Why is today different from any other day? Or will it be different? Who knows? It might be another usual day where our famous blonde and fiery brunette decides to act like those two days never happened, or they might choose to acknowledge it.

Another day, another boring classroom. However, there is an element that differentiates it from being just another classroom. The classroom's tables being placed in a circle was an easier way to teach. Since no student could hide themselves endlessly doodling on their textbooks or sleep thanks to the cover of another student's head. But, this atmosphere also created tension and slight blushes here and there from people that either had a crush or crushed on each other.

For instance, it was Milicent Bulstrode's favorite seating arrangement since she could watch Nathan from Ravenclaw for two straight hours, and she definitely was not subtle about it. As much as it was a blessing for Milicent, it was a curse for Nathan. He felt so uncomfortable and pressured by her gaze that he could only stare at his desk the whole time, even though his only desire was to watch the teacher, who had bewitched him from the moment he entered her classroom in September. He prayed every day that Milicent wouldn't show up just for once so that he could register his favorite teacher's movements and face in his mind to use as a pawn when creating scenarios before sleeping.

Then there was Gregory. Oh, he loved it too. It allowed him to be fully immersed in Luna and her world. He was so fascinated by the way she used her eyes, blinked, talked, and the questions she asked that he started writing a play about it and made her the lead. It was actually she that got him into writing, and he couldn't have been more grateful. He had finally found something he was interested in that didn't just last for a couple of days. Since, most of the time, he lived in a pretty repetitive vicious cycle. He would find a hobby, buy every supporting item to maximize his productivity and creative genius in that hobby, then completely dismiss anything about his obsession due to another thing that would pique his interest. He would constantly overhear and eavesdrop on his parents' conversations about why their child was like this, how he would ever find a partner that he wouldn't end up divorcing, or whether this cycle would continue forever.

Needless to say, they were thrilled to find out that his behavior finally changed, thanks to the mystical behavior of his classmate.

A round of applause for Luna.

The funny thing is, though, that Luna was completely unaware of it. She didn't even know his name since she didn't think it was worth her mind's storage to keep it in there. He seemed like just another average Ravenclaw to her.

Other than potential prize-winner writers, this seating arrangement also unleashed a new wave for this generation's potential Vangogh, which would be Caroline in this context. Yes, what inspired this new artist was no other than Ambrose's neck and collarbone structure. From the moment she had seen it when Fickle paired them up to do an assignment together, she got this strange sensation in her chest. She would describe it as this fiery urge to have to get whatever she saw on paper or on a wall or even carve his collarbone on their desk if this was a parallel universe where Hogwarts would ever be in a parchment shortage.

She remembered that day so clearly. During the whole lesson, she tried to suppress her dying urge to draw him because she obviously wanted to keep her sudden interest to herself and not come out as creepy to him. But the moment that clock ticked to signal the termination of class time, she was out of there as if there had just been an evacuation warning, the same as a year ago when the dark side terrorized and took over the entire school. She ran to her room as if she were in a marathon and the stakes were life or death to sit at her desk and let all that inspiration pour out of her on paper like it never had before. It was almost as if she saw a vision of the future and sketched him with her eyes closed, relying only on memory. In less than five minutes, she was done, and the result turned out to be absolutely horrendous. It was no different than a toddler picking up a brush and concentrating on their craft, thinking they were this generation's Monet. Even though she was faced with a weight of deception, she didn't let that stop her and decided that it would be better if she tried to do it with her eyes open instead this time, and that was the beginning of a sleepless weekend where her friends were so worried about her odd behavior, but she couldn't care less. She had to get down exactly what she had seen on paper before Monday arrived where she would see him again.

As the weeks passed, she learned to control her intense feelings against him and got pretty good at disguising her doodles of him. She even crafted her very own spell where it looked like she was writing to the outside eye when she was actually drawing him in—how can I put this—not a very pg-13 way, to say the least.

Even though on October 6th, he asked her what she was writing all the time to which she responded, "I'm just taking notes," it's safe to say that her little side activity was safe with her for now.

She even started a sculpting project of his face and neck that she did mostly during the night. Her new hobby was also a very effective way to release the whole built-up tension of the day, a much healthier—depending on what your point of view is— alternative to her previous smoking habit.

Finally comes our most awaited Slytherin. The one that never came off as obvious when looking at his target. He was such a master at calculating the timing and duration of his gaze that his target would never even notice him looking in their direction. For all they knew, he couldn't even be less interested. But he decided that there was no need to hide it this time and immersed himself in a laissez-faire state of mind. He stared at her wild curls and slightly pink-tinted cheeks as much as he desired without any calculations on when would be the most suitable time to look away and back again. There was something so relieving about it. It almost made him never want to do any sort of calculation ever again. Or at least when it came to looking at her.

Hermione, however, could feel the weight of his gaze, and her cheeks grew slightly more red the longer he looked. She knew that she would smile if she ever slightly tilted her head in his direction. But she did it anyway.

The clash of the eyes. The classic, most cinematic sequence in any romance. Those eyes. That look. The intensity. It always gets us. What is it about two pairs of eyes that make our hearts flutter out of our chests?

Well, Hermione couldn't think of that right now. She was too busy trying to keep her heart within instead of it taking a stroll into the real world.

She used her hand to cover her smile but didn't look away. She gave herself permission to lose herself in those damn silver eyes, knowing that it would eventually ruin her. Because why not? That was the goal, anyway. So the how or why of things didn't matter. Nor did the 'who' of things if it paved the way towards her ultimate goal.

Why wasn't he looking away? His calculative gut sent him trillions of signals to turn his head away that he was blowing away too much of his cover, but he didn't listen. He shut it off no matter how much he could feel his core burning. He completely shattered his last ounce of self-control by allowing his lips to form a gentle smile.

He was made up of ashes now, but his eyes remained glued on her.

"Why are you smiling?" asked the professor. Everyone tried to locate who she was talking to. They first looked at Hermione, who was slapped across the face with a wave of stress and surprise. Then they all gasped when they followed where the professor was actually looking at.

Malfoy didn't answer, "Mr. Malfoy?"

He kept his gaze on her, even though she wasn't anymore, "Yes?"

"Answer my question."

"Your question is unrelated to the teaching material," he intertwined his fingers together, placing them firmly on the desk.

"What is there to smile about the first wizarding war?"

Some Grynifinfor interrupted their one on one, "Isn't that obvious?" Many looked like they agreed with him, but Hermione jumped in, speaking directly to the professor, "Why are you assuming that was the reason behind his smile?"

"What else could it be?"

"Can't a student display the most basic form of being a human? Isn't it something to praise that no matter how traumatic these last two years have been, someone is able to still feel and experience some form of joy?"

"Not if you were on the other side of the war" A wave of chattering and gasping erupted in the classroom. Draco didn't pay attention to any of it. He was locked in on her.

Hermione carefully gathered her thoughts, "And where were you during this whole ordeal, Madame Fickle? I certainly didn't see you fighting on the battlefield. If I remember correctly, you were hiding in a safe house in–"

"That's enough!" Fickle was filled with rage and embarrassment.

Gregory rose from his seat to go to war for his beloved. "Who do you think you are to be accusing her like that!"

Draco let out a lazy scoff, catching everyone's attention once more, "Says the guy who carries her autograph everywhere he goes."

A rush of embarrassment dawned on Gregory's face, "I – I - "

"So you're not denying it," Malfoy continued.

"I do no such –"

"Okay, then, if not, show us what you keep in your satchel's front pocket," a sly smirk spread across Draco's face.

"I –"

"Enough!" Fickle exclaimed in such utter loudness that made some students jump out of their seats, " and Miss. Granger out right this instant!"

"Why? Just because I spoke the truth?" Granger asked calmly, earning her a murderous glare from the professor.

"Out!"

Draco got up and held the door for her. Once he shut it, he was fully prepared to listen to one of her tirades but ended up quirking a brow when she started smiling, "It's been eating me inside forever, and I can't believe I just straight up said it," her smile turned into boisterous laughter that sounded like heaven to his ears after having to listen to Fickle's odious voice for the last hour, "Such a hypocrite. Talking about the war as she experienced it when she was vacationing in the south of Turkey the whole time."

"The south of Turkey is rather pleasant, though. Can't blame her," he teased. She gave him a look.

"Well, I wouldn't know. I've never been," she crossed her arms, looking at her feet, "My mom has, though. She always talks about all the stray cats and how people always leave food for them and water in front of every house or apartment."

"Yeah, I remember that as well. I don't understand how there can be so many like that," she noticed a shift in Malfoy's eyes but couldn't decipher what it actually was that had shifted his demeanor. It seemed like he wanted to say something but kept it to himself.

"What is it?"

"What is what?" He asked, leaning his back on the wall with his hands in his pockets.

"I can tell that you want to say something."

"How?"

She looked down at her feet, "Well, you—you just do this thing."

"What thing?"

Why did he always have to make everything so difficult? "I noticed that sometimes you start talking, but then you just stop, and every time I can see your left hand moving in your pocket, which I believe is you making a fist to control yourself from talking about more…personal things."

If Draco was surprised, he tried his best not to show it, but that 'not wanting to be calculative' mindset had somehow already started making its space and rewriting the functions of his mind, which is why Hermione noticed his eyes slightly grow wider. Even though just a fraction, it was enough for her to notice. She had become better at being very attentive to his gestures and facial expressions since he hardly did any. So whenever his face shifted in any way other than blank, she had become better at noticing it, and of course, spending a whole entire weekend laying on his lap had proven itself quite useful to ameliorate her new skill.

Draco looked down to see what she was talking about, and there it was. He was quite surprised to find out that he did that since he thought he was aware of all of his movements. He relaxed his hand and took it out of his pocket. He looked back at Hermione, who was glad to be able to observe every step of his new discovery. It was the first time she had seen him so off guard, and she wished she could get more of it. She felt this innocence radiate out of him for a moment, and she wanted nothing more than to hug the broken child in him. All of her senses told her to reach out to him, to keep him in a motherly-like hug. She wanted to make him feel safe that it was okay to not know everything about yourself. They were only 18, for fuck's sake, but she quickly restrained herself.

No hugs.

However, an amusing enigma resided in her being. Despite having an aversion to physical touch, it was also her love language. How could that be?

Love?

No.

Care language.

Yes, that's it.

Yes, she did care for him.

Or no, she just felt empathy for the child in him because she also would've wanted people to be a little more forgiving and caring when she struggled in her younger days.

But again, he had boundaries.

So, no hugs.

Draco observed her intently, wondering about the thoughts that danced in her mind. Perhaps she could see right through his surprise. Now pity lingered on her face, and she thought he was weak. He sensed danger and quickly reverted back to his calculative ways and felt all hints of emotion concealed away. But even so, he yearned to finish his sentence yet felt afraid that it would reveal too much of his inner self. Why was he doing this? The weekend had offered solace, a haven free from danger where he could truly feel his being unwind. Now, back in these halls and wasting away during these bullshit lectures made the gates build around him like clockwork.

Fuck the gates. He was going to say it. It was just one stupid sentence.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

He couldn't believe he was actually gonna say it. Fuck. He's a loser. Such a fucking loser.

"I don't understand how someone could," a pause, "Pets deserve to be loved, not abandoned," he shook his head upon such cruelty.

Now, she really wanted to hug him, but she decided to lie back on the wall next to him. She thought of Crookshanks and seeing him in the street, all alone, lying on the snow, freezing to death. No. Never would she do something like that to him. Never.

"Whenever I feel like I'm going to lose my mind, I treat myself on a walk to less crowded areas and streets which could almost be called abandoned. Once, I saw something that I often think about," Draco's gaze softened as he tilted his head to look at her, "I saw a guy get out of his car with his dog, then untie his leash and drive off. The dog managed to run after him but eventually couldn't keep up with the speed. The way he was barking, crying, was so—I was so fucking angry, and I just wanted to pull out my wand and use an unforg–I just wanted to throw any hex, life-threatening or not, but I couldn't. It happened during the later stages of 6th year, and I couldn't risk losing my magical privileges."

He gave her an apologetic look and gently placed a hand around her shoulder, drawing her slightly closer to him. She hesitated for a moment, feeling a mixture of surprise and warmth at his unexpected gesture. But then, she found herself slowly leaning in, resting her head on his shoulder. With her head nestled against him, she let herself close her eyes momentarily to relish the comforting feeling of his touch before she felt his fingers delicately brush through her hair, a gesture more valuable to her than words could ever be.

Everything felt exactly like how they were last night in the hospital wing, just a bit more uncomfortable since they were standing this time, but still, it wasn't that bad.

Their moment was deemed short-lived because of echoes of footsteps nearing them, resulting in them breaking apart. The interesting thing to note was that Hermione was the one to react first. She could still feel his tight grip on her, which he released moments later. They were expecting a couple of students wandering around, but that definitely was not the case this time. Seamus was being walked out by two Aurors with magical handcuffs circling his wrists. Mcgonnogall and other teachers were walking right behind him, "This is so fucked up! I didn't do shit! That lunatic beat me up the whole year!"

Hermione gasped, looking over at Draco, who stood completely still. But she could still make out the hint of disbelief tracing his face.

She had never seen Seamus looking like this before. He looked like a wild animal swinging his head left to right, trying to tear his hands away from the manacles. His piercing screams made it seem as if he was facing an onslaught from a ferocious jungle teeming with wild beasts. Who knew that tiny down-to-earth guy could hold so much anger and frustration in him? It almost looked strange since his anger didn't match his body. It was quite scary, to say the least.

Seamus still hadn't noticed them standing there, which was good for Draco because it gave him time to get back to his senses, step in front of Hermione, and hold onto her arms from behind. He couldn't let that bastard do what he had done to him last Friday to her.

Hermione was so entranced by Seamus that she didn't notice Draco's movements. Everything was happening so quickly and slowly at the same time. She looked up and at where his hands held her. She held his sides and watched as Seamus finally noticed their presence.

"Oh, you son of a bitch!" He tried to jump on them, but the Aurors quickly held him back. He tried to resist the magic holding him back, "You ruined everything! You fucking piece of shit! You death eater!" the more degrading the words, the tighter his grip was on her. She tried to caress his sides to make him feel at ease, that she was safe. "I'm here," she whispered.

McGonnagal silenced him at once, which earned her a murderous glare from Seamus, which she completely ignored. When Seamus still didn't calm down, the Aurors petrified him, making all that hassle go away.

As they walked away, McGonnagal stayed back, and when Draco was finally sure he was far away, he released his grip on her and stood at her side. The elderly witch had an uneasy look on her face, but then a small smile crept up on her lips as she placed a motherly hand on Malfoy's shoulder, "You're safe now."

Even though they both knew it wasn't true, he appreciated the gesture. He nodded before she slipped her hand away. Hermione didn't have a clue about what was going on, but she didn't want to ruin their moment. McGonagall glanced at Hermione with a warm smile and tried to catch up to the rest.

Hermione watched as Draco lingered his eyes on the ground in thought, "Thank you for–"

"Don't mention it."

"No. I will. Thank you for protecting me," Malfoy felt an overload of thanks and pity, and kindness toward him, creating a severe sensation of unease. It was too much, "It's nothing, okay?"

Hermione could feel the tension in his words, which unfortunately wasn't the one where the reader would scream and throw their book across the room because of the serotonin boost but more of the 'I'm going to go cry now, and it isn't happy tears' type of tension. She didn't say anything and simply nodded, watching him walk away.

What a bipolar, complex, intriguing, hurt, tough, difficult, pretty, mind-boggling, seductive, frustrating man.

So, what was she supposed to do now?

She knew.

She waited until Malfoy was out of sight to run in the other direction and catch up to McGonnogal to understand what the fuck had just happened.

Theo was really craving pancakes, but it was already one in the morning, and he sure knew that Draco would never eat at this time in the morning to 'keep his figure' as he would often say. Well, actually, he didn't know if that was true anymore since the last time he could recall asking him was in fourth year, so maybe it had changed now.

Theo, however, was also feeling a bit lazy to get out of bed. The way his blanket wrapped around him was so perfect, and he also had the best position. He knew that if he moved even an inch, he would have to turn around like a dog trying to make themselves the perfect space before sleeping. He also knew that breakfast was in 5 hours, and he could surely wait that long.

But the thought of maple syrup drizzling on top of a stack of blueberry and chocolate chip pancakes made his mouth water, and he couldn't get that image out of his head. HE NEEDED IT. He needed to taste the airy and soft texture of the pancake in his mouth palette, or he swore he was going to have a panic attack.

That's it.

He leaped off the bed and went over to Draco's bed, who was surprisingly sleeping for the first time. Usually, Draco stood up until four or even five in the morning just thinking, but for once, the storm in his head had supposedly calmed down, and Theo wouldn't dare disrupt that. It made him so happy. He knew Hermione would have a positive effect on him.

He didn't bother slipping on a shirt and started walking towards the kitchens only with his pair of boxers and some slippers.

But then he stopped.

Should he invite Potter? Would it be odd?

He felt a bit conflicted and didn't know what to do, but he just kept walking.

Again. He could feel that gut feeling creeping up on him. Telling him to invite Potter.

He kept his head straight and tried to ignore that feeling until he reached the kitchens.

Well, this is interesting. He caught Luna licking blue-tinted batter off of a spatula.

"Luna," she didn't raise her head to look at him.

"Hello, Theo. Want to try one?" She asked. Theo felt caught off guard and hesitant for a moment, but the raw batter was his favorite, especially raw chocolate chip cookie dough, which he didn't think was what she had prepared until he tasted it, "where are the chocolate chips?"

"There," she pointed towards what looked like a 100-pound bag filled with chocolate chips. If people could have stars in their eyes, that would be the best way to describe how Theo's eyes sparkled. "Is that yours?"

"Yeah."

"Why do you have this many chocolate chips?" Theo couldn't help but wonder if he was falling into a deep pool of admiration for her or if he should be slightly frightened.

"It's for you," she met his gaze with a serene smile.

"Me? How did you know I would be here?" Theo asked while grabbing a spoon from a nearby drawer.

"The stars," she started stirring the batter around. He thought it was odd that she wasn't just using magic to stir it. It would've made more sense for Hermione to do it that way, but this was Luna, after all, so you never knew.

"Some form of elaboration would be greatly appreciated," he dug his spoon into the batter and ate the whole spoon.

"The coordinates of the celestial choreography above us told me so."

A beat. Theo took a moment to analyze. He reached for another scoop, and as he felt the creamy texture of cookie dough melting in his mouth, he spoke again, "It's too late for this shit."

"The alignment of Saturn and Jupiter revealed a cosmic convergence that foretold your arrival."

Just for pure brain recharging purposes, he took another bite, "How did you know it would be me who arrived? Did their alignment specifically indicate that the hottest and most intelligent Slytherin would be joining you?"

Luna glanced at Theo, her expression unfazed by his sarcasm. "I wouldn't know. The stars don't use such flattering language to describe people."

"But they have nothing better to do than gossip about where I'll go next," he smiled at his own words, a pretty predictable reaction coming from him, "Guess I'm as enchanting in the stars as I'm here."

"Your presence is noticeable, but the stars don't gossip about it," if politeness and harshness could be blended perfectly together, it would use Luna's response as its template. But, still, Theo only took into account the first half of her sentence, "How would you know? Do you get weekly tea from them?"

"No. The stars don't engage with delivery services. I have to purchase Lavender tea on my own," Luna replied with a dreamy smile, "It would have been something to look forward to, though. I wonder if Lavender tea would taste different if brought from different planets."

Theo shook his head, smiling, "I wasn't talking about that kind of tea."

"Were you talking about chamomile? I saw you drinking it once," she used her wand to take some chocolate chips from the bag and pour it into the batter.

Theo started laughing while trying to recall when he had ever drunk chamomile tea in his life, "Tea also means to gossip."

Luna's face was blank, like always, but he could see that this was the first time she'd heard such a thing.

"So let's say one day I walk up to you and say, 'Hey, I have so much tea to spill' It means that I have so much gossip to tell you."

"Why would you spend your time doing such a thing?" Luna asked while she stirred the chocolate chips into the batter.

"It's just an example, and sometimes it can be quite fun."

"So you have fun talking about how people breathe and sit?"

"What?" Theo laughed, "Why would I do that?"

"You said gossiping was fun."

Theo was having one of those what the fuck moments as if he had just reached the scene of the grand plot twist in a movie, "So if I'm understanding this correctly, gossiping for you means talking about the way people sit and breathe."

"Isn't it the same for you?" she inquired softly, savoring the cookie dough once more. With a gentle push, she offered the bowl to Theo, inviting him to experience the same pleasure.

He smiled as the creamy sweetness melted in his mouth, "Mmmmmm. 10 out of 10… But, no. Or at least I've never paid attention to that. I think usually it's more about who is dating who or who broke up with who."

"I do not find that interesting. I like to watch how people breathe. It reveals a lot about their character."

"Then what does my way of breathing say about me?"

Luna paused for a moment, gently placing a chocolate chip in her mouth, "In rest, your breathing pattern is usually slow. It suggests that your external environment doesn't disrupt your inner tranquility. Or at least you have learned to block it out. People who think a lot breathe the least. However, I've noticed that you prefer to keep this aspect of yourself hidden, wanting to appear more clueless than you really are."

Theo observed her with curiosity, his spoon twirling absentmindedly in the cookie dough. "Interesting. All of this from breathing?"

Luna nodded.

"How did you learn to interpret breathing patterns? Or did it come naturally?" Theo was intrigued.

"Naturally. My awareness of it started to grow after coming to Hogwarts."

"In first year?"

"Mhm," she replied, beginning to place a baking sheet on a tray. However, Theo quickly stopped her, a hint of playful concern in his voice.

"Are you really considering ruining a perfect batch of cookie dough by placing them in the oven?" he asked, feeling protective over his baby.

"Oh. It's not for me. I know Harry likes them baked. So I'm just thinking of making him a couple for tomorrow," Theo's eyebrows rose for a moment. He wondered if the reason behind his reaction was a tinge of jealousy that he didn't know this about Potter or perhaps a desire to be the one to give him the cookies instead.

"You could give them yourself if you want."

Shit. Was he that obvious?

Theo smiled awkwardly, "It doesn't matter to me."

Luna gave him a knowing smile and lent him the spatula, "Here, you can place them on the sheet."

Theo looked at the spatula and then at her before taking it and starting to work.

Should he put it in a nice red box? No. Too much. What was this? A pizza delivery? Should he just wrap them in a napkin? But what if the heat of the cookies makes the napkin soggy? Or what about just casually taking it from his pocket and handing it to him during breakfast? No, what was he feeding? Nuts to a squirrel.

He really didn't know.

Meanwhile, Luna watched him crumble in his thoughts as his breathing intensified.