Author: Ladyfun

Pairing: HG-DM friends

Rating: Generally T

Disclaimers: All of this (Ladyfun gesturing big wide circles over the computer with her hand) belongs to J.K. Rowling. I own nothing, and this is all for non-profit fun.

SUMMARY: For the Quiddich Leauge Fanfic competition. What is Draco holding back from Hermione? Draco-Hermione friendship.

A/N: Written for Round 9 /Season 2 of the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition. Position is Beater 2 for the Wigtown Wanderers. Prompt: Riddle's Diary. Optional prompts used: (word) Possible; (emotion) Annoyed; (emotion) Lonely

Round 9-Love for the Captain

Title/Link: Second Chances

Team: Wigtown Wanderers

Position: BEATER 2/ Draco Malfoy-Holding Back

He remembers every detail about that event; every bloody, painful detail.

It was in their 5th year, and he was the star potions student; of course, it didn't hurt that Slytherins generally taught the class, and the classroom was in the dungeons, for Pete's sakes! Going into finals, he was neck in neck with Her-Whine-ony Granger, the Goody-Two-Shoes Gryffindor mudblood; and if it weren't bad enough that Zabinini and Pans were giving him grief, well, it extended to his family as well.

A mother-son lunch had "been arranged," during his Hogsmeade weekend.

"You're not going to let that mud-muggleborn, best you, dear? It would be rather embarrassing for your father, Draco. If at all possible, you need to find a way to end up on top." His mother cautioned.

"I know, Mother!" He said, annoyed.

Really? He thought to himself. Grown up wizards had nothing better to do than worry about the marks of a few children?

Elegantly daubing her mouth with her linen napkin, She lowered her voice, so that only he could hear. "Draco," She hissed."It makes it very challenging for your father, if a case is being made that certain classes of citizens are sub-optimal, shall we say, and one of those in question bests his own pure-blood son!"

"She's bested a lot of people's pureblood sons, and daughters!" He groused.

"That's just it, don't you see? If you can put her in her place, so to speak, it would do much to help Lucius regain favored status..."

Draco fought the urge to roll his eyes, because really, what good would that do? This conversation had been predestined, and it was irrelevant, he knew, as to what his opinion might actually offer.

The simple truth was, Hermione was a machine. A lean, mean, studying machine. She was a human encyclopedia, spitting out facts and answers left an right; she would wear you down with her persistence. He was not, nor would he ever be.

But...he was good at potions; he was proud of that. He grew nervous when he heard his mom day she and Mrs. Zabini and Mr. Parkinson had "brainstormed" a few ideas. But instead, he smiled wanly and he promised his mom he would "take care of the problem."

XOXOXOXOXOXO

"Zabaini? Pans? What is that?"

They stood before him, breathless, in the Room of Requirement where they demanded he meet them. "What does it look like, Malfoy? Its one of the final potions for end of the year marks!"

Draco grew even more annoyed, if that was possible. "Merlin's beard, you arse! I know that's what it is! I mean, what is it that you are doing with it?" He demanded.

The dark haired Slytherin boy had a malevolent grin, and looked at his partner in crime, Pansy Parkinson. Sounding as though it was Christmas morning, he blurted out, "It's Hermione Granger's final potion, that was supposed to sit in the warm bath for 24 hours!"

"Wow, its really a deep purple..." He commend, realizing his had not come close to even that hue. With that he felt a hard whack! on his arm. "Hey!"

"Quit being such a git!" Pansy's annoyed voice broke out. " We got it for you, now, you know what to do, Malfoy." Her voice reeked with malevolence. "The jinx is only going to last another 20 minutes on that stupid proctor, watching the lab, so you have to move fast!"

"Why don't you two do it? You got the damn thing!"

Blase rolled his eyes. "Because we're not your house-elves, Malfoy! We got it for you, excuse us for thinking you had to do a little damn work to get your 1st in class award in potions! You sabotage it, and return it to the lab, yourself!"

So this is what his mother meant, in terms of "help," Draco thought, ironically. Purebloods, turned terrorist. Turned common thieves! All to prove that muggleborns are "stealing" true wizards' magic. How ironic.

"Oh. Ok-Okay." He said, taking the beaker from them and the bubbling caldron. He collected his expression. "I know exactly what to add to this! Should blow up, right in the mudbloods face, actually!"

"Wicked!" Zabinini said with a grin. "Alright mate, leaving you to it. C'mon, pans!"

They headed out of the room, but Pansy lingered, momentarily. She regarded the lonely boy who used to be her best friend. She felt bad for all the pressure everyone was putting on him...for one hot second. Deciding sympathetic gestures were best left to the weak and the Gryffindors, she left, uttering one parting salvo over her shoulder in parting: "Twenty minutes, Draco! And we're not taking the fall for you, got it?"

"No worries, I just need to mix up a few things here, before I go!" He said, authoritatively, in response. "Room of Requirement, I need a Potions laboratory!"

As the room changed, his friends wished him a good luck, and the door shut.

Draco hit his head on the table, saying "Shit, shit, shit!" Over and over.

XOXOXOXOXOXO

Dobby was tugging, frantically, on her arm. "Miss Hermione! You need to come with Dobby, now! Alone!" His eyes were big and worried.

"Oh, okay?" Hermione said, from her secret corner of the library. "Should we tell Harry and Ron-"

"No!" Screeched Dobby. "Ms. Hermione must come...alone."

And he took her arm, and used elfin magic to transport her via apparition her to the room of requirement. Hermione walked off his arm, and he was gone. The blinked her eyes, the room dark. As her vision accommodated, she realized this was probably a very bad idea. She jumped, startled, realizing she wasn't alone, as a sole voice spoke.

Recognizing the voice, she confirmed that it was absolutely a bad idea.

Draco, looking haggard and years older than his actual chronological age, stepped out from behind a potions bench. "Granger." He said, dully.

"Malfoy." She replied, neutrally.

"I..." he trailed off, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Oh, Merlin's beard, this is such a colossally bad idea!" He growled, to himself.

"Hopefully that covers taking me hostage, imperiousing me, setting fire to my hair-"

"Stop!" He said, angrily. "I should be planning those things, and thinking that way, honestly! I don't know what the hell has come over me, lately. I..."

Hermione's eyes darted around the Room of Requirement, noting its appearance, and nodding, impressed. "I have to admit...I am well, surprised at your resourcefulness, Malfoy! I should have thought of using this, instead of begging Professor Snape for after hours passes."

He shrugged. "Well, it doesn't have all the rare ingredients for potions class, the advanced stuff. That's off limits, without a certified handler, like Snape."

She switched topics. "How'd you get Dobby to come get me, Malfoy? Did you threaten him?" She said, warily.

He felt his ire rise at her words. Honestly, she made it so easy for people to despise her, really! He thought to himself. He watched as her eyes narrowed, as though she saw his thoughts. He quickly threw up his walls that were inadvertently down from fatigue.

"You despise me, because I don't want to see a creature abused, Malfoy? That's the problem with you pureblo-"

He cut her off. "No, that's not why, but way to show your predjuices, Golden Girl! You just assumed I did something vile, when in fact, I merely asked him if he had time to help."

Hermione looked at him, incredulously. "Help? With what?"

He lived up the cauldron, shaped as a flask in his hand. "With this."

She looked around, nervously. "Uh, is that mine, Draco?"

"yes."

"Why do you have it, as opposed to the water bath it was assigned to in Snape's classroom?" She asked, calmly .

"I...uh..." his head fell.

Hermione calmly sat down at the bench, no malice or anger in her face, whatsoever. Hermione wasn't just book smart, anymore; these past few years with the Order had taught her to read people. And from what she could intuit, Draco was on the precipice of disaster, and her losing it wouldn't help him with this turmoil he was dealing with.

Instead, she spelled two butter beers, and some cheese, apples, and crackers on a plate. "Here," she offered the sullen boy. "I promise not to lick your glass, so you won't get muggleborn cooties." She grinned, which he returned, weakly.

He looks like he hasn't eaten in days, she observed.

"How did you get it such a deep purple?" He finally asked, after woofing down some food, and taking a long drink of the butter beer.

The brightest witch of her age gave a tiny shrug. "Eh, I used real ginger, instead of dried ginger or ginger paste."

"Wow, that's ..." His eyes went wide, realizing the genus of such a simple move. "...Wow." He stuffed four more crackers in his mouth, and polished off the last of his butter beer.

Hermione looked at him. "Who put you up to this, Malfoy?"

"Who didn't?" He sighed. "Everyone!"

The Golden Girl sighed. "Harry didn't, for one! Ron didn't, for another! Dean Thomas... Luna Lovegood... shall I go on?"

"What's your point? Everyone besides the Gryffindorks."

"The term 'Everyone' is a very strict assumption, Malfoy! More importantly, why are you giving it back...intact? I read your mind. It's clean...you didn't do anything to it. Other than not having an even warming milieu for the last hour, it's fine. What gives?"

He was standing up, looking outside the window to determine if they were being watched. Reassuring himself they weren't, he spoke in a low tone. "Because when I beat you in potions, it will be because I beat you, not some trumped up crap by hooligans to stack the deck for my crazy parents and their-" He stopped abruptly, realizing he said too much.

Hermione looked shocked. Quietly, she spelled summer sausage with the cheese and crackers, and they munched in silence, for awhile.

"She's not always like this, you know."

"Who?" Hermione said, her mouth full. "Um, excuse me."

He nodded. "My mother."

Hermione didn't rub it in, she didn't call him a filthy Death Eater or any such like insults towards his mother. Surprisingly, he didn't rush to leave once the potion was handed over, either. They had moved on to summer sausage and the second round of butter beer, instead. A small miracle happened, that night; he started talking to her, honestly, as long as she swore on Harry's life not to tell anyone nor try to "convert" him to the light. It was such a relief, as he told her of the inordinate pressure that was being put on him to be perfect and not let the "mudblood" beat him. The fear everyone had, these days; the loss of any happiness, truly.

"Blimey, Malfoy!" Hermione said, after herring about his third crucio at the hands of "well-meaning" teachers. "I used to feel sorry for myself that my parents didn't understand the wizarding world, and have magic; now I think I got it all wrong. Perhaps its worse if they do!" She shook her head.

He looked at her. "How is that any different than muggle's spanking their kids? That's even more inhumane!"

"Newsflash, Malfoy: they don't all do that."

"They don't?"

"Nope."

"Yours didn't?" He looked at her, in disbelief, as she shook her head, no.

"You know what, Malfoy? I do know lots of wizard families, and very few that I know of, have used the Crutaciaus curse on their own children! I would estimate... like less than 3 percent." She guessed.

Draco felt a surge of emotion - angry, hurt, lonely; but one thing he wouldn't tolerate, was this subtle jab at his family by the mud- muggleborn. He retorted, furiously, "That's because you know blood traders! And half breeds! And -"

Hermione remained calm, raising her hand. "Cool it, with the propaganda, Malfoy! Look," she pointed between them, "Here in the faux Potions room, its just you, me, and this one last lonely piece of summer sausage! No one cares. Furthermore, of the pureblood families, the 97% that aren't crucio'ing their kids, I guarantee have their own problems, in some other way."

He stuffed it in his mouth, chewing, angrily.

"It's just not cursing their children. So, then, Beetle the Bard... instead of internally combusting, how about we think of a solution to the Potions conundrum?"

"What potions conundrum?" He said, not understanding.

She rolled his eyes. "You really should get some sleep, and not stay up all night raping and pillaging..." she said.

"I ... I don't rape." He replied, stilted, but unmistakably good-natured. "Just pillage."

"Oh! Okay. In that case, may I offer a solution?"

"I don't understand the problem!" He said, frustrated.

She rolled her eyes, now realizing that the ignoramus gene was squarely located on the Y chromosome and not a phenonomon unique to Harry and Ron. "Draco Malfoy! Your friends are expecting a fireworks display tomorrow in lab- what will they say if that doesn't happen? That you held back, you went soft! they'll call you a coward!"

"But that's what I did do, Granger...that's what I am." He said glumly.

"No!" She said with such firmness it startled them both. "Do you know what it took to hold back on vandalizing this potion? It took such courage and character, Draco! This might have been the bravest thing I've seen any student do all year...this year!" She was getting revved up, speaking with such passion. Weak people destroy the competition; strong people build them up...so they can have a worthy advisary!"

He felt a long forgotten feeling, bubble up to the surface, in himself. Pride.

"So, I propose this: You keep my potion. Tell them you swapped yours and mine, because mine was better. Thus, you expect to mark the higher score over me. I will look appropriate shocked, if necessary. That's better than doing something rather drastic like having it explode, which would have the teachers all over it before you could say Bellatrix Lestrange is Deranged, 5 times fast!"

He gave her a warning look.

She grinned. "Okay, sorry! No politics. But she is deranged..."

"On that, I don't disagree." He said. He looked reflective. "You'd do that, Hermione? Turn in the lesser potion?"

She looked at him thoughtful. "Well...not exactly. I said I'd let you turn in mine."

"I don't follow..."

"Well, when I pre-read the lab, and saw we had a step involving a 24 hr water bath incubation, I knew what that could mean. It would be fraught with possible...comprimise."

He nodded.

She looked back at him, with a grin. "What makes you think...I only brewed one, Draco?"

He squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head in disbelief. She was so out of his league, it wasn't even funny. He opened his eyes as a soft hand cupped his cheek.

"And that, people, is why our side is going to win, Mr. Malfoy!" She said, matter of factly as she removed her hand, and left the room. "Try to get some sleep, would you?"

He nodded, as he watched her leave.

XOXOXOXOXOXO

Things had only gotten more strained in the world, as the end of the year came to a close. Despite the unrest, as Draco was packing his things into his green steamer trunk, he couldn't help but to feel a little happiness and a little dazed that things had shook out the way they did, academically.

He had tied for first, with Hermione "Brainiac" Granger, in Potions!

All because he scored 1 point better than she did on the last final of the class. One piddly point! As he turned to go, a small owl pecked at his window with an envelope that was marked "confidential - Mr. Draco Malfoy, eyes only" on it.

Curious, he ripped open the envelope, stunned to find Hermione Granger's potion final in it.

He scanned it, and saw the point that she missed on the exam. His stomach sank:

"True or false: to optimize the Leveatavious potion, one should use fresh ginger.

Hermione had answered false. False! She did this on purpose! She had thrown her final, by one point, in order to enable the tie. All of a sudden, the test evaporated and a small note was left in his hand:

As you can see, I held back, this time. So now we're even, and can go into whatever the future holds in debt to no one, if you follow my meaning. You held back, I held back. Even steven. Although I hope that someday, on the other side, we could maybe have another butter beer again. Good luck, secret Lion. I promise to never tell anyone how brave you really are. -H

-FIN.