DISCLAIMER: I own nothing but this twisted so-called "plot".

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On Halloween morning, rows of pumpkins lined the walls of the entrance hall. All around, people were chattering excitedly about what the evening's feast would be like. Hermione scoffed to herself as she walked into the Great Hall; she'd be happy as long as there wasn't a troll mucking about in a bathroom.
Or a basilisk roaming around in a secret chamber.
Or an escaped convict slashing portraits.

She'd only just helped herself to some fruit when an owl dropped an envelope before her. Her vague melancholia turned to proper gloom as she read the letter within.

...needn't bother asking for a portkey to Australia – your father and I are coming to England for Christmas. Your aunt is unspeakably angry with us for disappearing for an entire year, and has "requested" that we visit so that she may make her displeasure abundantly clear to us. Seeing as this whole thing is basically your doing, it's only fair that you join us for this painful, dismal, uncomfortable occasion. Don't even think about remaining at school – I am not above writing to your headmistress.

Love you, and miss you terribly my girl...

"Well, what's brought on the bloody strawberry massacre of 1998?"

Hermione blinked at her bowl of desecrated fruit, and then at Ginny.
"Er... I just found out that my sunny Australian holiday has been called off."
"Brilliant!" Ginny beamed.
"Excuse me?"
"Well I'm sorry for you and all," she paused to take a flippant sip of coffee, "But this means you can come to the Burrow!"
"I'm going to be at my aunt's, in bloody Cornwall," Hermione grumbled.
"Close enough for you to apparate!"
"Yes... I suppose..."
"Like I said," Ginny joyously dumped a fried egg on her plate, "Brilliant!"
"What's brilliant?" Dean asked as he and Neville plopped down on the bench opposite them.
"Hermione's going to be in town for the hols!"
"But that is brilliant!" Dean grinned, "You can come for Finnigan's grand opening. It's on new year's eve – Shay's got a huge party planned –"
Neville groaned. "I'm still not over the last party Seamus had planned."
"Lightweight!"

But even as she smiled and chatted through breakfast, Hermione's mind was far away, stewing in panic. Aunt Malorie was a dear, but she possessed a fiery temper that was a family trait on her mother's side. The holidays were going to be full of bitterness and, heaven help her, she'd had enough of that. All she'd wanted was a proper break – was it really too much to ask for?

As the day dragged on, her mood worsened. Dread, dread, and more dread – while the rest of the students admired the spooky decorations spread around the castle. She moped while everyone in the common room passed around sweets. She moped while cordially turning down an invitation to Nearly Headless Nick's deathday party. She moped through the evening feast and later while she brushed her teeth. She moped in her sleep.

The next day, she moped while she considered the possibility that her aunt's hostility would undo the progress she'd made with her parents over the summer.
But that thought came tied up with a possible solution: Well, not quite a solution per say – a temporary reprieve. She knew someone around whom it was quite impossible to be sullen, for he simply wouldn't allow it. She knew someone who was overwhelmingly likable and talked unabashedly through uncomfortable moments.

The idea came to her late in the afternoon while she'd been in the library looking for spells that could fake illness well enough to fool McGonagall. She took off for the common room at once, praying that Theo hadn't already made plans for the entirety of the holidays. Surely, Luna and Malfoy hadn't usurped all his time –

Lady luck really had it in for her.

In the common room, Theo was lying upside down on the sofa... deep in conversation with Malfoy. And she'd only noticed the latter when she'd covered a fair bit of her purposeful march towards her target.
So the scene was as such: Theo's upside-down face watching her curiously and Malfoy's angry face eyeing her threateningly, while she stood panting and frazzled before them.
"What is it, Hermi–" Theo began.
"Go away."
She huffed, ignored Malfoy, and said, "May I have a word with you, Theo?"
"No, you may not."
"Sure," Theo murmured and he straightened.
"Theo," Malfoy growled.
"It'll only take a minute," Hermione said, still addressing Theo alone.
"It can wait!" Malfoy barked decisively.
"No, it can't!" Hermione snapped. For all she knew, Malfoy could've been cementing Theo's holiday plans the moment before she'd interrupted them.
Theo stood up. "Um?"
"Over there," Hermione gestured to the opposite corner of the room.
"Alri–"
"Sit back down, Theo."
Incensed, Hermione rounded on Malfoy. "What is your problem?"
"You know very well what my problem is, you –"

"SHUT UP!" Theo howled. "Shut up, shut up! Fuck you – both of you. I've had enough of your sodding pointless belligerence, pissing on me like a pair of territorial crups. I am so sick of both of you... I... I can't even look at you right now. Argh!"
As he furiously swiped at his bag and shouldered it, Hermione asked in a timid voice: "Where are you going?"
"To Luna," he snapped, "My sweet, wonderful, amiable Luna, who's honestly the only person in the world who makes sense to me anymore."
Malfoy muttered, "She's got potions for the next –"
"SO WHAT? I'd rather sit outside the lab, on the frozen dungeon floor for forty-five minutes than be around either of you for even a second longer. Fare-fucking-well."

The entire room was witness to her disgrace. When Theo had stormed off, a dozen pair of eyes stared at her standing and blinking down at her feet in shame. She began a slow and contrite shuffle towards her room, not daring to look up.

"This is your fault."
Ooooh, she was going to hex him till he was nothing but primordial ooze.
"My fault?!" She wheeled around and spat, "My fault?"
"YES!" Malfoy stood up and glared daggers at her. "You're the one who barged into the room and demanded he do as you say. And he always fucking does as you say. I don't know what sort of hold you have on him, but –"
"I do not –"
"It's not right!" Malfoy thundered, "You take advantage of him! We were just fine, sitting over here before you stuck your oar in. Everything was fine before you –"
"What absolute rot –"

"Would you give it a rest?!"

It was Neville of all people, shouting at them to cut it out. She looked at him, and the sea of unimpressed faces behind him: Dean, Hannah, Padma, Tracy, Anthony, Justin...
"Sorry," she mumbled and walked away, not sparing Malfoy another glance.

She really hated it when Theo was upset with her.
Just like the other times it'd happened, she shot him frequent repentant peeks and racked her brains to figure out how to set things right.

"I'm sorry," she whispered to him during the walk from Greenhouse one to the Transfiguration classroom.
"Hmph," he grunted and then kept determinedly silent as she rambled on about how quirky she found the dung beetles that hid in manure sacks.

Over dinner, she observed Malfoy employing a similar tactic. He was waving his fork about as he talked and talked and talked, and Theo kept his eyes on his plate and chewed disinterestedly.

Clearly, things could not go on that way.

Two days of torment passed. Hermione had forgotten about her aunt... and all her previous predicaments. She stopped wondering what excuses her parents had made up for their year-long absence, or whether her last charms assignment was truly, completely perfect.

That night, she sat at her desk in her room, wearing her dad's old uni jumper, tapping a pen against a blank parchment. Grids and schedules hovered around her, and she examined them all carefully, many times over, before she began to write.

xxx

It was three in the morning when her work was finally complete. She fell back into bed, but the nervy energy that filled her wouldn't let her so much as close her eyes.

Time crawled.
She plaited and undid her hair.
She read poetry.

My hands are stone, and my voice a groan,
And the worst of death is past.
I am but a little maiden still,
My little white feet are sore.
Oh, lift me over the threshold, and let me in at the door!

When the first hint of dawn arrived, she slithered out for her run, using the time to screw her patience to the sticking-place (so she'll not fail.)

One shower, three pep-talks, and six anxious gulps later, she was walking across the common room to the boys' dorms. Seven-thirty according to her watch. It was a crisp November morning with a perfect square of sunlight spreading across one side of the room. Warm light kissed the tops of furniture and caressed the drapes on the walls – a metaphor for hope, she dared to believe.

I have confidence in sunshine, she thought as she climbed upstairs and marched down a dim, door-lined corridor. When she stood before the door that read Draco Malfoy, she thought, I have confidence in confidence alone!

So why don't you knock?

Besides, which you see, I have confidence in me!

Hermione tapped her knuckles against the door, quickly, 1-2-3-4-5 times, then wrapped her hands tightly around the strap of her satchel and waited.
At first, a loud thump sounded through the wood, followed by a muffled oath. Then footsteps, getting louder by the second –
The door was pulled open with some aggression, and Malfoy with disarmingly tousled hair and a wonkily buttoned shirt stood before her, wearing a sneer – a sneer that promptly morphed into a very thorough scowl.
"What the bloody fuck are you doing here?"
Hermione straightened her spine and lifted her chin. "We have to figure out this whole situation with Theo."
His scowl – impossibly – deepened. "We?"
"Yes. We don't agree on many, many things, Malfoy, but I'm sure you're as averse to upsetting Theo as I am."
"I'm sure I – huh." He cut himself off and considered her through narrowed eyes. "I suppose you have a plan?"
She ignored how sarcastic and sceptical he sounded, and simply replied, "Yes."
"Well let's hear it," he drawled.
"Can I come inside?"
"Absolutely not!"
"Then where do you suggest we have this conversation?" Hermione's grip on her satchel strap tightened.
"Right here."
"Are you serious?!" She looked pointedly at the closed doors around them. People would be emerging for breakfast any time now...

His intense scowl re-emerged as he appeared to struggle with himself for a moment or two, after which he growled, "Wait here," and slammed the door in her face.
It didn't take her long to get over the shock of that move, and she was soon fighting the urge to blast his bloody door down. He was far too odious and pugnacious for this to work. She ought to just walk away... what had she been think–

The door reopened and Malfoy walked out, dressed in proper school robes with relatively tidier hair.
"Come on," he muttered, and led the way back to the common room and towards –
"We're going to the snogging room?!" she blurted.
Malfoy's face twisted with horror. "To talk. Don't get any ideas, Granger."
"Ugh," she spat, "I wasn't even think–"
"I'm warning you, if you try anything, I'll –"
"Stop that right now!" she yelped, "What if it's already, er, occupied?"
"Then obviously we'll have to go somewhere else. Idiot."
He began climbing faster, and she trotted along to keep up. "Why can't you just talk normally? You said – you said you'd be civil –"
"You irritate the fuck out of me, Granger. I can't help it. Not that you've been very civil either –"
"Well, that's because you –"
"Oh, look we're here," he declared loudly over her, "And see, not a soul in sight. Now out with it. Tell me what your supposedly brilliant mind has come up with."

The snog –– The room was awash with light that poured in through its large circular window. Standing in that bright little cone Hermione shot Malfoy a look of pure poison as she pulled a parchment out of her bag.
"I've made us a schedule," she said through her teeth, "Divided the week – equally – between the two of us, so that we each get time with Theo without ever stepping on each other's toes. As you can see, the weekends are a bit open –"
"You're joking."
Malfoy was looking at the parchment contemptuously. Hermione took a moment to bite the insides of her cheeks before she ground out, "I am not."
"You think you can decide what I want to do with my time?"
"I assume you want to spend it with Theo!" she hissed.
"Yes," he spat, "I want to spend time with Theo when I want to spend time with Theo. Not when you've decided it's okay."

Deep. Breaths. Hermione.
That's it.

"I didn't decide – gah. I looked over all our timetables very carefully, alright? Yours, Theo's, and mine. I've taken into consideration when the best time for flying is, and when –"
"Ah, so you've even decided when I'd like to go flying, is it?"
"For fuck's sake, Malfoy!" Hermione exclaimed. And she stamped her foot. Like a bloody child.
His eyebrows shot up in surprise.
"Would you prefer that we keep going this way then? Playing tug-of-war with that poor boy until he decides we're not worth the trouble anymore? Look, I get it. You – you resent me. But the fact is, I'm not going anywhere, he doesn't want me going anywhere, and you're just going to have to deal with it. This –" she flapped her parchment roughly, "This is a way out of this mess. Would you at least look at it?"

Oh, he was furious. His eyes were mere slits and his cheeks were flaming. But Hermione felt her face burning too – she knew she looked no better.
"Why even bother showing it to me?" he rasped, "If it's such a great plan, you should go straight to Theo and save the day. As is your wont, right?"
She sucked in a breath and looked towards the peaked ceiling. "I believe it will go down much better if we put up a united front."

That drew a laugh out of him; a strained, humourless laugh. She levelled her gaze back onto him and saw that his face had gone utterly blank, and he was staring at her parchment again. A slight disturbance caught her eye, and she looked down to see him tapping non-existent piano keys against the side of his leg. His hand twitched... clenched... and lifted.

"Show it here."

Hermione counted the rafters hanging above as Malfoy took his time going over her hard work. She was strung so tight, waiting for him to tear it apart; literally even.
But eventually, all he said was, "I'm not free on Thursday evenings."
"Okay," she breathed, "Is Wednes–"
"Yeah."
"So shall we go to Theo now?"
"Fuck no," Malfoy groaned dramatically, "I need a barrel of strong tea and a solid breakfast after dealing with so much of... you."
Hermione sniffed. "So after Arithmancy? We all have a free –"
"Nope. I have plans." He turned away and continued to talk as he strutted obnoxiously towards the exit. "I'll be in the common room around six. Make sure you add that to your schedule."

At 5:56pm, sharp, she stood at the base of the stairs leading to the boys' dormitories, parchment in hand, tapping her foot as each second passed. Malfoy wandered into the common room at 6:07pm, greeted her with a weary sigh, and proceeded to stomp up the steps wordlessly.
"You're late," she grumbled as she followed.
He ignored her.
When they arrived at Theo's room, they both, simultaneously raised their hands to knock, and the resulting, unnecessarily cacophonic rap had Theo pulling his door open with an alarmed, "What the hell?"

And when he saw the two of them standing there, he said, "What... the... hell?"

Hermione cleared her throat. "Hi."
He gaped between her and Malfoy. "Hi?"
"Could we come in? We'd like to talk to you."
Looking adorably gobsmacked, Theo wheezed, "What? Both of you?"
"Yeah," Malfoy replied, "We're presenting a united front."
Hermione could hear the smirk in his voice. Her hand (the one that wasn't holding her precious schedule,) curled into a fist.
"I'm scared," Theo blurted. But he moved aside to let them through.

Theo's room was exactly like hers... but terribly messy. His chair was piled high with clothes, his desk was littered with open books and quills and parchment. His bed was rumpled.

"Merlin, what a wreck," Malfoy remarked, "Were you practicing conjuring tornadoes in here?"
"Bugger that," Theo snapped with impatience. "What's going on?"
He perched himself on the arm of his over-burdened chair and looked at his unexpected guests with frank curiosity.

Hermione sighed. "Well, first, I want to say I'm really sorry... again... for putting you in such an uncomfortable situation... again."
She waited for Malfoy to echo her sentiment, but (of course) he didn't. So she went on. "Here. I think this should make life easier for you."

It was difficult to stop herself from wringing her hands while Theo scanned the schedule. It was equally difficult to keep from checking if Malfoy's expression was as disdainful as she thought it might be.

The suspense ended when Theo looked up, lips twitching bemusedly, and said, "You've made us a timetable."
"Yes," she muttered, "I just thought that it's a fair and practical way to manage this situation. Do you, er, disapprove?"
"Of course not!" He grinned. "It's such a perfectly Hermione thing to do – and hence, perfectly perfect."
"So you don't mind that she's dictating how you spend your day?" Malfoy asked incredulously.
"No," he shrugged, "This is basically how I want to spend my day anyway."
Hermione beamed.
"Seriously?" Malfoy spat, "You don't find it at all obnoxious?"
"I think this is great. And it's a whole lot more than you've done."

Hermione simply had to look at Malfoy then. His affronted expression did not disappoint.
"Just because I'm not presumptuous enough to–"
"HA HA HA," said Hermione.
His head snapped towards her with a dangerous glare, but before he could retort, Theo jumped to his feet.
"Oh look. I have an hour of Hermione-time now. Jolly good. Spiffy. Come on, buddy."

He grabbed her arm and dragged her out the room, past stony-faced Malfoy. He pulled her downstairs, right across the common room... and out... and didn't stop till they'd left the eighth year tower far behind.

Malfoy could stick his condescension somewhere unpleasant and painful, because Hermione's schedule worked wonderfully. In the weeks that followed, she spent many tranquil hours with her best friend, without any aggravating interruptions. She even got to ask him to visit her at her aunts over the hols, and he'd agreed with his usual aplomb.
And in the hours when she knew Theo was with Malfoy, she made sure she stayed far away from all the places they might be, lest the mere sight of her may instigate Malfoy's chronic irritability. Studying with Padma... sitting with Neville at the quidditch stands, watching Dean, Ginny and the rest of the quiddich team practice... or just curling up peacefully in her favourite corner of the library.

Life would have been good, lovely even, save for the fact that Bellatrix's wand was suddenly being ever, ever, ever so slightly resistant to her commands. She felt twitchy when she held it, and her magic didn't flow as smoothly and effortlessly as it should. A new, sickening ordeal set up shop in her life.
It was a horrible helpless compulsion that kept her going back and back and back again to that wand, while a simultaneous revulsion built up inside, tossing and turning till she was forced to hide the wand away from her sight.
One night she woke up shaking, sweating, teeth clenched – emerging from a nightmare that hadn't visited her in quite some time. She sat back against the headboard with her arms drawn tightly around her knees, trying to calm herself down as moonbeams glanced off the wand at her bedside. She used her wandless abilities to send it flying inside the drawer of her dresser.

And for the rest of the long night, she sat in that same position trying not to stare at the drawer. She focused on the photographs that she'd stuck above her desk: One of her with her parents, with Harry and Ron, with Ginny, with Theo...

Moonlight and laughter.

She hid behind her hands.

Harry, Ron, and George visited again on Saturday, for the first quiddich match of the season. Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff. They ate breakfast at the Great Hall, causing quite a stir among the student body.
Everybody stared. Harry grumbled. Ron preened. Hermione stirred sugar into her tea.

"Oh shit. Shit. Shit. We have to leave." Harry exclaimed suddenly, "Slughorn's coming – shit – we have to leave."
He shot out of the hall like a rocket, and cackling, the rest of them followed.

"Good weather for a game," George commented, tilting his head heavenwards.
"Yeah," Ron agreed wistfully.
Harry slung his arm around Ginny and kissed the top of her head. "Best of luck. And don't let the fact that you're just the girlfriend of the greatest seeker Hogwarts has ever seen stress you out."
"Just the girlfriend?" Ginny shoved him away. "Just the girlfriend?!"

Theo and Luna were waiting for them by the stands, him looking half-embarrassed, half-amused by Luna's outrageous lion hat.
Whether it was by design, or shrewd planning on Harry's part, (Hermione suspected the latter,) she ended up next to Ron. She sat stiff as a board, giggling perfunctorily as George asked Luna if she could make more hats like that for him to sell at his shop.

"Does it do anything besides roaring?"
"Try tickling his nose."
"Tickling his – ARGH! Fucking thing bit me!"
"See, it does that too."

"Heh," Ron whispered to her, "Always liked Luna."
"Oh sure," she replied wryly, "Me too."
He gave her that silly awkward smile of his and –

– And the crowd roared as both teams soared in.

The match didn't last very long, with Gryffindor dominating the entire time. And when Ginny caught the snitch after performing a rather spectacular dive, she swooped close to the stands to present Harry with a gloating v-sign.
He blew her a kiss in return.

It appeared to be getting colder and colder by the day.

Hermione's morning runs had to be pushed as the sun got terribly sluggish about rising. She barely had time to squeeze in a hasty shower and a quick breakfast before racing off for her lessons. Lessons during which she could do nothing but endure the malevolence thrumming through Bellatrix's wand.
No book on wandlore could explain why a wand would start acting up for no reason. Although, it wasn't actually malfunctioning in anyway; it was just unbearably repellent to her.

It led her to believe that perhaps, it was all purely psychological.

She watched, with hollow and sunken eyes, as November turned into December. Right as the hour passed and another wave of nausea bled into her through the wand in her hand, she knew what she was going to gift herself that Christmas.

Fucking release.

Sat by the window with their legs, like sunflower stalks, reaching towards the warmth of the sun, Hermione and Theo were busy with Ancient Runes.
Well, Hermione was certainly busy, and she decided to give Theo the benefit of the doubt. Her quill and mind were racing at too fast a pace for her to actually pay him close enough attention. An anecdote from the life of Brân the Blessed was slowly taking shape on her parchment.

"Why are you all done up like a dog's dinner?"

Hermione glanced at Theo in confusion... but he wasn't talking to her.
Malfoy was wearing black robes that fitted his frame like a dinner jacket. His hair was slicked back – not plastered to his skull like it used to be, but loosely.
"I'm going out," he said. Then he smirked at Hermione, "So don't worry, Granger. You can wipe that constipated look off your face."
She scowled.
"Not much better."
"Hold on," Theo interjected, "What do you mean you're going out?"
"To Hogsmeade." Malfoy arched his brow. "I have a date."
"You have a date?! Since when are you dating?"
"It's been known to happen," Malfoy replied snootily.
"No – but –" Theo's mouth opened and closed soundlessly a few times. "With whom?"
"Mandy Brocklehurst."
"Who in the living fuck is Mandy Brocklehurst?"
"As if you don't know."
"I don–"
"Our year. Ravenclaw. Dark hair. Gorgeously long set of pins." Malfoy looked disturbingly pleased with himself.
"Since when have you been seeing Mandy Broccoli-whazzit?!" Theo demanded.
Malfoy's smile slipped and he narrowed his eyes. "Been a week or so."
"A week!" (Theo's voice squeaked alarmingly at 'weeks'.) "And you're telling me now?"
"How long did it take you to tell me about Luna?"
"That's not the same thing!"
"Isn't it?"
"No!"

Malfoy shrugged and walked away, waving over his shoulder as Theo called him to OI STOP!
"I don't believe this!" he fumed as he glared at the door Malfoy had just disappeared behind. "I don't fucking believe this."
Torn between the desire to be sensitive and the desperate urge to laugh, Hermione bit the insides of her lips and asked, "Hmm?"
"Honestly!" he thundered as he spun back around to face her, "Who the hell is Mandy Bowtruckle?"
"Brocklehurst. She's in four of your classes, Theo."
"Gah," he choked, "Draco isn't supposed to be with a sodding Bowtruckle!"
"Brockle–"
"I DON'T CARE!"
Bless him, he looked so peeved. She really mustn't laugh. "Who's he supposed to be with then?"
Theo muttered under his breath.
"Huh?"
"Have you figured out page thirteen yet? What's this bloody rune that looks like a ruptured bollock?"
"Ahem. Let me have a look..."

They only worked after that. He remained grouchy as hell, and she was completely nonplussed.