Big love for my Betas, Amber1015 and ShadowHeart175!

The characters and universe in this work are property of J.K Rowling.

Finding Harry Potter did not prove to be as difficult as Draco might have thought it would be. For once the buffoon wasn't off brooding in the owlery or sulking in the bathroom. Potter was exactly where Draco thought he would be – leaving the infirmary with a large blood stain on the collar of his shirt. Both boys stopped when they saw each other, and Draco's smooth passivity greeted the dead look in Potter's eyes. Draco did not have to ask what happened; it was spelled out for him in the way Potter held himself, the blood on his shirt, and the faint bruising Draco spotted on his cheek.

Draco was the first to break their fragile tableau. He took long strides to clear the distance between them until he came to stand in front of Potter. Draco found it annoying that Potter wouldn't meet his eyes, so he ducked his head down to search for Potter's vacant gaze. Locking eyes with him only made Draco's frown deeper, and though Draco was sure he knew what had taken place in the Great Hall after his flight, he asked anyway.

"What happened?" The words were soft and gentle, but the tone behind them demanded an answer.

"Ron's gone mental, that's what happened," Potter snapped at him, but the tone did not hurt Draco's feelings. After his ample practice this summer, Draco could see straight through the anger of others to the hurt beneath.

"Right, then," Draco rolled his eyes. "I suppose you just broke your own nose by accident? Maybe fell down the steps and got that bruise on your cheek too? I'm trying to be your friend here, Potter, but if you don't want that, I can just piss off."

Potter was quiet, and Draco could tell that he had made him angry. The tough love tactic wouldn't have worked with just anyone, and if Potter had not opened up to him the night before, Draco would never have dared to speak to him in such a way. However, it was only the first, and very necessary, step in getting Potter to reveal what was on his mind. When he had used this method in the past, it was in order to coax out an angry and explosive outburst, but it was now the linchpin in getting Potter to let out whatever pain he was holding in. Making Potter angry seemed to be what Draco had always been best at, and he was going to use that to his advantage.

"So, Ron hit me, so what? I deserved it. I messed things up – I got what was coming to me. It's not a big deal," Potter exploded just as predicted, shoving his hands into his pockets. "I need to change my shirt," he added curtly and jerked past Draco.

Draco followed him down the corridor, an action that he could tell Potter found severely annoying by the way he cut his eyes at Draco, but he did not care and kept up with him until the Chosen One had stopped breathing quite so heavily and began to slow down. Risking a proper look at the boy next to him, Draco could tell that he was steadily releasing the anger he'd been holding on to so tightly. Draco allowed a few more moments pass before he spoke again.

"So, what really happened, then?"

"Ron pushed you, and you stopped Greg from hitting him. Ron should probably be thankful for that, because I'm certain your friend would have knocked him flat on his back."

"I know all of that," Draco rolled his eyes and snuck another look at Potter. "I meant after I left."

"I told Ron that he had no right to say those things to you, and that you'd been cleared of your charges, so he should get over himself," Potter shrugged, but still would not meet Draco's eye.

"I'm assuming it wasn't phrased quite like that?"

"No, it wasn't," Harry said impatiently and started up the stairs to the common room. "I told him he was being a right foul git and that he should watch his mouth. Then he told me to watch mine and punched me in the face. Hagrid was between us pretty soon after that."

"So, you didn't hit him back?" Draco asked, a strange feeling blooming in his chest.

"I didn't hit him back," Potter was quiet for a moment. "But I wanted to. I wanted to hurt him worse than he hurt me. Does that make me a bad person?"

"No," Draco said immediately. "That makes you a person. It may make you a lot of other things – impulsive, brash, misguided, maybe even a bit mean – but it does not make you bad. Do you think Weasley's a bad person?"

"Of course not," Potter answered defensively.

"Well, there you go. Weasley was hurt by your actions, and wanted to make you feel just as bad, if not worse, than he did in that moment. So, he punched you in the face. While that makes him an idiot with a hot temper, it does not make him a bad person. Therefore, by your own rules, wanting to hurt Weasley for hurting you doesn't make you a bad person." Draco paused there, a frown working at his lips. "Does that make sense?"

Potter was quiet as they topped the staircase, and Draco was surprised to find that he was feeling nervous. Had he said the wrong thing? No, Draco shook that thought off. Potter just had a lot to consider. Draco knew that he and Weasley had fought before, but the two came through it then, and Draco was sure they would do it again. Potter just needed the reminder that he and Weasley were both people, and that people could make mistakes.

"Doxy eggs," Draco said to the door when Potter did not.

It wasn't until they crossed the threshold that Potter turned to look at him. Draco was relieved to see that feeling had returned to Potter's eyes, and he released a breath he did not realize he was holding. Draco drew his eyebrows in when Potter's eyes drifted down to his chin, and he rubbed a hand across the lower half of his face.

"What? Have I got something down there?"

Potter blinked and his eyes quickly flicked back up to meet Draco's. Draco saw him swallow, and he frowned at this very strange behaviour. But then Potter was nodding and looking quite normal again as he reached a hand back to tousle his hair. The action left his loose curls messier than they had ever been before, and Draco desperately wanted him to run a comb through them.

"Yeah, you had a smudge on your chin. Looked pretty ridiculous."

"And you didn't say anything earlier?" Draco shrieked, half tempted to sock Potter himself. "I don't care what they say about you, Potter, you're as mean as they come. You may be the meanest wizard who ever walked the earth."

"Now, that may be an exaggeration," Potter rolled his eyes, and Draco laughed.

"No, I'm serious. You are the meanest person I've ever met. I mean it," Draco said, a smile firmly on his face. "Go change your shirt. You've made me miss potions, so I'm going down to the library to study for my free period. If you see Gregory, would you tell him he can find me there?"

"Yeah, sure," Potter answered, but paused, almost as if there were something he wanted to say, but wouldn't.

"What is it?" Draco asked swiftly, concern flooding back.

"Nothing, just..." Potter looked frustrated, but took a step closer to Draco and pulled him into a tight hug. "Thank you for checking on me."

Draco stood stiffly in Potter's embrace, tentatively returning it after a moment. What was happening? Since when did Potter hug him? More importantly, since when did he hug Potter back? This was all very strange, and most certainly happening too fast for Draco. He'd been friends with Gregory since he could crawl, but he had not so much as high-fived him until the war ended. The Malfoys were not a family that touched; that was what his father taught him. So why was he allowing Potter to coddle him like a child? When Potter finally let go of Draco, he turned around without saying another word and headed straight for their dormitory. Draco stood there a bit longer, recollecting his thoughts slowly.

...

The walk to the library was particularly difficult. Draco could not turn a corner without encountering someone who witnessed the events during breakfast, and their whispers clung to his clothes and trailed behind him like ducklings. Draco couldn't escape them even once he'd entered the library, so he ghosted past row after row of books, toward the back of the room. Draco stopped when he heard quiet sniffling coming from behind a large book stack, conflicted as to whether he wanted to check it out after the emotionally draining twelve hours he'd already been through. He cursed his softening heart for its ever-increasing compassion and eased his way over to the table to see who was crying.

Draco was surprised to see Granger sitting there, bent over a long piece of parchment and trying not to let the tears falling from her cheeks ruin whatever she had already written. It was strange to see her this way, and Draco was confused by the guilt that was flooding him. He didn't want to interrupt such a private moment, but he also couldn't just leave Granger on her own now that he knew she was so upset. The compassionate side of his brain winning once again, Draco gave a little sigh before stepping into the light so she could see who he was. Crying or not, Granger was still a very capable witch, and one that would hex him without a moment of hesitation if she felt threatened.

"Granger?" Draco called softly, trying not to startle her.

Her head popped up, sending her bushy hair bouncing as she swung around to look at him. Draco frowned as she hastily wiped her tears away and offered him an unconvincing smile. Why did she feel the need to be perfect even when she was crying? Draco felt a stab of pity for her. No matter the role she adopted, no matter how bad she was feeling, Granger was always perfect. Always. It was a burden Draco could remember carrying for most of his life.

"Oh, hello, Draco. Have you come to study? You're welcome to sit with me, I know you've likely missed potions. I'm sorry about that." Her facade was beginning to crack, and Draco watched in horror as more tears slipped from her eyes despite her smile. "I'm sorry about this morning. Ronald was completely out of line, he just needs some time to calm down, and things w-will go back to how they were."

Draco felt his heart twist and hated it. Why was everyone so concerned with preserving things the way they once were? He thought he had an inkling of what was truly upsetting her.

"Hermione, stop," Draco demanded near desperately, and she crumpled in on herself. "What happened, why are you crying?"

"Everything's changing," Hermione whispered and buried her head in her hands. "It's all happening so fast. Ron and Harry promised me we'd stay the same, that we were solid, but they're changing, and I'm changing, and I just can't stand not being in control of this."

Draco pulled out the chair next to her and sat slowly. Though it made his skin crawl to touch another person so willingly, he reached out and took Hermione's hands. They were wet from her tears, and Draco tried not to make a face at how weird they felt in his own. He vowed in that moment that, after this strange day, he would treat himself with something big that night. Draco had touched more people in the last three hours than he had in the last year, and the thought made him long for a shower. But for now, he was looking into Hermione's tear stained face and squeezing her hands to calm her down.

"Of course things were going to change," he told her as soothingly as he could manage. "Things will always change, and there's nothing we can do to stop it from coming. However, we can take those changes and decide if we're going to use them for good – or let them destroy us. You said Ron and Harry are changing, but they've been changing since you met them. That's not really a bad thing, is it? I mean, do you really want to be friends with the two idiots you were shouldering first year?"

Hermione gave a short laugh through her crying, and Draco released one of her hands to wipe her face with his sleeve, hardly able to bear seeing the tears glisten so pitifully on her cheeks.

"I didn't think so. I'd bet ten galleons that both of them would be dead by now if it weren't for you looking out for them. Honestly, no one would have blamed you for ditching them then. But you've got to look at the changes you're facing now and be able to find the good in them. Weasley is wearing his heart on his sleeve now. Positive: you will never have to guess at how he is feeling. Potter's become more serious. Positive: you know that he's being wiser about the battles he fights. Both of those idiots have hot tempers, and today they happened to boil over. That doesn't mean that they hate each other or that they can't get through this," Draco said, rubbing Hermione's hands as she nodded along robotically.

"But what about me?" Her voice was almost pitiful, and it hurt Draco. Spending too much time with these Gryffindors had made him softer than he liked.

"How do you think you've changed, Hermione?" he asked patiently.

"I'm crying all the time these days. I'm a nervous wreck, thinking this won't work out. I worry constantly that things won't go the way I need them to."

"You're feeling the weight of real responsibility, but you're also learning to let go," Draco responded before she could start crying again. "Letting go is the hardest thing of all to learn – and don't go repeating this to anyone – but I've got my money on you."

For the first time since he'd sat down, Hermione returned the squeeze to his hands.

"You've changed too. You know that, right?"

Draco's back stiffened and his eyes dropped from hers. Though he hadn't given it much thought, he knew she was right. His father would be incredibly disappointed if he could see him consoling another person, least of all a muggleborn, over something he would deem so ridiculous. Not only that, but Draco had been all too eager to dive headfirst into the muggle world that summer. If his letter hadn't arrived when it did, Draco didn't know how far he would have gone down that road. Would he have ended up as one of them? He was ready to give up magic for that one bloke, and it would have killed his father, slowly and so very painfully, to know it. The thought brought him a stab of guilt, and he didn't realize his hands were shaking until Hermione tightened her grip.

"Draco, it's a good change. A great change, even," she reassured him. "I like this side of you. You're kind, and you're genuine, and you're open. It's almost like – a wall's come down around the real you, and you're breathing properly for the first time. Everyone's seeing it. And it's not just because you had to. I –" She stopped herself, worrying at her lip as if she was debating something. After a deep breath, she continued.

"That day. At your manor. When you tried to save us… I could see it. You could have turned us in, but you didn't. I don't blame you for what that woman did to me, even if you blame yourself. Had you tried to help me, you would have been vastly outnumbered. I know that, and I've made my peace with it."

Draco was surprised to feel wetness on his own face, and was even more surprised to find out that he was crying. This was all getting terribly out of hand, and he quickly wiped his face on his shirt.

"Thank you. That means a lot to me," he finally said.

"You've also been calling me Hermione."

"What?" Draco asked, blindsided by the sudden shift in conversation.

"You haven't called me Granger since you first walked over. You've been calling me Hermione." The grin that split her face made Draco groan.

"Please, don't make a big deal about this," he begged. "It's a bit hard to call you Granger when you're crying all over and spilling your guts out to me. It was a slip of the tongue, won't happen again." Despite his admonitions, a smile was beginning to pull up the corner of his mouth.

"No, I like it! It would mean a lot to me if you could keep calling me Hermione," she said, her eyes wide and pleading. Draco really could not catch a break that morning.

"Alright," he snapped and tried to look bad tempered. "I'll call you Hermione, but if you expect me to start calling Potter or Weasley by anything else, you're delusional."

"I wouldn't dream of it, Draco."

Draco was relieved to see that she seemed to be finished crying for good and took his hands back from her grasp. He was taken aback by the warmth that was spreading through his chest and was even more surprised when he found that he liked it. Was this what it was like to be friends with Hermione Granger? Did he like being friends with her? Draco found he didn't need to know the answer to that yet, and instead stooped down to pull his potions book from his bag.

"So, what class did you miss this morning to come have your cry?" Draco teased, being careful to keep his tone light.

"Ancient Runes," she groaned and buried her head in her hands, this time in frustration. "It's my most difficult class, so I really can't afford to miss any of it, but I just couldn't go, not in the state I was in."

"What about Weasley? Did he go to class?"

Hermione shook her head and dropped her eyes.

"Hagrid carried him off to Professor McGonagall's office after he had a go at Harry. He was yelling the entire way up. It was just awful."

"And he's been in there since?" Draco's eyebrows disappeared into his hairline.

"I don't know. Hagrid came back down and told me that I should probably clear out. He said Ron wouldn't be down for a while. I hope he doesn't get into too much trouble." A hand popped up to cover her mouth before she turned to Draco with wide eyes. "I'm sorry, that was so insensitive of me after what he said to you-"

"Stop, please," Draco cut her off. "I've heard much worse, and as I told Gregory earlier, I stuck my nose where it didn't belong. I know Weasley doesn't like me, and I took the risk of being snapped at."

Draco shrugged and opened the book, before realising he had no way of knowing what potion he should review. He let his head thunk down onto the table and groaned loudly into his book.

"What's the matter with you?" Hermione asked.

"There you are!" a dreamy voice called before Draco could answer.

Lovegood seemed to be floating toward them, Longbottom beside her. They came to a stop at the table, and Lovegood handed him a scrap of parchment.

"We saw what happened at breakfast, and we figured you'd miss the lesson. So, we took some notes for you. They're a review on the Laughing Potion. Professor Slughorn said that we all need a bit of cheering up these days, and he hinted that it may be on the exam next week, so if I were you, I would study it in depth."

"Thank you," Draco said, shocked by this act of kindness. "That was very thoughtful of you."

"Oh, I nearly forgot. This came for you, just after you'd left," she said, digging in her bag before pulling out a letter.

Draco's stomach sank, and he tried to keep his hands from shaking as he reached for it. He needed only a glance at the writing on the envelope to know who it was, and he quickly slipped it into his bag with the hope that no one else had noticed his reaction. He could handle this by himself, and Draco wasn't exactly comfortable confiding in Lovegood and Longbottom anyway. While Lovegood was nice enough, it did not slip Draco's attention that Longbottom still refused to speak directly to him. Draco couldn't blame him, but that didn't mean that it had to sit right with him. Lovegood gave him another one of those dreamy smiles and a slow wave before she was off again, pulling Longbottom behind her.

"Make sure you share those notes with Harry," she called. "I only made one copy, and he needs all the help he can get."

And though Hermione and Draco laughed together over that observation, a heavy feeling settled across Draco's shoulders, not being able to shake the thought of the letter sitting in his bag, waiting to be read.