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

Ron had asked everyone to swap with him, but so far everyone was either unwilling or unable to cover. He'd completely forgotten it was his turn for prefect rounds – he had always relied on Hermione to remind him, and now she was setting the rota, things were no different. What he hadn't thought to check in advance was who he was partnered with for this term.

It was her.

He'd been furious, embarrassed, and more than a little tipsy, when he'd left the great hall before Christmas that he'd accidentally charged into someone just outside, bat bogeys clouding his vision.

She'd banished the bat bogeys to protect herself; she hadn't even considered who she was helping in the process. His thanks had died on his tongue when he realised he'd been rescued by a Slytherin. He'd launched into a tirade before he'd had a chance to think.

They were both angry, and while not as good at verbal sparring as their respective exes, they both said some awful things, taking pot-shots at one another.

"Stop making the place look untidy, you penniless Blood Traitor!"

"Get out of my face, you pug-faced moron!"

"Moron? I just saved you, Mudblood lover!"

"At least I'm not a Death Eater's whore who's been traded up for a Mudblood!"

That last one had shocked her into spluttering silence.

His laughter had died on his tongue when he realised she was crying.

He'd retreated to his room, feeling sick with guilt and shame, and tried to sleep it off. He'd added it to the list of things he was angry about and stewed over it all Christmas break.

It had been one of the first things he'd confessed to the mind healer Bill had referred him to.

She had suggested he apologise. At his fearful expression, she had added perhaps he work up to it.

He honestly thought apologising to Malfoy would be easier.

And now a week of patrols. Ron's feet dragged every step of the way to the main entrance.

Draco leaned against the wall in the main entrance hall. He had tried to tell himself that he'd swapped with Pansy because she'd asked him to and he was trying to make up for holding a wand to her throat, but he wasn't fooling himself. He knew the rota; he knew Pansy just wanted to avoid spending time with the ginger menace.

If he were being truly honest with himself, he hoped that maybe Hermione would have swapped with her former beau so he could do homework or something.

Mercifully, he was rarely, if ever, that honest with himself.

"Bloody hell."

It seemed Hermione had not swapped with Weasley. Draco told himself it was for the best - house unity, proving himself to be the better man, maybe getting a snippet of gossip on how Hermione had been since their brief and near-silent spell in the hospital wing. He took a deep, calming breath and pushed off from the wall towards his partner for the evening.

"Weasley."

Ron made a face which Draco interpreted as incomprehension and sighed.

"I hope we can manage to complete a week of rounds without killing one another," he began, palms open in an obvious attempt to appear non-threatening. "Pansy sacked off for some reason."

If the colour in Ron's cheeks and the shuffling of his feet was anything to go by, there was more to Pansy's wish to ditch rounds than Draco knew. He made a note to find out more later. When the lanky ginger still didn't say anything in response Draco ran his hand through his hair.

"Look, I'm not proposing we suddenly become best mates-"

"Good, because that would be well weird."

Draco smirked, and earned a lopsided smile in response.

"A truce then?"

A freckled hand was extended, and Draco shook it gladly.

They worked well together, surprisingly well. Both being tall, they didn't have to change their stride to allow a slower partner to catch up and they were both reasonably lenient with their own house but ruthless with the others. Only when Ron tried to take 20 points from a Slytherin couple snogging in an abandoned classroom did Draco step in and let them go with 5 points and a warning not to do it again. Ron blustered as they scurried away but yelled after them that there was a whole section of the divination tower the prefects never checked.

Draco had made it up to him by hanging back when they approached the Gryffindor common room, allowing the redhead to deal with a fourth-year couple who had snuck out to have an argument and, seemingly, made up. As they approached the dungeons Ron returned the favour, giving the blond the courtesy of checking if any of his house were out and about.

He passed an alcove well-known to most Slytherin couples when Pansy grabbed his tie and pulled him into it, her skirt shortened from the regulation length, too much lipstick and a sickly-sweet scent in the air.

"Drakie!" She squealed, throwing her arms around him, and thrusting her artificially pushed up bust into his chest.

"What the hell, Pans?"

Draco carefully extricated himself from her clutches and held her shoulders at arms' length.

"I thought you taking my duty was a sign," she simpered, tears glistening in her eyes. Merlin she was a pro at this. "You saved me from an evening dealing with the Weasel. I thought long and hard about how I could repay you."

She flicked her gaze downwards to emphasise her thoughts. Draco blamed the dry spell he had endured since the war for the twitch in his trousers and he reminded himself of the many, many reasons why he was never sleeping with Pansy ever again.

"Really Pans? Because the way the Weasel was pleased to see me - simply by virtue of not being you - I think there's more to that story."

Pansy's eyes widened just a fraction, but it was enough for Draco. So there was more to it. He knew Pansy would never reveal something so personal willingly. Slipping his wand into his hand, he pinned her up against the wall.

"Legilimens."

Her memories swirled for a minute before he focused on the ones in which red hair featured prominently.

He watched as the end of the Yule ball floated into view, he could feel the hurt and upset, the shock as the Weasel's insults hit home. Her devastation, tinged with fury, grew as he was forced from her mind.

As the alcove came back into focus, the first thing he noticed were the tears streaming down her face. The second thing he noticed was the sparkling anger behind them. She might have been a bitch, but she was still a friend. His face contorted with the pity he felt.

"Pans-"

"How dare you," she hissed, as his grip on her loosened enough that she could dab ineffectually at her eyes. "You're lucky my father is in Azkaban. If he knew you had used legilimency on me he could demand an ironclad contract in a heartbeat, and there where would that leave your pathetic infatuation with the mudblood?"

Draco dropped her and she stumbled slightly.

"Are you deliberately trying to get everyone to hate you before the year is out, Pans? Because if you are, let me tell you, it's working."

"Don't be ridiculous, Draco, it's not as if what happens this year matters anyway."

She flicked her hair over her shoulder, regaining some of her composure.

"Well, now you know what your little Gryffindorks are really like," she added. "Tell me, Drakie, did he tell you to stay away from the Golden Princess? Tell you she's too good for you? Call you a Death Eater again?"

Draco's fists clenched as he tried to contain his growing anger. So much for making amends to Pansy. It was the last time he would make that mistake.

"Is she worth it Drakie? She must be quite something, for you to ignore everything you've ever known and shun pureblood society so thoroughly. I wonder if the Golden Girl has a pretty little golden c-"

"Careful, Pans," Draco cut her off. "Someone might think you're jealous."

"Jealous?!" Pansy screeched into the empty corridor. "Not fucking likely. I have Sacred Twenty-Eight pedigree, a perfect hourglass figure, and more galleons in my dowry than any other eligible witch in England. What could I possibly be jealous of?"

"What, indeed?" smirked Draco. He knew he'd won this round. "Run along Pansy, you don't want the Weasel to catch you out after curfew, I'm sure he'd love another chance to make a fool of you – although you're doing quite a good job of that on your own."

Pansy stomped back to the dorms.

Draco became aware of the presence beside him.

"Do me a favour, Weasley," Draco took the silence as permission to continue. "Next time you put Pans in her place, share it with the rest of us."

Ron had assumed when Pansy pug-face Parkinson had accosted his partner he was about to be vindicated for all the bad thoughts he'd had about the pair. Even though he knew deep down it would probably break Hermione's heart.

He had not expected this. He was reminded again how uncomfortable shame was.

"Not my proudest moment that," he ventured, awkwardly, resuming their rounds.

"Don't worry about it. She really is a bitch, she deserved it," Draco offered, further sacrificing himself on the altar of common decency. "Granger will kill you if she finds out how easily you used that slur though."

Ron blushed until his face clashed with his hair. If forgiving and forgetting helped him avoid this uncomfortable feeling he was all for it.

"She broke my nose, actually."

His companion's bark of laughter startled him in the otherwise quiet staircase.

"Of course she did. Mean right hook, that one."

Draco smirked at the redhead as they resumed their rounds in silence.

When they reached the Great hall again, they stood awkwardly facing one another. It was the longest they'd been in each other's company without a single hex or insult being thrown.

Draco wondered about the ginger's sudden change of heart. His mind reeled with thoughts of whether Hermione had pacified him somehow and the methods she might have used to accomplish that. His face must have shown some sign of his disgust because his partner laughed.

"That's the face I remember - knew you were in there somewhere, Malfoy."

"Yes, well. Leopard and spots and all that," he grumbled.

"What?"

Draco sighed. "Ask Granger to explain, I don't think I have the patience and I don't want to spoil the run of good luck."

He was just about to turn to leave when laughter interrupted his thoughts.

"Merlin's saggy bollocks!" Ron chuckled. "You really are perfect for each other, you know, apart from the whole war thing."

Draco quirked a perfect pale eyebrow at the man now guffawing in front of him as he continued.

"I mean, she forced us to have a bit of a rethink about the whole war, and who chose sides and who didn't. I thought she was just doing it so we'd be nicer to you when you two finally started dating, but sad as it is, she was right."

Draco scoffed.

"I know, I know, when is she not?" Ron added. "Well she made me think about a lot of things, and then my brother did too, and – I'm not saying you weren't a right prick, you know, in the past – but I was out of line this year at least, so, you know, sorry about that."

Draco remained impassive. He wasn't sure what to say to that – the man had quite spectacularly eviscerated his pride a little over a fortnight ago, but the apology was genuine. Even he had to admit last year must have been hell for him, so he wasn't going to hold the man's anger against him.

Ron took the silence as acceptance and smiled. Then he pointed to a scar on his nose, a small white line amongst the many freckles. "Her canaries can be fucking vicious, eh, Malfoy?"

Ron chuckled as he ran off up the stairs towards Gryffindor tower.

Malfoy walked back to the dungeons more perplexed than ever.