I know, I suck. I'm sorry but I made it extra long to make up for the time it took. I also realised that I can put in the lines so that should make it easier to split stuff up. Reviews are much appreciated. (Also when I uploaded this it messed with the font size and I can't seem to fix it so the subtitles/POV things aren't as big as they normally are.)

Chapter 13-Teaching

Draco's POV:

I wanted to pay attention to Professor Binns-I really did-but the dust swirling through the air was so much more interesting. Each tiny particle floated slowly, so slowly, through the air in no specific direction and without purpose; disappearing when they glided out of the range of one sunbeam and reappearing when they passed through a new one. If I hadn't been staring at the dust, there would be no other way to tell if time was still actually moving forward. All of the other students in the dimly lit room were either asleep or dead. None of them moved. Practically everyone's heads were resting on the table or on a pile of books. All except Granger of course. But that wasn't anything new.

Glancing over my shoulder at her, I could imagine her appearance before my eyes had even found the Gryffindor. Brown eyes bright; brow wrinkled in concentration; fingers tapping rhythmically against her quill; and maybe even the tip of her tongue jutting out from between her lips. I was right. When my gaze landed on her, she was indeed doing all of these-even the tongue thing. She was actually nodding to herself today as well. I added that to my mental list of weird things that she did. Granger was the only one listening. She was the only one ever listening. I didn't understand how she found the strength to do it every lesson.

Tearing my eyes from her, I turned back to Professor Binns. He still hadn't noticed that only one of his students was paying attention and that the rest had probably ceased to live. His misty figure floated against his desk, one hand wrapped around the edge of it and the other hand holding a book up close to his face.

I took to staring at his wispy beard instead of the dust. It was strange enough to occupy me. Although it was made from hair, it didn't flow or move like hair did-neither did the hair on the sides of his head-they stayed firmly locked in position. I had been around enough ghosts to know that this was normal but I had never been in a situation where examining their hair was the most interesting thing I could do. So I hadn't ever taken the time to fully notice what it was like.

The sound of shuffling roused me from my own mind.

Turning in my seat, I saw Granger stand as she packed away her books and nudged Potter-who was sat beside her-with her elbow to wake him up. Where was she going?

Confused, I faced Professor Binns again. But he had stopped drawling on and was floating through his desk towards the ancient chalk board behind it. His form shimmered slightly as he passed through a sunbeam that was pouring in through the long window; just like a cluster of dust. So then I glanced beside me at Blaise. He was half-asleep on the table, his parchment completely empty of any notes-like mine. I lifted a finer to prod him in the shoulder. There was no response.

"Blaise." I hissed under my breath, still unsure of what was going on. "Blaise you're drooling everywhere."

At this he displayed signs of life. His head snapped up, eyes dim and sleepy, and his hand went straight to his mouth to check for liquid. But of course nothing was there. I chuckled lightly as he glared up at me, his shoulders hunched over as if he was about to return to his slumber.

"Gentlemen, take your horseplay outside if you would." Professor Binns grumbled. I looked up to find him sweeping the room with his gaze, one eyebrow perched high.

"I did say that the lesson was over. What are you all still doing here?" No one moved. "Out?" He yelled, seeming unsure of himself. The volume of his voice made a few people jerk up in their seats-as Blaise had done-and many of them began to glance hesitantly around the room.

So that was why Granger had moved. No one else, myself included, had been paying enough attention to realise that he had declared the lesson over.

I jumped up happily from my chair, held my bag up to the edge of the table and swept my arm across the desk to knock all of my books and equipment inside it. If it was a mess I would fix it later. But right now I just wanted to get out of this dreary classroom. It was bad when the liveliest thing in your lesson was the dead teacher. Blaise followed my lead more slowly, still attempting to wake himself up.

"Oh wait Mr Malfoy, not you. You stay." Binns mumbled, rubbing notes off the chalk board and raising a hand into the air to catch my attention.

What? With a groan I hoisted my bag onto my shoulder and looked over at Blaise.

"See you later then." He shrugged, turning to leave the classroom with everyone else.

The old man seemed to be trying my patience as he waited for the room to empty before even acknowledging me. The crowd of pupils had all picked up their things-some not even bothering to place them inside of their bags-and had tried to make a swift escape through the door at the back of the room. But this had caused a cluster of students all trying to get through the tiny door at once. So the process was so slow. I grumbled to myself quietly as I watched them. They were all so stupid.

When everyone was finally gone, I turned to watch Professor Binns. Even though we were the last people in the room and I had another lesson to get to next, he was still taking his time to get to me. I watched, my eye beginning to twitch with frustration, as he glided slowly around the desk towards me. This made me seethe further. He could go through the desk and he fucking knew it.

"Mr Malfoy." He eventually said, pronouncing every syllable as if it were covered in some sticky substance that he had to lick off completely. "Please sit." His fingers motioned towards a chair.

"I'd rather not Sir, I've got another lesson to get to." I muttered through my teeth as politely as I could muster. This was quickly growing ridiculous. Instead I leaned back against the desk behind me, crossing my arms stubbornly over my chest.

"Of course." He nodded. He even did that slowly; it was as if he was bored with me. Well the feeling was mutual. My eyes roamed idly across his face. His forehead was extremely wrinkled and giant, bushy eyebrows rested above tired eyes. Could he even be tired if he was a ghost? Or had he just looked like that when he had died? He had high, pointed cheekbones with a hooked nose that held a pair of tiny spectacles at the edge. He looked thin and frail. And his expression seemed to be set in more of a scowl than usual-if that was possible.

"Now, I don't want to alarm you but your grades for my class are seriously low." He began. "I wouldn't be talking to you about it but the fact is that you don't pay enough attention in my classes; it's rather worrying. And I'm sure you know the penalties for prefects that fail to sustain their high grades. They have their badge revoked-and I'm sure that Professor Umbridge wouldn't want someone in her Inquisitorial Squad if they had bad grades either."

I leapt forward off the desk and stared incredulously at the faint, floating Professor.

"But no one else pays attention either! And I'm more awake than anyone else in your lessons! My grades can't be as bad as theirs!" I couldn't stop myself from yelling, it just slipped out. However, instead of getting angry like I imagined he would, he simply held up a hand in front of me.

"Mr Malfoy I will not discuss my students' grades with you. What other pupils are achieving is none of your concern."

I leaned back on the desk and glared heatedly at ground near his feet, my arms still crossed firmly over my chest. This was completely unfair. I was one of two people that had actually been awake today. Yes it was true that I hadn't been listening-hadn't ever listened really-but no one else did. Why should I be the only one getting punished? And his little speech had sounded completely rehearsed so he had probably been waiting for an opportunity to pounce on me.

"I don't care how you do it boy but improve those grades before I'm forced to inform someone higher up. I'll be checking tomorrow. Now off you go, you'll be late for your next lesson." He swished a hand towards the door, shooing me, before he turned back to face his chalk board and float towards it once again.

I pushed off the desk and stormed out of the classroom. How was I supposed to get my grades up when I had no idea what he ever spoke about? If he really wanted me to improve, he should at least give me some materials to do so. Or maybe try to make his lessons bearable. And 'checking tomorrow' clearly meant that he planned to give a surprise test. I couldn't even ask anyone to help me because they all hated his lessons as much as I did. But I couldn't let him win.

Hermione's POV:

"Granger!"

I tensed my jaw, my fingers tightening their grip around my books, and thought about stopping. But I didn't. Instead, I continued down the almost empty hallway, nodding at a few portraits that greeted me and keeping my head facing forward; determination coursing through me. I was almost at the Greenhouses-and he couldn't follow me into Herbology.

"Granger." The voice said again, softer this time-more of a mumble-as the blond Slytherin fell into step beside me. The thought of ignoring him again was extremely appealing. But that would be obvious now that he was so close-not to mention rude. Suppressing a sigh and still refusing to look at him, I answered.

"This is a little bit public don't you think Malfoy, I thought empty rooms and broom cupboards were your favourite places to ambush someone?"

This caused him to smirk slightly, I saw it as I glanced towards him for a second.

"Well today's full of surprises because I didn't think you ever left the library, isn't it your natural habitat?"

"Very original." I glared at him. "Also, since when have you done Herbology?"

"Herbology?" Raising an eyebrow, he looked down at me.

"Yes, that's where I'm going now and you seem to be going there too by the looks of things." I rolled my eyes and quickened my pace, keeping a firm grasp on my books and hoping that he would fall behind. He may have been civil the last time we had spoken but that didn't mean that I felt inclined to talk to him right now. Perhaps it was the calm and casual attitude that he was demonstrating but something about him was putting me on edge more than usual. This wasn't the typical way that he communicated with me. Even though I should probably be grateful that it was so different-and almost pleasant-to be talking to him while he was acting in this way, part of me still didn't like it. Had he been behaving like his normal self, I would know exactly how to react to him right now. But he wasn't; so I had no idea what I was supposed to do-or say. My head was beginning to buzz with the first signs of alarm bells, warning me off.

And if he made me late for my lesson I would have to hex him.

"No, I'm supposed to be in Divination." He shrugged as he-irritatingly-kept pace with me. So this interaction definitely was purposeful-for him at least; I had nothing to gain from any of this.

"Well that's in the opposite direction. So what do you want?"

"Actually-now that you mention it." He grinned, his grey eyes shining like silver. "Remember that time in the library when you asked me if I needed help with History of Magic?"

I stopped dead in my tracks. He hadn't been expecting it so he carried on walking a few paces ahead, causing him to have to retrace his steps back to me. Malfoy surveyed me with something similar to curiosity hidden in his features.

"Yes I do, but that was a one-time offer. Because you were struggling." I hissed under my breath as I grabbed the sleeve of his robes and pulled him backwards-towards the wall-so that we were both safely out of the way of passing students as they continued down the corridor. A spurt of anger bubbled briefly in my gut as I realised what he was going to ask. He had rather forcefully refused my offer last time; it was his loss.

Malfoy's eyes dropped to stare at my hand on his sleeve and his face screwed up in confusion for a fleeting moment before he jerked his arm away from my grasp.

"Haven't you ever heard of personal space Granger." He wrinkled his nose, taking a step away from me and leaning against the wall. "And anyway, I'm struggling more now."

"Since when do you admit to having trouble with anything?"

"Since the teacher decided to be a complete and utter prat by singling me out." The blond spat quietly, glaring at the floor in between us. Who does that sound like? I sighed, long and heavy.

"So what exactly are you asking?" I brought my hand up to my face and used my fingers to massage the bridge of my nose. I knew what he was asking-more or less-but making him say it himself would buy me some more time. Although, I didn't know what the time was for; I couldn't really say no to him when he'd approached me in a relatively nice way. And it wasn't like me at all to refuse someone when they needed assistance with something that I could give so easily.

"I need you to tutor me for History of Magic." Draco shrugged, not making eye contact. I scoffed; which caused him to glance at my face.

"I'm sorry Malfoy but isn't getting tutored by me just the oldest trick in the book for stalking someone?"

"I'm not stalking you Granger for fucks sake. Are you really trying to bring this up again?"

"Well you seem to be-you're everywhere that I am. And I won't be scared off from the places that I like to spend my time."

"I'm not trying to scare you off." His pale hands went to his head and he dragged all of his long fingers down his face in frustration. "I've explained this. I was in the library because it's a library. Other people have to use it sometimes too. And this is a totally different subject-I wouldn't even be asking you to do this if you weren't the only person in the entire class that pays any real attention."

His hands were back at his sides now, making fists, full of tension. And he was scowling at me. This had quickly gone sour. Still undecided-but very reluctant-I cast my gaze away from him, gnawing slightly on my lower lip. The hallway around us was empty now; nothing but the sound of our breathing filled the silence. Classes had started and I was late-he had made me late. I sighed; a mixture of frustration and weariness. But he must have taken it as a sign that he was winning me over, because the Slytherin boy continued to talk at me with newfound hope lining his voice and a wicked smirk stretching across his face.

"Come on, I'm only asking you to do it a few times so that I can improve my knowledge a bit and get Binns off my back. Besides, I haven't actually learnt anything from his class so really you're not tutoring me you're teaching me-which is different."

"Fine." I mumbled, looking back at him sternly. "First session-tomorrow after classes."

"No way." He shook his head, causing his white blond hair to fall sideways over his forehead.

"Why not?"

"Professor Binns is giving out a test tomorrow and I'm not too excited about failing it."

"So when?" I breathed, exasperated. The temptation to just lie on the floor right here and block him out was growing intensely. Not only had he somehow convinced me to spend my time teaching him something that he should have already learnt, but now he was apparently in charge of the timing-as if I would just have to be completely flexible. He was incorrigible.

"Today. I have Quidditch practise after classes but there's a break after half an hour of training so come to the pitch and we'll sit in the stands and work until the end of the break. Then you can leave." He nodded, expecting me to agree whole-heartedly.

"Yes master." I frowned. But he simply flashed me a grin before walking around me and practically strutting off to his lesson.

Later, as I sat in the Gryffindor common room with Harry, Ron, Ginny and Neville, I couldn't tell if it was anxiety of anger that was bubbling deep in my stomach.

I had only ten minutes before I was supposed to meet Malfoy. So there was definitely a mixture of both feelings. But one of them was overpowering the other and I couldn't quite work out which one it was.

I had remained angry at the Slytherin for a good hour after he had convinced me to tutor him; after that I had begun to worry. How would he act this time? Would people see us together? Wouldn't his Slytherin teammates be hanging around the area? Could all of this just be a ploy to get me alone so that they could reign terror down upon me? I had seriously considered that last theory. It was totally unlike Draco to ask for help-with anything. He had tried to act nonchalant about it but he couldn't honestly be alright with it. But to give myself some peace, I had convinced myself that his rage towards Professor Binns had managed to drive him to this situation. Anger was very capable of making Malfoy turn to solutions that he wouldn't normally consider-or so I'd seen before. So now an unpleasant blend of burning irritation and unease had rooted itself it my gut, refusing to leave no matter what I told myself.

It was because of these suspicions and my over-reactive imagination that I had decided to tell Harry about it when I saw him. He hadn't been too happy about my decision but that was only evident in his concerned expression-he hadn't said a word against me. But my rising panic had been partly supressed with the knowledge that someone would know where I was-in case something terrible did happen.

But it was my more logical side that had prevented me from telling Ron anything at all about my plans. He would surely get angry or suspicious and demand that I not go. And I couldn't do that. It would be going back on my word and I would be filled with guilt if Malfoy failed his test tomorrow. Not to mention that it would give him reason to mock and bully me for the rest of the year if he wished. I didn't need any of it.

"Are you alright Hermione?" Ron questioned. When I looked over at him, he was giving me that familiar look of concern and confusion that he hadn't stopped giving me since I returned to Hogwarts weeks ago. At first, both Harry and Ron had done this frequently whether I noticed or not and it had bothered me enough to make me seek time away from them both. But I had shouted at them numerous times and so they had begun to only cast it my way when they thought I couldn't see. Something inside of me was still uneasy about it but once I realised that I was being too grumpy with my friends, I had sworn to let it slide.

I nodded at him and stretched my arms out in front of myself, feeling the pull of my muscles. "Just tired."

He continued to give me the same expression, clearly doubting my excuse, but I didn't say anything about it. Instead I allowed my head to fall on Harry's shoulder. My raven-haired friend had been sitting beside me since we had returned from our lessons. After a while Ron, Ginny and Neville had joined us; spreading themselves out around us in front of the fireplace and claiming the area. Neville and Ron sat on the floor across from Harry and me while Ginny had claimed the armchair on my other side, curling up on it like a cat.

Harry's arm came around my shoulders when he felt my head touch him but the smile didn't fail from his face as he listened to Neville carry on with his story. He began patting my shoulder gently with his hand in a soothing gesture; he knew how much I was dreading this tutoring session. And even though I was definitely aware of it as well, I made an attempt at listening to Neville too.

"Eventually we found him in Seamus's bed, completely wrapped up in the duvet. You should have seen Seamus's face!" Neville grinned at the memory, his eyes brightening. "I would have laughed at the time if I wasn't busy running from him."

"I can see why Seamus wasn't happy. But how did you find him if he was in there?" Ginny asked through a chuckle, raising her head from the arm of the chair to look at the boy.

"Seamus crawled into bed-ready to go to sleep-and felt him. He actually screamed, I'm surprised you didn't hear it Ron." Neville explained as he turned to face Ron, confused.

"Oh, nothing wakes him up." Ginny grinned. The boys and Ginny all laughed; the tips of Ron's ears turning slightly red as they did.

"Wait, who are they talking about? Who was in Seamus's bed?" I whispered down Harry's ear, not wanting to upset Neville by revealing my previous lack of attention.

"Trevor." He murmured, again the grin on his face staying put as he kept his face turned towards the others-perfectly hiding the fact that we were having our own conversation.

"Oh, thank God. For a second I thought they were talking about Dean."

Harry snorted and bowed his head. "Why?"

"He's the only other boy in your dorm?" I shrugged, a smile spreading across my face. Harry shook his head with a chuckle.

"Hermione didn't you say that you had be to somewhere in a minute?" Neville asked. I glanced over at him to see his arm raised up to his face and his eyes trained on the watch that sat on his wrist.

Supressing a groan, I pushed myself off Harry and stood up, my limbs aching slightly from sitting on them for so long.

"Where is it that you're going?" Ginny piped up, not lifting her head from the arm of the chair but her brown eyes fixed on me.

"To return some books to the library." Harry interrupted with a casual wave of his hand.

"Yeah, I might stay and read for a bit as well so I'll probably be a while." I shrugged, trying to be as calm as Harry was-despite the fact that I could feel my face heating up.

Hoping for only a light layer of a blush, I swung my bag over my shoulder and headed towards the portrait.

I was early. Only a little though.

After a few seconds of hesitation, I made my way through the entrance to the stands; angling my chin higher and preparing to ignore any Slytherins that I might encounter along the way. The books in my bag were heavy, almost weighing me down as I ascended the steps to the seats.

Lifting my foot from the last step and emerging onto the tall row of seats, I clambered over to the row at the back and sat down, dropping my bag on the floor and routing through it to gather the necessary equipment. I could at least make sure that I was prepared when Malfoy came over; that way I could be sure to start straight away and then to leave as soon as possible.

I had chosen to sit in one of the Hufflepuff sections; it seemed to be the best bet for appeasing both of us. It faced the centre of the pitch-making it a good position for him to find me-and was the ideal common ground that we would need.

Lifting my head, I stared out across the pitch. The Slytherin team was darting around the pitch, performing speedy exercises in the air that I couldn't quite follow. They were nothing but a blur of green shapes against the backdrop of the Quidditch stands. Three rather large shapes were whizzing around each other as they flew down the length of the pitch. Upon further inspection I spotted one of them-a brunette girl-clutching the Quaffle and darting away as the other two of her teammates pursued her. They must be the chasers. I moved my attention next to the other group of three near the opposite set of goalposts. One of them was perched on his broom in front of the tallest of the posts, his face looking focused and his body tense. Facing him were two more Slytherins. I knew them to be Beaters-they had each tried their luck at de-brooming Harry during enough matches for their faces to have engraved themselves in my memory. In each of their hands they held a wooden Beater bat. One of them had another Quaffle-where they had managed to swipe another one from I had no idea-and was in the process of hitting it towards the Keeper as I looked away. That was quite a stupid exercise. It would help the Keeper but hitting a Quaffle is different from hitting a Bludger; how were the Beaters supposed to practise efficiently?

Shaking my head, I turned my gaze away from them. And instead I found a lone player, climbing high into the sky above the others. His green Quidditch robes rippled out behind him, shrouding the slick black broom that he sat on. A flash of white blond hair shone briefly as it caught the sun. It was Malfoy. Scowling, I looked away from him.

I buried my chin inside my soft Gryffindor scarf and allowed myself a fleeting glance back at him. When would he be finished? I had sat here waiting for Harry and Ron while they practised far too many times in the past for this to be entertaining. So I grabbed a book from the pile I had set beside me and opened it to the first page. It didn't look too interesting but there was nothing else to do. So I began reading.

After a few minutes I stole a look back across the pitch, not moving my head, but allowing my eyes to hastily scan the area for my 'student'. It took me a second to find him because he wasn't in his previous position; he was now circling the edge of the pitch-dangerously close to the walls of the stand. His body was tilted sideways and his head was dropped low. He looked as if he was lying flat on his broom. But this was clearly a speed technique. Slightly interested, I raised my head to observe his tactic. He was indeed moving faster than the three Chasers that were tackling each other for possession of the Quaffle as they sped along the length of the grass. It was not as fast as Harry moved when he went the last stretch before swiping for the Snitch; but it was much more controlled and focused-less chance of a slip up. His broom didn't sway or tremble and he never once diverted from the steady path he seemed to be following; his movements precise and smooth. It was the flight of someone who knew brooms well. Someone who had grown up flying. The complete opposite of my attempts at it. It wasn't strictly that I was afraid of flying-or of heights-but more that I was cautious. In the past, I've found broomsticks to be rather…delicate or unpredictable. And I dislike being out of control-especially when the thing that I'm supposed to be controlling has me up in the air!

"Granger." A voice split the silence suddenly and made me jump in my seat, my heart thrashed hard once against my chest in protest of the fright.

My eyes darted upwards-after realising that they'd somehow drifted to the wooden floor at my feet while I had been lost in thought-and were met with the sight of Draco hovering in front of me. His hair was slightly damp with sweat-which I couldn't understand because how did sitting on a moving thing require effort enough to sweat? And he was clothed in Quidditch gear. The blond grinned when he grasped that he'd startled me and his black broom inched forward. When he was securely above one of the benches on the stand, he lifted a leg and swung it over the stick. He kept a firm grip on his broom as he landed with a slight thud in front of me.

"You're late." I grunted, turning from him to place my book down.

"No, you're early." Malfoy shook his head as he moved to sit on my bench.

"Nope." I stuck my arm out towards him, displaying the small wristwatch that I was wearing. "You were supposed to be here five minutes ago."

He tilted his head on the side and merely glanced at it.

"Yes but you arrived here earlier than our arranged time anyway-I saw you-so it's your own fault that you've had to wait for so much longer."

At his comment, my face grew hot. So he had known that I was there, watching from high up in the stands-or low down in the stands considering his location in the sky previously. That made me slightly more uneasy. If he had seen me without me knowing, then his teammates could have as well.

"Just sit down." I sighed, attempting to brush it off. He sat, lifting one leg up to rest his foot on the bench in front of us and placing his broom on the floor by his feet.

"What was it exactly that you were doing just then?" I asked as I sifted through the books, putting some back in the middle but sorting others into two piles-one for me and one for Malfoy. "When you were circling the pitch."

"I was doing laps." He shrugged-but continued at the blank stare I gave him. "I was going around the pitch at the highest speed I could and Marcus Flint was timing me. Are you sure that you're smart enough to be teaching me?"

I scowled at the smirk he gave me after that.

"Quidditch isn't exactly something I waste my time trying to earn an 'Outstanding' in. And while we're discussing Quidditch, your team's method for training their Beaters seems a little idiotic."

"Idiotic?"

"Ineffective then." I waved a hand around in the air, still looking at the books instead of him.

"How so?"

"It's as if you're training them to play baseball-

"What?" He interrupted. I lifted my eyes to see him watching me, his blond eyebrows knitted close together and his nose scrunched up with vacant eyes.

"It's a muggle sport. Now who's an idiot?"

"I never said you were an idiot-although that is an excellent point. Perhaps you are." Malfoy nodded to himself and turned away, examining the back of his pale hand.

Rolling my eyes, I returned to the books. I couldn't let him get under my skin right now-even though it always seemed like that was his aim, his sole purpose in life-it would just make this half hour so much more difficult than it needed to be. If he wanted to return to his immature self for this tutoring session, I wouldn't allow myself to be sucked into it.

"Anyway, the way you're training your Beaters isn't going to work because you're teaching them how to pick up a ball and hit it towards something-which isn't their job. They are supposed to hit away a ball that is already flying towards them. And you're not even making them use the correct ball-I imagine that a Bludger is quite a bit heavier than the Quaffle. And isn't it a different shape? So basically it's not going to work very well."

Malfoy looked back at me, one eyebrow raised. "Alright, I might mention something to Flint. Now are you going to teach me something or what Granger?"

It shocked me a little. Yes he had asked to hear my reasoning but I didn't think that he would really even listen to me-never mind actually consider my advice.

"Ok, yes, let's do it, alright. Here you go." I muttered, probably saying too much, as I handed him the first book that he would need-open to the correct page. He took it in his gloved hand, but the gloves were finger-less so his long, pale fingers practically blended in with the white page as he took it.

As I stepped through the portrait to the common room lugging my heavy and almost bursting bag, I expected to see a handful of Gryffindors scattered around the fire or huddled on chairs. But I only saw one.

Harry looked up as the portrait swung closed behind me, causing a slight creaking noise to echo around us that ended with a gentle thud. As far as I could tell, he had been staring into the fire alone-waiting for me to come back. His round glasses slid to the edge of his nose and he lifted a finger to push them calmly back up. He was even in his pyjamas. I started to feel guilty about telling him where I had gone. It had reassured me earlier to know that he would have the information of my whereabouts if I hadn't returned. But now that I was back safely and nothing at all had happened, I could see that it had been unnecessary to involve Harry-and he had clearly been worrying.

"Are you alright Hermione?" He asked, standing up to meet me as I trudged towards him. I nodded, dumping my bag on the floor.

"I'm fine, just annoyed with this stupid bag full of books."

He glanced down to examine the bag that I had deserted on the floor and smiled a little.

"Unlike you to be angry at books."

"Shut up you." I rolled my eyes.

"But you're fine? He didn't try anything? None of his team did either?"

"Nope. It was exactly as he'd asked-a tutoring session. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have even bothered you with it."

"It's alright." He waved a hand wildly in the air. "Just a precaution."

He smiled and I managed to smile back at him. He was just like the brother that I've never had-but seriously needed.