Guess who found out there are limits to how long chapter titles can be. This is what I get for writing long titles.

Please enjoy; Chapter V: forced conversations and the love of a muggleborn

I

May 1997

It had been an entire twenty-four hours since he last saw her. Longer, as he began to stir halfway through breakfast.

Crookshanks was still on his head when he woke up in their corner of the Restricted Section, jumping off when Draco began to shift. He cursed, neck sore and back cracking every time he moved after sleeping in the hard wooden chair with a heavy demon perched on his head, and immediately scanned the entire library, hoping she was just researching for texts to review what she missed the day before.

After he determined the elusive Granger wasn't in the library, he tore down the halls to burst into the Great Hall, scanning faces wildly and hoping to find a trace of his witch. When he saw the Weaselette looking just as panicked as he felt, he knew something wasn't right.

What on earth was Granger doing? Fuck, he would have gone with her if she had asked, but she was Hermione Granger, she "doesn't need any help, Draco," so no matter how much he wished, he never would have gone with her.

He attended his first two classes because he hoped she would be there, and then the third because he knew she would want the notes from Arithmancy. None of their Professors seemed surprised that Granger was missing, and no one went up to Potter or the other Gryffindors to ask her whereabouts, and he wondered if Dumbledore or McGonagall had warned the others the top student would be missing.

Draco only stopped in the Great Hall for lunch to grab an apple and do the standard scan for her, not even bothering to get his hopes up and grimacing to himself when the disappointment still hit.

McGonagall didn't answer her door again and the gargoyle guarding the Headmaster's office refused to grant him access, so Draco slipped up the stairs to the Astronomy Tower, panting from his cross-castle trek.

Surprise, surprise, she wasn't there. But it was a long shot anyway.

With a sigh, Draco leaned against the railing, looking out at the Forbidden Forest. It was late afternoon, the bell tolling almost eerily behind him. He ignored it, just like normal, not even caring he was missing the last class of the day. He didn't share it with Granger, so it wasn't important. There was a distinct lack of students milling about the grounds, although he did spot a small Ravenclaw hustling across the grass before darting out of sight. It made Draco a little curious about what the Ravenclaws were up to, especially as he noticed another slightly larger figure coming from the same direction. He mentally noted he'd explore when he wasn't so terrified and focused on the disappearance of the love of his damned life.

His arm itched, and he numbly scratched it, unsure of what to do now. He didn't want to go back to the cabinet, he stood a chance of destroying it with his current mindset so occupied, and it wasn't like he had any other friends to talk to.

"Granger, where the fuck are you?" Draco asked the wind, resting his elbows on the railing and leaning as far forward as he dared without falling over. "Please come back soon. And safe."

Draco stood there for a while until it was too dark to make out anything other than the trees, lost in thoughts and memories of Hermione.

Something brushed against his ankle and he cursed, grappling with the reflex that wanted to kick off whatever was clinging to his foot. He was glad he hadn't submitted to the urge, as Crookshanks was the one who startled him, blinking up at him with innocently luminous eyes.

"You know exactly what you're doing," Draco accused, "don't try to play the innocent card with me. It might work on Granger because she can be ridiculously dense and trusting when it comes to you, but I know your true form."

The demon masquerading as a cat cocked his head, blinking twice, his whiskers twitching.

"Do you think Hermione will come back soon? Where do you think she went anyway?" Draco asked out loud, wondering if he bounced his thoughts off the creature it might help him think. "Let's see… she read the paper, received a note from Dumbledore and went to speak with him, and then vanished. That's not a lot of clues, is it?"

Crookshanks couldn't respond, because he didn't have human vocal cords, and stared at Draco as if the blonde was insane.

"Demon," Draco muttered under his breath.

Crookshanks let out a plaintive meow, and Draco rolled his eyes. "Meowing isn't going to make me think you're really a cat, either. Your cover has already been blown, demon."

"So will yours if you do not act like a normal student soon," an eerily waspish voice said behind him, and Draco whirled, dislodging Crookshanks from the motion.

Professor Snape stood in the doorway - slash exit - to the tower, his arms crossed as his cloak billowed around him. Draco immediately checked his Occlumency shields, noting with small satisfaction that they were currently intact despite his inattention to them. He added a few fortifications to his mental wall in preparation for any probing his Occlumency slash Legilimency tutor might do.

"Professor Snape," Draco cleared his throat, glancing at the orange fuzzball that gave him a suspiciously smirk-like look before sauntering over to the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, tail raised in the air so Draco could get a good look at his ridiculously round arse.

"Granger feeds you too many treats," Draco hissed at Crookshanks, who turned around briefly to glare before winding around Snape's feet. The greasy-haired professor looked amusingly perturbed at Crooks' behaviour, and Draco had to stifle his snigger.

"I never expected you of all people to converse with Miss Granger's-" the sallow man let out a sniff as he inspected Crookshanks with a curled lip, "familiar. And it seems to tolerate you as well. Curious." Crookshanks, sensing that this was yet another being that despised him, sat down heavily on the Professor's shoe.

Snape looked like he was ten seconds away from kicking him over the ledge, so Draco intervened; not because he cared for Crooks, fuck no, but because if Hermione was in trouble and came back to find her murdered familiar, the first finger she'd point would be at him. Plus, it would make her upset if Crooks died.

Draco snorted. "Why are you here, Professor? I don't need your help, you can stop offering that." Professor Snape shot him a dark look, glancing over his shoulder towards the stairs before flicking his wand twice.

"You should know better than to run your mouth without knowing who is listening, or the proper safeguards to prevent eavesdropping. Gamble with your life all you want, but leave mine out of it."

"If you're that worried, then stop needling me about something that could lead to your death anyway."

"If you must know why I'm here," Snape drawled, changing the subject, "I followed that monstrosity of a beast. He refused to exit my classroom unless I followed him, and pure curiosity led me all the way up here. But I've been meaning to speak with you anyway."

"Ah, yes, you were due to corner me in a classroom and nag about what I'm planning on doing."

"You almost had the deaths of two students this year and not one of your attempts has met your assigned target," Snape said matter-of-factly, and Draco clenched his jaw at the reminder of what his carelessness almost did.

"I was already given a lecture, spare your comments," he seethed, and Snape raised an eyebrow.

"From Miss Granger?" He asked innocently, and Draco clenched his fists, immediately hiding them behind his back as his professor clocked the movement.

"What are you doing here?" His tone was frostier than it should be, it was clear Snape had touched on a sore subject, and from the satisfied smirk on his godfather's face, it was a slip-up that revealed more than he believed.

"I can't help but notice Ms. Granger wasn't in my class yesterday. Are your truancy habits rubbing off on her?"

"Granger is irrelevant to this conversation, I'm telling you once more that I don't need your help to accomplish my task, and you're not going to get the glory for it, either." Draco hated the pretence he had to keep up, that talking about his task didn't bring the taste of ash to his tongue. That he was excited about the opportunity, and Snape's interest in him was from a competitive perspective.

Snape sighed heavily, the movement making him seem older than Draco was used to. "What can I do to prove that all I'm trying to do is look out for you? I'm not looking for glory or praise. I swore an oath to protect you."

Draco inspected Snape looking for any sort of clue that he could be lying. "How can I trust that?" He asked, and Snape nodded thoughtfully.

"Well, I'm glad you didn't trust me immediately, despite any personal relationship we may have. You're learning, at least," he muttered to himself. "I know you had reached out to your mother recently, have you heard from her?"

"Just that she hopes I am safe. That I should take extra defensive precautions." Snape rolled his eyes.

"Do you not suppose that she is suggesting you take extra lessons in Defense Against the Dark Arts? Or at least, speak with that professor to gain some critical information that could one day save your life? A professor that just so happens to be me?"

Draco pursed his lips, having thought of that option but refusing to do anything about it, should Snape wind up to be not as trustworthy as he said.

It did take plenty of work to fool Narcissa Malfoy, however, so maybe Draco could trust Snape a little.

"What would be the safest option for me and my family?"

"Not the easiest option?"

"No, the one that ensures we are protected. My parents and I," and Granger, Draco mentally added. Snape eyed him as if he could hear the silent addition to his sentence.

"You may not like my answer," his professor warned, and Draco sighed. "Very well. This may seem like a stretch, but you could always try to speak with Headmaster Dumbledore about added security for you and yours. There is a possibility," Snape added as Draco opened his mouth to speak, "that you will have to confess your task, but I am sure the Headmaster will think of something."

"Why would you suggest speaking with Dumbledore? You know what my task is, who I have to- have to-" Darco cut himself off with a vicious shake of his head.

"Just planting a seed," Snape said mysteriously, and Draco rolled his eyes again.

"More like watering one that has already been aggressively planted," he grumbled to himself, but Snape gave him a concerned look.

"Someone has already been suggesting you talk to Headmaster Dumbledore?"

"Who would do that?" Draco deflected.

Snape shrugged. "Perhaps Miss Granger?" Draco's head snapped towards the professor.

"Who said anything about Granger?" He said, taking a step towards his godfather before stomping his emotions back into the box they had to stay in. Snape's beetle-like eyes flashed, but Draco couldn't read what his professor was thinking.

"You've been spending quite a lot of time with her, you're quite close with her beast, and your Occlumency shields have changed to become a maze of bookshelves - a place the two of you tend to… meet." There was a teasing note to Snape's voice that Draco had never heard. Mocking, yes, but teasing was new. "You also stare at her throughout every class period."

"And?" Draco challenged.

The smirk slid off Snape's face, and he looked over Draco's shoulder at the horizon, lost in what Draco could only assume to be memories. "You aren't the only one to fall for a Muggle-born. Especially in a time that was dangerous for everyone involved."

Draco scoffed, rolling his eyes even as his godfather shot him a dirty look. "Who the hell would fall for a Muggle-born?" Silence fell along the tower until Draco noticed Snape eyeing him with an exasperated look.

Draco gaped in shock. "You? Falling for a Muggle-born? For anyone? But you're-"

"Death Eater extraordinaire?" Snape's wry smirk was filled with self-contempt. "Appearances are not all as they seem. You aren't the only one who was changed by a Muggle-born."

"Then act like it," Draco snapped before he could help himself. Both he and Snape looked rather shocked at his aggressive outburst, though Snape recovered faster.

"And how do you suggest I act?" His professor asked icily, black eyes flaring dangerously.

Draco shrugged. "At least when I fell in love, I stopped being a relentless bully."

Snape turned to him, anger etched into the lines on his face. "Are you suggesting-"

"I wasn't all that subtle about it," Draco raised an eyebrow, thinking he was already in for a penny, in for a pound.

For a moment, he wondered if his godfather was about to send a wicked curse his way, but then the professor took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, the tension and anger seeping away. He just looked… tired. And old. And slightly greasy.

He let himself process the direction of their exchange for a minute before shaking off the conversation about Granger. "Let's go back to why you're suggesting I speak to Dumbledore," he said, crossing his arms. Snape pursed his lips and straightened his back, looking for all intents and purposes like the intimidating wizard he was.

"To most of the wizarding world, I present myself like a turncoat to the Dark Lord. To the Dark Lord and any Death Eaters I come across, I am actually a double agent working against Dumbledore. To Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix, I am a double agent. Just not for who everyone expects."

"You expect me to believe that you're a spy for Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix?" Draco sneered, barking out a laugh. "You're delusional."

"I don't expect you to believe me right away. In any case, speaking with the Headmaster should be the safest option for you and your family, as well as Miss Granger. Hopefully."

Draco cast a suspicious look over his godfather, realising there was a lot about the man he didn't know, despite having grown up with Snape as a constant in his life.

"If you are trying to help me," he said, "then thank you."

"All this time with Miss Granger has done you some good," the smirk was back, "you finally have some manners and respect your elders."

"Speaking of Granger," Draco rubbed the back of his neck. It wouldn't hurt to ask Snape-

"No, I do not know where she is. I am aware she conversed with the Headmaster yesterday morning, but she and Professor McGonagall left his office together and both are nowhere to be seen. The Headmaster has been rather… tight-lipped about her whereabouts, so I'm afraid I know no more than you."

Draco closed his eyes and nodded. It was a long shot, but at least he tried. "It feels almost… eerie up here." Draco turned back towards the railing, and he heard his godfather cross the room until they were side by side. It seemed Crookshanks had vanished sometime during their conversation, though that didn't stop Draco from checking his surroundings so the beast couldn't leap out and scare the shit out of him.

Snape exhaled, nodding sharply as if he hated to admit it. "There is a strange sense of foreboding in the air." They exchanged a heavy look, and Snape put a hand on Draco's shoulder. "It will be alright, Draco. I will protect you."

Draco nodded his head in thanks to his professor slash godfather, tilting his head back to look at the sky, the stars peeking out more and more.

He wasn't worried about himself, he was still worried about Granger.

II

December 1996

Draco slumped low in his seat, cursing himself for attending McGonagall's class. Of all teachers, she would be the one to call him out-

"Good to see you, Mr. Malfoy. Especially because I haven't seen you in my class in a week, let alone participating in our lessons. Should I reschedule my class period to better fit your busy timetable? Hm?" Draco scowled at the desk. Some Hufflepuff sixth-year mentioned to her classmate they would work on something interesting today, though she was frustratingly tight-lipped about what the lesson entailed when Draco pressed her for more information. And the second-year Slytherin he tried to bribe to con the Hufflepuff into giving more details could apparently do nothing but gape at him and shake in fear, muttering something under her breath about "Malfoy… you're a Malfoy…" until he had enough and stormed out of the Common Room, having known her next words would have been "Death Eater".

Four seats ahead of him, Granger turned around to glance at him, raising an eyebrow at his appearance. Maybe if he ever spoke to her again, he would tell her to be more subtle.

He'd been avoiding her ever since the conversation they'd had where he'd apologized, which wasn't hard as they shared most of their classes and he steadfastly refused to attend those so he could research the blasted cabinet instead of after hours and risk bumping into her. It didn't help that she wasn't avoiding him - he was only dodging her because their previous interaction had left him feeling off-kilter for hours later. She had been... nice to him, without a hint of fear or anger at what they both knew about him. It was strange, and he wasn't sure how he felt about it.

Well, that wasn't necessarily true, he felt suspiciously light and airy when she grinned at him as she had ducked into the classroom, and thank Salazar he had been a cockroach - that was something he never thought he'd think - at the time, because he definitely would have smiled back at her, and that was something Draco could not afford to do. Granger would start to expect him to be nice to her, and Merlin knew that was a struggle even on a good day. Although, it had been coming more easily to him - but no, that wasn't going to happen. He was Draco Malfoy, and she was Hermione Granger, and he had to keep his distance. He couldn't carry out his task and sustain his air of disdain towards everyone if he was going soft for a Gryffindor. He'd be dead if the Dark Lord caught wind of him even talking to Granger, fuck no, he had to stay away. She was too dangerous to be around, what with all the feelings and kindness and heat he felt whenever he was near her.

Plus, they hadn't quite broached the subject about his task and Death Eater persona yet, not after the last argument they had over it, and he wasn't quite ready to cross that bridge to talk to her and see what she had to say. Odds were she'd just yell at him again, and the last time she had done so, he lost four days' worth of sleep tossing and turning as he thought about what she'd said.

Nothing was going right today it seemed, because McGonagall waved her hand so the day's lesson wrote itself on the chalkboard - something about changing the colours of their eyebrows. Draco looked at the ceiling and let out a sigh, the closest thing to a groan one could get in McGonagall's class without tipping her off and receiving detention.

Within moments, he was bored to tears, subtly pulling out the notes he had stashed in the toe of his loafers, unfolding the top so he could see his sketch of the cabinet. He had started with what he knew of the inner workings, from the basic, original spellwork to how the wood acted as a conduit for the magic.

He had found one of his Father's old contacts to get a chunk of untouched Walnut wood before any wandmakers could get their grubby hands on it, and he even tacked on an order for the black paint to make it match, as magical furniture was fickle enough to refuse to work should it feel slighted in any way. Altogether, it was more than a few Galleons, but hopefully worth it. If anything about this situation was considered "worth" it.

Then again, it was his and his parents' lives on the line. Granger's thoughts were just getting in his head.

He heard a burst of bright laughter - he could tell it was Granger's; it seemed he had slowly become attuned to her, what a strange phenomenon - and then an outburst from Weasley and the Brown and the Gryffindor Patil, and then Granger was turning away from the group, blinking back what looked to be tears. Draco clenched a fist under his desk, feeling more mutinous towards Weasley than ever before.

The classroom went on as if the altercation had never occurred, as Draco fumed - for reasons he didn't want to unpack just yet - as he imagined beating the shit out of Weasley and hexing the two girls that laughed at Granger. With extreme satisfaction, reasoning it was because he never wasted a chance to mess with Weaselbee, the next time the redhead raised his wand to attempt to remove his handlebar moustache, Draco immediately jinxed it into animated movement, grinning as it began to strangle the Gryffindor.

When the bell rang not long after McGonagall had to intervene before Weasley died, what a shame, that, Granger was the first out the door, Potter hot on her heels. After a brief moment, trying to calm himself by staring at Weasley's purple face, Draco raced out the door. He didn't even know why he bothered following, she was probably going to lecture him again about his choices anyway. He certainly didn't need a reminder of their other conversation (What do you think will happen to Mudblood Granger and her Mudblood friends if Voldemort wins?) as he still didn't have an answer, so maybe it was best Potter was comforting her.

He tracked them all the way to the library, loitering in the Potions section as he spotted the duo take seats at a table near the History of Magic stacks. He browsed through various tomes, convinced he could give his strange protective instincts a rest and return to his task when he heard Potter's half-assed efforts at comfort. Granger had on her brave face, the one where she pretended everything was fine for her dumbass friends so they could live in the rose-coloured world where she was the backbone of their survival, so he waited until Potter finally left before sliding into the suddenly unoccupied seat.

He wondered when he became so attuned to her that he could read through most of her tells and knew when she was bullshitting her friends about her feelings, and pushed that unhelpful thought aside.

"If you're here to call me a Mudblood or curse my hair, you can go away before I hex you to forget how to walk and instead tap dance everywhere for the rest of your life." Her warning was a little unexpected, but it did well to throw out any other ideas in his head that were clamouring to be heard.

"Fuck off," was his natural, albeit uncalled for, response, and he immediately raised his hands to backtrack. "That wasn't- I only meant-" He was having a hard time thinking of how to respond with the tip of her wand brushing against the bridge of his nose.

He cleared his throat and attempted to try again. "I only meant, I'm merely here to study." She gave him a calculating look and set down her wand, where he noted she kept it only a hair's breadth from her fingers. Smart girl.

"Besides," he added without thinking, "I've already cursed someone's facial hair today, I'm all out of hair-related hexes."

Last year, he could count on one hand the number of total words he had ever said to Granger that were not a) called for or b) insults/curses/hexes, so the unprompted sentence was more than a shock to his system. He chanced a quick glance up to check for a reaction, only to find her staring at him, her blank face frustratingly difficult to read. Of course, the witch would wear her emotions on a sleeve, and the one time he was actually curious to see what she'd say, and he couldn't get a read on her.

"That was you?" She seemed… amused, and then her lips twitched, and he was no longer afraid of being jinxed by her. He realised his focus had narrowed on her lips, and then blinked a few times to rid himself of the image.

"Our family solicitor once taught me never to admit to anything when there isn't proof against you, so I'm going to say no." He dragged out the syllables of his 'no' for a moment longer than necessary, and then she laughed. To him.

This had never happened before.

Granger let out one more giggle before turning back to her study pages. He frowned at the book in his hand, noting it was about the differences between toads and frogs in Potion-making, and stood to return it to the shelf. He still had half the day left and toyed with the idea of finding Crabbe and Goyle into standing guard again so he could try a few things on the cabinet.

As he was leaving, however, a small hand gripped his wrist, and he glanced down at the bushy-haired witch.

"Thank you," she said simply, and then dropped his hand, collecting her own books.

He was struck stupid for another hour or two before he could recover.

"Alright, Malfoy," Granger said later that night when she slipped into her seat, tilting it before she sat so the papers and books he'd stacked onto it as a deterrent slid to the ground. He pursed his lips, bending to collect them and place them on the table. It wasn't the first time she'd done that, and it wasn't the last time he'd try it. It was as if she was purposefully ignoring the silent message he was trying to convey.

Why it was so important for her to sit in the seat beside him was a mystery in itself, and any method he tried to stop her - jinxes, removing the chair, even picking a different seat - changed nothing.

"What do you want?" He said without looking up from the books. This chapter was interesting - he hadn't thought about using a Potion to amplify his spellcasting, but it might be worth a shot. It would take at least a month to brew, but maybe if he could find some stronger spells to mix with it, he might have a chance. And yet, something was telling him not to rush it, to take his time because maybe things would get better and he'd have new options.

"I talked to Professor Flitwick to get you some additional notes. It's your worst subject and you've skipped it three times this week." She levelled him a hard glare that he studiously ignored. "Show up to class next week or I'll stick you in a jar and bring you with me."

"I wasn't aware you wanted to spend time with me that badly," he smirked, finally lifting his head to look at her. Her cheeks flushed pink and then she was glaring again.

"Don't joke about that, trust me when I've said it happened before, and it'll happen again." Granger tapped her wand against the table threateningly, and Draco was quick to dip his head and take the notes she offered. "And meet me here tomorrow to study and review these."

"Thanks," he said gruffly. "I guess it wouldn't hurt to show up tomorrow. Maybe I'll learn something that can actually be used in the real world."

He returned to his book, sucking in a short breath when he found an added note on the potion he was looking into, making a quick note on the page, his quill stopping when he realised who he was sitting beside.

"Draco Lucius Malfoy, did you just write on that book?" Honestly, he might be even more terrified of her when she was pissed about the books instead of his task.

"Er, no," he lied unnecessarily, as she had watched as he wrote his notes. "Look, it's just a couple of lines-" he amended, trying not to lie to her.

When had that happened? He used to be able to lie to her about anything and everything, but then he spent three months with her and now his chest starts to hurt whenever he even thinks about it.

He should go to Madam Pomfrey and get that checked out, Draco decided as Granger processed her rage. He couldn't keep up lying to everyone if he couldn't even lie to her. He eyed her critically as she swelled with anger, trying to understand why she was different to him compared to the rest of the world. He could lie to his parents just fine - they didn't always believe him, and he did his best to tell his mother a version of the truth, but there wasn't anything stopping him from lying other than personal preference. With Granger, on the other hand, it was as if there was a mental block that stilled his tongue each time he attempted to lie, or, even worse, spill the truth before he could stop himself.

Had she cast some sort of spell on him?

"Draco Malfoy, how dare you write on a book-"

No, he kept up with spellwork by testing if he was being traced with something.

Had she doused him with a Potion? Some sort of variation of Veritaserum, perhaps?

"-the utter disrespect you've shown to these tomes is appalling, truly-"

No, she had never given him anything to consume, and he ate at the Great Hall irregularly and infrequently, so the odds of her picking the correct time to lace his food were unlikely. Granted, of all people, she would be the one who could do such a thing, and he wouldn't put it past her to spike all the Slytherins to ensure he also ate the serum, but considering he had three Slytherins lie to him when he walked down the hall - go through the tapestry passage, Filch isn't over there - she hadn't turned to Veritaserum yet.

"-I thought you knew better than this-"

What else could it be? Maybe she cast something on herself to make her irresistible?

He shook his head to dislodge the thought.

Not irresistible, but hard to lie to. Irresistible was not the word he had meant - it was true, but he had been doing his best not to think of that.

"-don't you shake your head at me, I know you Draco, and-"

Then what the fuck was happening? He let out a soft sigh, resting his cheek against his palm with his elbow on the table, and slouching in a way his mother would scold him for. He ran his gaze over each freckle on her cheeks and across the bridge of her nose, wondering - not for the first time - how long it would take him to count each dot. She'd have to be still, of course, which was the only reason he hadn't been able to count them all. Granger was such an animated person, it would be difficult to make her sit still or stop talking. His brain immediately latched onto that thought and started to daydream what, exactly, he could do to make her sit still.

Kissing her would more likely make her punch him again, and not only that, but it was definitely not what he wanted, and he didn't know why that idea appeared.

Her hair puffed up like it always did when she was angry, but it wasn't the furball he remembered, but the wisps of her curls increasing in volume in a way that was still pretty.

Why was he thinking she was pretty? Hermione Granger had spent the first 15 years of her life being completely unremarkable, he told himself, and this one year of prolonged exposure to her wasn't going to make him change his mind.

"-books are delicate, you can't just scribble over them as you please-"

He stifled a yawn, wondering how long her rant would last. Normally, he'd cut her off a lot sooner, but he was strangely comforted by the sound of her voice, even though she was lecturing him as if she were a professor and he was the student.

He had to hide his blush that erupted when a rather vivid image appeared in his mind, one far more intimate and inappropriate for where he currently was. He'd like to say that was a new development, but it really wasn't. She had appeared much more frequently in his dreams over these past few months, more so than normal, and he was really starting to rethink this constant contact he had with her.

"-they need to be shown respect, and then they'll show you what you're looking for-"

Why was he thinking about this? Where had that come from?

It was getting really hot in the library, and he pushed his right sleeve up past his forearm. He went to adjust his left sleeve as well but paused as he toyed with the cuff, flicking a gaze up to meet Granger's eyes. She stammered for a brief moment, glancing at his arm before clearing her throat aggressively and resuming her tirade.

Draco left his sleeve where it was, dropping his left arm under the table as another method of hiding it.

And that's another thing - her comfort. Sure, he would say whatever he could to get a rise out of her, but there was a line now, one that he couldn't cross without a strange sensation in his chest. He had done that once a few weeks prior; had made a passing comment about Weaselbee's incessantly loud performances at the Gryffindor table. She had given him a hurt expression and swiftly left, muttering something about the loo as she dashed off, and he spent the next fifteen minutes frustrated with himself for bringing it up and for being frustrated about it. He shouldn't care if she felt bad for the shit he said, he'd spent years trying to make her feel anything other than that haughty contempt, but now that he fucking liked her he wanted to defend her from comments like the ones he made?

She had come back to the table later and said the Weasley debacle didn't matter to her, but it was a sore subject and he better leave it alone or she'd sneak a love potion into Pansy Parkinson's breakfast. Personally, it looked like it did matter to her, but he swallowed any remark he was going to make when he realised just how close she was to dicing him into little pieces to feed to her "cat".

"-and I don't know what you're looking for in those books, not that I want to know exactly-"

Alright. So he couldn't lie to her without feeling a weird pain in his chest, he couldn't make her uncomfortable, and he disliked it when she was upset. Plus, he now lay in bed every night with an annoying hard-on just by thinking about her, and the few nights he did manage to sleep without any nightmares, his dreams all revolved around Granger. And, even stranger, he changed his whole belief system after one confrontation with her - and a strange conversation with Luna. Not that he wasn't grateful, of course, having opened his eyes and realised what an asshole he had been to blindly follow his father who was the champion Bad Example, but the principle of the matter was still that Granger had affected him. A lot.

"-that's not true, I do want to know what you're looking for but I don't at the same time, but still-"

Was this a medical condition? None of his Housemates had been complaining about "Granger-itis", not that most of them would admit to it, even in the safety of their dorm, and the most similar correlation of symptoms he could think of was when Theodore Notte was complaining about the same thing when he announced his enormous and disgusting "cavern of lusty and romantic feelings" for Potter-

Draco blew out a breath that he hadn't realised he'd been holding.

So that was what it was. Feelings. Feelings for Granger. Well, shit.

"-are you even listening to me?" She finally turned to him, noticing his complete lack of attention to her words. "Are you listening or just staring off into space again?"

"I'm looking right at you, Granger," he said in a tone that suggested he was being sarcastic, even though all his words were frustratingly true, "how could I ever look away?"

This… was an interesting - and yet frustrating and possibly death-inducing - new development. He'd have to keep an eye on his feelings, keep them bottled up and hopefully squashed before she caught on. Hopefully, she wouldn't have figured it out before him, just like she did with all their classwork.

"Don't get your knickers in a twist, Granger," he said, willing himself not to blush as he spiralled into wondering what knickers she might be wearing - "I'll be careful with books from now on."

She nestled back into her seat without looking at him, looking more than a little pleased, and he could spot a slight blush spread across her face. "What's that look for?" He asked without meaning to, leaning closer to get a better look. Her flush deepened, and she untucked her hair from behind her ears so it would act as a curtain across her face.

"It's just - not many people listen to me, especially when I go off on a rant. It's… nice, I suppose. To be heard."

Draco closed his eyes for a brief moment, wondering how little Pothead and his little shit of a sidekick must listen to her for her to be pleased by this Slytherin she hated paying attention to. "Here's a tip," he drawled instead of giving her a hug like he realised he wanted, "make them shorter. And with less yelling. It's more effective."

"Is it now?" She asked with just as much sarcasm in her tone as he had used.

"I'll give you one more tip: do you know the best way to get me to pay attention?" He asked smoothly, and she tilted her head, hair falling back so he could drink in the sight of her face framed by those honeyed curls.

"And what's that?" Her voice was practically a whisper, his response slightly roughened by the lick of desire he was experiencing.

"Fewer clothes."

He might honestly tip her off if he started to really flirt with her and mean it - and not in the joking manner he had switched to so he was less antagonistic towards her - but he couldn't bring himself to care, not when her bowed lips parted in shock and the flush returned with greater force. She looked so alive and brilliant, he couldn't bring himself to care about anything other than her.

She let out a short hum, pretending to check the timepiece on her wrist. "I have to go back to my House, or Gin will worry," Granger said, packing her bags and making to leave their section. The sound of her footsteps paused just as she disappeared from his sight, and her head poked back between the shelves. "I'll see you tomorrow?" It was phrased as more of a question, and he mentally ran through their class schedules. They didn't share any classes tomorrow, so where-

Granger cleared her throat and then dipped her head at the books he had stacked on the table, and then it dawned on him.

"Er, yeah," he said roughly, "see… see you tomorrow."

"It's a date," Hermione Granger said with a wink, and then dashed off, leaving him and his confusion to sit up all night trying to figure out if she was teasing or not.

It seemed she had been teasing, as the next day she stormed over to him to rant about Weasley and Brown and Snape and classwork until she was blue in the face instead of doing anything he had imagined and hoped she might do.

He was disappointed, of course, he was a teenager in his prime and horny as fuck for this witch, craving both her affections and her body, but she had also had several interactions with him without bringing up the brand on his arm. She hadn't forgotten; he had seen her casting dirty looks at his left arm when she thought he wasn't looking. But she also wasn't the type of person to let something go when she had a strict idea of what was right and what was wrong.

Maybe she was just giving him time. Time for what, he didn't know, but maybe he could relax and not worry she was about to turn him in, and then he could figure something out. Something, he wished fervently, that could give him the best of both worlds - not dying and killing someone... and having Granger.

a/n: Listen, I did my very best to figure out the layout of Hogwarts, but we're just going to say the floor plan constantly shifts because I spent a good fifteen minutes every time the layout became questionable trying to figure out where things are. Clearly, it went well, because I have officially given up.

Please note that I despise Snape with every fiber of my being, and I will never forgive him for his actions unless he were to show legitimate remorse and not just switch sides because the head honcho said "oops I'm still going to kill this girl you've been pining for" and not because he realized genocide is not okay. But he appeared here nonetheless because he and Draco share more than what Draco once suspected.

Next update: 6/19

- Meg