Hermione's Dormitory

11:57PM

Thursday, November 7th, 1998

Hermione ran a hand over her tired eyes, coming to loathe her N.E.W.T. Transfiguration class. She had always loved her more challenging classes, always excelling in the subjects where her fellows lagged behind, but her mind was distracted, consumed with thoughts about her personal life, her Head Girl duties, and the multitude of other homework items she had to work through. In the past week there had been two entirely sleepless nights, her time instead spent poring over textbooks and scratching out essays. Her weekends were spent with Draco as they were in the initial stages of brewing their first attempted potion. She was only given Saturday mornings alone, when Draco would drag his Quidditch team out of bed to train in frigid conditions.

She was looking forward to the Christmas Break, though it was still over a month away. Ron had invited her to spend the holiday period with him and his family at The Burrow after they had made up following their fight, and she could hardly wait to see him. He had begrudgingly understood her inability to meet him in Hogsmeade the past weekend, her schoolwork just too much to manage with. But she had kept her exact location a secret, knowing Ron would not understand that she had to work with Draco. Instead, she and her fiancé had exchanged several Floo Calls to make up for her hectic schedule.

Hermione groaned when she looked at the clock and saw it to be already midnight, anticipating at least two more hours of work ahead of her. Ever the faithful familiar, Crookshanks perched on the desk, beside her parchment, pawing at her whenever distraction arose. He did so now as lethargy threatened to take over, the soft pads of his paw startling her.

"Alright, Crooks," she said, staring down at her nearly completed Transfiguration essay. She had to write a conclusion and edit it before she could even think about starting on her reading for Charms and a translation for Ancient Runes. The thought of all the work made her feel a bit ill as she picked up her quill. She checked over her notes as her handwriting cramped to fit all she had to say on the sheet of parchment, but it was still almost one o'clock before she started on her other classwork. By two, she had placed the last sentence of her translation for her Ancient Runes work down – making a mental note to check them over with Draco before class – and crawled gratefully into bed.

Only an hour had gone by when a nightmare pulled her back to consciousness. Crooshanks' yellow eyes were wide as she woke up screaming, bed sheets soaked with sweat and face stained with tears as she thrashed about. The cat curled close against her body and mewled softly, the sound calming her.

"I guess I won't be getting anymore sleep tonight," she mumbled to the cat when her body had almost ceased its shaking. It was just past three o'clock but the thought of closing her eyes again terrified her. Her cat cried in protest when she got up to shower, washing the sweat from her body. She had to pull two jumpers and a thick cloak on before she was warm and, wand tucked safely in her back pocket, she left her dormitory behind her.

Filch had long since finished his usual rounds and her status as Head Girl allowed her access to the castle at all hours, but Hermione was still cautious as she walked Hogwarts' frozen corridors. It seemed as though even the ghosts had retreated to some place warmer for the night.

Unaware of what her final destination would be when she first set off, her mind still captured by the nightmare, she was startled to find herself in the Dungeons. Her breath rose into the air in a soft cloud as she pushed open the door to the main Potions classroom, deciding to work on her assignment if nothing else.

"Granger?" The familiar voice startled her when she entered the room, Draco looking up from his book at the disturbance. "What are you doing here?" he asked, closing his tome and rising. In the dim light from the fire, she could see dark circles beneath his eyes. They reminded her of how exhausted, sunken he had looked in their sixth year.

"I couldn't sleep," she said, unclipping the fastening of her cloak and slinging it over the back of a chair with her second jumper, the room almost stifling. "Figured I would come here and check on our potion." She approached his seat which was positioned next to the cauldron they had been working in and observed the light grey concoction as it bubbled away. Hermione had predicted it would take a full lunar cycle for their potion to reach completion, the next full moon three weeks away. "Why are you here?" she asked, taking a seat on a table and tucking her knees beneath her chin.

"Same here," Draco said, resuming his seat. "I had a dream." She watched his jaw clench for a moment. "A nightmare. About the War."

"Same here," she said, changing her position, hand twitching towards her neck. Her mind froze as she realised the scars Bellatrix had bestowed upon her were visible. She hadn't thought she would see anyone on her walk and the usual Concealment Charm she used had slipped her mind after her shower.

Before she could hide the marks, Draco was on his feet and approaching her slowly. She forgot about covering them as he pulled the neck of her sweater down slightly, gaging her reaction. The marks were thick, two lines across her throat, mottled and white against her skin. They looked to be more like burns than the mark of a blade.

With fingertips as light as a feather's touch, Draco traced along her scars. The gesture was something so intimate it made her squirm. No one, not even Ron, had seen her scars. She was so cautious about covering them up, despising how they made her look, how they made her feel.

"I'm so sorry," he said to her, the words stunted and broken. She understood how rare a Malfoy apology was, how sincere his apology had been.

"I have others," she said. Her body shook as he finished tracing the marks on her neck. He nodded, having seen them be administered.

Confusion arose as he stepped away from her and began unbuttoning his shirt, his back facing her. She was aobut to say something when the expensive garment fell to the floor, revealing the pale skin of his lean body. Hermione couldn't restrain herself form gasping.

Draco's back was covered in long scars, each distinct line swollen and an angry red against his ivory skin. They overlapped each other in some places. She saw goosebumps break out along his flesh, muscles rippling under gaze. She was afraid to move closer, afraid to touch his scars the way he had done hers.

"My father is not a tolerant man," he said, clothing himself and returning to his seat. "And my grandfather, Abraxas, boasted a proud collection of cursed weapons, whips included."

The air caught in Hermione's throat, exited her mouth in a high-pitched wheeze. Despite the conversation, the heavy mood which had found a home between them in the room, Draco sniggered at the noise, snapping the atmosphere.

She considered casting a Concealment Charm on her neck scars, but her hand was shaking too much for any wandwork. Draco could obviously sense her fragile state, keeping his cool eyes upon her as he dug around in the various cupboards and drawers in the room until he withdrew a rusted kettle, two stained mugs and some teabags which had been stashed away by the Potions Master. He mumbled a quick Cleaning Charm over the crockery and kettle until they were no longer unfit for use and heated water over a fire.

The cup of tea revived her somewhat and she became aware of Draco's considering eyes watching her movements. "What?" she asked, finding her voice slightly squeaky.

"Nothing. It's nothing." He shook his head, dropped his eyes to his own mug and swirled its contents around. "That just wasn't the reaction I was expecting. Not that what just happened was anything I'd ever expected."

"What reaction were you expecting?" she questioned, voice returned to its normal level state. She attempted to keep her voice level, detached, trying not to think of what she had just revealed to someone she had once considered her enemy.

"I don't know," he said. "A more clinical approach. Something more Granger."

She rolled her eyes. "I don't expect your future patients will be expecting you to fondle them when they come in and see you, Healer Malfoy."

He stood, eyes dark, and tipped the contents of his mug into the sink. "Right, whatever you say, Granger," he said, picking up his cloak and the book he had been reading before she arrived. "I'm going to try and get an hour of sleep before I actually have to get up for the day. I'll see you in Ancient Runes."

Draco was gone before Hermione had time to figure out what she had said wrong, but the room felt cold and lonely without anyone to talk to. She frowned and cleaned up the few things which had been messed up in the room during their visit. When it was back to its usual appearance, Hermione left the Potions classroom, following Draco's lead and returning to her dormitory, determined to catch an hour or two of uninterrupted sleep.

Transfiguration Classroom

11:45AM

Friday, November 8th, 1998

Draco's wand began to strain under the pressure he was placing on it, white knuckles squeezing it close to snapping as he heard Hermione's laugh at something Theo said. They were supposed to be working on questions set by McGonagall, but his mind was still back in the Potions classroom in the early hours of the morning, brain slow from too little sleep. Beside him, Ginny Weasley was focused on her own work. They had unknowingly struck up a deal where they never talked outside of what was necessary for their participation in class, an arrangement which suited him just fine.

He was more preoccupied with watching Hermione's interactions with Theo, distracting himself from the tedious work with thoughts of how to win over Hermione and how to get what he wanted. A Malfoyalways got what he wanted.

His Transfiguration partner's elbow jabbed him firmly in the side. "Malfoy, what did you get for question three?" Weasley asked, flipping her hair over her shoulder. The tip of her quill pointed against her parchment and Draco watched a drop of ink expand from the pressure. "Or do you have better things to do with your time than our work?"

He turned his steely gaze to her face, eyes narrowed, and he could feel his face adopt the look he had so often possessed in his younger days. His chin lifted jauntily into the air. "The answer is on the first page of the second chapter. Find it yourself," he said. His partner recoiled and he shut his eyes for a long moment and he restrained a sigh. "Animagi's animals are predicted by their inner traits and personality. No personal choice is considered."

Her face softened for the briefest moment before her jaw clenched and she returned to her work, allowing him to look back at Hermione and Theo. They were working, heads down undoubtedly at her insistence, but they were angled towards each other. Their positioning led him to believe they were conversing, a belief only backed up when Theo tipped his head back and laughed loudly. Transfiguration questions were never that funny, Draco thought, and McGonagall seemed to think on the same token, standing from her desk to chastise his Slytherin companion thoroughly. Even from his position at the back of the room, Draco could see Hermione's cheeks grow slightly pink, having just avoided being told off herself.

Following McGonagall's attention, the pair focused solely on their work, leaving Draco free to return to his own studies. He had been attempting to quell the green-eyed beast which raged in his chest ever since the Samhain Ball, before he even knew how much he desired the Gryffindor. It had awoken when Theo had draped his arm over the back of Hermione's chair, when she had looked at her date through pretty little eyelashes and smiled at one of his jokes. Despite the other witches in the room who had all gone through countless hours of preparation for the evening, Draco had only been drawn to the brunette he had taunted mercilessly throughout their teenage years.

He had no claim over her. She certainly was closer to Theo than she was to him – though their rendezvous that morning made him think differently – and she was already engaged to someone who hadn't acted as a right arse for most of their relationship. But he craved her, allowing himself to fully embrace the feelings which he had kept quashed into a small corner of his heart since their Fourth Year, since she had glittered like a rare jewel around the Great Hall on the arm of Viktor Krum at the Yule Ball. Until this year, when they had spoken and struck up the beginnings of a friendship, he had been forced to repress what he felt, keep his memories at bay for fear of them being found by the Death Eaters who had probed his head at will.

But now, he was free, and he was going to get what he wanted to the very core of his being.

Hermione's Dormitory

Midday

Saturday, November 9th, 1998

"You look freezing," she remarked, unfolding herself from the armchair she had perched in and rising to her feet when Draco arrived. The tip of his nose was pink from the cold, cheeks catching up to the soft colour. The flush made him look younger, almost like a child, but his face was contorted into an angry scowl as she took his coat and hung it up.

Her guest moved directly in front of her roaring fire, hands outstretched towards the flame. "Pardon my lack of punctuality," he said, alluding to his half hour lateness. "The team needed a kick up the arse." He rubbed the palms of his hands together as she made tea, letting him warm up before they began their work.

She had attended a few of the Gryffindor's training sessions in previous years, and she admitted to her companion that she had never thought their training to be as rigorous as the Slytherin team's seemed to be.

"It's not just about flying around on a broom," Draco said, taking a mug off the tray she carried over and settling himself into his usual chair. "At least, not with my team. It's an all over workout. I'm trying something new this year as it seems we might have a shot at the Quidditch Cup without Potter here."

"From what I've seen, Gryffindor just fly around and throw balls at each other," she shrugged, wrapping her hands around the heat of her cup. Winter had most definitely struck Hogwarts early. "I don't see the appeal."

"It's freeing, Granger. Being in the air, being totally in control of yourself. You don't have to think of anyone else when you're up there."

"You just have to think of some great oaf whacking a Bludger at your head."

He smirked, nodding in submission to her win. A grimace ghosted over his face for a moment and he reached into the breast pocket of his jacket. "I have something for you," he said, passing over an elegant silver envelope and taking one out for himself. "From my mother."

She felt her brows knit together in confusion, placing her tea on the table and slitting the envelope over with her finger. Inside, a white card with a trim the same colour of its envelope sat and she could see a very neat, elaborate printing along it. It was precisely the script she could imagine Narcissa Malfoy writing with as she pulled it out, eyes skimming over it. "An invitation to your mother's New Year's Eve dinner?"

He nodded, looking to his own elaborate card. "I may have let slip that you were my partner for this assignment and my mother is keen to give the Malfoy family a new face, as it were. And having you at one of her soirees would no doubt prove to the world that me aren't all psychotic blood purists."

A shiver crept up Hermione's spine, nothing to do with the chill of the castle. "I don't think…" She lost her voice, her breath came in rapid pants as she realised where the event would be held, Malfoy Manor written in the fine print. She could hear blood rushing through her ears, the squeaks of oxygen as she exhaled. The blood drained from her face.

Draco looked up from his own card and her ears were too clouded to hear the expletive he uttered as he moved to kneel in front of her, removing the invitation from her hand and grasping them in his, staring her straight in the eye. "Granger." His voice barely broke through the torrent of roaring she could hear. "Granger," he said again, his voice louder, squeezing her hands. "You need to calm down. Slow your breathing."

His voice was commanding, the tone catching her attention. She began to slow her breathing to a normal pace but her head spun. Again, he said her name, this time softer. Hermione's eyes closed, letting his voice soothe her, shattering the cloud which had blocked her hearing.

"You with me?" he asked. His hands were on her forearms, shaking her slightly when she didn't respond. "Hermione?"

His use of her first name made her eyes open, his face swimming into view. She caught a look of pure fear in his eyes before her companion's perpetually cool composure came back. Her breathing was steady and the world had ceased its swimming and she felt well enough to sit up straight. His hands drew away and to his sides as he leant back onto his ankles. "No Granger?" she asked with a grin and he rolled his eyes.

"Snarky as ever, even after a panic attack, Granger," Draco said, rising to his feet in one graceful move and returning his seat.

"It shouldn't have taken a panic attack for you to call me by my first name," she replied. Her face returned to its normal colour.

Again, he rolled his grey eyes. "You're not going to start hyperventilating again, are you?" he asked. "I know my presence can be overwhelming, but even I think that reaction was extreme."

"You are a complete arse, Draco," she said, tucking her legs beneath her. She didn't miss the flash of his eyes when she called him by his given name. "I don't think I can go," she continued, pointing to her abandoned invitation on the floor. "Not back in there."

He nodded, just one quick inclination of his head and she knew he understood. "Do you want to get to work on our assignment or would you rather a rest?" he asked, leaving her grateful for the change in topic.

"I don't have time to rest," she said, though her attack had brought about the feelings of weariness she had been experiencing for the past two months. "We should head down to check on the potion."

Draco looked as though he was going to insist that she relax for at least a few minutes but he just pressed his lips together tightly and stood, collecting their coats from a hook by the entrance. Though there would be no journey outside, both were well aware of how chilled the corridors could be in November. The icy weather would press against the windows and find its way in through cracked stone, chilling a person to the bone in an instant. Most students would be crowded around the fireplaces in their common rooms or forcing themselves to focus in the library so the pair were spared any curious glances from their peers.

As Hermione had anticipated, the Potions classroom was deserted, just the quiet bubbling of various concoctions breaking the silence. In the past twenty four hours, their assignment had already changed to the colour of lilacs, emitting soft pink steam as it swirled in the cauldron. She was quite smitten with the colours, though her research had indicated that in its final stages it would take on a dark green hue, looking thoroughly unappetising in her mind.

They propped their books up on the desk and unrolled fresh scrolls of parchment, both sure of what task they had assigned themselves. Hermione was noting down every possible alteration she could see in the cauldron that had occurred in the last days. Though they had put them into their set of instructions, no drastic changes from the original Healing Potion had yet been administered to their assignment. Draco was still working on a list of curses which would leave unhealable scars and trying to figure out ways of reversing the effects, incantations which they would say over the pot. Hermione had also created a basic list of normal healing ingredients and was in the process of researching more possible additions. The pair were determined to cover all bases.

As they worked in near silence, only making rare remarks when they found a particularly scintillating piece of information or to ask a question, Hermione's mind drifted back to their early morning meeting the day prior. She remembered Draco's fingers on her neck, brushing them with a touch more gentle than any she had ever felt before. His apology, as smooth as honey and softer than silk. The sincerity behind his words was clear in his eyes and the memories made her quiver. Since their run in, the only thing she hadn't understood was his abrupt departure. She failed to understood what he had heard in her words.

They had keenly avoided discussion of the interaction in their Ancient Runes class. Draco's cool reaction to her had been traded for his usual disposition, though both had been too weary to work particularly hard or maintain any semblance of conversation. It had taken most of her energy to just get through the day without falling asleep at her desk. Ancient Runes was their only class where they worked together on Fridays and she had only felt awake during their period of Transfiguration, where Theo's steady jokes and banter kept her on her toes.

But when she had retired to her dormitory for the evening and collapsed into bed at nine o'clock, having had stayed up for her Alchemy tutorial which had dragged on well past her desired bedtime, she had successfully avoided her taunting nightmare. Instead, she had experienced dreams of Draco, something she would remain very tight-lipped about. There had been nothing romantic nor troubling about the images which had appeared during her slumber, but the blonde Slytherin had featured throughout the night, floating from dream to dream. His silver eyes had been visible each time, lodged in paintings or the eyes of other people or sometimes simply floating along near her. She had woken feeling more rested than she had in weeks, having slept for a solid twelve and a half hours, but the thoughts of her dreams made her stomach flutter in a way which concerned her.

"Concentrate any harder and you'll snap that quill clean in half," Draco's voice interrupted her thoughts and she realised her hand had stilled over her parchment, ink dropping from the feather in her hand. Her knuckles were clenched white around it. She let out a soft "Oh" and vanished the stain with her wand, placing her quill against the table top. "What were you thinking about?"

She felt her face flush scarlet and ignored the quirked eyebrow Draco offered her. "Nothing," she said too quickly. She dropped her eyes back to the desk, though the same grey orbs which had inhabited her dreams were still staring at her, that damned perfect blonde brow still raised in a silent question. Hermione bit her lip, forcing herself to look up at her companion. "It was nothing that concerns you."

"Weasley?" he asked without missing a beat. She caught his smug smirk as she scowled at him, but Hermione understood her safest bet was to make him think she was thinking of her fiancé. She offered him a quick nod, casting her eyes downward at her parchment, but her movement wasn't fast enough to miss the strange look which passed over his face. If it wasn't Draco and she wasn't Hermione, the Gryffindor would have sworn it to be disappointment.

"Just thinking of the Christmas Break," she said, fiddling with the ring on her left hand. It moved in small circles around her finger, the inside polished until it almost gleamed from all the movement she provided it with.

"You're going to wear through your skin one day," Draco commented, watching the action. "You do that whenever anyone brings up your darling fiancé."

She sniffed at the way he pronounced fiancé, his voice dripping with disdain. "It's just a small tick," she said. "You have one where you're a complete arse all of the time."

His eyes lit up. "I missed our witty banter, Granger."

"The wit only ever came from me, Malfoy," she retorted. "You would just call me horrid names and prance about with your daft minions."

His lip curled in slight amusement at her words, both brows raised. "I believe I had some brilliant one liners on occasion. You were the only one to resort to physical violence back in Third Year."

"I doubt a punch on the nose is quite as bad as some of things you said to me," she said, sitting up a little straighter and looking down her nose at him. "Mudblood."

He winced at the word, swallowed heavily. His mouth opened and closed a few times before he was able to come up with a coherent reply. "I haven't called you that in years," he said, clamping his lips together.

"Well, nothing does quite as much damage as being called awful names at age twelve." She could feel angry tears prickling at her eyes as memories came back of the extreme cruelty he had inflicted upon her throughout their relationship.

"I would take it all back," he said, unable to keep the words from tumbling out of his mouth. "If I could, I would take them all back. Every hurtful remark I made against you. All the things I said against other people. You have to understand that."

Hermione swallowed the lump in her throat, quashed the feeling her tears in her eyes. "I know," she said. "You were young and stupid. You're still stupid," she smiled at this, "but you aren't that person anymore." He visibly relaxed, one of his rare true smiles spreading across his face. "But just for the record, I wouldn't take back that punch in the face."

It was the first time Hermione had heard Draco truly laugh. The sound was rich, reminding her of black coffee and fireside warmth as his head leant back for a moment. His laughter only lasted for a few seconds, but it filled her with calm, made her think she was lucky to have him as a friend if it meant he would keep laughing like that around her.

They were interrupted by Daphne and Pavarti who had the same idea they had, taking advantage of the deserted classroom to work on their potion. Daphne gave Draco a smile which made Hermione curious, the warmth in the expression concealing a hidden meaning. His lips twitched up in response, further intriguing her as she watched the exchange. Pavarti just offered Hermione a bright smile, sitting across from her and immediately asking her what she had been up to.

Throughout their many years as roommates, they had never been particularly close, though Hermione found her far more tolerable than she had found Lavender Brown and was more than happy to engage in conversation with her. But with Lavender's death, Pavarti had lost her closest confidant and Hermione wasn't certain she had found another besides her twin sister. Hermione indulged her old friend, listening to her fellow Gryffindor's gossip. She had been spending so much time with Slytherins, either working with Draco or hanging around Daphne and Theo that she felt a bit starved of contact with her fellow lions. Ginny had been the only one she had really maintained a strong friendship with, though Hermione had been sure to make time for Neville, too.

She nodded along as Pavarti described the desperate love triangle occurring between three Gryffindors Hermione didn't know, her face angled away from her conversational partner and towards the two Slytherins who were having a silent conversation with their eyes. Aware of Daphne's intelligence and Draco's profound skill in the area, Hermione assumed they were communicating through some form of wandless Legilimency. Daphne caught her stare, looking away from Draco to smile at her. Pavarti's babble faded into background noise as the brunette watched her two Slytherin companions return to their conversation, looking deeply into each other's eyes to continue their conversation with ease.

Hermione forced herself to pay attention to the other Gryffindor in the room, nodding along with her words, making appreciative or disapproving noises, judged by the inflection in Pavarti's voice. Daphne and Draco had turned to their work, though the female Slytherin kept glancing at her. She began to feel warm under her collar from the attention and she rolled the sleeves of her sweater up. Hermione continued to nod as she picked up her quill, trying to concentrate on Pavarti's voice and the work before her rather than the inquisitive looks from Daphne.

She felt relieved when her work was finished close to four o'clock although Daphne's peeks at her had ceased and Pavarti had stopped speaking. Rolling up her completed work and shrugging on her coat, Hermione bade farewells to the group and headed to her dormitory to dump her books and assignments before deciding to visit Ginny in the Gryffindor Common Room.