Hermione liked to think she was intelligent, in fact she knew she was. But Harry's and Draco's friendship was a complete mystery. After all, the two boys had hated each other for so long. Harry didn't even hate Voldemort as much as he hated the blond.

Hermione herself didn't hate Malfoy, strongly disliked him, sure, but she didn't hate him like Harry did. So seeing the two together, interacting without fighting, or even just arguing, was extremely odd, disturbing even.

A week after the whole 'mudblood' incident (honestly, Hermione didn't know how Harry could stand the Slytherin), Harry was still not talking to Malfoy. Although it seemed that it was bothering Harry more then it was Malfoy, as her friend seemed to have returned to his depressed state. With Malfoy around, Harry's twitch had disappeared, and his laugh was real. Harry seemed to be his pre-Voldemort self. Well, Malfoy had always been the only one to create such huge emotional changes in Harry, not even she and Ron could.

Head angled away from Malfoy, Harry would stare at him through the corner of his eyes, trying not to be obvious. Hermione noted that Harry was never more obvious then when he was trying not to be.

Harry was her best friend, and she thought she knew everything about him. She knew about how at first glance he seemed clumsy and insecure, but as you got to know him, there was a simple elegance to his every step. He thought about every outcome before he acted (except when someone was in danger, which was probably why he was in Gryffindor). So of course Hermione knew about Harry's obsession with Malfoy. The Slytherin had always been there since year one, not quite in the background (He would never allow himself to be a background character). Harry's obsession wasn't one sided however, Hermione assumed, as Malfoy had always gone out of his way to torment her poor friend.

Truth be told, Hermione was almost grateful for the git, as when Harry was down, so down not even Hermione or Ron could reach him, Malfoy would come around, make a few comments and the fire would come back to Harry's eyes. He would seemingly wake up, just to threaten (or act upon the threats) the blond. And even if it was just a brief moment, Harry would come back to them. That was the reason that Malfoy was still around, the reason that Hermione hadn't dealt with him earlier (although the punch in third year was pretty amazing).

Hermione maybe even respected Malfoy, as he was nearly as smart as her, and he forced Harry to study (Hermione had tried desperately, but Harry never listened). Sure, Malfoy was a right bastard, but he was intelligent, and had some good ideas. Hermione had even once considered what it would have been like if they had invited Slytherins to join Dumbledore's Army; Malfoy would have probably thought of more efficient ways to not get caught (if he didn't turn them in for personal gain).

So when the great Malfoy himself walked up to her in the common room, Hermione wasn't very surprised. The dark skinned girl put her book down, but kept her knees tucked up against her chest. "What do you want Malfoy?" she questioned, unable to keep a slight growl out of her voice.

The blond dipped his head, a sign of respect? "To..." He started, before scowling, "To apologise..." Hermione raised her eyebrows, "For calling you a, well you know."

"Can I ask you something Malfoy?" Hermione inquired, resting her legs down in a criss cross position. She looked up at the Slytherin from the white couch chair she sat on.

"Of course. Although I must tell you, I'm not available tonight, but tomorrow, if you can escape that horrid Weas-"

"No. I mean to ask you, your friend Zabini, would you ever dislike him because of skin colour?"

Malfoy looked positively shocked, "Just because he's black doesn't mean anything. Same with you!"

"Well, some people in the muggle world think people with darker skin are lesser, and should even be slaves."

"That's utterly ridiculous! You can't help your skin colour."

"Just like I can't help that my parents are muggles?" Hermione asked slyly.

The blond blushed, "That's different-"

"How?"

"Muggles hunted us, they killed us, just for having magic. And because halfbloods and mud- muggleborns are not nearly as powerful-"

"I'm not powerful? Harry's not powerful? Voldemort isn't powerful?"

Malfoy looked extremely uncomfortable, "As much as I'd like to have this debate," He composed himself, "I have places to be. Goodbye fair lady." He grabbed her hand, his slim fingers gripping hers, and bowed, kissing her hand.

"Malfoy-"

"Remember, that if you ever get bored of that ginger-"

"Never, at least never you," Hermione shooed him away, he did nothing but laugh carelessly before floating off.

Hermione turned back to her book, eyes skimming over the words but not really reading. Malfoy was extremely good at hiding his emotions, he'd cover everything up with a mask. But that was also how you knew something was wrong, Hermione thought, because the past week, with Harry not talking to the blond, he had acquired the mask, the same mask that adorned his face most of 6th year. Hermione reached the end of the page, and realised that she had no idea what she had just read.

A couple hours later a familiar voice spoke softly, "Mione'?"

She looked up, smiling, "Ron," scooting over on the small couch chair, she made room for her boyfriend. He sat down and Hermione scooted over again to make herself comfortable, until she was partially sitting on his lap, leaning back on his chest.

"You have that thinking look on your face," Ron said as he looked down at her. She looked back up at him, her head resting on his chest.

Hermione snuggled into him, his arm wrapping warmly around him. "Malfoy apologised to me. For calling me a Mudblood."

Ron grimaced, "I hate that word." He sighed, "At least he said sorry though."

"You know that whole what's the difference between race and blood status speech I have?" Hermione giggled, casting a nonverbal spell to keep her place in the book at the same time.

"Yeah, gave it to a couple first years didn't you?"

"I gave it to Malfoy!"

Ron burst into short laughs, which vibrated through his chest into Hermione. "What was his reaction?"

"His face got all red, and then he left abruptly and said he had places to be." Hermione laughed, "Serves him right, the prejudiced prat."

Ron stopped laughing, "He has changed though, hasn't he?" He looked down at Hermione again, in her soft sweater and light coloured jeans, "He apologised and isn't nearly as much as a git."

"Still a git."

"Still a git, but Harry's git. Harry's depressed again, now that they're ignoring each other."

"I don't think Harry stopped being depressed."

"But he was able to push it down when he was with Malfoy. You must have noticed that?"

"...Yes" Hermione said grudgingly.

"We need to get them to be friends again." Ron stated as Hermione sighed, "I don't like him too, but Harry needs him, for whatever reason."

"I know, I just wish I didn't know." Like she had said before, Hermione knew herself intelligent, but she didn't understand Harry and Malfoy. Not one bit.

/*/*/*/*/*/*

Okay little authors note, sorry for it being in the middle of the chapter.

If you're wondering like who the narrater is, it's Harry, just occasional Draco and Hermione and maybe Ron. But the main one is Harry. Also, this a Drarry fic, not Dramione, so the whole interaction with hermione and draco was not romantic at all, which is why i added a lot romione. Kay just saying.

love you guys.

/*/*/*/*/*/*

Harry was not moping. Harry was not a moper (Keep telling yourself that bud). No, Harry was not moping.

Okay, yes he was. But whatever. It didn't matter. Malfoy called her that word! No one calls Hermione that word. He hated that word (but he didn't hate Malfoy, oh no he didn't).

"Harry?" A whimsical voice appeared from behind the Gryffindor. "Your despros are back?"

He turned around, already knowing who it was, "Hi, Luna," He said awkwardly, "Is Ginny with you?"

She shook her head, "No, she's at quidditch." That's right, Ginny was playing seeker this year as he didn't want to. He loved the game, he loved the crowds cheering for Gryffindor, but he hated the crowds cheering for him, and he hated the other teams letting him win.

"Oh. Er..."

"Do you have more despros because of Draco? Because your not friends right now?"

"How do you know about that?"

"He told me. He was super sorry for calling Hermione that, by the way, he was just upset about his mum. And of course when he's upset he gets mean, he can't help it," The Ravenclaw glided towards the lake as she spoke, picking up a few rocks, before turning back to him abruptly, "I don't think I was supposed to tell you that."

"It's fine," Harry's inner instincts coming out.

"He said sorry to Hermione, did you know?" Instead of throwing the rocks like he thought she was going to, she instead pocketed them.

"He did?"

"Yeah, Yesterday I think."

"Luna?" She turned around at his call, "I have a question for you."

"Hmm?"

"What does he play?" Harry asked, "For you, I mean."

Luna smiled, "Oh, many things. The piano and the violin and the cello, but mainly the viola. He likes it best because it can go high but also low and deep. It's so very pretty."

"Thanks, Luna. I have to go now, sorry."

"It's fine. Bye. Oh, and your despros are starting to go away again."

Harry flicked the air in front of his head, "Are they?"

/*/*/*/*/*/*

The Gryffindor rushed up the Astronomy tower, only to find it empty. Heavy disappointment pressed against his chest. As he was about to leave, Malfoy appeared.

"Malfoy?"

"Potter."

"I heard you said sorry to Hermione?"

Malfoy brushed his hands through his hair, which Harry knew to be a sign of embarrassment (honestly, all one had to do was pay attention and you could learn anything [Oh, Harry, you know that's not it]). "But of course I did." (Another thing Malfoy did, he 'got' cocky when he was the opposite).

"Er... Good?" stuttered Harry, moving pas (the sign) and towards his regular standing place, which was right next to Malfoy's.

"Honestly Potter, we need to get you speech lessons." Malfoy muttered.

Harry looked down, there was a card, a muggle card. The queen of hearts? It was in the exact place he always stood when he came up here. Right by the opening in the tower, where he could lean against the railing and look out, the wind slapping his face. Malfoy however, sat on the ground a couple feet away from Harry's place, where he could still see out, but not get hit by the wind. "That's odd," Harry said.

"What's odd?" questioned Malfoy, turning to Harry, his loose blond hair shining in the soft sunlight. Malfoy was once again wearing skinny jeans, but a loose black sweatshirt with the sleeves pulled up to his elbows. His dark mark was black and ugly, and Harry was able to see the flowers up close. Each one had an intricate design, and Harry saw that each line was actually letters. Staining his eyes, Harry was able to read one, Colin Creevey. Slowly he realised that each line was the name of someone who died during the war. Harry wanted to do nothing more then grab the Slytherin's arm and read each name (It's not your fault Malfoy, don't punish yourself, it's my fault) but he resisted.

"The card," Harry indicated towards it.

"What card?" questioned Malfoy, confused.

"It's right there, Queen of Hearts," The Gryffindor reached out to grab it.

Malfoy thought out loud, "The Queen of Hearts?" Realisation hit him. He jumped towards Harry, "HARRY NO!"

Harry's fingers brushed the card, ever so softly.

And everything went white.