Chapter Nine: Friend

"Oi, Granger!"

Hermione was descending the last few steps on the Grand Staircase when she heard someone call her name. She could tell without looking that it was Blaise Zabini. His cool, confident voice dripped charm everywhere he went, leaving his drawl unmistakable.

"Good morning, Zabini," She responded with a small but polite smile.

The pair had an odd type of relationship, falling somewhere between acquaintances and friends. Blaise was handsome and charming, Hermione knew, but all the girls in Hogwarts knew that. He was a master of the art of flattery and he used it well.

Even though he knew perfectly well that she was dating his best friend.

She tried to bypass the spot where he stood at the top of the dungeon stairs by making her way into the Great Hall for breakfast, but she hadn't been so lucky.

As she neared the doors, Blaise sauntered over to her. It would have been rude and blatantly obvious if she had tried to avoid him further.

She didn't mind the Slytherins anymore, at least not most of them, but she felt uncomfortable around them when Draco wasn't at her side. It felt like she was intruding far too much. The friendships that were slowly forming were all based on one big lie… and that didn't sit well with her.

"Are you sitting with us this morning?" He asked, flashing a bright smile that she was certain had gotten him both in and out of incredible trouble before.

"Maybe," she smiled politely again. "I was hoping to find Draco, have you seen him?"

He smirked at her before lightly placing his hand on her shoulder, turning her toward the doors to the Great Hall and guiding her to take a step. "Ahhhh, Granger," he sighed dramatically, "you don't need that tosser around to hang out with us, you know? No need to pretend you don't love our brilliant quips and intelligent conversations. Surely you don't get those at the Gryffindor table, nor with Draco."

She slowly walked alongside him, his hand still guiding her shoulder, but rolled her eyes at his words.

"Stop flirting with my girlfriend, Zabini. She's out of your league," Draco joked as he climbed the last stair, though there was a distinct clip to his tone and iciness to his glare.

Hermione moved away from Blaise, choosing to approach her fake boyfriend like a real girlfriend would. She reached up on her tiptoes to place a gentle kiss on his cheek. It was the first time she had done it, and despite the fact that he had kissed her in the same way so many times, the simple act made her extremely anxious.

But with the annoyed look on Draco's face as he glared at his friend, Hermione thought the action was needed. For show, of course.

"Out of my league?" Blaise scoffed, shaking off the insult. "You jest, Malfoy. Look who's talking!"

"You can insult me all you want, Blaise, but she's still mine, isn't she?" Draco smirked smugly at his housemate, pulling Hermione into the crook of his arm, completing the act.

She smiled.

Despite the awkward way he had lectured her the night before, Hermione felt much more comfortable wrapped in Draco's arm than with Blaise's hand on her back.

She'd gotten good at acting, she suspected. And he had, too.

Zabini rolled his eyes, settling them on Hermione again. "As I said, Granger, there is always a spot at our table for you." He shrugged before turning and heading into the Great Hall. His walk carried its usual, exuberant confidence.

He called over his shoulder as he disappeared, "See you both later!"

When he had gone, Draco turned to Hermione with an annoyed look on his face. "I'm surprised no one has beaten his arse yet, the way he tries to charm the knickers off of every witch in the castle."

"I think he's just like you, always enjoying getting a rise out of people."

His loud laugh filled the entrance hall momentarily, causing her to look at him, confused. "That's ridiculous, Granger. I'm nothing like that idiot."

Hermione fought the roll her eyes wanted to do, choosing to smile and shrug instead. She'd learned to pick her battles wisely with Draco, simply for the sake of avoiding constant argument.

"Can I sit with you for Breakfast again?" She asked sweetly. I still don't feel like seeing Ron, or Harry, or really any of the Gryffindors right now. At least not over breakfast where I'll have to actually talk to them."

Again, Draco's laugh filled the room. He wrapped his arm around Hermione's shoulders as he began to lead her into the Great Hall. The gesture came naturally now.

"Come on," he sighed. "Just not near Zabini, okay?" The smirk on his face told her he was joking. What kind of fake boyfriend would he be if he didn't at least pretend to be protective over her? She laughed at their inside joke as they entered the Great Hall.

As always, their sense of smell was assaulted with the most delicious scents of maple syrup and freshly brewed coffee; Hermione breathed it in.

Hermione saw the Great Hall as one of the few comforting constants in this ever-changing, always moving, magical world. And she liked consistency. But this time, she had gotten too comfortable, too wrapped up in the pleasantness of the hall that she didn't see Harry approaching from the opposite side of the hall until she almost collided with him.

"Harry!" She exclaimed, startled.

She unconsciously leaned into Draco's body as a frazzled feeling overwhelmed her body at the unexpected presence of Harry. She was slightly upset with him still, for his attitude about her relationship with Draco. She was also unsure how to act around him ever since her fight with Ron. Hermione and Harry hadn't talked about it in the week since, and she wasn't sure if he felt the same about her as Ron so rudely shouted, or if he agreed with her for once.

She wasn't sure if she was ready to find out, either.

"Hermione," he smiled weakly. He looked flustered and unsure, just like her, but he stood much more confidently. "Hey," he said. His shoulders were comfortably back, and his weight was supported by his own two feet.

It became clear to her that running into Harry wasn't a total accident. He had sought her out.

"Hey," she responded.

"Malfoy," Harry nodded his hello.

Draco reciprocated. "Potter."

Harry's green eyes looked to Draco thoughtfully, noticing his stoic face and the way his arm hung across her shoulders, before turning back to Hermione. Though Harry didn't mean anything by the gesture, Hermione took it as a request to separate herself from the Slytherin's arms and shifted her weight from one foot to the other, moving away from her fake boyfriend.

A short, uncomfortable silence hung between them.

"You were right," Harry admitted, a sorrowful expression in his eyes.

"She's always right, Potter," Draco quipped coolly, expressionless. "You'll have to be more specific."

Hermione glanced from her fake boyfriend to her best friend, a new expression played across her features. "Well, it is true. I do tend to be correct more often than not," she shrugged.

Harry had to look twice. Was Hermione… Smirking?

A low chuckle escaped the Slytherin's lips. "Who would have thought that snark was contagious?" he sneered, looking quite pleased with himself.

Godric, now Malfoy's smirking, too, groaned Harry internally.

Knowing that insulting the prat would only upset Hermione and wouldn't get him anywhere, Harry schooled his face into showing anything other than the annoyed expression that so desperately wanted to come out. He offered Hermione a shy smile.

"Could you give us a second, Malfoy?" he asked.

Hermione was surprised to see Draco looking at her deeply, wordlessly asking what she wanted. She appreciated the gesture but wasn't sure what to think of it yet. She had Harry to deal with first.

She squeezed Draco's hand, offering him a small smile and a nod.

He leaned down to kiss her forehead lightly. "I'll see you at lunch then," he promised, leaving Hermione and Harry as he wandered to his usual spot at the Slytherin Table.

The Gryffindors did the same, silently. They found a spot at the end of their table, besides a few first years who were busy discussing broomsticks, and filled their plates with food.

"I'm sorry."

The words, although soft-spoken and mumbled, were loud in Hermione's ears. She tried to meet Harry's gaze, which was unfocused on his plate, but he wouldn't look at her.

"I'm really sorry, Hermione," he explained. "About the way I've been acting toward you about dating Malfoy. I was upset and I overreacted and… well, I guess I shouldn't have kept hounding you about it. I'm sorry I went to McGonagall. I didn't understand and I didn't handle it properly."

He met her eyes after he finished, revealing the flash of shame she rarely saw in that shade of green, and she knew he was being honest, that he had really thought about the words he would say to her.

That he cared.

"Wow, Harry. That is really mature of you to say. It means a lot to me… I know you really hate him," she smiled, lightening the mood ever so slightly.

He let out a small laugh, aiding her efforts. "There you go, being right again. I do really hate him," he agreed. She laughed, along with him.

"I know nothing has changed overnight, but what happened? Just last week you were assuring McGonagall I was imperiused, and while I am extremely glad that you won't be sending Dumbledore after me next, I don't understand why you're apologizing right now."

"I still don't like him, of course. I don't know if I will ever be able to get along with the prat, but I just realized that he might be good for you after all."

"Good for me?"

He sighed. "Remember a few days ago… when you had that row with Ron?" She nodded. How could she forget? "Well, Malfoy came looking for you…"

"Mr. Potter!" shouted a voice. Harry looked around the common room, but none of the other students seemed to be paying any attention to him.

"Mr. Potter!" came the voice again. The oblivious boy looked around again but he was unable to find where the voice was coming from.

By the fireplace, a distraught Lavender blubbered to a patient Parvati and an annoyed-looking Ron.

In the corner, Ginny was snogging Dean Thomas. Harry scowled at the sight, forcing the monster that was inside of him to calm down as he turned away.

The next table over, a few seventh years were studying for their NEWTS.

"MR. HARRY POTTER!"

Finally, Harry noticed the red face of The Fat Lady and made his way over to her. "Finally," She huffed. "Mr. Malfoy is outside in quite a mood. He's saying he can't find Miss Granger and is demanding I let him in."

The Gryffindor groaned internally knowing that there was a "will you handle this?" hanging, unsaid. He pushed through the portrait hole anyway.

"Do you know where Hermione is?" Malfoy asked immediately, a hint of frustration or stress on his face.

Harry shook his head, "No, she left a little while ago. I figured she went to be with you."

"She came up here to find you and get her Transfiguration notes before meeting with me again, but she never came back," explained the blonde calmly.

Harry noticed that the blonde didn't look particularly downtrodden for being stood up. He wondered if it was due to Draco's uncrushable confidence or if Draco was currently trying to hide his feelings like he so often did.

"She's probably too embarrassed," the Fat Lady interjected, shaking her head sadly. "Poor girl, she looked pitiful. You're such a catch, Mr. Malfoy, she probably didn't want you to see her in such a state… crazy hair, wild tears and all… not a pretty sight."

"What do you mean 'tears'?" Draco bit, his fierce gray eyes rounding on Potter. "What happened?"

"Don't shout at me, Malfoy; I wasn't part of it!" Draco's glare weakened, but his jaw remained tense. Harry continued explaining, "She got in a major row with Ron, I guess. I only caught the end of it."

The blonde's lips were pulled tight. "What did you hear?"

Harry's eyes fell to the floor. "She shouted at him, he shouted back… The same as their usual fight, really. She asked why her support was never enough. He was really, really harsh back. He told her why he didn't like her… He told her that she didn't belong. Low blow, I think, pulling out first-year insecurities… That's when she left."

"Where did she go? Who's with her?" the other boy rushed, eyes darkening.

"My guess would be by the Black Lake, near the Forbidden Forest, but she's definitely alone. She likes it that way, she's always gone off to be alone when she gets upset."

"You're kidding, right?"

Now it was Harry's turn to glare. "No, really." he bit, mimicking Draco's earlier tone. "You know her, the independent fiery girl. I doubt she wants to be around anyone."

"I knew you were dumb, Potter, but you can't be serious. You've known her for six years and what is her biggest fear? Not belonging, not having friends. Now honestly try to tell me that after that weasel, her best friend, named all of the reasons he hates her and topped it off with a 'you don't belong here,' being alone is the best idea. No. She probably needs reassurance or comfort, or I don't know, maybe ONE friend to stay by her side."

"She usually doesn't take long to calm down, really. She should be back in an hour... or two?"

"Excuse me, Potter, when I say that you know absolutely nothing about women."

Hermione couldn't quite describe how she was feeling as Harry finished recounting the story, but she knew it wasn't quite right. She'd gotten her answers, but none of her problems were solved, so really, all Harry had given her were more questions.

What did it mean? What did Harry think was so important? So, Malfoy had come to look for her when she failed to show up for their usual meeting, so what? Malfoy had insulted him, being a right prat as usual, so what? That wasn't new.

Hermione usually had all the answers, but this time, her mind was working too fast, confused, and she just didn't understand.

"I don't understand, Harry," she admitted. "How did that change your mind?"

Harry shrugged, failing to see that she was currently sitting in a puddle of her own stress, hating the fact that she had to ask for clarification. "I don't know, Hermione. He cares for you."

She shook off the idea, knowing that it would have been suspicious if Draco hadn't looked upset after hearing about the row. "Boyfriends typically do care, yes."

"I know that, Hermione," he defended. "It wasn't just that. He understood you… better than I did. And it hurt me at first, thinking that he was better at something than I was, a better friend than I was. It bothered me for days. I couldn't figure out how he had known so much about you after, what? A month? When you've been my best friend for five years!"

Hermione reached across the table, placing a reassuring hand on top of his, which was gripping a fork so tightly that his knuckles had gone white. "Harry, stop that kind of thinking. You are a grea-"

"Hermione, let me finish. I'm not questioning our friendship. It's just that him understanding you so well, what you needed, what you'd be feeling, helped me see, I think, what you see in him."

Hermione swallowed the scoff that wanted to betray her cover at those last five words. Harry didn't notice, so he continued. "He pays attention to you. And I may not like Malfoy, but I love you and you deserve to be taken notice of... I'm sorry I didn't… not as well as I should have done."

The know-it-all witch was at a loss for words. She felt guilty for lying. She felt content with Harry's apology. She felt surprised at Harry's analysis of Draco's actions and doubtful that they meant anything. She was confused by the broad range of emotions that pumped through her veins, but most of all, her heart beat with an overwhelming wave of love for her emerald-eyed friend.

Certain that words, for once, would never be adequate, and unable to explain her emotions, she stayed silent. She squeezed his hand and offered a small, sad, smile.

He squeezed back.

If you looked up 'student' in the dictionary, you would probably find a picture of Hermione Granger.

She was a bookworm to the core and she rarely stayed within the recommended parchment length for essays. She seemed to know everything and, when she found she didn't, she wouldn't leave the library until she found out.

Most teachers loved her brain and tolerated her overeagerness. Many had even come to expect her hand to be raised in the air for most of the class period.

Which is why it did not go unnoticed when Hermione had spent a whole day of lessons actively daydreaming.

And she didn't seem to mind.

Hermione's mind was working as mad as ever, though, for the first time, she was solving problems that were not about magic.

No, the topic that had completely consumed her brain was something much more complex and confusing: Draco Malfoy… and friendship.

Between her conversation with Harry that morning and the conversation with Draco the previous night in the Room of Requirement, she had a lot to think about. Harry's words had thrown her back onto that couch, sending her to reassess the argument Draco had made the night before.

She wasn't sure where Draco's sudden urgency had come from, but, thanks to Harry, his words had been on her mind all day long.

When he had settled back onto the couch and opened his book, Hermione had been lost for words. She had that horrible, confused feeling inside her that made her mind go wild in an attempt to sort everything out.

For a moment, she tried to write it off as nothing. She told herself that Draco's need to protect his mom must have been stressful and, maybe, he was struggling with a bad day and needed an outlet. Maybe his Slytherin, pureblood values were feeling too threatened by his growing comfort with her and he needed to break her down, show her who was superior. Maybe this was one of his plots to mess with her, hoping to get a rise out of her like he so often enjoyed.

But that didn't quite make sense, did it?

He had insulted her and complimented her all in one go. But that was relatively normal for Draco. He had this aristocratic style of careful flattery that left a sour taste in your mouth.

What really bothered her was the way he used her given name. He didn't even seem to notice that he hadn't called her by the usual 'Granger' in his typical, condescending tone.

He might have started out with the familiar arrogant attitude, but somewhere along the way, something had changed. The way his face softened as he recited Oscar Wilde, the way his breathing had been thick, and the way he'd called her Hermione so easily… it all made it seem like he was sincere.

The emotion he showed her on their couch reminded her of when he had comforted her on the bench by the lake. She was surprised by his candor then. Could this have been another one of those rare moments?

Had she seen another rare glimpse of the real Draco Malfoy? The one who wasn't worried about who was around or what she would think?

It was possible, likely even, that Draco had actually meant the encouraging words that had been dominating her mind. All signs pointed to sincerity, though she couldn't understand why he cared enough to say anything all.

But then, if the passion and honesty of Draco's words meant that they were true, she was stuck with the difficult challenge of believing him; internalizing what he had told her.

She always felt like her brains were a nuisance, considering how rudely she was treated for it. Everyone judged her for the way she threw herself into knowledge, needing to suck every ounce of learning out of life.

But for the first time, it seemed that someone wanted her to go farther, beyond the barriers of the Hogwarts Library, and into something deeper and more real. Draco asked her to step a foot out of her comfort zone and let her mind wander. He wanted her to test the boundaries of her own brain, then reminded her that there are none.

Maybe she had been playing it safe all this time? Maybe she had been limiting herself by relying on the knowledge that others were willing to share? Maybe, she really could be a witch that future Hogwarts students would learn about?

The idea made her whole body tingle.

It felt nice, for once, to be wanted for something that almost everyone else condemned her for.

His words were more supportive than she'd heard in a while. Sure, every time exams came around she got "oh, we know you'll do great, Hermione" and "you're definitely going to be best in the class." But Draco's words were different.

He didn't speak out of convenience or obligation.

He gave her support and encouragement, two things that were so unusual to her. It seemed everyone else thought, why do we need to encourage Hermione? She's already the brightest witch of our age. That's enough.

And it felt good! It felt good to have someone push you beyond boundaries you thought were fixed. It felt good to have someone rooting for her success and she suddenly realized that maybe that was the whole point of Quidditch.

Draco helped her see her own value when she couldn't find it by herself. He made her feel important. And it sucked!

It sucked to no end that Harry's words were true. She hated that Draco paid attention to her, learned about her, understood her better than her best friend– better than herself.

How in the hell did he know more about her than she did?

How did he know exactly what would tear her down? And how did he know exactly how to fix it? How did he know what to say? How did he know when to stay quiet?

Ugh.

Harry hadn't meant to, but his words led her to see just how complex her relationship with the Slytherin had become and it left a difficult question running through her mind.

Had she become friends with Draco Malfoy?

The more she thought about it, about him, about Harry's words, the more she realized that the question became harder and harder to say 'no' to.

They talked regularly, constantly, like friends do– but does it count if it's forced? They studied together like friends do, but is it the same if it's only for appearances? They helped each other like friends do, but again, that was part of the plan they created! They even teased each other like friends do!

But… Well... Okay, that one wasn't part of their relationship plot.

Maybe, somehow, they had become friends. Is that crazy?

She wondered if Draco had noticed what she was currently figuring out. Did he see this coming? Did he intend to befriend the swotty bookworm he lived to make fun of? What should she do next? Was this real, or something her mind had concocted?

She heard his voice in her head. The familiar, cool tone of his voice from earlier that morning. "She's always right, Potter," he had said so easily.

Maybe she should trust him and trust her mind's wanderings. Maybe they were friends. And if they were friends, maybe she should make a bigger step towards mending the cabinet. After all, helping each other is what friends do.

Later that evening, Draco rounded the corner of the seventh-floor corridor and was surprised with a vision of Hermione. She was dressed in muggle clothing, those jeans she liked to wear that were softly faded, and an oversized blue sweater decorated with a large golden H across the front.

He found her choice of outfit somewhat cute, considering most witches he was familiar with rarely gave in to the pleasures of comfortable clothing. But, for some reason, Draco had the odd idea that he'd seen that sweater before but he couldn't quite place it. On someone else, perhaps?

He shook off the thought.

She hadn't noticed him yet, thankfully, for she was completely immersed in her examination of the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy.

She had her hair tied up already, the look making him smile.

"Why are you studying the tapestry, Granger? Hoping to pick up ballet?" Draco asked, noting how unusual it was for her to be waiting in the hallway instead of inside their room already engrossed in a book. The mocking tone that usually accompanied his sneers was weak this time, but the comment still earned him a glare and an eye roll from the witch in question.

"Don't be silly, Malfoy. I don't know how to get in."

It took him but a moment to realize what she'd meant. His encouragement from the night before must have sunk in.

She was ready to try magic.

He nodded his understanding before walking back and forth in front of the empty space on the opposite wall thrice, causing a large oak door to appear.

"Next time, just think 'I need the place where everything is hidden."

Hermione had the cabinet glowing again, the same bright blue color that meant it was far from working, but he'd expected that.

"I guarantee nothing has changed since last time you looked at it, Granger," he teased, choosing to sit on a nearby bench. "I don't see why you're checking it again."

"It's called 'data collection,' Malfoy," she said rolling her eyes widely in annoyance. "Where do you suggest we start?"

Draco vacated the bench to join her in front of the cabinet.

"When I visited Borgin, He told me the spell was 'Harmonia Nectere Passus,'" he informed her, moving his hand along the old, worn wood. Hermione watched him with rapt attention like she normally did in class. A wave of something powerful moved through him.

Just as Flitwick would, Draco demonstrated the complicated wand movement. It was sort of like a lowercase 'm' but with two feet on the outside endings. Or it could be described as an Omega symbol with an extra bump. Either way he could have worded it would have resulted in at least a bit of confusion, so he'd decided to show her instead.

Apparently, his demonstration wasn't very good, either. She was doing it all wrong.

"No, Granger like this," he told her, with another demonstration. She tried again but still didn't manage it.

"Here, let me." Draco gently took her right hand in his own, her wand pointed at the cabinet and guided her in the correct figuration.

She couldn't help but blush at their close proximity. It felt different in private, but she didn't exactly dislike it. He stepped away as soon as the movement was finished, allowing her to try again on her own. This time, she had the correct movement and the tip of her wand glowed signifying her success.

"Thanks," she breathed with a smile and he nodded.

"Now, Borgin also told me that this spell is a bit like Apparition where you have to think of The Three Ds: Destination, Determination, and Deliberation. The cabinet can only transport its contents to the matching cabinet, but it requires the mental power that The Three Ds provide," explained Draco.

When she turned to look at him, her eyes were alight with the mesmerizing fire he had only seen once or twice before, but this time he knew it wasn't a good thing.

"You mean to tell me," she hissed taking slow steps in his direction, "that this whole time, you knew an incantation, and a wand movement, and a bloody theory, yet you didn't think to mention it?"

He could practically see the steam coming out of her ears, but he'd handled worse. "I didn't see a point, Granger. You refused to use magic up until now."

"We could have checked out books on Apparition! We could have broadened our research! We could have looked at the development of the Three D Theory and compared it to the timeline of vanishing cabinets to see–

"Yeah we could have done a lot of things," he bit impatiently, "but here we are now so let's just move on."

She huffed. "Ugh, I can't believe you just didn't tell me. Why don't we go back to the library and check–

"No," his voice was firm and strong. "I've been waiting a month, Granger, and I won't have us backtracking now just as we get going. This incantation is something that just needs real practice. Research wouldn't have helped a bit," Draco explained. "We just need to try it."

She deflated, allowing her anger to simmer down with a deep breath. Hermione's eyebrows knitted together as she shook her head. "How is this going to work then? I haven't been able to Apparate yet."

He relaxed at her surrender, happy to have won another argument. That's twice in two days, he thought.

He was a Slytherin, after all.

"That's part of our problem. If nothing happens when we try to send something though, we won't know if the connection is still broken, or if our spell is simply not powerful enough."

"Bugger," Hermione grumbled with a cross of her arms. "I guess I'll just have to learn Apparition then."

"Think you can do it on your own, Granger?" Draco smirked. "You are The Brightest Witch of our Age, but you and I both know magic requiring such mind manipulation isn't your strong suit."

"Oh shut it," she cautioned. "You'll be practicing too. Who knows? It might be even stronger with both of us casting."

"Phrase it however you want, but I get it. You just don't want to admit I'm better at mental magic than you are," he mused with a sly smile.

She punched his shoulder, but it lacked her usual power. Her face was focused, her jaw was set, still looking at the vanishing cabinet.

"Merlin, who knew Gryffindor's princess was so violent?" mocked the Slytherin, pretending his shoulder was in so much pain it needed to be massaged out.

Hermione scoffed and turned to face him, her arms crossing her chest defensively. "I am not violent!"

Draco released his shoulder and laughed boisterously. "Merlin, you can't be serious! My shoulder, Ron's eye, and my nose all strongly disagree with that statement."

She almost let out a laugh but was able to keep herself in check. She put her hands on her hips instead. "I simply have a low threshold for tolerating stupidity."

The insult made him smile, causing a low giggle to escape Hermione.

"Whatever you say, Granger."

.

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A/N: Hi there, Happy Friday! I hope you enjoyed this chapter update! This is the longest chapter I have so far, so I really hope the length wasn't too much. The next one will be shorter but I think you'll like it! *insert author's knowing smile* I am SUPER excited about what is to come!

Thanks to the incredible beta, Rachelletwin22 for her continued dedication to helping me make this fic better! Other thanks to Bubbleb-tch for her beta work, too. As always, any and all errors that remain are my own. (Feel free to message me if you catch any typos so I can fix them!)

Disclaimer: All publically recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of J.K. Rowling.

Many thanks to anyone who takes the time to read this story, OxfordElise