A/N: Thank you to CassieImagine, Colonel92, & Blizzardx for the follows/favorites!

This chapter's quite a bit longer than most of the previous ones - couldn't really find a good place to cut it. Please consider letting me know what you think so far, & I hope you enjoy! :)

On Tuesday, Hermione got a response from Harry. It was short and rather messier than usual, as if he'd scribbled it hastily in a spare moment, but it was the answer she'd been hoping for - Harry would be able to come to Hogwarts on Saturday to discuss her idea. After setting up a meeting with Professor McGonagall, Hermione sent Harry a reply and told Draco to keep his afternoon free, as she wanted him to sit in on the meeting as well.

The professors added an interesting element to their classes that week, as they began focusing on practical applications of magic - in Charms, Professor Flitwick had them using several advanced spells to help with the school's restorations, and Professor Slughorn set them to brewing stocks of Pepper-Up potion and others remedies to replenish Madam Pomphrey's stash in anticipation of the upcoming flu season. The workload was still formidable, but nobody could deny the usefulness of what they were learning.

On Friday, the Aurors assigned to the seventh- and eighth-years' Defense Against the Dark Arts class made their first appearance. Celia and John were both fresh out of the academy, just a few years older than the students, and they completely transformed everyone's views on the subject in the two hours they worked. For the first fifteen minutes or so, the two Aurors watched as the students demonstrated what they'd been practicing in the previous sessions. Once they'd determined that they'd seen enough, they called them in and told them to take a seat.

"What is 'Defense Against the Dark Arts'?" John asked once everyone was seated. "What does that phrase mean to you?"

"Defensive spells."

"Jinxes and hexes."

"Dark magic."

"These are all great suggestions," John said as he wrote them on the blackboard, "but they all fall under the same category - wand work. Defense Against the Dark Arts is an umbrella term, and wand work is only part of that umbrella."

"That's not to say that wand work's not important," continued Celia. "It's one of the most important things about defending yourself, when you're magical. But as we watched you work just now, it's pretty obvious that most of you are more than competent with a wand, so we're going to leave the magical aspects of this class in your hands for now - we'll pass on some spells we think might be useful for you to know, but for our sessions, we're going to focus on something else entirely." She picked up the chalk and wrote two phrases under John's list: Trusting your Allies, and Physical Defense.

"Trust," Celia said, "is the most important thing we can teach you. Nine times out of ten, you're going into battle as part of a group - if you don't trust your group, you're dead. Simple as that. You need to trust that your group members have your back, and they need to trust that you have theirs. You need to know - not think, but know - that they won't turn on you the instant your back's turned, and they need to know the same about you. You need to know everyone else's moves as well as your own, and you need to know that everyone is going to pull his or her weight - if just one person panics or flees, months of planning can fall apart in seconds. This all applies if you find yourself alone as well - you need to know who you can contact to get help or information."

"Obviously," John added, "you can't account for everything ahead of time - plenty of teams who'd been working together for years and trusted each other like family lost people during the war - but trust gives you an incredible advantage, especially against those who practice the Dark Arts, who hardly ever trust anyone at all.

"During these sessions, we're going to ask you to do some things that might make you uncomfortable - we want you to at the very least give them a try; in battle, you're always uncomfortable, always going up against the unexpected, and we want to try to counterbalance that with as rock-solid a foundation as we can possibly give you. If you walk out of this class at the end of the year trusting just one more person than you did when you started, you'll have made progress."

"Our other focus will be physical defense," Celia said. "It's not really something wizards think about all that much, which is a huge mistake - if you lose your wand for any reason and don't have a backup mode, you're screwed. But we'll focus more on that another time - we won't be having you doing any sort of fighting, magical or otherwise, until we see our trust exercises start to be successful. Right now, we want you to pair off, preferably with someone you don't already know really well, then line up against the wall." The students did as she asked, and Celia waved her wand, scattering a large assortment of objects in various shapes and sizes around the room.

"Right, here's your task," she told them. "You and your partner are going to take turns being blindfolded. The person who can see must guide their partner across the room using only their voice - at no time are you allowed to touch each other. If you touch any of the objects, you have to start over - I'd highly advise against it, as some of them are enchanted to do some not-so-nice things when hit. Blindfolded people must trust their partners to get them across safely, and guides must not abuse that trust. We're going to go one group at a time, and you're to pay attention to each pair so you can learn what works and what doesn't. Understood?"

If any of them thought the idea was stupid, their derision quickly dissipated once they'd actually attempted the exercise. At first, they went one couple at a time and everyone got through with very little trouble, but then Celia and John had them try it again with multiple pairs crossing simultaneously, often in different directions. This variation proved much more difficult – several people bumped into the scattered objects, which then sprayed everyone with jets of ice water or filled the room with billowing clouds of pink smoke. Even Hermione, whose senses had sharpened exponentially during her year on the run, had trouble distinguishing Laura's commands from those of the other girls directing their partners.

"Point proven," John told them at the end of class. "Building trust takes time. Your homework is to practice these trust walks – have someone walk you to a class, to dinner, or to your common room. Keep up the good work with your spells, and we'll be back hopefully before Halloween." The bell rang to signal the end of the period, and the students retreated to their common rooms, utterly exhausted after another demanding week.

Hermione was restless all next morning – she was trying to get a head start on her Transfiguration essay, but her eyes kept drifting to the clock. In just a matter of hours, Harry would arrive, and she was looking forward to seeing one of her best friends – the year was going well so far, but it didn't feel the same without her boys by her side. After an hour or so, she realized how pointless it was to attempt to concentrate when her mind was so obviously elsewhere, and she left the common room to clear her head with a long walk around the grounds, stopping by the Great Hall to grab a sandwich on her way out.

Hermione had made it down to the lake and was making herself comfortable under a large tree when a gleaming silver cat materialized in front of her.

"Your guest has arrived, Miss Granger. We'll wait for you in my office."

The last half of Professor McGonagall's message was drowned out by Hermione's squeal as she shot to her feet and took off towards the castle. Halfway up the marble staircase, she realized she had no idea where Draco was – as he was supposed to be coming with her, she supposed she'd have to take a detour and go find him. Just as she was contemplating the quickest route to their common room, Draco himself came around the corner, schoolbag slung over his shoulder and arms loaded down with books.

"Draco!" she cried, skidding to a halt. He almost dropped his books in shock at the grin on her face – he'd never seen her direct anything even remotely close to such an expression his way before.

"Judging by the look on your face, I'd say Potter's arrived," he said almost cautiously.

"A brilliant deduction, my dear Holmes…now let's go." She grabbed his arm and began to drag him down the corridor.

"Merlin, Granger!" he exclaimed, brushing her off as gracefully as he could while still maintaining a grip on his books, "it's not like Potter's going to disappear if you're not there in the next thirty seconds…"

"Sorry," she muttered, a faint blush staining her cheeks as she slowed to a more normal pace. She managed to keep herself in check until they reached Professor McGonagall's office, but she let out a shriek as soon as she saw the young man sitting in the visitor's chair.

"Oh, Harry!" Hermione launched herself across the room into her friend's waiting arms, and he twirled her in a circle before squeezing her into a bone-crushing hug.

"Hermione!" Harry laughed as he set her down again, "it's so good to see you! We've missed you."

"Missed having someone to clean up after you, you mean," Hermione replied with a smirk.

"Oh, come off it!" Harry moaned. "You know that's not what I meant!" Hermione chuckled again, and Harry noticed Draco for the first time.

"Malfoy."

"Potter." The two boys nodded to each other, and Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Can't you two be civil for once?" she asked, raising her eyebrows at them.

"Shall we get started, then?" asked Professor McGonagall, making them all jump. "I, for one, would love to know what Miss Granger has to say." She conjured two more chairs and motioned for them all to sit. For the next few minutes, everyone was quiet as Hermione explained her thoughts.

"I do believe, Miss Granger, that you have a valid point," the Headmistress conceded once Hermione had finished speaking. "As you said, we had enough problems on our hands with people not believing the truth in your fifth year – with the Wizarding world still in such a fragile state, having a similar divide could prove disastrous. I think it's a fine idea."

"I'll have to see if I can get off, obviously," Harry said.

"Oh, please," Draco snorted. "You're Harry freaking Potter, for Merlin's sake – isn't that alone enough to get you a day off once in a while?"

"Unfortunately, yeah, it probably would be," Harry admitted, "except I specifically told the Head Aurors that I didn't want preferential treatment when I started the academy – so far, they've actually stuck to my request. I rather like being as anonymous as I can at the moment – surely you can appreciate that?" Draco hated to admit it, but Potter was right – as much as Draco had craved attention when he was younger, the last few years had been a harsh reality check. Being in the spotlight, regardless of what side you were on, wasn't fun at all.

"Well, then," Professor McGonagall said, "I suspect we're finished here for now. Miss Granger, I'll arrange a time for you to meet with Professor Flitwick so you can iron out the details for the night of. In the meantime, I suggest you all go enjoy the rest of this fine afternoon." They exchanged farewells, and the three teenagers left the office.

"So," Harry began once they were halfway down the corridor, "how about you show me your common room, yeah?"

The walk to the common room was rather awkward, as Draco and Harry didn't seem to know how to talk to each other – with their lengthy history, Hermione didn't blame them, but she still huffed at their immaturity – it was high time they moved on. When they reached the third floor, however, Harry broke the silence.

"Oh, Merlin!" he exclaimed. "You weren't kidding when you said you were living here!"

"Did you think I was?" Hermione asked with a laugh. "Dear old Fluffy…just wait till you hear the password."

What Harry thought of the password, however, Hermione never found out, because as soon as she opened the door, a large group of people yelled, "SURPRISE!"

"Happy birthday, Hermione!" Harry said with a grin. Hermione could only gape in shock. Almost the entire Weasley family, plus her dorm mates and Luna, stood in the common room, wide smiles on their faces as they took in her reaction. Ron broke free from his family to give her a huge hug.

"I…Ron! Oh my goodness…this is wonderful!" Hermione finally managed to stammer out.

"Didn't think we'd forget your birthday, did you?" he asked, giving her his signature lopsided grin. "Last one as a teenager, you know!"

"Oh, Merlin, I'm almost twenty!" Hermione moaned, burying her face in her hands. Everyone laughed, and Mrs. Weasley stepped away from the table to reveal an enormous cake glittering with candles.

"Happy birthday, dear!" she said warmly. "Make a wish!" The group sang and clapped as Hermione obliged, and everyone was soon laughing and chatting as they enjoyed another of Mrs. Weasley's delicious creations.

"Don't forget about your presents, kid!" George called from across the room, gesturing to a stack of packages on the coffee table.

"Oh, you shouldn't have!" Hermione exclaimed, another blush coloring her face.

Draco had been just as surprised as Hermione when they'd entered the common room – she'd given no indication at all that it was her birthday, and of course he hadn't had a reason to know it before now. He stayed as long as was necessary to not appear rude, but the sheer number of redheads was making him uncomfortable – the only one who'd given him an openly dirty look was Ron, but Draco had been positively awful to almost all of them at one point or another. After finishing his slice of cake (which even he had to admit was amazing), he nodded to Hermione and retreated to the safety of his dorm. He'd barely sat down on his bed when there was a knock at the door.

"Malfoy?" Draco sighed. He didn't really want to talk to Potter, but he couldn't come up with a valid reason to keep him out either.

"Come in." Harry obliged and sat on Neville's trunk, absentmindedly fiddling with his fingers. Finally, he spoke.

"I wanted to talk to you…about Hermione."

"What about her?" Draco questioned.

"Well…" Harry paused, as if unsure how to phrase his next statement. "She told me everything that's been going on – in her letter, you know. It sounds like you two have come to some sort of understanding…watch out for her, please?"

"I…what?"

"Watch out for her," Harry repeated. "Hermione's really strong, but she's been through a lot lately, and she needs someone there for her. That letter, and what she's trying to do, prove to me that she trusts you – I still don't like you all that much, but I have to admit that's huge. Hermione doesn't give her trust to just anyone. Just…keep an eye on her for me?"

"Potter, I'm not going to be her consolation prize just because you and Weasel didn't come back to school," Draco warned.

"That's not what I meant, Malfoy," Harry said sharply. "Hermione needs to know somebody's got her back. Merlin knows why, but she trusts you, and if she can do that, that's good enough for me. But just so you know, if you hurt her, I'll make sure you pay for it."

"Good grief, Potter, we're not dating," Draco said.

"I did not need that mental image," Harry replied. "No, you aren't, thank Merlin, but the sentiment's the same – my best friend has given you her trust, and if you mess with that, you will regret it. Hermione's really special – please treat her like she deserves."

"I wouldn't dream of doing anything else," Draco said sincerely. "You might not believe me, and quite frankly, I wouldn't blame you if you didn't, but what happened at my house last spring has haunted me every night since. I want – need – to make that up to all of you, her especially, and I'm not about to do anything to screw that up."

"Alright, then." Harry nodded and made to leave. When he got to the door, he turned back for a moment. "I believe you – I can't escape them either. Take care, Malfoy."

Once Harry had gone, Draco flopped back against the pillows and studied the canopy of his four-poster. Three weeks into his eighth year, and he was already playing Quidditch with a Weasley, celebrating birthdays with Granger, and confiding in Potter – if he didn't watch himself, the Golden Trio would become a quartet and he'd find himself wearing scarlet and gold. He got along with Lisa, Susan, and Justin as well, but as the Ravenclaws and Slytherins had always been on decent terms and the Hufflepuffs were nice to everybody on principle, Draco hardly found those relationships as strange as the ones he now seemed to have with the Gryffindors. Given their history, he thought they were giving him far more than he deserved.