posture was tense, as though he were preparing himself to be reprimanded.

"Well, in any case," the Headmistress continued. "I've prepared a number of precautionary measures to aid you both in getting through the year and keeping your secret intact. First of all, I've had the Shrieking Shack prepared for Mister Malfoy's monthly transformations. It always worked quite well for Remus when he attended school here. Secondly, I've decided to grant the two of you special access to my personal floo, should either of you need to contact family or friends in the event of an emergency. It is yours to use whenever you need it, though for communication purposes only, not for travel, mind you."

"Thank you, Headmistress," said Hermione.

"Thirdly," McGonagall then pulled out two small, colored stones, one pink, the other purple. "These stones have been charmed to react when tapped with a wand. Observe." McGonagall touched her wand to one of the stones, causing it to gently glow. At the same time, the grandfather clock hanging on the wall began to chime a strange tune, its hands whirling around the face. "If one or both of you are to use these stones, it will alert me that something has happened and you are in need of aid. I've instructed the portraits to have at least one of them standing watch here at all times for when I'm not in the office. Mind you, these are for emergencies only. Use them if you must, and I'll do my best to get help to you as quickly as possible."

Nodding in understanding, Hermione took the pink stone and tucked it into her pocket. Draco hesitantly followed suit, eyeing the stone as though it were some unsavory artifact.

"One last thing." Here, McGonagall's expression turned hesitant. "I'm not sure if either of you are aware, but in the older days of Hogwarts, it wasn't terribly uncommon for students to marry before they graduated."

Hermione and Draco both shot up in alarm. "Oh no, no, we aren't-"

"Do you honestly think-"

"Silence, both of you! I was in no way implying that I expect the two of you to be wed before the end of the year!" McGonagall corrected sternly. "What I was attempting to say, is that there are a number of apartments, completely separate from the House dorms, that were given to those married students."

The Headmistress sat back in her chair and folded her hands. "In light of this unique situation, I've elected to give the two of you access to one of those apartments."

Stunned and slightly flustered at the implication, Hermione gaped like a fish.

"Are you serious?" Draco exclaimed, looking both condescending and mildly panicked. "You want us to bloody live together?"

"Don't put words in my mouth, Mister Malfoy, I see that look on your face," McGonagall scolded. "I am not attempting to suggest nor encourage any carnal acts within these sacred walls, though I will also remind you that you are both in fact legal adults and certainly don't need my permission for anything of the sort."

Draco's ears pinked, and Hermione wanted to curl up beneath the desk in embarrassment. Of all things, discussing her and Draco's potential sex life in McGonagall's office was not something she would have predicted even in her wildest dreams.

"The reason I've made this decision is for both of your well-beings. Magical bonds are exceedingly rare nowadays, and not much is known about them. I thought it would be beneficial if you were to have a place to go to ensure privacy whilst you both figure things out. For the sake of Mister Malfoy's secret, I would rather you not talk about it somewhere you'd be at risk of being overheard. You are certainly not required to live there, your old dorm rooms in your respective houses are still available if you'd rather use them. But it is there if either of you should have need of it. Is that clear?"

Both students nodded, their faces stained red at the thought of living with the other.

"Good. Your apartment is located on the third floor behind the painting of Duchess June of Thornbury. The password is paracosm, though you may change it if you wish. Oh! I nearly forgot. Mister Malfoy, may I ask how many in the school you've informed of your condition aside from myself and Miss Granger?"

Draco answered after a beat. "No one."

McGonagall arched a brow. "I see. Well, if that should ever change, do be sure to inform me. Now, if neither of you have any questions, you're free to go. Get some rest."

"Thank you very much, Headmistress," said Hermione, who then not-so-subtly nudged Draco.

"Thanks," the Slytherin repeated softly.

"'Tis my job to look after my students. Think nothing of it. Now, off with you."

As they descended the stairs in strained silence, Hermione studied her mate's profile. Draco's eyes slid to meet her gaze, and this time, they didn't immediately look away from each other.

"Um," the Gryffindor said quietly. "Did you want to…go see it? The apartment? I don't plan on staying there, but I admit, I'm curious."

Pursing his lips, Draco gave a shrug. "Why not."

Duchess June of Thornbury turned out to be a blonde woman in her mid-twenties, who was sitting in a loveseat and seemed to be reading an erotic novel. She looked up only when Hermione spoke to her. At the sight of the mated pair, June's brows rose and her mouth twisted into an excited smirk. "Well, what do you know, McGonagall wasn't taking the piss out of me after all! God, do you have the slightest idea how fucking long it's been since anyone used this room? I've been bored out of my goddamn bloody mind!"

"Er, well, I'm…glad to hear that?" Hermione said uncertainly.

June barked a laugh. "Not nearly as glad as you are for the privacy, I imagine. Listen, if you two could do me a slight favor? I understand that you're young, newly-wed, and in love and all that shite, but if you find yourselves fucking against the wall, kindly do not fuck against the back of my frame. The last couple that stayed in here did that, and were decidingly less pleased when I threatened to open up while they were simpatico."

Draco groaned while Hermione's mouth fell open. "No, no, you misunderstand! First of all, we are not married, and we're certainly not about to…do any of that!"

June snorted. "Whatever you say, darling. I'll just act as though I haven't read a million trashy boddice rippers and don't know exactly where you two are headed. Whatever does it for you both."

"If you're quite done running your insufferable mouth," Draco snapped. "We'd like to go in!"

"Yes, yes, I'm sure you're quite eager to get your dick wet," June replied nonchalantly, and Draco's face reddened with anger. "Let's have the password, then."

Before her mate could set June's portrait on fire, Hermione blurted out the password. Smiling unsettlingly, June opened the portrait hole, allowing them to hurry inside. "Try not to make too much noise! Or do, I don't give a fuck," the Duchess called just before the door swung shut.

"Godric!" Hermione exclaimed, fanning her face. "For a duchess, she is horribly crass!"

"I've heard less explicit talk in the men's showers," Draco mumbled in reply.

As if on que, they both looked at each other at the same time. Then, whether for a desperate need for stress relief or from the sheer absurdity alone, they broke into breathy chuckles.

The bond pulsed rhythmically as though laughing along with them.

When the moment passed, they turned to take in their new apartment. It was a modest space, with a kitchenette and cute little sitting area. Behind one door was a practical bathroom fitted with the essentials, and behind the other was a quaint bedroom with a queen-sized bed, a desk, two nightstands, and an archway that led to a small balcony. The room was perfectly outfitted for two, and in any other circumstance, Hermione wouldn't mind living here, would probably even prefer it to the Gryffindor dorms.

"This is nice," she said quietly.

"I guess if you look at it a certain way…"

Frowning, Hermione turned to her mate, but paused upon noticing the glint in his eye. "You're joking, aren't you?"

Draco arched a brow. "Don't be absurd, Granger. Malfoys aren't capable of humor."

The witch smiled. "Only when it's at the expense of others, I'd wager?"

"Naturally," the wizard deadpanned.

The moonlight shined in from the balcony, reflecting off Draco's pale face. How odd…he was truly lovely.

Hermione belatedly realized this was the first time since this morning that they'd been alone together. Perhaps she could finally get some of her questions answered before the curiosity ate her up inside.

Yes, answers, that was the only reason her heart was racing right now.

"Ginny told me about last year," the Gryffindor blurted.

Too quickly, Draco's expression iced over.

Discouraged but determined, Hermione soldiered on. "She told me what you did…for her and the other students. Why…why did you not say anything? Merlin, why did none of your friends say anything? That information could have been used in your trial, it may have gotten you a lighter sentence. I just don't understand…"

Running a hand through his hair, Draco sighed heavily. "Listen, Granger. There are some things you don't understand about how things work with us purebloods. Especially those of us that worked under…him."

A scowl marred his brow, his hand twitching towards his robe pocket. Instead, Draco balled that hand into a fist by his side. "The war may be over, he may have lost…but change doesn't come that easily. Especially in our circles."

The Slytherin scratched mechanically at the back of his neck. "A lot of the people that helped us last year are still stuck in families that haven't changed their views in the least. They still subscribe to the same fucking shit, and all the conditions and punishments that come with them. The only difference is that now they have to hide it. Some of those students hadn't even made it to fourth year when they stupidly signed up to help."

Draco met her gaze pointedly, eyes haunted. "Those kids have no way of escaping or standing up to their families. If news had gotten out about what we did last year, they'd be put at risk. Some of those kids…if their families find out they had a part in it…it'd be like the war never ended for them."

Hermione stood stock still, disgusted and horrified. "I…I had no idea," she whispered. "How…how is that still so prevalent!? Are there no wizarding laws that protect against child abuse!? That's just – it's despicable! It's unacceptable!"

Draco could only offer a tired shrug. "The law can only do so much when it comes to old pureblood families. They live by their own rules."

Hermione breathed harshly through her nose, trying to quell the incandescent fury that had taken root inside her. Even after everything they'd went through to end the war…she learns something like this, and suddenly, it feels like they accomplished nothing.

A quiet chuckle reached her ears. "There she is."

Hermione whipped her gaze towards Draco. "What? There's who?"

The Slytherin gave a ghost of a grin. "Hermione Granger. The one that I remember. Haven't seen you all day. Was starting to think you'd disappeared."

Hermione's heart somersaulted in her chest. "Nope. Still here," she whispered, and nearly teared up when she realized it wasn't a lie.

Swallowing it down, she smiled instead. "Thank you for explaining it to me. I had no idea you were…protecting them. Draco…I'm beginning to realize almost everything I knew about you was wrong."

Draco frowned. "Don't get the wrong idea, Granger. It's not as though I told them not to testify for me. They didn't do it because it would have put them in danger. Slytherins are all about self-preservation. That's all."

Hermione pursed her lips. "I think I have exactly the right idea." She boldly took a step towards him.

His slight inhale of breath and dilated pupils were barely noticeable before he hid them behind a wall of occlumency.

"I think you're a far better person than you've made yourself out to be. I don't know how long that's been the case…but you've done undeniably good things, haven't you?" Hermione inhaled shakily. "I…I want to get to know you better. I want to know more about these things you've done…whether good or bad."

Draco's expression wavered, the ice cracking.

Heart pounding, the witch inched ever forward. "You're not who I thought you were. You've surprised me so much. You…you saved my friend's life. I just…thank you." Going up on her toes, Hermione's hand met Draco's jaw just before her lips met his cheek.

The bond swelled.

Gasping, she plopped back down on her heels. Draco's eyes bore into her, wide and intense, the ice melted.

Suddenly overwhelmed and overheated, Hermione took several steps back. "I, uh…I'm going to bed. In Gryffindor Tower. Not here. I just…I'm tired. But I'll see you tomorrow! At breakfast, and uh, in class! W-We could sit together, or something. Okay, goodnight!"

And like a frightened cat, Hermione ran. She ran all the way through the castle, into the common room, and didn't stop until she'd slipped into her dorm room.

The witch leaned against the door, staring at nothing as her heart fluttered incessantly like the wings of a hummingbird.

Absurd.

Peeking over to make sure Ginny was asleep, Hermione walked quickly to her bed, haphazardly kicking off her shoes before throwing the curtain closed. Burying her face in her pillow, the witch let out a long sound that was part groan, part squeal, kicking her feet high in the air.

Bollocks. She'd really not thought that through. Honestly, kissing him!? What part of her accursed ape-driven hindbrain had thought that was a good idea!?

"Damn him. Damn him and his pale, perfect face!"

Hermione had meant for it to be a friendly kiss, like the ones she often gave Harry and Ron. She should have known it wouldn't be that simple, not with their bond, not with her newfound attraction towards him.

Flipping over onto her back, the exasperated witch blew out a long breath. She could still feel the gentle nudge of the bond, almost like a child tugging at its mother's clothing. She wanted to go back to him.

With a great yawn, Hermione buried the feeling, refusing to be coerced. Whatever happened between her and Draco, she wanted to happen naturally, not by the insistence of their magic.

Resolving to put the incident behind her, the Gryffindor transfigured her clothing into sleepwear and tucked herself in, hoping her nightmares would not be too unbearable tonight.


Back in the apartment, Draco stood out on the balcony, his lips wrapped around a cigarette from the pack Blaise had lent him. The muggle death sticks tasted repugnant, but the unholy mixture of tabaco and nicotine was the only thing that muffled the wolf's voice.

Sighing heavily, the Slytherin laid his forehead on the banister, allowing the cold to seep through his skin.

His accursed heart still had not slowed. He could still feel the touch of her lips if he focused long enough.

Fuck. Why'd she have to go and do that? Holding his hand and kissing his cheek...

His wolf couldn't understand the difference between a thankful gesture and…interest. The beast hadn't shut up about her all day as it was, and now this.

This…it was dangerous. Draco mustn't forget, mustn't allow himself to hope.

Granger was only here because she felt obligated to be…that, and his family had pressured her. Eventually, she'd decide that she wanted nothing more to do with him, that they weren't worth pursuing.

And yet…

I want to get to know you better.

Salazar, but she'd sounded so disgustingly genuine.

Fuck…what would he do if Granger actually developed feelings for him? What if he couldn't return them? What if he couldn't give her the kind of love she deserved?

Draco exhaled smoke through his nose, his mental walls shuddering.

Who was he fooling? Of course he couldn't give her what she deserved. The Golden Girl was so far above him now, he could hardly see her from the ground.

The blond made the mistake of shutting his eyes for too long, and his past sins taunted him from behind his lids. Draco coughed, the cigarette slipping from his grasp.

No…after all the suffering he'd caused, after all those that had lost their lives-

Happiness was the very last thing he deserved. What right did he have to be happy when so many were dead?

Vanishing the cigarette, Draco turned and began the slow walk to the dungeons. He patted his trouser pocket, frantically ensuring the vial of Dreamless Sleep was still there. Fuck, his hands were already staring to tremble…

Think nothing.

Feel nothing.

There is nothing.


You guys, I fucking can't, you are all way too nice to a flighty degenerate like me. I can't even manage to update more than once a month, yet I've literally received nothing but unwavering support from you all. You have no idea how much it means to me that so many are invested in my elaborate brain dumps. As a crippling introvert that hates people, that's basically peak validation right there. XD

Constructive criticism is always appreciated, as this is unbeta'd and unedited and unrefined and...well, un-everything, pretty much.