Disclaimer: all characters and the wider wizarding world belong to J. K. Rowling.

The first class after the Christmas break for 7th year Gryffindor and Slytherin students was Defence against the Dark Arts with Professor Weasley.

Hermione took her seat one table over from Harry and Ron and set her books out. The rest of the class settled in and Hermione began revising the chapters they'd covered last term.

She was so engrossed she didn't notice someone sitting next to her until they cleared their throat next to her ear. Startled, she almost dropped her textbook and looking up she saw grey eyes looking back at her, a small smile on the face of Draco Malfoy.

"Mind if I have at least some of the desk, Granger, or do you need it all for the library you seem to be carrying around with you?" he drawled. It was almost like old times, but the sparkle in his eyes and the softness of the smile compared with his customary smirk told her it wasn't.

"Well, I do like to be prepared, but I suppose I can spare you a corner if you're very well behaved, Draco." She made a point to emphasise his name, she thought they'd got over this before the holidays but apparently not.

If he was surprised by her playful response, he didn't show it. He leaned closer and whispered in her ear.

"I've never been very well behaved before but I'll try, Hermione."

Hermione's blush clashed with her red and gold tie.

Ron had watched the exchange with growing rage. When Malfoy leaned in and whispered something that caused her to blush, he was ready to lose it.

He had ignored the Malfoys so thoroughly at Christmas that whenever they were mentioned in conversation or Hermione received another note from the flashy Eagle owl, he simply left the room. Harry had tried to sympathise with him, telling him about how hard it was to see Ginny move on when they'd broken up, but Ron just gave him a dead arm for reminding him that he was dating his little sister.

Ginny, on the other hand, had reminded him that he was lucky she'd forgiven him for the ball incident and if he didn't pipe down, he was likely to lose his best friend forever. When Harry agreed with her, he redoubled his efforts to be nice, whilst still ignoring the ferrety blond one. It had been much easier to do when he wasn't actually in the room.

Thankfully for Harry (who was getting ready to restrain his best friend yet again) Bill swept into the classroom, robes billowing behind him, and everyone settled down and faced forwards.

Bill flicked his wand at the chalk, and it began to sweep across the board.

"This term we will be focusing on a particularly useful spell in your arsenal against dark magic. I know some of you are already well versed in this spell, but it's incredibly challenging so we will be working on it at the beginning of every lesson this term. The spell is the Patronus charm."

The chalk finished writing and dropped back to the shelf, the words 'Expecto Patronum' clearly written in flowing script.

Ron's head snapped up. If there was one thing chess with his brothers had taught him, it was how to strategise, and his brother had just given him everything he needed to show that slimy ferret once and for all.

"Now, can anyone tell me what a Patronus is?"

Scanning the raised hands, he was surprised to find his brother with his hand proudly in the air and gestured for him to answer.

"It's a sort of shield, really, a shield of happy thoughts and energy that can protect you from Dementors, among other things," Ron started, gathering his thoughts. "It can also carry messages across long distances. It's shaped like an animal, something that matches you, but you don't get to pick it, it just shows up. And you have to have a really happy memory to cast it."

Ok, he knew it wasn't up to Hermione's standards, but he felt pretty confident that he'd covered all the salient points.

"Very good Ron, 5 points to Gryffindor. Now-"

"Actually Bill - er, I mean - Professor, there was one other thing I know about them." He paused for effect and turned to the desk next to him, pointedly looking at Hermione as he finished "Death Eaters can't cast them."

Hermione's mouth hung open. The class was so silent you could hear a pin drop.

"Well, that's more of a theory than an actual fact, Ron," Bill tried valiantly to diffuse the situation.

"Well, we could always test that theory, couldn't we?"

"Don't do this, Ronald!" she hissed as she glared at him.

Draco watched the exchanged glares with shock. He knew the ginger idiot wasn't happy about his and Hermione's budding friendship, but to have her fighting on his side was more than he could have even dreamed. Her friendship was the gift that kept on giving. He felt lighter than he had in months knowing she was defending him.

"Come on Hermione, we all know Malfoy's a Death Eater - sorry, was a Death Eater - maybe he'd like to test this theory with me?"

Standing to his full height he challenged Malfoy with one look, even as his brother pushed him back into his seat.

Hermione turned to her desk partner and touched his left forearm.

"You don't have to do this, just ignore him," she murmured low enough that only he could hear. "He's just being an idiot."

Draco might have had his pride to consider when it came to this challenge, but he wasn't an idiot. He knew this was a particularly difficult piece of magic, even his parents had never managed to perfect it, so this would be a pointless exercise in wand measuring.

"Are you quite done, Ron?" Bill asked, pointedly.

"No, come on, Malfoy. Afraid to be last in the class for once? Or afraid your patronus might turn out to be a ferret?"

A muscle below Draco's eye twitched. Draco gently removed Hermione's hand from his arm and stood to face his challenger.

"Fair enough, after you," he drawled.

Ron smiled in triumph, even as Bill threw his hands up in frustration and surrendered his class to the madness of teenage boys.

"Alright, Malfoy. A fair test - I'll go first, and I'm not a Death Eater." He proudly displayed his bare forearm for the class before raising his wand and flourishing it in a huge circle "Expecto Patronum!"

Ron's silvery terrier flew from the end of his wand and began scampering around the feet of the class. It approached Malfoy and bared his teeth before running off and disappearing in a silvery mist.

Draco stood silent for a moment. He had actually done it. He'd expected the weasel to be able to cast the shield patronus, a wispy silvery blob, which he could then mock and refuse to match until the end of term, but he was actually speechless.

Of course, he'd heard the rumours that Potter could cast one, but he didn't realise others had perfected it. The weasel had a fully-fledged, corporeal patronus.

He looked down and brown eyes caught grey ones. He saw something there he never wanted to see again. Pity.

He stormed out of the classroom without a backwards look.

Hermione's anger boiled over and she whipped her head round to Ron before the classroom door had even shut.

"How dare you, Ronald Weasley! How dare you rub something like that in his face. Do you think just because Harry taught us for months to perform that spell that makes you a better person and you can flaunt it? Grow up, Ronald!"

She flicked her wand and all the books packed themselves into her bag and she stormed out with two bags on her shoulder.

"Five points from Gryffindor for being an idiot," Bill muttered at his brother as he pushed him back into his chair to begin the class.

"You'd better hope Ginny doesn't hear about this," was all Harry muttered to him for the whole lesson.

Hermione realised she was too far behind Draco to catch him, and she could spend a week searching the castle and still not find him so she did the logical thing - she returned to Gryffindor tower and stole the Marauder's map from Harry's trunk.

She found the little dot with Draco Malfoy written above it in the Astronomy tower and rushed over there, her feet slapping noisily against the stone steps, arriving out of breath and flustered.

"Relax, Granger, I'm not going to jump," he drawled.

She observed him as she caught her breath and tried to tame her frizzy curls back into submission. He was sitting with his legs over the edge of the tower, his head resting on his arms on the railing, his hair falling into his eyes where he'd obviously been running his hands through it. With the weak, winter sun glinting off him he looked like some sort of fallen angel.

"I'm sorry about Ron. He's not your biggest fan, obviously, but since we've been fr- well, I mean, since we've been talking to one another, civilly I mean-"

"It's ok Granger, you can say friends," he smirked. "Despite my earlier assertion that I didn't really do friends, I won't run screaming from your presence or throw myself off the precipice."

"Honestly, Draco, don't joke about that."

"You know what I don't get? Why the hell you would even want to be my friend?" His facade of calm was slipping but he didn't care.

"I know why I'm friends with you; you're just so good and you're the first person who's really forgiven me and not just on paper but really, in everything you do. You've done more for me in a few months than some in Slytherin have done in seven years. You're probably the first real friend I've ever had. You have no idea how valuable that is, that willingness to be a friend to someone unworthy of it."

He swallowed and ran his hand through his hair. He knew he looked unkempt and he felt it. He was unravelling in front of her but once he'd started, he had to continue.

"When you and Potter decided to start over last year I thought it was just for the press but you were serious, you genuinely wanted to give me a chance and Salazar knows I need that chance. But you, you have so many friends. You're even willing to fight with one of your best friends, your ex - the guy who, if everyone is to be believed, you are destined to marry and have a big, ginger family with - for me. I'm not worth your friendship, let alone risking anything for me. Merlin help me I'm too selfish to stop you, but you really shouldn't be here. How did you even find me?"

Hermione had listened quietly but by the time he finished her patience was exhausted. Her hands automatically found her hips as she formulated a response.

"Firstly, don't tell me who or what is worth my friendship, Draco Malfoy. That is for me to decide and you would do well to remember it.

"Secondly, who says I'm going to have a big, ginger family with Ron? I love him as a friend, anyone who really knows us doesn't think that; they know we'd kill each other within the week.

"And thirdly, I stole Harry's map, which shows the location of everyone in the castle to find you. You weren't that difficult to find, in all honesty, this would have been the second or third place I'd have looked even without the map."

Of course Potter had a magical map that showed him where everyone was in the castle. Suddenly his ability to break all the rules and get away with it made much more sense.

He hadn't moved so she sat down to his left, taking a deep breath before hanging her legs over the side with him, looking straight ahead so as not to risk looking down.

"I'm really sorry about Ron. I tried talking to him after he all but ignored you at Christmas but he's so obstinate, so he'll be the last to change his mind about you. Harry gets it, and Ginny thinks you're alright too but Ron...well, like I said, he's not your biggest fan."

He lifted his head from his arms to face her. She realised he'd rolled up his left sleeve and before he could pull it down, she caught a glimpse of the black stain there. Her eyes widened and he realised his mistake. He quickly moved to pull down his sleeve again, but small hands darted out and stopped him.

She'd never seen a Dark Mark this close – unless you counted the one on Bellatrix's arm, but she hadn't really been in a position to study it. She tried pushing that memory from the front of her mind; it was easier to pretend she was in control if she didn't think about it directly.

She pulled his arm to her. It wasn't forceful, but it was a firm, deliberate act, and examined the mark. It was an ugly brand - she'd seen muggle tattoos of skulls before that, although not really to her taste, were certainly artful but this was not. It screamed 'evil' in a very clichéd, almost cartoon villain kind of way. It looked like it stood slightly proud of his pale skin, and she ran her fingers over it, feeling the bumps and ridges of it with her fingertips to be sure. She traced the path of the twisted snake until she reached the skull and repeated the action, again and again.

Nobody had ever touched his mark, except Voldemort when he'd been branded. His family had hardly been the affectionate type and he'd been dumped unceremoniously immediately after the war. Her small hand cuffing his wrist while her fingers traced the outline of his shame were like a form of incredibly sweet torture. Death by a thousand cuts. When he tried to pull his hand away, she merely tightened her grip.

"Why didn't it fade, like before?"

Draco looked up and met her eyes. There was no judgement in those brown orbs, just curiosity, a genuine desire for knowledge. It was the first time since that fateful night almost two years ago in this very spot that someone had wanted to talk about it without the threat of a hefty prison sentence.

"Last time it was tied to him and his magic, so it faded when he did, and renewed when he did. This time the connection is completely severed. It's like a muggle tattoo now, as I understand," he scoffed. "How ironic, that a slice of pureblood society is now branded with a mark which makes them look like common muggles."

"It's terribly cliché. You'd think someone who self-styled himself as 'The Dark Lord' could do better than a comic book representation of evil, don't you think?"

His eyes could have popped straight out of his head. She smiled at his reaction; she was just glad he hadn't stormed off yet.

"I don't think Voldemort was too worried about branding, Granger. Besides, by appealing to the comic book villain he was able to get lunatics and psychopaths to follow him blindly. Just look at Bellatrix-"

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he regretted them. Her eyes widened and began to swim, and she stopped rubbing the soothing patterns onto his arm, dropping his wrist like it burned her.

"Shit, Granger, I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking."

But she wasn't listening. The combination of the mark and the name had sent her spiralling in a way she hadn't for months. She pulled her legs up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, her right hand finding her left forearm subconsciously. Tears pooled in her eyes and threatened to spill over as she gazed into the middle distance, not focusing on anything in particular.

"Granger, can you hear me?" Draco shook her shoulder but got no response "Are you ok? I'm sorry, it's over now, she's dead, she can't hurt you anymore. Are you listening to me?"

When he still got no response, he realised she was going into shock and he needed to snap her out of it. He grabbed her arm and pulled her sleeve up roughly, popping the button clean off. He held her scarred forearm next to his and tilted her chin up to force her to look at him.

"Hermione," he whispered.

Her eyes focused and his face was suddenly awfully close. She saw concern flicker across his features, his eyes stormy, rather than the calm silvery gaze he usually employed.

Her attention was drawn by little gentle touches on her arm and to her horror she discovered her scar was exposed, in all its glory, not even with an ineffective glamour charm on it, like she usually did. He was rubbing his fingers across the letters while he held her forearm level with his. She hadn't let anyone touch it apart from the mediwitches since she'd first received the wound.

Not even Ron or Harry had the nerve to confront her about it. And here was the Prince of Slytherin, distant and aloof, haunted by his own demons, running his fingers across her scar like it was nothing.

But then again, hadn't she just done the same to him? His scar might not be the same, but she had investigated and even caressed it, much the same way he was doing now. Side by side they looked like a twisted version of couples' tattoos.

"I'm so sorry, Hermione. You should hate me for what I've done, what I haven't done. I told you, I'm not worth the trouble, whether you believe me or not."

She looked up but his attention was on her arm. He was outlining every letter, so gently, in case it might cause pain, the way the mediwitches had carefully applied every healing cream at their disposal, to no avail. She looked for the disgust, the repulsion, the pity that she expected - that she feared - every time she exposed her arms. Gryffindor she may be but she didn't want everyone's undying pity, not for something as trivial as a scar. But his gaze portrayed none of that. Shame, yes, but it was his own. He looked more resigned than anything else.

She cleared her throat to speak.

"I meant what I said."

His eyes snapped up and held hers and he smirked slightly.

"When exactly? When you were telling me, you know what's good for you and nobody can tell you otherwise?"

Without breaking their gaze, she stayed his hand with her own.

"When I said I forgive you."

A hundred emotions passed across his face, it was only momentary, but it was so unguarded it was shocking to her, but she held his gaze, willing him to believe her. She took the hand she was still holding and laced her fingers with his.

The gesture stunned him, momentarily; it was so intimate. But then again, so was caressing another person's battle scars so maybe he shouldn't have been so surprised. Emboldened by the closeness they seemed to be sharing he squeezed her hand in response.

He was in deep and he had no idea what this was or where it was going. Hell, he didn't even know what he wanted, but he knew if he wanted something he was too selfish to stop and think. He cleared his throat to cut the tension, his mind backpedalling.

"If you insist on ruining your friendships for my sake, may I ask a favour?" he drawled.

Pleased with the return to something approaching normality, she smiled and nodded.

"Can you teach me how to produce a Patronus?"

His voice was so quiet she almost didn't catch it with the wind whipping through the tower. But his face was an open book, the vulnerability in his eyes was so telling, she briefly wondered if anyone had ever seen him so raw, unfiltered, unmasked.

"Why?" she asked, "Apart from the obvious, we have a class assignment. If you're doing this because of Ron and his stupid ideas then don't, just don't rise to it."

He shook his head and squeezed her hand again before covering his dark mark with their hands.

"I want to prove to myself that I can do it, that a Death Eater like me can conjure a shield of positive energy. I couldn't care less what Weaselbee thinks, I don't even particularly care what his brother makes of it either, but I want to do it."

Her face broke into a glorious smile. He briefly wondered if she knew how her eyes sparkled when she smiled, how it transformed her from someone who might be considered plain to the most striking woman in the room. Blaise and Theo were right - he had it bad.

"Well in that case, your tuition will start next Monday, after dinner. I'll find a room, expect my owl. Bring your wand and be sure to get a good night's sleep beforehand."