The next day had her sucking back a pain potion the moment she woke up, thanking any god she could think of that, once she got through Arithmancy this afternoon, she was free for the weekend and could curl up and bask in the return of her mind. And by that, she meant to head to the library and start working on the genealogy she had promised Harry months ago. Now that the world was finally not ending she thought it owed him some information on the family he had lost.

She had taken a long shower, staring at the patchwork of indigo that covered her neck pausing on the small star of healed skin above her collar bone. Her chest was in no better shape as she ran her fingers lightly across the bruises. She was irrationally pleased to find the damage, her mind turning over the fact.

There was a point he was making, but she wasn't sure what it was. She got dressed for the day, chiding her ridiculousness as she selected a skirt with long stockings to cover her legs. It's not like he would notice or that she should care.

But.. she was sinking back into herself because of this. It was the clearest she had felt since that first slip up in September and apparently the arrangement would be continuing for the undetermined future.

Finally accepting she had no other choice but to address the issue head on she sighed settling onto the overstuffed royal blue couch in the Head's common room. It clashed horribly with the rich red curtains but every time she went to the effort to charm it to something less garish it reverted after just a few moments. Apparently the castle had ideas about how it wanted the shared space decorated and had just selected a house color from each of them. Pity it wasn't literally any other combination.

Michael was already up and blew out of the door in a swirl of paper and books, muttering something about Transfiguration as she settled down to drink her tea.

She watched the milk swirl until the wisp of white completely melded into the color of parchment. As she sipped she scowled at the bookshelves lining the walls, hers and Michael's collections decorating the room for ease of access. He had set himself about rearranging her books again in some order only he could understand and she hadn't noticed. It seemed as good a time as any to re-sort them before he got back.

She was halfway through the F's before she noticed what she was doing. Sighing she slid the books back returning to her tea and no longer looking for excuses not to think about it.

Why did it have to be Malfoy ? Considering the wealth of randy teenage boys around the castle she should have any number of volunteers. She would like to think she wasn't a total troll. Sure she was on the thinner side but she had the large almond shaped eyes her father had always adored. Granted, her hair was a wreck but it was also long and George had said it was soft and smelled nice (when it wasn't trying to eat his hand).

Instead her brain latched onto the most dangerous and least acceptable option in the school. She would have been better off with Snape, may the overgrown bat rest in peace. At least he was on their side. She couldn't even slip away to talk to Malfoy about this with raising questions. She had no information of what their… arrangement entailed or for how long it would continue.

Malfoy was just a bad idea. He was unpredictable, hateful, cruel and a multitude of other things. But when she happened upon him in the Room of Requirement he had just looked so… fake. Perfectly in control and put together where she was falling apart. And the moment that smug smirk slipping onto his face she wanted nothing more than to wipe it off.

She hadn't intended for it to go this far, really. She had expected him to push away, to scream at her and stomp from the room like a petulant child. She had not expected him to kiss back like he hated her. Of course he did hate her, but kissing people you hate was not a very usual circumstance to find oneself in.

Regardless, this is where she was, her subconscious somehow identifying the reflective image of herself in him. It was obvious why she kept going back. She need this. That first night with George had made it painfully clearly how much she needed to give up her control every now and again. How she needed reminders of that loss of control to get her through the day. It was obvious why she did it... but why did Malfoy? He seemed perfectly content to be bored with the world. If it were just sex, surely he could find someone else. Pansy still simpered over him at meal times, she would probably be happy to fall into his bed.

Malfoy clearly had no real motive to involve himself with her… Unless he needed someone to surrender to him as much as she needed someone to take the power from her. Like equally cracked pieces in a matching set. It was just so predictable it was disgusting.

As for what it all meant in the long run, she wasn't sure. They hadn't discussed it, discussed anything really. They drifted in a sea of uncertainty, floating around each other cautiously until one or the other snapped, pulling them together then pushing them away to continue the dance. It was exhausting. But nothing to be done about it she supposed. As long as he kept appearing to drag her off and take her violently enough to snap her back to reality that would get her to graduation. She could reassess her terrible life choices then.

She sighed glaring at the grandfather clock as if she could will it to move faster. Barely a half hour had passed and figuring she had no other information she set off for breakfast, making sure to apply her glamours.

Normally she would have talked to Ginny about this as the boys usually flushing an impressive shade of red anytime she brought up sex. Which was dreadfully hypocritical of them since… well they were 19 year old boys. You don't live with two of them that long without learning more information than you ever needed about the male gender. But none of her friends could really serve as a sympathetic ear right now without asking wildly uncomfortable questions. She may be able to talk to George next break but that wouldn't be until Yule unless she made a special trip-

Right before she entered the Great Hall she felt a tug at her robe pulling her off to a rarely used side corridor. She stumbled before slamming into an unfamiliar broad body. Suddenly on guard and cursing Malfoy for making her complacent, she shot off a weak stinging hex, followed by a langlock jinx. As the arm released her robe she spun, facing a rather put out Neville.

"Ow! Mer-hiney!" She couldn't help but chuckle as he butchered the counter spell, taking pity on his third attempt. His tongue unstuck from the roof of his mouth and he rolled it experimentally before speaking. "What did you do that for?"

"You snuck up on me Neville! I swear this is becoming an epidemic." She laughed, watching the tall boy scratch his head sheepishly. He had filled out at some point in the last year and a half and she could understand the whispers she heard between the prefects on rounds. She tried to school her face into something serious. "What did you expect? You are lucky I didn't hit you with anything more serious!"

"I was just trying to find a way to talk to you alone. Merlin!" he rubbed his jaw and paused, a knowing smile slipping on his face. "What's an epidemic?"

"It's a muggle word for-"

"No." He shook his head sliding his hand in his pocket, prompting her to do the same. "You said something was becoming an epidemic. What was it?"

"Oh!" She laughed nervously, brushing at her hair while trying to cover her neck. "Nothing. Just… people startling me!"

"Sure." Neville nodded, glancing off to the left smiling softly. "How is your throat?"

"M-my." She flinched, trying to fight back the urge to snap her hand against the bruises. "My throat?"

"Yeah. How did the sandflower tea work out for you last week?"

Oh right. Get it together Hermione!

"Quite well thank you. Cleared it right up. I should have a stockpile for the cold season," she joked awkwardly.

"No point to," he hummed, pulling a small wrapped parcel out of his pocket. "Sandflower tea only helps physical strain. It won't do anything for a cold."

Hermione laughed awkwardly. She was never any good at lying.

"Oh… well I guess not then."

Neville chuckled as if he was entertained by the whole situation.

"I think you had better make a stockpile anyway."

"But you said-"

"I know. I still think it would be best." She couldn't help but grow nervous as he moved just a few feet away, holding out the package. "Some of this too."

She gazed at him cautiously, trying to figure out what he wasn't saying. With careful hands she unwrapped the parchment, revealing a jar full of familiar smelling light blue cream.

"Healing cream?" she questioned softly, fear slipping under her skin. Where had she slipped up? Even when she had missed her glamours they were never more than a smudge. If anything people would just lightly tease her about her totally normal love bites.

"A variation." She glanced up to be met with a measure of understanding. That's right, Neville had always been very accepting. Why would he care about her sneaking off with a boy.

"I… I can't use this," she sighed holding it out to him. While she didn't really want to give Malfoy what he wanted she also loved the way her muscles ached and she had promised. Neville shook his head.

"It's a problem batch actually. Somewhat of an oddball really." He pushed it back towards her and stepped away. "It only heals the surface of the skin, removing any marks but not affecting the injury below."

Hermione froze regarding him carefully. Her mind looking for the signs. The way he suggested the sandflower. How he had readjusted his arm on her shoulder that one day. Her brain pulled another memory from thin air.

" Did you hear something?"

She gasped, pulling her hands to her mouth. He knew. And he hadn't just figured it out by chance. He knew from first hand experience. For a moment a small bead of hope bloomed in her chest... a way out that wasn't Malfoy. Someone else who was not only acceptable but ideal. It would be perfect! She pointedly ignored the way silver flashed in her mind.

"Y-you know then?" she questioned softly.

Suddenly the need for privacy made sense. Neville smiled and loosened his tie, unbuttoning the first few buttons of his shirt. Panic set in.

Oh god, did he expect her now? She had asked for someone else but… not like this. She hadn't had time to get used to the idea! How would she-

Her face screwed up in confusion as he turned shrugging his uniform off the edges of his shoulders and letting it gather at the junction of his forearms. Hermione gasped as long silver scratches crossed along his back in a patchwork of fading silver and newly irritated skin. He looked over his shoulder watching her reaction as she reached out a hand tentatively before pulling it back.

"Go ahead."

She marveled as he hissed, her nail nicking a recent mark, setting it flaring against the tan skin of his spine before disappearing again. She pulled back, suddenly feeling like she was intruding on someone else's private life…. But who's?

Neville pulled the fabric back over his shoulders, turning to her as he closed it back up.

"Took awhile to perfect it. I certainly didn't mind the damage but she did. She said they made her feel like she had to be gentler next time. I couldn't have that, could I?"

"Who?" Hermione gasped.

"Can't say anymore than you could," Neville smiled. "Out types tend to like their privacy. Can't have our preferences shouted across the Great Hall."

"She goes here?!"

Realistically Ginny was the most overt about her sexuality in their year but only when it came to Harry. She supposed Pansy had it in her, but she didn't think Neville would be able to put up with her whining. She had seen him speaking with Hannah Abbot near the greenhouses the other day... Merlin! She had no clue!

"Lucky, isn't it. Though I never pegged you as a sub." He stepped just close enough to flick her hair away with his wand, casting a finite incantatem as he did so. He watched the glamour fall in fascination and no small bit of jealousy. "He… or she does good work."

"She?!" Hermione's pupils blew wide as her hand slapped against her skin drawing a hiss.

Neville laughed deeply, a deep throaty sound that soothed her instantly.

"Alright he then. In any event, take some, I have loads. It's more reliable than glamours that may fall off in the middle of the night. I can only claim so many devil's snare attacks before my dormmates get suspicious."

"I have never been more pleased with my private room." Hermione prodded at the jar with her finger. She tentatively smeared a dollop on her skin, a strange cooling sensation drifting over her skin.

"Never?" Neville questioned, his eyebrow raising incredulously.

It was at that moment Hermione became aware that Malfoy, apparently, wasn't particularly fond of beds .

"Sorry if I am prying but I can recognize a glamour a mile away at this point." He smiled softly. "Thought you may want to try it."

"How did I do?" She questioned tilting her neck to him.

"You still look like you've been kicked by a hippogriff." He laughed loudly holding his hand out as her cheeks colored. "I'll help."

Hermione flushed and handed him the jar. She nearly jumped out of her skin when he cast a familiar numbing spell, the magic tickling over her skin in an unwanted wave.

"Sorry," he murmured, dabbing on the paste with practiced hands. She exhaled softly when she couldn't really feel anything.

"I should have warned you," he murmured, as he switched sides. "I don't mind other people touching mine after the fact but some people do."

She shifted her feet as he worked, the silence killing her.

"So have you set boundaries yet?"

"What?" she questioned, watching the way his eyes lit up as he found a missed spot.

"You know. Talked. Set up limits. Things you both will or won't do?"

"Er..." Hermione trailed off and Neville paused, looking at her with concern.

"Hermione. That's so dangerous. What if he accidently does something that you don't like?"

Privately, Hermione was under the impression there wasn't much she wouldn't like and if she didn't he wouldn't care. Regardless, Neville continued dabbing.

"Honestly. Considering you're such a stickler for rules I had imagined you would know the biggest one," he chided.

"Rules? I was under the impression this was…. Uncommon."

This was the strangest conversation she'd had since the school year started. Well if conversations with Malfoy don't count, which considering the lack of vocabulary on her part she was inclined to allow.

"Well…" He paused, his facing pulling into a frown before continuing. "Apparently it used to be, at least at our age. The war… changed a lot of people. Forcing some to grow up sooner than intended." He capped the jar tilting her head back and forth ensuring complete coverage. He nodded, sliding the blown glass container into her hand and stepping back. "Some of us were exposed to things we shouldn't have been. It put things into perspective."

The sentence pulled at Hermione, twisting in her like a salted slug. She audibly growled, taking a large step back. Her voice low and angry.

"I did not enjoy being tortured, Neville."

His face was serious as he tucked his hands into his pockets, putting most of his weight on his good leg. The one he hadn't broken last year during the Carrow's reign, eyes haunted. There were stories about Neville that year; heroic, wonderful stories of saving students and sowing chaos. But there were also whispers, of times where he cut it too close, times where he had gotten caught before disappearing all together. Stories of screaming and pain and blood.

"I don't suppose you did," his voice rolled over her dangerously and she had the grace to flush.

Hermione forced her shoulders to relax, letting her anger ebb. She had spent months clinging to anger as a momentary release of her mind. It was hard to let go of sometimes, even if it hurt her friends.

"Sorry," she mumbled, looking up contritely. "I'm told I am pretty good at putting my foot in my mouth these days."

"It happens," he offered diplomatically.

The tension didn't really leave his shoulders and sent guilt rolling through her, tying her throat in a knot. Hermione forced down the last of her pride and stepped forward to hug him.

"Thanks Neville. Whoever she is, she is incredibly lucky to have you," she muttered to his chest, his arms wrapping around her in a soft embrace. They were the comforting arms of a friend surrounding her in forgiveness without her even having to ask for it.

"Anytime."

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Draco stalked toward the Great Hall, forced to use occlumency in an attempt to keep his temper in check. To call it a temper was really an understatement. He was fucking murderous actually.

Fucking pansy arse Longbottom. With his shitty fucking smile and careful fucking dabs. Who in the fuck did he think he was healing her? That was his work to heal or not as he fucking wished, not Longbottom's. And she had agreed, that fucking liar.

He barely noticed the people around him as he sat at the Slytherin table, packing his anger and the image of Longbottom holding her tightly into a little box and stuffing it under a floorboard in his mind. Fuck everything about it.

"Draco?" His head swiveled toward Nott with a sneer. The other boy pulled back his hand as if it was on fire. "Sorry mate… just wanted to plan."

"For what?" he bit out. He slowly let the calming wave of nothingness roll over him as the scene before him compartmentalized itself down to a small speck that he pointedly ignored.

"The party tonight." Theo winced as Draco stared at him. "Nevermind. You seem to be in one of your moods?"

"My moods?" Draco blandly picked at a roll that appeared on his plate. It was hardly appetizing but not much was when he occluded. It all mostly just… was.

"When you get all fucking boring and shite," Blaise responded from across the table pointing his butter knife delicately in Draco's direction. "You've been better about it lately but don't fucking come if you are just going to be a downer."

"Fuck off Blaise." Draco elected to skip the roll and settled on a soup instead. He couldn't tell you what it was, just that it was a bright orange color. "Why would I want to hang around a bunch of students who either pretend I don't exist or worship me for the wrong reasons?"

"Is there a right reason to worship you?" Pansy picked at her salad and scowled.

Draco coughed as he imagined a bushy head of hair bobbing up and down in his lap and his nails digging into her scalp. He pushed it back under the floorboard, where it belonged.

When he looked up, the table was staring at him.

Pansy sneered. "Are you sick or something? Stay away from me."

"I heard there's a flu going around," Theo commented.

"No one wants to be around you in the first place Pansy." Blaise rolled his eyes as she huffed. "The answer to your question Draco, is that we go to the parties to imbibe enough alcohol that we forget what people think about us and act accordingly."

"Is that why you were sneaking out of the Gryffindor common room last night?" Theo sipped lightly on something that smelled of a bit more than your run of the mill pumpkin juice.

"Of course," Blaise responded, not even flinching. He smiled down at his plate before looking up devilishly. "That's where all the kinky ones are."

Draco was still trying to explain away his coughing fit by the time dinner ended.

00000000000000000

Ginny for one, was loving the shorter days. Harry had not considered the effect of winter on his after sundown rule. After a few weeks of badgering he was able to wear her down until a hard 8:00pm (which apparently needed to be clarified).

Which was how Hermione ended up absolutely smashed and stumbling around the Gryffindor common room attempting to teach the Patil twins how to Can-Can with Dean's assistance. After two kicked over coffee tables and one broken vase, they were separated by an equally as smashed Ron and Seamus. Ron's laughter boomed through the common room as he pulled her away while Seamus struggled to hold on to Dean.

"Wait!" Hermione slurred, easily squirming out of Ron's grip and starting toward the dark skinned wizard. "We muggleborns have got to stick togeth-"

Her statement was muffled as Ron dove for her waist, tackling them onto the rug in a pile of laughter and limbs. An echoing thunk had her reaching her arm out to Dean who was in a similar position with Seamus.

"'S true!" he confirmed. Their fingers brushed reminding Hermione of the 'Creation of Man' albeit with a lot more alcohol… Or maybe not. The Greeks did have a god of hedonism, now that's a religion!

"Dunno when another Dark wizard is gonna pop up like a fucking daisy!" Dean said.

She imagined a sweet little spring dandelion opening it's bud to the sun only to have the half fetal Voldemort baby fall out of it with a sick plop. Coincidentally she also found it uproariously funny. By the time Ron had pulled her to her feet, Dean was leaning on Seamus looking a bit green.

"Think he musta put a curse on any muggleborns talking about him." Dean swayed his skin blanching dangerously.

"Think you just had one to many, mate," Seamus slurred, looking like he stopped at the appropriate time. "Hermione need a place to crash? You can have my bed again if you're willing to share."

Seamus winked suggestively making Ron burn bright red. He snatched up Hermione by her waist and planted her firmly behind him.

"Not on your fucking life Finnigan!" he roared across the common room, much to the dwindling crowds' amusement. "You aren't good enough by half for a witch like Hermione."

"I'll take a stab," a voice added from the left.

"Not by a quarter for you McLaggen." Ron stomped off in that direction. " An eighth actually!"

"E's right!" Ginny slurred coming down the stairs with mussed hair and happy eyes. "I leave for two minutes and they're auctioning you off to the lowest bidder!"

"I was just trying to Can-Can with Dean!" The sounds of wretching sounded behind them. It sounded like her dancing partner was also done for the night.

"Oi Dean! Get cleaned up and come kiss her goodbye!" Ginny shouted, laughing as he flipped her two fingers. She turned back to Hermione, swaying slightly in the doorway. "That's a shame. He's not too bad at it."

"It's fine. I'm-" Hermione ran her fingers up her neck, shivering at the soreness. "I'm good."

She nodded, watching the crowd slowly filter out. Ginny wandered over and leaned against the couch with her. Suddenly the redhead leaned over, stage whispering in her ear.

"It's starting."

"What's-"

"Oi POTTER!" Ron bellowed. The redhead unwrapped his arm from Lavender's waist as a sliver of robes poked out from under the invisibility cloak, just over the threshold of the girls' dormitory stairwell.

Harry untucked his head making a mad dash for the boys' dormitory, the floating head making a rather strange sight. He dove up the stairs, Ron hot on his heels as Ginny and Hermione cackled.

"What were you doing with my sister?!"

"Do you really want to know?" Harry responded.

There was a loud bang and then a crash. Everyone remained silent, staring at the stairs. Suddenly they saw Harry zoom by the tower window on his broom, Ron following on his Cleansweep. Hermione dragged out her breaths hoping that they had crash charms on those things. When she and Ginny had finally fallen into a mild string of giggles she followed Ginny up to her bed, making sure to charm on new sheets just in case. She slid in next to the other girl, tangling their hands as they faced each other with bright eyes and smeared makeup.

"I don't think it's a bad idea." Ginny was watching her, her face schooled into a curious expression. "You and Dean I mean."

"I don't think they'll take us in Paris, '' Hermione giggled, remembering the way her shoe went flying into the floo. Maybe it would be recoverable in the morning. "They might in America as a comedy act!"

"I mean for company," Ginny corrected. Her voice was sleepy and carried the weight of the night on it.

"I don't like Dean," Hermione corrected. "I like-" She stumbled over the words, swiftly remembering that that was a secret.

"George. I know." Ginny finished for her. In a credit to her drunkenness, Ginny seemed not to notice her graceless sputtering. "But no reason to wait for him to settle down until then!" Ginny smiled brightly, her red brows wiggling. "And you don't have to like someone to use them for some stress relief!"

Hermione gave the girl an indignant snort before Pavarti shushed them.

"I'm glad you're back 'Mione." Ginny yawned, turning over to tuck into her pillow. "I missed you."

"I missed you too Gin," she responded quietly, letting her eyes drift slowly shut. Ginny was right about one thing. You don't have to like someone to use them, in her case it was probably better that she didn't.