I own nothing but the plot.

September 12th, 1998

Hermione stretched slowly with a quiet sigh; her limbs splayed out under the soft sheets of the queen-sized bed. Giving another sigh, she nuzzled against her pillow without opening her eyes. By far the best perk she'd found so far out of being Head Girl, had to be the Head Dormitory. Finally, she had a private place to study, a quiet couch to read on, and a room all to herself. And the bed! Gone was the single bed of the dormitories, instead she had her own rather large four poster bed, decked out in luxurious bedding in bold Gryffindor colours.

Opening her eyes after a few more minutes of lounging, she was met by the sun filtering through the window, brightening the room far more than she thought would happen for the fourth floor. Slipping out of bed, she wriggled her toes in the soft burgundy carpet, appreciating the sense of privacy that she currently had, and just how nice it felt on a Saturday morning. Pottering around her room, Hermione slowly got herself ready for the day, flitting in and out of the attached bathroom as she went. The first full week of lessons was over, and she was looking forwards to spending a day up in Gryffindor tower with her friends.

Checking the time, she realised it was still far too early to head up to the tower, so instead she resolved to spend some time catching up on reading, possibly over breakfast. Grabbing a book from the shelf against one wall of her bedroom, she slipped out of the room and made her way down the stairs. She was mildly surprised when she made it to the common room and spied a tousled blonde head bent over one of the large study desks, books and parchment scattered around. She had resolved herself to being cordial within a few hours of the accountment of Head Boy, trusting that McGonagall knew what she was doing.

"Morning Malfoy," she greeted as she walked past, raising an eyebrow at the fact that even at 7am on a Saturday, Malfoy was still wearing a long sleeve button up shirt. She had yet to see him in anything casual, no matter the day or time. A faint grunt was the only reply she got, but she did see his hand raise in what could possibly have been a wave. Figuring it was about as good as she would get, Hermione just shrugged and stepped out of the portrait, making her way down to breakfast.

"So, what's it like, practically living with Malfoy?" Ginny had been dying to ask Hermione for days and had barely restrained herself for the few hours that the older witch had been hanging out in the Gryffindor common room.

"It's fine, really. I barely see him," Hermione shrugged, looking up from where she was currently lounging on the hearth with Neville, a stack of cards between them as they whiled the afternoon away playing exploding snap.

"I bet he spends all his time in the dungeons with the other Slytherin's," Neville mused, flipping another card onto the pile before wincing as it blew up in his face.

"Actually, no. He's always just sat at his desk studying. Well, I guess he's studying. He's always researching and writing something… I haven't asked, I don't want to be nosy," Hermione flicked a still smouldering card towards Neville before handing the rest of her deck to Seamus, making way for him to take over her spot. Shifting on the floor, she moved until her back was resting against the nearby couch, head leaning against Ginny's knees.

"Did I honestly just hear you say you wouldn't be nosy? I find that hard to believe, shouldn't a goody two shoes like you be all up in Death Eater business?" Lavender scoffed as she appeared at the bottom of the stairs that led to the girl's dormitories, attracting the attention of the group on the floor. Parvarti was nowhere to be seen, most likely out somewhere with her twin, the two girls spending more time together after losing their parents. The absence of her best friend didn't seem to have bothered Lavender, dressed far more provocatively than any others in the room, extensive makeup covering her face.

"Where're you off to like that?" Neville raised an eyebrow as they all took her in.

"Unlike all of you, I actually have a life. I'm going on a date," Lavender huffed as she stalked past the group, somehow managing to simultaneously turn her head up at them and look down on them at the same time. Hermione's mouth opened as questions burned in her mind, but she snapped her jaw shut, not wanting to fall into the trap laid by the taunts.

"With tits hanging out like that, half the castle probably wants to "date" all over her," Ginny scowled seconds after the portrait closed.

"I'd do her…" Seamus muttered as he kept tossing cards on the pile, his face flushing bright red as he realised what he said. "Date her! I mean I'd date her!" Quickly slamming another few cards on the pile, Seamus began to splutter when the deck exploded once more, engulfing him in a cloud of smoke, the laughter of the group ringing out as the smoke dissipated to reveal the Irishman's lack of eyebrows, a distinct scent of burnt hair in the room.

"How about we just don't talk about Malfoy or Lavender, and just hang out?" Hermione shook her head, still laughing softly at Seamus's luck. With a few muttered replies and shrugs, the suggestion passed and the group settled back into easy banter, the boys back and forth with their cards, and Hermione quickly found herself wrapped up in conversation with Ginny as they debated the latest trends being displayed in Witch Weekly.

It was moments like these when she started to think that maybe things would be normal again.

Dinner had been over for hours before Hermione finally made her way back through the portrait that guarded the Head's dormitory. Her cheeks ached from how much she had laughed and smiled through the day, and there was a feeling in her chest that she could only describe as hope. Hope for the present, hope for the future, hope that they could all be normal. It was tinted with a level of sadness that Harry and Ron weren't there with her, her missing best friend and now boyfriend definitely obvious.

"Evening, Malfoy," she greeted as she spotted the blonde male haunched over the desk, and the smile slowly faded from her lips as she inspected him. She wasn't even sure if he'd moved all day, not recalling seeing that telltale head at lunch, or dinner. He was still pouring over books, the right sleeve of his shirt rolled up to expose a forearm corded with muscle, the left sleeve still down, a few ink stains now on the cuff. Her brow furrowed as she watched him, realising that he would have the sleeve down to keep the Dark Mark on his forearm covered, and she was reminded of Lavender's words. How many students believed him to be a Death Eater still?

Her heart sank as she realised that it would have to be the vast majority. She wasn't even sure if she herself didn't believe it, although she knew that he was never truly willing to be part of Voldemort's cause. That much was confirmed as fact after Malfoy's trail at the Wizengamot, being cleared of all charges after testifying under the influence of veritaserum. Very few knew what had been included, herself among them as one who had testified at his trial, speaking to the events of the night at the manor. Her eyes flicked down to her own forearm, reminded of the word that Bellatrix had carved into her skin, but the memories didn't last long, knowledge instead of the intricate ink she'd had laid over it reminding her that she had control. Shaking her head a few times to clear it, she didn't realise that Malfoy had been speaking to her until her eyes met his piercing grey gaze.

"Granger," his voice was rough, as if he hadn't used it for a few days, and he was looking at her expectantly. A blush blossomed over Hermione's cheeks as she realised that she'd completely missed everything he'd said, the first time they'd even conversed since getting back to Hogwarts.

"I'm so sorry, I missed… everything you said," the blush burned bright on her cheeks as she forced herself to admit that, resolved to be polite and make things as easy as possible, deciding to give him the same chance that McGonagall clearly was.

"I asked if you wanted to go over a schedule for the Prefect's, and work out patrol routes." Leaning back in his chair, a trademark smirk found it's way to Draco Malfoy's face. He folded his arms over his chest, ankles crossed as he took in the flustered witch standing in front of him. If he was surprised at her blush, he didn't mention it.

What had surprised him though, was how surprisingly civil Hermione had been. As soon as the heavy badge had fallen into his hand over summer, he had known that she would be the other recipient, it was just common sense, and the range of emotions that had passed through him ranged from pride at being recognised for his achievements and knowledge that he got it off of his own merits, to pure fear that he would be paired with Gryffindor's princess, a woman who probably wanted him dead after what had happened in Malfoy Manor not long enough ago.

He hadn't been back to the Manor since that night. His father was in Azkaban, and he had moved into a small townhouse in muggle London with his mother. They both knew that no one would ever think to look for them there, and that it was their best chance to stay safe with the Malfoy reputation in tatters. The Malfoy fortune had been seized, accounts closed at Gringott's as part of the investigation against his father. He himself had been cleared after undertaking veritaserum, his young age at the time of taking the Mark helping sway the opinion of those judging him. His mother had been fined a considerable amount but escaped Azkaban, Harry Potter himself testifying to what she had done in the forest during the Final Battle. Though he wouldn't often willingly admit it, he was grateful to the Boy Who Lived for that.

Even Hermione was trying, the daily greetings polite, and she had been considerate of giving him his space. It didn't hurt that she never looked at him with disgust or pity, though he knew she had every right to after what he let happen in the drawing room. He didn't know why he spoke to her tonight, or what prompted him to even hint at working with her. It didn't seem like she expected it either, the blush creeping down her neck as she spoke, and it took a few minutes for Draco to realise that he hadn't heard a word she said, too busy watching the red disappear under the neckline of her top. He wasn't as willing to admit that he tuned out as she was though, instead opting for his trademark smirk and swagger.

"Sounds good, Granger."

Hermione let out a sigh of relief before muttering about going to bed, quickly disappearing up the short flight of stairs to her room. Turning back to the potions books spread on his desk, Draco let out his own sigh, not really sure what he just agreed to.