Hermione felt more normal than she had in weeks. She had won and sent him scurrying for the dungeons in a panic. Her skin felt like it was glowing and her heart beat wildly in her chest. She hadn't really intended to kiss him, of course. She was just going to question him, but when she saw that smug fucking smirk on his face, she just had to do something. Maybe she could have hexed him and gotten a similar reaction, but she doubted it. He wouldn't have stumbled backwards in the same way, eyes blown wide at his own actions. The fact he had kissed her back had been odd, though. Not that she was going to waste the day trying to figure out the inner-workings of a Malfoy mind.

Once she had left the room, she went straight down to Hogsmeade and wandered around the village, enjoying the clear weather as much as her clear mind. She found the other three at the Hog's Head with Luna, Neville, Hannah, and other members of the old DA. Aberforth's pub had become something of a local haunt for the not-quite-yet-adults to congregate. Hermione laughed uproariously at stories and met the members that joined last year with a grin. She wasn't even annoyed when they stared at her with something akin to awe. When Seamus left she tried to catch him to apologize for earlier in the week but he was gone before she could grab him.

It was exactly as Neville was telling an amusing story about Herbology that Hermione realized that she was relaxed, focused, and even happy for the first time in months. Surrounded by her friends, she felt like she was flexing wings that she hadn't remembered she even had.

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She walked through the halls the next day half listening to Ron, Ginny and Harry argue about Quidditch when the first scream broke through the air. Before anyone else could move, Hermione had turned with her wand drawn and taken off towards the source. The belated crashing sound sent the other three charging into action, steps behind her.

Following the accompanying rush of students fleeing the scene, she slid to a stop just outside the foyer of the Great Hall. A sixth year Ravenclaw boy was fending off nasty looking jinxes as they flew at him. A third year in green robes was throwing spells faster than Hermione could track, a cowering second year Hufflepuff on the ground behind her. Hermione cast her own protego just as a spell ricocheted towards her. The spell glanced off her shield and slammed into the wall behind her in a dangerous burst of flame and heat.

"Silencio!" She cast over the whole area, the dueling students and spectators alike falling into a hush. Three blue shots of spellfire exploded from behind her, each hitting their targets. Wands flew gracefully into the hands of her friends behind her.

"Twenty points for dueling in the halls from Hufflepuff, Slytherin, and Ravenclaw. Prefects, grab your housemates," Hermione said.

The Ravenclaw held his arms up in the air and attempted to say something.

Cancelling her spell, Hermione ignored him and spoke over the crowd. "Alright. Now someone tell me what happened he-"

"You stay away from her!" The Slytherin screamed viscously at the other boy. The sound clashed with the gentle way she helped the Hufflepuff behind her to a stand. "Don't you ever speak to her again!"

"I was just trying to apolo-" the Ravenclaw started before he was interrupted.

"I don't care. You can't apologize enough to undo what you did. I hope it eats at you for the rest of your life! I hope it rots your soul until there is nothing left!" she hissed. She pulled the Huffelpuff to her feet, murmuring soft things.

The older boy looked haunted, his protest dying on his lips as Luna rested a hand on his shoulder with a sad smile. Ron threw the boy's wand to her and she caught it before waving to Hermione. She turned to her charge, whispering something until he followed her further down the hall.

A similar scene played out on the other side of the hall, Blaise Zabini guiding the Slytherin and Hufflepuff by the shoulder off to a bench just inside the Great Hall. Harry jogged over, handing off the wands with little conversation.

"Don't you all have somewhere to be?" Hermione snapped at the remaining spectators. The hall cleared out quickly, students running to spread the news of the illicit duel. As the crowd broke up, she caught sight of Neville leaning against the wall. His jaw was set tightly and his hands were clenched into fists. Trusting the Prefects to report later, she walked over to Neville, settling herself next to him.

"What happened?" she asked.

"The Ravenclaw is Casey Bowers. He had to practice the Cruciatus Curse on the Hufflepuff firsty last year. I think the Slytherin may be her cousin."

"Why did he-"

"The Carrows were vicious. I was the only one who refused every time. It's not something I blame him for."

Hermione flinched at the bland way he talked, like he could only speak by being detached. Ginny hesitantly joined the Zabini and his charges, nodding awkwardly to the Slytherin. They watched the Hufflepuff girl throw her arms around Ginny's neck and sob against her.

"Couldn't…. Couldn't they fake it?" Hermione questioned.

"Some of the younger ones couldn't sell it. If the Carrows caught you trying, you were both punished… It was safer not to."

Hermione shivered as she thought of the burning pain coursing through her bones that made her feel as if her skin had been flipped outside of her body and she was dropped in a pit of salt. She rubbed at her arm self-consciously.

"Neville, I-"

"Don't. It won't be the last time you see it. Just try to keep them away from each other. It's the best you can do."

He pushed off the wall and walked away, a slight limp to his gait. She kept her position until Luna and Zabini both reported their sides of the story. Ultimately she left it at the point docking, warning both prefects to keep an eye on either charge. She imagined that no one involved would be sleeping tonight.

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She was right. By the end of Sunday she could barely focus long enough to eat during dinner. To add insult to injury, it was like her mind knew it was functioning at half capacity during the day because it kicked into overdrive at night when the castle was quiet and calm. The duel rotated in her mind like a spinning top, crashing across her thoughts as it spun.

Thankfully, unlike at the Burrow, where she stared at Ginny's ceiling until daybreak (lest she woke anyone else up with her problems), here she had her own room. Michale slept like the dead, so as long as she was quiet leaving the Head's common room, he never seemed to notice her late night wanderings. To appease her guilt for only being half aware the rest of the time, she performed Head Girl duties while out, noting any repairs needed in the castle and taking late rounds from otherwise exhausted Prefects.

It was this behavior that led to her meandering the corridors in the place of a very tired pair of Huffepuff prefects. It was a bit past one, and the castle was mostly quiet.

She was admiring a rather lewd mosaic of a mermaid and a manticore (that honestly had no business in school where eleven years olds wandered about) when she heard a distinct shuffling sound.

She heard a light shuffle of footsteps behind her. For a moment she was certain that the school had a ghoul, as the sound was reminiscent of the one in the Burrow's attic. It was only as she rounded the corner, armed with a quick stunning spell, that she realized how bizarre the idea was. She cast a quick lumos down the hall, and sure enough, she was met by a shambling student in Slytherin robes, his arm raised to shield his eyes from the bright light.

"That's ten points from Slytherin for being out of bounds after hours," Hermione said as she walked closer. Judging from his weedy appearance, she guessed him to be either a fifth or sixth year, still waiting to fill out. That would put him at least four hours past curfew, which had no real explanation other than mischief.

"You better have a good reason to-" She gasped when the boy dropped his sleeve from his face, revealing a swollen, shut eye and busted lip.

"Oh sweet Merlin!" she cried.

Panic kicking into overdrive, she scurried forward with her wand at the ready. The boy threw his hands up in the air immediately, a few messy dark curls falling onto his forehead and obscuring his one good eye.

"I'm unarmed," he murmured. He jerked his head to the left to clear his vision only to wince at the pain. Hermione continued her stomp toward him, heedless of his statement. Just short of a few feet, she heard him continue. "Fuck, not you, too."

"Language," she muttered, only half meaning it.

When she reached his side she squinted at the damage. It seemed mostly surface-level and wasn't anything too emergent. She lifted her wand, the tip of it glowing as she lowered the brightness of her lumos to a less jarring level.

"Oh come on, Granger. I'm not sure I can survive if you start on me tonight, too."

She let the spell die out, blinking at him owlishly.

"Have we met?" she asked. She stared at him, trying to parse out any level of familiarity. He had deep blue eyes and what might have been brown hair, it was hard to tell in the light. Perhaps he had been on the Slytherin Quidditch team? She didn't know many of the younger years in her own house let alone the other ones. The only exception being the Creevy boys and… well…

"I am not sure if I should be proud or offended," he grumbled. He stood in awkward silence as if he wasn't sure what to do. Hermione bridged the gap, sliding her wand back into her pocket and trying to force away the awkwardness so that she could convince him to go to Madam Pomfrey. She stuck her hand into the empty air between them.

"I apologize if we have met. My memory is not what it used to be. I'm Hermione Granger. Head Girl and Gryffindor sev- eighth year."

"I- what?" The boy looked at her arm like it was the most confusing thing on the planet. The older Slytherins were still skittish around her, but the younger ones had really started to come around once they realized she wasn't going to hex them. Something that was disturbing in its own right. "Granger. We have had classes together since first year."

He was an eighth year? She squinted at his somewhat shocked face trying to place him. Really, she couldn't recall. As far as she knew the only Slytherin boys who had returned were Malfoy, Zabini and… did Goyle come back? No, she was pretty sure he was in Azkaban. She had heard stories from Neville that curled her toes.

"Am I really that forgettable?" he groaned. His posture relaxed as he realized she wasn't going to be hexing him. He drug his hand over his face only to hiss as he remembered his injuries.

"I'm sorry…" She blushed, more than a bit embarrassed at her faulty memory. She tried to pull her arm back just as he grabbed her hand hesitantly.

"Theo Nott."

It took her mind a minute to connect the dots, and she couldn't help the way her hand flew to her wand. Quickly catching the motion she was surprised to see him, not draw his own, but to throw his hands back up in the air as he blurted out, "I'm not my father!"

The statement hung in the air even as the clock tower boomed the hour, the echoing gong highlighting the emptiness of the corridor. A dark hood and silver mask. A memory of a stooped man with gray hair catching one of her stunning spells after grabbing Harry in the Department of Mysteries. A flash of green flying over Ron's head during the battle of Hogwarts. His son… standing before her with no one nearby.

"I'm not my father," he said again, this time much more calmly.

She held her breath as Hogwarts settled back into its peaceful silence, trying to fight away fear and replace it with logic. She took a moment to examine him. He was injured and too-thin, with a natural reaction to de-escalate, even after a war. He hadn't hexed her when he had the chance and had even shook her hand. Not something that a pureblood supremacist would condone.

She forced herself to release her wand, repeating McGonagall's words of unity and open mindedness from the welcoming feast to herself. The headmistress had said it was why neither Harry or Ron could be trusted to be Head Boy. Grades aside.

"I… correct me if I am wrong. We haven't actually ever met, have we?"

"We just did now, and you wanted to hex me, so I can't really consider that a travesty," he responded. The harshness of his statement was belied by a boyish smile. "I don't think we have even spoken to each other after eight years of this place. Shall we try again?"

"Right, sorry."

Hermione cleared her throat, trying to fight down the shame. Her memories of the boy were mostly that he was a loner. Frequently seen in proximity to Malfoy, but only as house unity dictated. As a whole, he was a fairly uninvolved party in her childhood torment, as far as Slytherins went. She elected to pick the most neutral memory she could.

"You used to spend a lot of time in the library," she said finally.

"I was always terrible at Care Magical Creatures," he agreed.

"Is that what happened to your face tonight?" she questioned, attempting a joke to lighten the mood. When a flicker of darkness fell over his face, she could tell that had failed.

"You weren't the first one to see my father in me tonight," he muttered.

His face turned down to stare at the stone beneath him. She winced, hating how much more dangerous conversations had become since she was a child.

"We should get you to the hospital wing," she murmured.

"I'll be okay," he responded. "I'm pretty good with healing spells at this point, no need to bother the Matron."

"Will you at least tell me who it was?" she questioned.

"Will it even matter?" he replied softly, rubbing the back of his head. She regarded him with the same look that usually cowed Harry and Ron until she was forced to give up.

"Fine," she said.

After years of Ron and Harry being hard-headed mules, she could identify a losing battle when she saw one. Hermione pulled out her wand again and frowned when he flinched. With careful wand motions, she cast an episkey on his eye and lip. Recalling the shuffling sound, she could guess that there was something else wrong, as well, but she had no interest in undressing random Slytherins in the middle of the corridor if she could help it.

"Well, I will walk you to the dungeon stairs."

"Er, thanks but you don't have-" This time the look quelled him and he wisely fell silent as they carefully shuffled toward the dungeons. They didn't speak, but by the time they had reached the descending stairwell, the awkward silence had worn away to a comfortable one. She helped support him while descending the stairs. When they reached the bottom she shrugged off his arm, making sure he was stable before taking a step away.

"You're not…. What I was told you were," he said.

"Funny that," she agreed. "You'll be okay the rest of the way?"

"Yeah." he responded. "I am sure you are way past your usual bedtime. Thanks for staying up to heal my sorry self."

"Any time," she answered sincerely as she watched him lumber away.

Without another word, she turned back to the usual prefect route and began her patrol again, wondering what else she had missed. The sun was coming up just as she slipped between the sheets, trying not to think of how many puzzles she would have to begin again.

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Draco watched the entrance of the Great Hall, planning his attack. He was currently torn between pulling her aside quietly, shouting at her across the Great Hall and making a scene, or possibly just trying to kiss her again to see if she would still look smug when he was the one who attacked first. Maybe she would have a breakdown. That would be a fun start to the day.

He was still staring at the door when breakfast ended. Theo slid onto the bench across from him just in time to pile a piece of toast with some rashers and an egg before all the food and plates disappeared. He snatched at the coffeel, pouring exactly half a cup before the carafe vanished from his hand as well. "Bollocks. No cream and sugar."

"Cutting it close, aren't you?" Blaise questioned from Draco's right.

"Late night," Theo responded with yawn.

"Clearly," Blaise said. "When you weren't back by two, I had figured you had been eaten by the lions."

"Ah." Theo smiled, taking an overly large bite of his sandwich for emphasis. "I knew you cared."

"No," Blaise corrected. "I was just hoping to get first dibs on your trunk."

"Fuck off then, mate," Theo chirped cheerfully. He glanced around the way he always had before he said something his father wouldn't agree with. Not that anyone would be reporting to Nott Senior anytime soon. "Besides, the lions aren't so bad."

Draco jerked under the table, a light scowl settling onto his face. He highly disagreed.

"A bold stance," Blaise stated neutrally.

"The war is over," Theo said. His posture was almost defensive. "Perhaps we should stop picking sides to a fight that has already been lost."

"Last I checked, the Gryffindors weren't your friends, Theo," Draco replied.

He had caught Theo healing himself at least three times this year alone. Impressive, considering they were only a week into the term.

"Last I checked, hating me for my father's sins was a school unifying event," Theo cut out.

"Well on that chipper note," Blaise said, "do you two need an escort back to the common rooms, or can I trust you enough to go chat with that lovely Hufflepuff in the entryway?"

Draco glanced up, and sure enough, there was a fairly attractive blonde girl wearing a Hufflepuff sweater standing by the door. She smiled coquettishly at Blaise when he waved before frowning at Draco and looking away.

"A puff? Really?" Draco commented lightly.

Blaise's eyes darkened for only a moment before his face settled back into the rakish smile that sent fathers everywhere into a panic.

"Yes, really. Theo's right. The war's over. I'm picking the winning side." He cocked his head to the left as if noticing something. "Which is whatever side she's on, currently."

He sauntered off towards the door, ignoring Draco's scoff. Draco turned back to Theo, only to see the other boy frown at him.

"What?" he snapped.

"Nothing," Theo commented. He grabbed his cup and stood. "You ready to get out of here?"

"Fine."

Draco stole one more look at the emptying Gryffindor table. Potter and Weasley girl muttered while glancing worriedly at the door.

Fucking mother hens.