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

Hermione had found a spare classroom and used her privileges as head girl to clear it for study use. She had moved the desks to the side of the room and had transfigured a piece of parchment into a duelling mat for the floor. It was a shame the room of requirement hadn't quite recovered from the fiendfyre last year to create a proper training room, but she was satisfied with her work.

Draco arrived at the designated time and place and, checking the coast was clear, stepped into the room and locked the door behind him.

"Afraid someone will see us studying together?"

He could hear the laugh in her voice.

"Afraid someone will see the head girl leaving a locked classroom with the hottest guy in the school?"

He wiggled his eyebrows and smirked, but she just snorted with laughter. It wasn't quite the reaction he was going for.

"For the record, which bit are you snorting with laughter about? The prospect of being in a locked room with me, or the fact that I'm the hottest guy in the school?"

"I do not snort!"

They lasted a whole second before laughing again.

"Come on then, Professor Granger, how do you propose we begin?"

"Well, before we try the charm itself, we need to start with some theory."

He removed his outer robe and joined her in the middle of the room.

"What do you know so far?"

"Well, as I thought up until yesterday that they could only be cast by some of the most powerful wizards in the world and apart from fending off Dementors they weren't particularly useful, let's assume that anything I think I know about them is false and start from scratch."

She nodded.

"Well then, Ron wasn't far off with his description. A Patronus is a shield. It uses your innermost happiness to protect you. If you cast it before a Dementor, it feeds off your shield, not you, protecting you from the effects of their proximity. A corporeal Patronus is the hardest to cast. It usually takes months to perfect - I managed it in a little over a month, I expect you could achieve the same sort of results, after all, you've been snapping at my heels in class for the past 7 years."

She smirked at him - actually smirked. Gods he had it bad. He smirked back and nodded to indicate for her to continue.

"Ok, so the theory. You have to think of your most powerful, happy memory. Concentrate on it, let it fill you up. And then you say the spell 'Expecto Patronum' with a circular wand motion. So first, close your eyes and think of your happiest memory."

He quirked a pale eyebrow, and when she refused to back down, he rolled his eyes before closing them and began sorting through his memories to find something happy. It wasn't going to be anything from the last few years, he was certain. Even when the Dark Lord fell, and he and his mother had escaped Azkaban, all he felt was relieved. He thought further back, before the war, before Hogwarts. When he was a kid; when his family were, well, as happy as they ever were. When his father was still proud of him, still behaving like a father.

Then, suddenly, he had it. He opened his eyes.

"Ok, I've got one."

She nodded.

"Give it a try." She stepped back.

He focused on the memory fully, tried to let it fill him up, as instructed, whatever that meant. He swung his wand around him and enunciated very clearly "Expecto Patronum!"

Nothing happened.

He tried again but the result was the same.

"Ok, stop," she said stepping forward. "I wasn't really expecting you to get it on your first try, I certainly didn't, so there's no need to get frustrated."

She stayed his hands that were wringing and fidgeting.

"I know this is very personal, but what was the memory?"

He didn't make eye contact but ceased his fidgeting and schooled his features once more. Yes, they were friends, and yes, she had been more than honest with him, but he didn't feel he was ready for this. He wasn't some bleeding heart, he was a Slytherin - a Malfoy - and he didn't deal with failure very well.

"The happiest one I have," he huffed. He ran his fingers through his hair again, and she was reminded of the way Harry did it when he was stressed.

"Let me just try it again."

She nodded and stepped back.

He closed his eyes again, clearing his mind as best he could. He focused on the way he had felt when his father had put him on the training broom with all the cushioning charms he could cast. He had only been a few feet off the ground but the feeling of the wind whipping through his hair and his father's slight smile when he didn't fall off. His father had been proud of him that day, he was sure of it, it had probably been one of the last times he had made it obvious – well, as obvious as a Malfoy would make it – a slight smile.

His thoughts started to wander to his father's lack of smiles as he grew older, the look of disgust he showed clearly when Draco's first year scores had been second to a certain frizzy-haired, muggle-born, the way he had invited Voldemort into their home, the fear. The way he had lost it when he'd been carried off to Azkaban. The way he'd lied his whole life.

It was like his own mind was poisoning his happiest memory. He pushed it down and focused on the memory again, the wind, the exhilaration, the feeling. He opened his eyes and raised his wand again.

"Expecto Patronum!"

Again, nothing happened.

"Expecto Patronum, Expecto Patronum, EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

His hand was gripping his wand so hard it was shaking. He looked over at Hermione. Her eyes were filled with pity again. He couldn't bear it. He grabbed his cloak and stormed out of the room before she had a chance to say a word.

She'd known he wouldn't get it the first time; she hadn't. But she had managed a shield form after the first couple of tries, and she knew Harry had too. She wouldn't mention it. He was, after all, a spoilt little rich kid. For all that the war had changed him - and she could see he was trying to be a better man - he still wasn't used to not getting his way. She would leave him to it, she figured it would blow over and he would come back in a day or two. She quickly returned the room to normal and headed off to her room.

"At least he didn't blow anything up," she muttered as she left, remembering Seamus' first attempt, in fifth year.

A few days later, at breakfast, Hermione looked up to see a huge eagle owl approaching her. He stopped next to her on the table and offered her the letter he was carrying.

"Hello Bubo, you handsome bird. What do you have there?" she asked as she took the letter and opened it.

In perfect script on the expensive, monogrammed parchment in her hands was just one line.

When's the next lesson, Professor Granger?

She smiled, and grabbed a quill from her bag, scribbling a quick note on the back of the parchment detailing the time they should meet before she sent the owl off to its owner on the other side of the hall, grateful that Harry and Ron were not early risers.

The following evening she arrived early and set up the classroom exactly as before. At exactly seven o'clock he swept into the room and locked the door behind him.

He removed his robes and placed them over a chair, deliberately slowly and made his way to the middle of the room, all without looking at the witch standing there. He lifted his head and made eye contact, finally, and was surprised to see her smiling.

"So-"

"I, um-"

They both stopped. She giggled and gestured for him to continue. It was now or never; he took a deep breath.

"Granger – Hermione – I'm really grateful you agreed to meet me again, I wasn't sure you would to be honest. And before we get going, I wanted to get this off my chest. I shouldn't have stormed out last time, I just felt like it was all too much, like it was true, and I was never going to manage it because of this stupid thing on my arm, because I was a bitter little boy with something to prove who glamorised and idolised some truly cruel people.

"Anyway, I thought about it and I need your help and since you're such a goody-goody, bleeding heart Gryffindor type I thought I would ignore yet another of my dear father's valuable lessons about what a Malfoy should and shouldn't do."

He caught her gaze again before he said words he had never said to a peer.

"I'm sorry."

She smiled that game-changing smile of hers and he knew he was in serious trouble of falling for her.

"Well, well, Mr Malfoy, you certainly are a changed man. Did you have to practice those words in front of the mirror? I imagine they would have been quite rusty for you…"

"Several times, Professor Granger. I can't recall the last time I used them, in fact."

The tension in the room dissolved with their mutual smiles and she nodded.

"Right, well, I'd like to take another look at the theory, before you try any more attempts."

He nodded in agreement and she summoned two chairs for them.

"First off, I know it's personal, and you didn't answer last time, but it would really help if I knew what we're channelling, so can you tell me what your happy memory was?"

He fiddled with his wand. He'd known this was coming, it was bound to, and he'd already decided he was going to be honest with her. But being honest and open didn't exactly come naturally to him. He had to remind himself that this girl had seen him at his worst, in his trial, hugging his mother in relief at their acquittal, and she'd never so much as mentioned it, let alone used it against him.

"It was the first time I went flying. My father brought home a child's practice broom – top of the range, of course – and he cast a cushioning charm and taught me how to sit and how to fly."

She giggled lightly, and his eyes narrowed. But she merely shook her head.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to laugh, it's just that Harry also used the first time he flew a broom. You two are more alike than you know."

He didn't particularly like being compared with Potter at the best of times but immediately after a failure was not helping.

"For the record, it didn't work for him either. It was happy, yes, but not strong enough."

She stopped and pondered this for a bit. He could almost hear the cogs in her head whirring, it was fascinating to watch.

"May I ask, and you can tell me to get lost if you want to, but, well, um, how is your relationship with your father?"

He didn't make eye contact but ceased his fidgeting. It was a personal question, but he needed her help and she'd pretty much hit the nail on the head. Brightest witch of her age indeed. He winced at the thought of baring his soul to her.

"Not great. Lucius has written to me a couple of times, but I haven't spoken to him since the trial. He's the one who brought this evil into our home, left me and my mother vulnerable to that mad man when he was carted off to Azkaban the first time – your handiwork if I'm not mistaken,"

Hermione blushed.

"Bit embarrassing for him, to be bested by a muggleborn teenager, bloody hypocrite."

He was rambling so she stopped him by putting a hand up.

"If I may, I don't think that's going to work. I think we're going to have to find something that's not quite so conflicted for you."

She pursed her lips and scrunched up her face in thought.

"How's your relationship with your mother?"

He thought about it for a moment, and then shook his head.

"Same problem. Maybe not quite so bad, but she supported him, she was there when I got marked, Lucius was off in Azkaban. I love my mother; we are extremely close now and I'm incredibly grateful that she's not in prison. I've already told Potter that, even though it physically pained me."

She slapped him on the arm playfully.

"Yes, well, I don't think that's going to work either," he finished lamely.

She nodded and continued to consider his words in silence. Like he was a particularly difficult arithmancy problem that she had to puzzle out. He watched her in silence.

"What about friends?"

He quirked an eyebrow. Hadn't he already told her he basically didn't have any friends apart from her? Hadn't he told her how he wasn't worth friendship, wasn't worth trying?

He considered her for a minute, letting her quiet words sink in. He closed his eyes and thought hard, sifting through his memories. He thought about Theo, Blaise and even Greg and Vince, trying to find a time when he was so happy he couldn't even keep the smile off his normally perfectly controlled features. He had plenty of smirks, yes, but nothing genuinely, unmistakeably happy, nothing that deep and primal that it could be called a truly happy memory.

He thought of a chaste kiss on the cheek, of flowers and forgiveness, of hand-holding and Christmas gifts that made his mother weep with joy, and smiled.

"Ok, I think I have it."

She smiled and they stood to clear the chairs away. She gestured to him to take the middle of the floor and he took his stance and raised his wand.

"Expecto Patronum!"

A small burst of silvery light flowed out of his wand. It wasn't much, it was incredibly wispy, and it definitely didn't look like an animal, more like a blob, but it was more than nothing. And then after a moment it was gone.

Hermione couldn't believe it, there it was! She had coached someone into producing a Patronus. She was so proud and so happy she completely forgot it wasn't another Gryffindor she was standing with and she threw her arms around him in a huge hug.

Draco stood there momentarily stunned. She had her hands locked behind his neck and she was laughing, congratulating him, and saying how proud she was of him and how amazing it was. He was barely listening, he just wrapped his arms around her and lifted, swinging her around with him, laughing. He was turning into some wet Hufflepuff, but as long as he could keep holding her small body to his and smelling the spicy scent of her shampoo, he found he didn't care - it wasn't like there was an audience.

"Draco that was amazing! You did it!"

He smiled and set her down, but he didn't let her go. They were both slightly flushed from the swinging and laughing, and they just stood there, still close but not clutching each other quite so tightly.

"What were you thinking of?" she asked, her big eyes sparkled with their curiosity.

He smirked and leant in close to her ear.

"This," he whispered, as he gently brushed his lips against her cheek.

She blushed furiously and looked down, stepping back slightly.

"Oh, right, well…um…" she began collecting her things as she bumbled towards the door. "You did really well today, but that's probably taken a lot out of you so we should probably call it a night and meet up again next week."

He watched her as she scurried around, completely flustered from his kiss. It hadn't even been a kiss, just a peck on the cheek.

"I'm just, er, I have to, um, speak to Ginny about something and, well, like I said, you're probably tired. So, I'll see you in a week. Or, well, before then, in class, I guess. I'll just, um, bye!"

He stood looking at the door as it shut behind her. He quickly put the room back to its original state and collected his cloak to return to the dungeons. He smiled to himself as he realised she had been just as affected by the small gesture as he had been when she had done it.

He needed to talk to Theo.