-6-

ON the Fridayafter their first work week in the castle, Hermione was sat next to Ginny in the Great Hall for dinner, listening to her woes because, apparently, she had just survived a tough week in the astronomy tower. All of the working volunteers, both staff and assistants, were meant to wait around after dinner for some announcements from Professor McGonagall.

"She's just so difficult to work with!" Ginny exhaled heavily, playing with the food on her plate.

"Oh? Who's difficult?"

"I just told you! Lavender! Have you been listening to anything I've said?"

But the truth was, Hermione hadn't been focused much on Ginny's story at all. She'd been scanning the groups around the room, looking for Draco. For her job, she told herself. It was part of her assignment to keep an eye on him, and it didn't take long before she spotted him. He was sat at the table at the far end of the hall, next to a few other Slytherins from their year. She instantly recognized the woman with him to be Pansy. She looked cozied up to Draco, though he didn't seem to be paying her much attention, as he was listening intently to one of the two men with them. Hermione thought his name was Blaise.

She watched as Draco laughed at something Blaise said to the group. She was so perplexed by him. Their first day in the library, instead of letting her be outstandingly late, he'd come to get her. Maybe he really was just late himself, saw her eating breakfast and wanted to rub it in that she was late also?

In the library, they hadn't talked much throughout the week, but when they did, Draco seemed almost… playful. It was a stark difference from their meeting with McGonagall and she wished she knew the reason. His changing behaviors were giving her whiplash.

How was he able to be so civil? They'd harbored ill feelings for each other for years. No way that could go away for him so suddenly. They certainly hadn't for her.

Was he in on her assignment? He knew she was meant to be watching him, so he was trying to be on his best behavior?

Whatever. It made her job easier. She hadn't had a single problem with him all week. This had allowed her to immerse herself into her work on restoring the library and, by weeks end, she and Draco had made a lot of progress.

Over those first few days, they had created a system that was working well for them: Hermione dusted the books and flipped through them, inspecting them for damage, then she handed them off to Draco, who sorted the stacks into their alphabetical group. Minimal talking. Maximum progress. They'd both get paid. It was a win-win.

Suddenly, Ginny's fingers were snapping in front of her, breaking her concentration.

"What?" Hermione asked. "I'm listening. Really."

"No, you're not! Here I am, trying to explain to you why Lavender Brown has no reason owning a wand for fear that she'll accidentally kill someone with it someday, and you're off staring at - " Ginny turned around to see the source of Hermione's disattention.

"-at Malfoy?" Ginny questioned, raising her eyebrows in disbelief.

"I'm not staring, I was just… he's been acting too nice to me. I can't figure out why."

"Well, he's here on Ministry orders, right? What, you thought he'd come in here causing mayhem, flipping library tables and throwing curses around?" She gestured towards the group of Slytherins, "Of course they're all on their best behavior right now. All McGonagall needs is one reason to convince the Ministry that they're better off joining their parents in a cell in Azkaban. Even that Theo guy has Professor Sinistra wrapped around his finger. My guess is that Lavender is being so reckless with her magic because she's working extra hard to impress him." She shrugged, "He is handsome, if you're into that air-head, puppy dog type."

So that was the second man sitting in the group. Theo. The name rang a bell, though Hermione couldn't remember where she'd heard it before.

Maybe Ginny had a point. It made sense for Malfoy to be playing nice to try and keep out of Azkaban. He surely had no idea about Hermione's witnessing for his family. And no way he would have renounced his lifelong hatred for muggle-borns so easily.

She gripped her arm, a sudden phantom pain stinging the spot of her scar.

Just then, McGonagall swept into the room, taking her spot at the podium. As there were no more than 70 people in the hall, it became quiet almost instantly.

"Good evening," she greeted, smiling kindly. "I hope you've enjoyed your dinner. I promise to be brief." She adjusted her spectacles and smoothed out a small piece of parchment, glanced over her notes, and began, "Firstly, I'd like to congratulate you all on a wonderfully successful first week of Restoration. Each project is making spectacular progress, no doubt due to all of your diligence and hard work. For that, I thank you." They all applauded at this, exchanging smiles of pride at the recognition of their work.

When the applause died down, she continued, "You may have noticed we've had a few more volunteers join us since our first meeting. This will be constant reoccurrence as we work throughout the summer. Our numbers will grow steadily until, hopefully, we reach our goal of full Restoration before the September semester begins."

Hermione felt a tinge of hope that the next wave of volunteers would include Harry and Ron.

"Secondly, we know we initially announced that assignments would be changing weekly. However, due to the efficiency of this first week, we would like to keep the assignments as is until further notice."

This caused some hushed murmuring. Ginny's face fell into her hands, seemingly distraught at the idea of spending more time with her current partners. Immediately, Hermione turned back to the Slytherin table. When she found his table again, Malfoy had already been looking her way.

After a few seconds, Malfoy nodded his head slightly. He stared back at Hermione, almost questioningly.

Hermione mimicked his gesture.

And that was their silent agreement not to make another fuss about their assignment.

"And my last and final announcement for the night: we are asking for volunteers to help with a particularly difficult weekend project that will take place next Saturday. Those chosen to partake will be given double pay, due to the grueling nature of work needed to be done. If you're willing to volunteer for this job, please submit your name to the chalice here next to me anytime this weekend. Names will be picked at random and announced next week. We're seeking four to six volunteers for this job."

McGonagall folded her paper and stuffed it back into her robes. "Well then. I believe that's all for the evening. Do enjoy your free time this weekend. A reminder not to exit the castle grounds, if you know what is good for you. See you bright and early Monday morning." She stepped away from the podium, walked swiftly back down the aisle of the hall, and exited back through the big, ornate doors.

And with announcements done, the groups began to break apart, some staying to chat, others sauntering off to bed. Hermione waved to Ginny as she left towards the Hufflepuff dorms. Then she mazed through the castle, downstairs to the Slytherin common room, where she scouted a comfortable sofa by the fireplace – just like she would have in the Gryffindor common room – and pulled out a book from her bag.

She was about an hour into her book when she heard a commotion near the dorm entrance. She glanced over to see Malfoy, followed by a tall, admittedly attractive man – Blaise, she remembered – and Pansy, a thin witch in a questionably short skirt, with whom Hermione had already met on a few occasions in the past. They were a chorus of boisterous laughter as they found their own seats nearby.

Pansy spotted Hermione and sneered, delighted, as if her night had just become much more exciting. Playing with a strand of her pitch-black hair, she whispered to her clan, unnecessarily loudly, "Salazar Slytherin must be rolling in his grave knowing the riff-raff they've let into our dorm." She snickered to herself, but when her company's reaction didn't mimic hers, she whipped around, glaring at them daringly.

"What the hell is wrong with you two tonight? Actually, forget tonight - since I met back up with you both you've just been…off." She sat back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest.

She tried again, "For a fuckin' mudblood to be allowed in here - last year, you both would've lost your damned minds.."

A loud scraping sound echoed in the nearly empty common room. At the same time Hermione bounded from the couch, pulling her wand from her pocket, Draco stood from his chair, chest heaving, looking like he could kill.

"Get out," he uttered, his voice shaking slightly.

Pansy laughed in disbelief, "You can't be serious?" She eyed Draco up and down, keeping her relaxed position in her seat. "Don't tell me, Lucius Malfoy's son, standing up for the menials now? Changed from the war, are we?"

"You know nothing about the war!" Draco bellowed, his large hands gripping the back of his chair so hard, his veins were strained tight against his skin. "Where were you, huh? During the war. Did you stay around to fight?" He didn't wait for her answer. "No, you cowered away, Pansy. So you can stop acting like you know what the fuck went on during the war."

"I figured the Dark Lord had it taken care of. Didn't we all?" She chuckled, humorlessly. "Turns out we chose the wrong team, aye boys? Shame, too, now we're stuck repairing this bloody castle with the likes of her," she used her head to motion again towards Hermione.

It was at that point that Hermione began to lose her hearing, the blood roaring in her ears, anger coursing through her body. She hadn't felt emotions this strong since the battle – even Draco hadn't elicited emotions of anger this strong from her.

Wand yielded, Hermione tossed aside her book and advanced towards Pansy, not a thought filtering through her mind about how this might be a bad idea. The world mudblood just kept rolling through her memory, over and over, until she began to feel the same phantom pain in her arm she'd experienced earlier that afternoon. She stopped in front of their table, eyes glued on Pansy.

"How dare you, you absolute - " wand poised to strike, Hermione was seconds away from sending a stinging jinx straight to Pansy's pointy face, when she felt a hard body come in front of her. He grabbed her wand arm lightly, staring down into her eyes for a brief moment before turning back to face his friends.

"I said," he sighed deeply, trying to calm his anger, "Get. Out."

"Who knew Draco could be so sexy when he's defensive?" Pansy parted her lips in a slight smile. "It's too bad you've turned soft – your father must be so…disappointed." She pouted, mockingly.

"Well, both of you are mental if you think I'm getting shipped off to Azkaban just because you decided to insult Princess over here," Blaise said to Pansy, pointing over at Hermione. "I'm tired, so I'm off to bed." He stood up and stretched, as if proving he truly was ready to sleep. "Theo will come get you in the morning mate, so make sure you're up. He claims he can beat me in a 1-1 quidditch match. I want witnesses there when I beat his ass," he said to Draco, smiling confidently. "Let's go, Parkinson."

Pansy stood and stretched as well, her face devoid of the anger it wore mere moments before. "Ugh – I hate the Hufflepuff dorms," her lips remained in a pout as she followed behind Blaise. "The beds just aren't the same. Right, Draco? Nothing beats the Slytherin beds." Hermione thought she saw Pansy wink at him before both she and Blaise disappeared behind the stone wall entrance.

With the pair gone, the tense atmosphere lightened. It didn't take long for Draco to realize he was still holding on to Hermione's arm, his back resting against her front. He dropped his hand softly, using the other to swipe back his hair, clearly trying to process the events that just took place.

Hermione calmed herself as well. With Pansy gone, her wand was no longer needed, so she placed it back into her pocket. She looked at Draco, her skin still tingling in the spot his hand had rested. The silence in the common room had become more awkward the longer they stood there alone. Hermione stood with her arms crossed in an X across her chest, gripping either arm, as if trying to hold herself together.

"I-" Draco started, but seemed unsure how to finish this sentence. "Look, don't take anything Pansy says seriously. She was clearly trying to get a rise out of you. I – I'll," he pondered for a second, wondering how he could keep peace with both sides of this situation.

Hermione sighed, a breath she didn't know she'd been holding in, and said, "I'm fine, Malfoy. I'm fine. Really." She could feel him looking at her, but she couldn't meet his eye. What world was this where she was trying to convince Draco Malfoy that being called a Mudblood hadn't caused her complete agony? Maybe it should've. In the moment, she'd definitely began losing her temper, a mixture of anger at Pansy and anger at herself for still feeling so sensitive to this word. It was just a word. Why did it hold so much weight in her life?

"She was out of line," Draco said. Hermione looked up at this to see that he was loosening his tie, trying to gain access to the button underneath. He unbuttoned it quickly and slipped the tie over his head.

"She was," Hermione agreed, "but it's Pansy. There are certain behaviors I've come to expect from certain people so – color me unsurprised." She walked back over to her couch and sat back down, expecting that to be the end of their conversation.

She was taken aback when Draco joined her, sitting next to her, pulling his shoe laces apart. "I don't think she has a regretful bone in her body," he continued, looking over at her when he finished with his shoes. "I – we – we're not all like that." He gripped the back of his neck, which she could see was beading with sweat. Was he trying to mock sincerity so she wouldn't bring tonight up to McGonagall? If so, he was doing a fine job at it.

"I've known her for years now. She was obviously baiting me. I was stupid to fall for it," Hermione said. She wrung her hands together, uncomfortable with this heart-to-heart with a man who she could only classify as her enemy. They'd never been anything else. "But you may have just saved me from losing my job so…thanks." She felt the heat hit her cheeks – an involuntary reaction that she'd rather not show in front of Draco Malfoy.

If he noticed her blush, he didn't mention it. "To be honest, I would've loved to see her hit with a Furnunculus Curse. I think Potter tried to use one on me a few years back. Hit Goyle instead," Draco chuckled at the memory. "She's got it coming to her, one of these days."

This surprised Hermione. Wasn't Pansy Draco's date to the Yule Ball? She assumed they were still close, if not…more than friends. "I thought that you two were a…thing?" she asked. "Not that it's any of my business," she added quickly. Why did she ask him that? Moreso, why did she care to know the answer?

.

.

.

Draco hadn't been expecting Hermione to mention his past history with Pansy. He was curious as to why she'd asked.

"We…used to be a thing," Draco stressed the word, not wanting to go into detail about how they'd slept together for weeks after the Yule Ball but never made things official. "We were together at the Yule Ball, but over the next year, our schedules just became busy…" he trailed off, ashamed that Hermione would know just how busy his schedule was after their fourth year of school. That was the year Voldemort had returned to his physical form and Draco was sought out to help his father do anything necessary to appease the Dark Lord, along with many other Slytherins in his year. There was no time for relationship then.

Hermione was silent for a moment before saying, "You can understand my confusion, then, as to why you'd take my side over hers."

Draco was mentally bludgeoning himself. This must seem so…out of character for him. She didn't know about his internal guilt about…everything. Guilt about what took place at the Manor, about his family's role in the demise of the wizarding world. To her, he must seem like a huge prat.

He was still trying to figure out how to act around her – to dismantle 6 years of ill-will towards each other so they could just work together, live together, civilly. But she was like a trigger to him; a portkey to the memory of the night he was meant to out Potter to the Snatchers. The night he'd become a failure to his parents for not supporting the cause. The night he'd failed to save the tortured girl on the cold, marble floor.

He saw that Hermione was waiting for his excuse, so he merely shrugged. "Guess there's a lot we don't know about each other, Granger."

He bent to pick up his shoes and saw her book lying open on the floor.

He picked it up and looked at her incredulously. "We spent a whole week working with books and on your time off you're choosing to…read?"

"What?" She grabbed the book from him hastily, smoothing down the pages that had folded from falling. "Some of us find reading to be a relaxing down time." Her brow furrowed and Draco leaned closer to try and read the title.

Hermione started to say, "It isn't by a wizard author, you wouldn't know it –" at the same time Draco said, "Hamlet. A classic."

She whipped around in her seat, eyeing him curiously. "That's…right. How on earth do you know about Hamlet?"

"Doubt thou the stars are fire; Doubt that the sun doth move; Doubt truth to be a liar; But never doubt I love. One of my favorite reads." He smiled slightly, amused by her surprise. He took the book from her hands, marked her spot, and flipped back to the cover. "Right before I came to Hogwarts, my dad hired a Governess who was…how can I put it…she was very interested in Muggle Studies. More specifically, literature."

Hermione, watching him examine the book, asked, "She made you read Hamlet?"

"Among others," he replied. "She was my favorite governess. She didn't last long after my father found out though."

He considered the book in his hands, the story that he hadn't heard in years.

"What do you remember about it?"

"About what?

"About the story. About Hamlet."

He leaned back in his seat, trying to recall the story. They'd read it together in his study. He was young, so many of the themes had been lost on him at the time. He remembered feeling sorry to Claudius for being so misunderstood. But he didn't want to say this to her. So he just spoke on what he remembered.

"I remember Claudius most. Fitting, right?" He chuckled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "I remember he had real moments of human emotions, between all of the politics and the sex." Hermione squirmed lightly, possibly uncomfortable, so he hurried on, "but he shows he's capable of love and sincerity. Even guilt." He hoped Hemione picked up on the metaphor.

In case she didn't, he clarified, "Maybe I'm working on shifting from Claudius to Hamlet."

Hermione looked at him mockingly, "So you're think that your becoming a Prince?"

Draco laughed and rolled his eyes, "Not a prince. Just a little bitter and impulsive and maybe cynical, but…" he smiled, "a little virtuous tucked deep down somewhere."

This made Hermione laugh. He handed her back the copy of Hamlet and yawned, standing up from the couch, shoes in hand.

"That was too much excitement for one day. I'm beat." He stretched his arms back, the opened button in his shirt widening to expose his chest underneath. Hermione stole a curious glance before standing up herself.

"I'd say tonight you acted pretty Hamlet if you ask me. Maybe not a prince but- " she smiled and started towards the girls dorm, "a little virtuous tucked somewhere down. Deep." She emphasized the last word. He had a long ways to go if he was working towards redemption.

"G'night Malfoy."

"Night Granger."

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.

.

It was the first Saturday since starting work at Hogwarts, and Draco had spent it sleeping in. He was meant to meet the group – Theo, Blaise and Pansy – at breakfast, but he'd decided to snooze his alarms. He knew it wouldn't be long before Theo barged in and dragged him out to whatever makeshift quidditch match it was that they had planned for today.

He sat up in bed, groaning as he stretched the ache in his back. Despite sleeping longer than usual, he hadn't slept well. He spent the night tossing in his sleep, unable to turn off his mind. He kept picturing the scene from the commons room over and over again. Pansy's calm stature as she insulted Hermione. Hermione's face as she heard again that same slur that Draco had also used for many years before. Hermione's body as he charged in front of her, the soft skin of her arm…

He groaned again, palming his face in his hands. He had only been trying to stop her from cursing Pansy. No more, no less.

And their conversation about her book. Where the hell had that come from? He would've never admitted to anyone that he'd read a muggle novel before. But after what had taken place with Pansy, he'd felt the need to relate with Hermione, to somehow explain that he was working on himself without giving her a full confession.

He hopped out of the sheets, determined that a hot shower would erase the whole event of last night from his mind. When the water was at the temperature he liked, he undressed and stepped in, massaging the warm water into his skin, as if it could wash away all of his afflictions.

After he washed, he grabbed the towel from the hook next to him and rubbed himself dry. With the towel wrapped around his waist, he opened his wardrobe, picked out a black button up and a pair of black slacks, dressed quickly and decided he'd do better to go meet Theo in the Great Hall before any more of his friends caused chaos in the dorms.

He opened his door to see, sitting on the floor in front of him, a single copy of Hamlet.