Hermione's been dreading this, but it must be done. Without waiting for an invitation, she commandeers a chair at Harry's and Ron's usual table in the common room. They both stare at her, mouths agape, while she casts her strongest muffliato.

Ron recovers first - or maybe he's just boldest. "Speaking to us again, then?"

"You're welcome," she returns haughtily, lifting her chin, and he drops his gaze. "Harry, you'll be glad to know they released Draco from the hospital wing today."

Harry does look somewhat relieved at this and Hermione softens a smidge. Only a smidge.

"And I'm sure you've both heard loads of people assuming you stood up for me because we're shagging each other wild, so thank you for that." She gives Harry a pointed glare and he turns a little pink. Ron smothers a cough, looking quite uncomfortable, and Hermione lets the moment simmer.

"Now I'm going to say something without this devolving into a gigantic row, and the only way that's going to happen is if you let me talk. Agreed?"

Both wizards nod, an amusing mix of wary and penitent.

"I know Draco had a lot to do with it, but the current level of… attention to this is a problem. His family knows, along with plenty of other people outside the castle."

"Death Eaters, you mean," Ron states flatly, and Hermione silences him with a stare.

"It's in everybody's best interest that people forget about this. It can't seem to be a thing. That means -"

"- so it is still a thing, then?" Ron cuts in again, and Hermione considers silencing him personally. She should have known Ron could never manage to shut up long enough for her to get this out.

"Not that it's your business, but yes. It will be. But not on the surface. He's going to appear to go back out with Pansy Parkinson. Right after that, Theo Nott is going to ask me out and I'm going to say yes."

Ron begins to splutter. Hermione grows more concerned about Harry's lack of participation, though, and waves a hand in front of his eyes. "Harry? Are you tracking this?"

"Why Theo Nott?" Ron finally chokes out, turning redder than Hermione's seen him in ages, which is saying something.

She sighs, exasperated. "Because it's false, Ronald. Theo and Pansy are together. Draco and I are together. It works. Should I say it's you instead? Are you going to ditch Lavender to help me continue seeing Draco on the sly?"

His face grows more red and seems to swell a little, making Hermione giggle.

"How about Harry, instead? Should I say I'm seeing Harry now, since half the castle already thinks he's gotten up my robes? Might hurt his chances with Ginny, though, so maybe you'd be in favour of that after all."

Ron ignores this dig. "So now, all of a sudden, the Slytherins are alright? Just *poof*" he flitters a hand in the air, "and they're all a good sort, now, no problems at all?"

"I didn't say that," Hermione defends, trying to keep her voice even. "But no, they're not so bad. Some of them. Even if you aren't ready to believe it about Draco, yet -"

"He tried to use an Unforgivable curse on Harry!" Ron shouts and Hermione really doesn't feel like having this argument again. She refuses to rise to the bait.

"Some of them aren't bad. They're people like everybody else. They're not perfect, either. But I'm not going to throw the baby out with the bathwater."

Ron stops, mid-retort. "The what?"

Unsure of herself, Hermione looks at Harry. He seems to understand the reference. "It's - a saying. I didn't think it was exclusively a Muggle saying, but maybe it is. It means just because the bathwater is soiled, it doesn't mean the baby is, too. Not all Slytherins are - oh, forget it. Pansy and I have actually spoken a few times, now. She's not exactly approachable, but she's not hateful."

"A ringing endorsement," Ron scoffs.

"And they're both agreeing to help Draco and me."

Harry clears his throat, looking awkward, and pushes his glasses up his nose. "Why - uh, why are you telling us, Hermione?"

A trickle of sadness goes through her. Once, they were her closest friends. Now… they still are, she reminds herself. Her oldest and closest friends. They've just been growing more distant this year and she pledges to try and repair things. She wants to mend the fences. She's back here now, and they're talking again. She can keep extending the olive branch.

"Well, for one, because you're still going to see us together on the map. I'd prefer you didn't continue following him - or me - around. But also because you're both important to me, you absolute and total wankers. Even when you're acting like wankers. I'd like to - to be around more, and I'd like to help with the memory. Or whatever else Dumbledore has you doing, Harry. Time's almost up."

Both wizards blink a few times and Hermione knows this is the extent of the sappiness she should exude. That's good because she doesn't think she could rustle up much more sappiness than this anyhow. She's still annoyed with Harry, but their friendship is more important.

And Dumbledore's lessons are most important of all.

"Harry, when do you meet with him again?"

"I don't always get much notice. But I have one this weekend. Snape's hacked off because it interfered with his detention, but he just moved it to Sunday instead."

He delivers this with a minimum of resentment, so Hermione elects not to comment on it, either.

"What's next with Slughorn?" she drops her voice on purpose, allowing it to become conspiratorial and enthusiastic. The two boys respond as she hoped they might, ducking in closer and matching her tone.

"Nothing else has worked, so I thought he should try using the Felix Felicis," Ron says and Harry shoots him a dirty look.

Hermione thinks that's a brilliant idea and gets her own dirty look in return. "Harry, I know you want to save it, but if nothing else has worked, you have to. Obviously, this is important or Dumbledore wouldn't ask. Do it and get it over with."

Harry groans, pushing his glasses back up again. Hermione notices a broken arm on the side making them loose, and fixes it for him without a word.

"Alright then," challenges Ron. "I'll play you for it. Paper, scissors, stone. Best out of three."

Hermione rolls her eyes, but with a surge of fondness. She crosses her arms over her chest and watches the quick set of matches. Ron wins and promptly denies Harry the chance to go three out of five.

Defeated and grumbling, Harry trudges upstairs to fetch the little vial. In his absence, Hermione turns back to Ron. She'd like to get on a track with less bickering, if she can manage it.

"How are things with Lavender?" she ventures, trying to smile.

Ron pulls a face and she tries not to laugh. She doesn't want him to think it's at him. "Bit clingy, to be honest. She wants an invitation to the Burrow this summer."

"The whole summer?"

He grimaces. "That's how she makes it sound. It's a bit much."

"Understandable."

"You're coming though, right? To the wedding? It's right after Harry's birthday."

Bill and Fleur. Right. Hermione nods. "Of course I am."

They still don't trust Draco. It's as plain as the freckles on Ron's face, but Hermione does appreciate that they keep it to themselves now. They don't talk about it in earshot. An amusing twist is that Ron is now equally fervent to Harry about Draco's presumably nefarious nature and intentions. Without mentioning it directly, Hermione sees both of them constantly eyeballing Draco's robe sleeves in classes, particularly in more physically active lessons like Potions, Herbology, or Charms. Draco moves and they both pop up like a pair of meerkats, eyes bulged and breath held. She struggles not to laugh, completely unconcerned.

Even when his robes dangle here and there, his tailored button-down shirts are always perfectly cuffed at his wrists. Other students roll their sleeves up in Potions, but never Draco. His shirts must be charmed to repel splashes or other risks of stains. Hermione's not surprised.

He puts on a good show of ignoring her, just as they'd done prior to the 'bathroom incident.' She steps lightly through classes in the shoes he bought her, the necklace tucked safely back beneath her robes. He still brushes her robes with his fingertips as she passes, and she always makes an effort to swish close enough for him to do this. Even when she's expecting the sensation, her heart skips a beat.

But Pansy is back at his side. It's been subtle for the past day or two, but she's next to him. Laughing, light touches on his arm, quick smiles. Theo ignores her impressively and Hermione knows it's only a matter of time before the next phase is put into action.

The whispering and rumour-mongering chatter is finally dying down and she tries not to get used to it. They're about to ramp it back up in a big way.

Meanwhile, she ogles Draco to her heart's content. In roughly half their shared lessons, he's in front of her. She tries to be discreet about it; at least as much as she was before. But he's just as distracting as ever. Broad, strong back, agile fingers.

They haven't managed to sneak away yet. She'd thought it was a bad idea to test the waters so soon, not until the Pansy/Theo swap will be complete. They need to appear disinterested without risking spying eyes.

Even knowing Pansy doesn't fancy Draco, it's still hard to watch the other witch get to be near him. Get to touch him, chat to him, sit with him.

Hermione feels the distance in a frustrating way. It's been too long since she's run her hands across his shoulders, too long since she's sat on his lap. Too long since his fingers have been in her hair, and the hospital wing doesn't count.

The scene itself happens at dinner that night in the Great Hall. Hermione thought she was prepared for this. She's wrong.

Theodore Nott, curly-haired academic, sixth-year Slytherin, son of a notorious Death Eater, of medium height and build, most often found well-blended into the background, is an astonishingly proficient thespian.

Hermione's just raising her spoon to her lips - venison stew is on the menu tonight, one of her favourites - when she hears a brash, "I mean it, Malfoy, I'm going to do it!"

"Do it, then," comes the irritable retort as Draco tries to brush past Theo, who's stopped just inside the entrance near the head of the Slytherin table.

His chin raised in defiance, Theo grabs his sleeve and spins him around. "You really don't care?"

Draco shrugs off Theo's hand with a twitch. "Why would I care, Nott?"

"You cared when it was Finnegan," Theo pushes back, seemingly oblivious to the crowd. He crosses his arms over his chest.

Draco rolls his eyes and stares up at the bewitched ceiling as if under extreme aggravation. Hermione's spoon is still only part way to her mouth. She splashes it back down in the bowl when she notices sets of eyes starting to flicker her way at the mention of Seamus.

Draco makes a show of trying to hunch down to Theo to speak more privately, but of course it's too late. The Great Hall is silent. Every ear is hanging on their words, by design.

"When it was Finnegan, I wasn't done yet. Now I am. It was nothing serious. Do whatever you want."

Hermione has been wondering how they were going to do this. If they're all supposed to hang out together, nothing about this could seem particularly acrimonious. Draco couldn't come in here and slander her, and then have Hermione sit with the three of them to revise for exams on Thursday evening. Neither could he and Theo reasonably come to blows or hexes, for the same reason. For another, it would mean her fling with Draco must have been serious after all. But they had to play to Draco's jealousy somehow. The whole school knows about him and Seamus, even though it was quickly overshadowed by what happened with Harry.

"Alright, then! Your loss, but you're a good mate. Oi! Hermione!"

She freezes like a rabbit caught in a snare, eyes wide. Half the Great Hall turns around to gawp in the direction of the Gryffindor table.

"Want to go to Hogsmeade with me next weekend?" Theo hollers, mortifying her from head to toe. She can feel the heat rising off her blazing cheeks.

Whispers and chatter. Chatter and whispers. Fingers pointing. Hands cover mouths as mouths duck to nearby ears.

She takes a deep breath and tries to remain composed. "How about we revise for that Arithmancy exam first and see how things go?"

Laughter.

"What was that?" Theo bellows, a hand cupped around his ear.

Hermione closes her eyes and prays for strength. Trying not to laugh, she calls out louder, "Let's study for Arithmancy first. How's Wednesday?"

"How's tonight?" he shouts back with a wide grin and she sees Draco, successfully seated at the Slytherin table now, briefly covering his eyes with his hand. Pansy takes that hand and turns his attention towards her to chat.

Rather than continuing to yell across the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables, she hoists a thumbs-up gesture high in the air and gets another solid round of laughter.

A sharp elbow nails her squarely in the left breast and Hermione yelps. "Ow! Ginny!"

"What the hell is going on?" the other witch hisses, eyes blazing. "You had better fill me in right now."

That's fair, Hermione thinks. Ginny is somewhat out of the loop, as things stand. But she can see Seamus looking over, a hurt look in his eyes, and guilt stabs through her. She wouldn't have gone to Hogsmeade with Seamus anyway, but this seems especially - what? Flighty? Shallow? Heartless?

"...I'll tell you back in our tower."

Harry had procrastinated yet again, and Ron and Hermione gang up on him properly in the common room after dinner. He'd gotten a note earlier in the day from Hagrid about Aragog's (un)fortunate passing and sauntered off that way with his cloak, making Hermione and Ron both distinctly nervous. But he'd taken a swig of the potion first, and Hermione tries to trust the process.

It gives her time to chat to Ginny for a bit, if nothing else.

Ron spends the wait attempting to detangle himself from Lavender's increasingly strident clutches of his robes, hair, and occasionally face, on, around, and across miscellaneous furniture in the common room - as if the selection of seating was the issue.

Hermione tries not to grin. Ginny doesn't even try to hide hers.

Ron uses an armchair as a physical barricade, darting to the left and right as Lavender attempts to corner him. Almost lazily, Hermione casts a shield charm near the fireplace. No sense having him stumble and fall in, in his haste to escape his girlfriend. It would be a uniquely tragic footnote to a eulogy.

"How do you think that's going to end up?" Ginny nudges her.

"Well, I did just prevent either of them from catching their robes on fire by accident -" Hermione begins and Ginny snorts, "- but she might still tackle him over that settee. I'm rather hoping she does, in fact."

Ginny's laughing properly now and Hermione keeps going. "But if you're talking about the general situation and not this current game of tag, I have to say it's likely they're going to split. I don't think it's a stretch. Do you?"

Regaining her breath, Ginny manages, "No. But do you think he's capable of it? Don't you think he would have done it by now, if he wasn't utterly terrified of doing it? I mean, really. It's clear she isn't going to ditch him."

"He certainly can't outrun her."

"Well, not like that," Ginny says scornfully and they both crack up. Ron makes an acrobatic dive behind one of the central sofas and Lavender scales it in one.

Hermione notices the time. "Bugger. I've got to meet Theo."

"Don't sound so excited." Ginny rolls her eyes, wiping a tear from the corner of one. She's still chuckling a little as Hermione stands and grabs her bag.

"If Harry comes back in soon, will you tell him to come find me in the library?"

Ginny's eyes sparkle. "Sure, sure. Don't mind him interrupting your date, then?"

"Oh, hush."

"Where is Harry, anyway?" Ginny looks around as if expecting to find him sitting just on the other side of the room. Hermione laments how difficult it is not having Ginny know anything about the memory, or Dumbledore's lessons, or the rest of it.

She tells a half-truth - or the whole truth, depending on the angle. "He snuck down to Hagrid's for a visit."

Hermione had hated giving up the cloak but wrangled a promise out of Harry that she can borrow it again when he's done. And she won't need it tonight. Everybody needs to see her with Theo. She sighs again, shouldering the bag, and makes her way to the portrait hole.

Theo is surprisingly good company. It takes Hermione quite some time to be sure how much of it is acting, after his performance in the Great Hall. He did select a study spot in clear view of most of the library, just off centre with good lighting. They're hard to miss. And there's definitely plenty of staring happening.

Hermione tries not to be self-conscious.

The library is meant to be a hushed place, but they'd both still rather speak without being overheard. This comes in handy as they sit closer than average study partners would, talking quietly to each other with faces turned in. She still casts a subtle muffliato.

Hermione had sat down without knowing quite what to think. He'd welcomed her with a big smile, already seated there, and pulled out the chair next to him with one hand. She wasn't surprised to see it was only him. It's far too soon to be appearing as a neat little quartet. But she was nervous nonetheless, even though this had been her idea from the start.

He seemed to sense her latent discomfort and stuck out a hand. "Hello, I'm Theodore Nott." He shook hers with wild enthusiasm, making her laugh.

"Hermione Granger."

"Oh, I'm aware. Thank you for agreeing to revise with me, by the way. I promise I'm not an abysmal study partner."

Things went a bit easier from there. They settle into a rhythm not unlike she and Justin, and she finds she can work well beside Theo. It does help that she doesn't give a toss how nimble his fingers are on his quill when he works or how much room his shoulders take up when trying to share one side of the table.

After ten minutes or so, Theo stretches hugely, stifling a yawn. "You know," he comments, looking her way, "if you wanted to go out with me, you could have just asked. This is rather a roundabout way to go about things."

Hermione can't determine if he's being serious and is beginning to realise this might just be his personality.

"I'd have said yes, by the way. I fancied you something horrid."

"You did not!"

"Did so. Had to keep it to myself, of course." He exaggerates a grimace. "But I definitely did."

Hermione decides to let this go, focussing on the more pertinent issue. "Speaking of which, your house's overall prejudice being what it is, how is it you're so willing to help?"

She'd rather not go into detail out loud but Theo gets the picture.

"You might find it difficult to believe, but," with a glance around, Theo drops his voice, "my father is a complete arsehole. I know, I know, hard to imagine, but it's true. Tiberius Nott, one of the original Death Eaters, is an absolute prick. Ever since I came of age, I've looked for ways to stick it to the old man, and I am shamelessly using you to do it. Do forgive me."

His dimples are so adorable, Hermione can't hold in a short giggle. "We're shamelessly using you, too, so I suppose it comes out in the wash."

"Who does the wash?" Theo wrinkles his nose in disgust and she has to stop herself swatting him on the arm, as if they've known each other for years instead of having their first conversation ever.

"What about Pansy?" Hermione barely breathes her name.

Theo tilts his head, rueful. "She's not quite as thrilled, but I've promised her some quality jewellery for her efforts. And I believe she's going to make me go down on her for every time I meet up with you. So."

"Not too terrible for you, I hope," Hermione teases. She can hardly believe the change in him. She's always pegged him as quiet and reserved. Maybe he is in larger groups. But he's not at all like that, one-on-one.

They go back to work, exchanging notes on the latest Arithmancy lesson from Professor Vector. She's impressed to find his neat and crisp, his handwriting precise.

"You don't need to look so surprised," he huffs, rolling his eyes, and she gives his shoulder a little push.

"I'll brag for a moment, shall I?" She flips her hair behind her shoulder. "I'm not used to other peoples' notes being high-quality enough to utilise. Well done, you. That's all."

He bursts out laughing. "No, well done you for managing to compliment us both in one go."

"I did tell you I was going to brag."

"You don't need to brag. You're the best in the year for a reason." He says this so easily, she's nearly taken aback. Her silence draws his attention, and he sets down his quill. "You don't need to look so surprised by that, either."

"I'm just -" she stammers, and tries to regain footing,
"- surprised to hear you just come right out with it. I'm not saying that well, I don't think." She covers her face with her hands, chuckling. "Ignore me."

Theo takes her hand, something she nearly yanks back in shock before realising she should probably permit it. She can't help hoping Draco isn't watching, though.

"Hermione - can I call you Hermione? Would you prefer I call you Granger?"

She coughs in disbelief. "Whatever you like, I guess. Although you called me 'Hermione' in the Great Hall earlier, so you might as well stick with that."

"Hermione. Plenty of people have told you and will still tell you that you're inferior somehow. I don't believe that."

She stares at him, eyes growing wider and wider.

"Your marks are top of the class for a reason. Your magic is strong. You pick up on spells and enchantments faster than nearly anyone in our year. Loads of people do think Dumbledore has a soft spot for Potter and his crew, and that does include you. But anyone sitting in lessons with you for the past six years who still thinks you're somehow not as good with magic as they are just doesn't want to see it."

"But - what about -"

"The blood purity we're all raised with is total bollocks," Theo says flatly. "You can castigate me for not shouting it to the rest of my house every day, morning and night, and fair enough. I'll admit I'm more interested in maintaining a peaceful living environment than making enemies of the vast majority of Slytherin House. But when I look at my father, the waste of magical space he is, and I look at you… there's only one mistake in the room. It's not you."

Tears spring to Hermione's eyes. They don't have the kind of honest rapport in place for her to start digging about Draco's family and their deeper views. That's too much to ask, this soon. But it's clear to her that she was right in her assessment to Ron. There's a range of good and bad in every person, in every house.

Not all Slytherins are bad.

"So all the previous years here, when I made fun of you. Sometimes. Loads of times. Alright, all the time." He quirks an uncomfortable half-smile her way. "I'm sorry."

She tries to clear her throat with some gasp of dignity. "Thank you. If I have to have a fake boyfriend for the rest of term, I'm glad that it's you."

He brings her hand to his lips for a quick kiss on the back of it and releases her. Stunned all over again, it takes her a moment to return to her parchment.

After a minute of silence, Theo bursts out, "I love my girlfriend very, very much. That wasn't confusing was it? Because -"

She has to laugh. "No, don't worry, I -"

"I know I'm painfully attractive. Extremely charming. It can be quite discombobulating to the average witch."

Hermione's nearly doubled over now, Theo hardly getting out the rest. "It's not your fault, but I shouldn't give mixed signals. Not very fair of me. I'll do better, I swear."

A loud cough sounds behind them, and she whirls to find Harry. "Hey, Hermione. Ginny said you were here. Come on back when you're done. I, uh - we should -"

She spares him cobbling together a reason. "Almost done here. I'll be back soon."

But Harry stands there, looking awkward, and Hermione sighs. They've probably been here long enough, anyway, and she does want to hear what he found out. She shoves her things into her bag, but when she looks up to say goodnight to Theo, she finds his eyes turned cold and locked onto Harry.

"Potter."

Harry shifts, uncomfortable. "Nott."

"You almost killed him, you know," Theo hisses, and while Hermione has already thrown that exact phrase at Harry a half-dozen times at least, she can't bring herself to intervene.

Harry, to his credit, doesn't try to defend himself with another excuse. Yes, Draco tried to curse him, too, but to hear it, they'd cast spells almost simultaneously. Harry can't claim that his curse was in reaction to Draco's.

"You should consider apologising, at the bare minimum," Theo spits, hoisting his satchel over his arm. He reaches for Hermione's hand again, clearly wanting to leave the library spectators something positive.

"My lady," he says, and drops another light kiss on it. "Don't tell him I did this, please," he murmurs in farewell, releasing her hand and turning on his heel to leave.

She and Harry aren't fifteen paces out of the library before she's accosted into a nook behind a suit of armour.

"Get lost, Potter," Draco snarls with his arms around her waist, and Hermione jumps in before this devolves.

"Harry, I'll see you in the tower. It won't be long."

Draco grumbles at this but she presses her palm flat to his chest.

"Go on, Harry." Unless he has something to say. She waits to see if he does. He hesitates long enough that she lifts an eyebrow expectantly.

"Potter, get the hell out of here unless you want a rematch."

"You came off worse in that, if I recall," Harry retorts automatically and Hermione closes her eyes as if she's in pain.

"And next time, you might be expelled for murder! Go, Harry. Before I murder you."

Harry does depart and Draco watches him go. "You wouldn't have to murder him, you know."

She scoffs in exasperation. "No, I won't, because it won't happen again. I think he was close to - to apologising, actually." Ordinarily, she would not have thought this, but on the heels of the encounter with Theo, she isn't sure.

Draco's busy nuzzling into her neck and she pushes him back. "What are you doing? We can't be doing this in the open."

"This isn't open," he protests, his voice low and gravelly. It sends chills down her spine. "And I passed Crabbe and Goyle in the dungeons."

"And what are you doing here, may I ask?"

"I couldn't resist. And I have to say," his teeth trap her earlobe before he continues, "you looked quite chummy. You've never laughed like that with me."

Draco's rather more intense than Theo. "Our time together is usually spent unclothed in some way or another, with one or both of our mouths occupied. Theo and I obviously won't have those activities to fall back on."

She would also very much enjoy the same kind of explanation-cum-apology Theo had offered for his past behaviour, hearing something along those lines from Draco. But that isn't what was funny, and is therefore not what Draco is referring to.

"He was very insistent that he's with -"

('in love with')

"- Pansy, and I'm with you. He's just a good sort. I'd never had a real conversation with him until today."

"Mmhmm, he's a riot," Draco starts working on her neck and she has to push him back again.

"I can't have one of those after one public study session in the library with Theo."

Frustrated, he gives her skin a little nip before releasing her. "I miss you, though."

"I miss you too." She leans into him and he buries his face in her hair, inhaling deeply, fingers tracing patterns on her scalp at the back of her head. "I miss this. We'll - we'll find a way to meet up soon."

"Are you wearing it?" he breathes, and she grasps one of his wrists. Sliding it down her clavicle, she presses his fingers into the charms, buried far beneath her robes.

Ever the scoundrel, his other fingers press down too, into the rise of her breasts on either side of the necklace. "Behave," she scolds him, smiling against his mouth as he kisses her.

"No. Shan't," he murmurs and she laughs.

"I have to go."

"Not yet."

"Yes. We can't ruin the trick this early, or it's all for nothing. It's going to work, if we let it."

Draco makes a frustrated noise. "Fine, throw out several quick public appearances with Nott and let's all start showing up together. Then, we can have some fun."

Unspoken is the fact that they don't have long left.

Summer is almost here.