Wednesday, 17 February 1999
After finishing the double Charms class at the start of their day, the seventh-years were barely able to contain their excitement as they made their way into the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. Hermione was one of the last people to arrive, which she had purposefully arranged to make sure she could take the seat next to Malfoy in the back of the room, just in case he needed help.
Though he hadn't said anything about it, she had a feeling that this class was an important one for him, because by being able to successfully cast the Patronus charm he would finally be able to put a lot of nasty rumours to rest. When she slipped into her seat Malfoy briefly looked up to acknowledge her. Hermione smiled at him, and while he didn't return it, she was pretty sure she saw a brief flicker of appreciation in his eyes.
Class started, and after a short recap of yesterday's lecture, Professor Merrythought suggested that every student who was able to cast a fully corporeal Patronus should take a few of their classmates under their wing. She had barely finished speaking when Malfoy's hand slowly got up in the air, and the Professor gave him a nod.
Malfoy briefly glanced sideways and Hermione gave him an encouraging smile, though she wasn't sure he saw. He got up from his chair, tightened the grip around his wand, and without a warning in any way, shape or form he forcefully spoke the incantation.
The entire class seemed to hold its breath as every pair of eyes followed the translucent pine marten around the room, and Hermione couldn't help but feel incredibly proud of his success. When finally the Patronus faded away, Professor Merrythought turned back to Malfoy.
"When did you learn to cast a corporeal Patronus, Mr Malfoy?" she asked quietly, as though she and the Head Boy were the only two people in the room.
"Roughly fifteen hours ago," Malfoy muttered in response.
Professor Merrythought nodded slowly and gave him a smile that radiated with pride. "That is a most impressive achievement. For that, I award Slytherin with twenty-five points." There was some murmuring amongst the seventh-years, but the Professor quickly raised her hand to silence them.
"It takes a lot of skill and determination to be able to master this charm in such a short amount of time," she said. "I want you to know that I'm very proud of your accomplishment, Mr Malfoy, and that I commend you for taking yesterday's unfortunate incident as a means to motivate yourself to push your boundaries. It shows grace and restraint."
Hermione glanced over to the other side of the classroom and was pleased to see a prominent blush of embarrassment on Sue's face.
"Is there anything else you'd like to add?" Professor Merrythought asked gently, and Hermione redirected her gaze back to the Head Boy, who still hadn't sat back down. He looked an awful lot like he was in pain, and Hermione recognised the look: he was having an inward battle on how to proceed.
"I was actually hoping Li had something to say," Malfoy said in a low voice.
The Ravenclaw in question tensed at the mention of her name and turned around to glare at the Head Boy. "Excuse me?" she choked out.
"What do you actually know about me, Li?" he asked her through gritted teeth.
The petite girl pushed against her glasses and sat up a little straighter. "I know all I need to," she said after a brief pause, sounding very snobbish. "You're a bully and a Death Eater."
Malfoy exhaled loudly with impatience. "It's very easy to pass judgement, isn't it?" he spat at her. "Why don't you tell me what you would have done if the darkest wizard in recent history ordered you to do something for him, and that he would kill both your parents if you failed him."
A collective gasp echoed through the classroom and those who hadn't already turned around in their seats to stare at the blond Slytherin, who steadfastly glared down at his table in an obvious attempt to not lose his composure.
"I didn't feel like I had any other choice," he said quietly, and Hermione felt her heart sink for him, recognising that this semi-public confession was possibly one of the hardest things he had ever done. Sue's hard glare had softened a little, and it seemed she was listening with a slightly more open mind.
Malfoy looked up from his desk and glared at her. "I was not raised in a very tolerant family," he continued bitterly. "And it's very hard to lose a mindset that has been drilled into you for as long as you can remember, but have I not worked peacefully alongside Granger for the past months despite that? Have I not been a fair Head Boy despite all the things that have been said behind my back?"
A few seventh-years muttered amongst each other, some glancing at Hermione to gauge her stance on this statement. She met their eyes confidently, determined to stand by Malfoy through this ordeal, even though she disagreed that their partnership had been all that peaceful.
Malfoy took a deep breath. "I can't take it back; I can't change what I did, but I apologise for my part."
The classroom went very quiet, and Hermione glanced at Professor Merrythought, who stood in front of her desk with her arm crossed and a thoughtful frown on her brows. Her eyes moved around the classroom, ever alert, and Hermione felt a fondness for the teacher spread through her. To allow this in her classroom took a very special kind of person.
Next to her, Malfoy tensed a little, and Hermione looked around to see that Hannah had gotten to her feet. She stared at Malfoy with a little uncertainty in her gaze, but she lifted her chin with determination.
"Why are you apologising?" she asked him in a firm tone, and Malfoy momentarily looked taken aback by the blonde Hufflepuff. "What is most important to you right now? Acknowledging that you made an awful decision that made you responsible for a lot of suffering? Or is this just to make yourself feel better?"
"Both," he admitted finally, and Hannah frowned a little with disappointment, "but if it makes you feel better to know, I don't think I'll feel better either way."
"It doesn't," Hannah stated. "No matter how much I dislike you, I could never use someone's discomfort to uplift myself, but I'd be lying if I said I don't think you deserve to feel that way, because you do, even if it's just to prevent that you ever find yourself in such a position again."
Malfoy took a deep breath. "I can assure you that I won't find myself in such a position ever again," he said slowly. The words came out strained, as though he spoke through clenched teeth.
Hannah shrugged a little. "I'll believe it when I see it. For now, I am willing to confirm that you have been a better and fairer Head Boy than I ever would have guessed, and I am willing to trust Hermione's judgement since she has to work with you the most. If she vouches for you, I think I can find it in me to start forgiving you."
Hermione sighed quietly when every pair of eyes in the room turned to her, and she couldn't help but slightly tense up under the attention. She glanced up at Malfoy and saw a little anxiety in his eyes. She knew that if she didn't vouch for him now, everything he had said mere moments ago would be worth nothing.
Finally, she nodded. "I'll vouch for him," she said softly, and Malfoy slowly sank back down in his seat.
Professor Merrythought allowed for the room to fall silent for a little while before clearing her throat and resuming her class as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened. She strode through the classroom as she spoke and reached into the pocket of her robes once she reached Malfoy's desk. She took out a slip of parchment and subtly placed it in front of him before turning around and leisurely making her way back to the front of the room, all without ever pausing her lecture. Malfoy reached out to take the slip and let his eyes glide over the writing before getting to his feet and quietly leaving the room.
The rest of their lecture went on with the earlier buzz of excitement. Hermione and the six other former DA-members each took a small number of classmates under their wing, and at the end of the two hours, three more students had successfully managed to cast a fully corporeal Patronus.
Once the bell chimed to announce lunchtime, Professor Merrythought requested for Hermione to stay behind. She remained seated with a puzzled frown and watched her classmates leave the room one by one, until finally Padma Patil closed the door behind her, but not before shooting Hermione a questioning frown of her own.
"Ms Granger, I will not keep you long," said Professor Merrythought with an apologetic smile. She moved in Hermione's direction and took the chair in front of her, turning it around to face her, and sat down. "Am I right to assume that you took it upon you to teach Mr Malfoy the Patronus charm after yesterday's debacle?"
"Yes, Professor," Hermione confirmed softly. She hesitated for a moment. "Sue's comment did quite a number on him. I think he really believed her for a while," she added quietly.
The older witch pursed her lips as she nodded her head with slow, thoughtful movements. "But you didn't, did you?"
"No…" she replied. "Then again, I have been privy to information that is not widely known, which has led me to conclude that Malfoy is not capable of murder."
"I am glad to hear it. I commend your approach, Ms Granger. It must not be easy for you to work with him so closely, but you have truly been an example for your fellow students. Thank you for your efforts towards inter-House unity."
Hermione blushed a little, feeling uncomfortable with the praise. "I can't take all the credit, Professor. After all, if Malfoy hadn't put in a serious effort of his own, I likely would have thrown my Head Girl badge in a fireplace months ago."
Professor Merrythought chuckled lightly. "I find it very hard to imagine that you would abandon your post, Ms Granger, but I'm happy to hear that it has been a team effort. In any case, I would like to award you with fifteen points for Gryffindor on account of your marvellous tutor job."
"Thank you very much, Professor," she said with a shy smile.
After being dismissed, Hermione made her way through the empty corridors to the Great Hall. Even though she was only ten minutes late, the Hall was already very crowded and incredibly noisy. Not feeling particularly in the mood to try and find Ginny or any of her fellow seventh-years, Hermione sat down in the first available seat she could find, near the entrance. She charmed one of her books to levitate in front of her while she enjoyed her lunch, and decided afterwards that she would enjoy the peace and quiet for a little longer by retreating to the library during her free period.
She loved being Head Girl. It had been her dream for years, and she felt incredibly honoured that Professor McGonagall had chosen to appoint her, even despite initially not returning for her seventh year. She really enjoyed being a mentor for the youngest students. On top of that, Hermione had noticed that, somehow, the title finally gave her a free pass on sharing her knowledge with others without them rolling their eyes at her anymore.
The downside to it all was that it was very hard to find time to be alone and lose herself in fascinating books. People always seemed to need something, especially now that she once again lived in the Gryffindor Tower. It was a stark contrast to her first six years at Hogwarts, when people would mostly leave her alone. Sometimes she missed the quiet evenings in the Head's Tower, even the nights when she had to share the common room with Malfoy, because when he hadn't been moping around or insulting her he made for quite the conversation partner.
The blond Slytherin had many faults, but if there was one thing Hermione had always appreciated about him it was the genuine interest he had for the classes he took. However brief they had been, the few discussions they had had about lecture subjects always brought out an enthusiasm in him that she had never witnessed in Harry or Ron, or even Ginny.
Once she had finished eating her lunch, she plucked her book down and swung her bag over her shoulder as she left the Great Hall and made for the library. Upon entering, Madam Pince gave her the tiniest of nods, and Hermione answered this subtle but uncommonly kind greeting with a smile. She moved through the with bookcases lined aisles and made her way over to her usual table in the far corner. When she rounded the last bookcase, she paused. Seated at the table—her table—was Malfoy.
For someone who still had a class later this afternoon, he didn't look particularly presentable. His robe and jumper had been discarded on the chairs to his left. His tie was half undone, and he had the sleeves of his shirt pushed up to his elbows. His chin rested on his right fist, and with his other hand he fidgeted with the page of the book in front of him. At first Hermione thought he was staring at the pages, but his eyes were unfocused and didn't move, and she concluded that he was staring at the faded Dark Mark instead.
Leaned a hand against the bookcase, she studied him for a moment. Even though he looked a little dishevelled, she couldn't help but like seeing him like this, with his guard down and his hair not combed perfectly in place for once.
She smiled and slowly stepped forward. "I think absorbing information would go a lot faster if you actually read the pages," she said diplomatically, hoping to announce her arrival without startling him too much. Malfoy lifted his head from his hand and glanced up at her, moving his left arm towards him to remove the deterrent skull from view. His eyes narrowed when she put her bag down on one of the chairs across from him, but she chose to ignore that.
"What are you working on?"
"Nothing," he answered shortly. "And I would prefer to do it alone."
Hermione raised her eyebrows, quickly letting her eyes glide over the various books on the table. She shouldered her bag again and gave a little shrug. "That's fine," she said evenly, and she turned away from him.
Instead of setting out for another empty table, she moved into one of the aisles in the back of the library and searched the shelves for the old tome she knew belonged here. Once found, she took it from its shelf and marched back to the table in the far corner, halting and placing the dusty old book in front of Malfoy.
The Head Boy glared up with a badly suppressed sneer. "What the hell is the meaning of this?" he demanded softly.
"What you're looking for is not in that book," Hermione explained. "Chapter thirty-six of this book covers it."
"How on earth would you know what I'm looking for?"
She raised her eyebrows. "Malfoy, I was there. I saw your disappointment with the form of your Patronus, and all these books cover the significance of animal symbolism. You want to know why your Patronus is a pine marten. I'm smart enough to put one and one together."
Blinking his eyes, the blond let out a sigh. "Smart enough to memorise every bloody book in the library, too, apparently," he muttered. Malfoy pulled the book towards him and leisurely started browsing through the pages. After a few seconds he glanced back up at her and kicked against the chair next to her and directly across from him, moving it away from the table. "There is obviously no getting rid of you, so you might as well sit down," he muttered when he saw her confused look.
Hermione rolled her eyes and sat down in the chair he so graciously offered her and watched how he flipped the pages tediously slowly. "I think it's a very fitting animal," she commented quietly as she watched him browse until he finally found the pages he was looking for. "I think it's a perfect balance between who you used to be and who you're shaping up to be."
"Tread lightly, Granger," Malfoy bit out in a low voice. "I have no need for another counsellor."
"After everything, can we still not have a normal conversation?" she muttered tiredly.
Malfoy leaned back in his chair and gave her an annoyed frown. "Out with it, then," he sighed. "Tell me what you've learned when you researched this before I had a chance to."
She reached out and pulled the book over the table, effortlessly finding the chapter in question. "Martens symbolise resourcefulness, reservedness and self-orientation," she started, pushing the book back in his direction. "That's not very surprising; it describes you and your Slytherin qualities to the letter."
The blond raised his eyebrows, which Hermione understood as him telling her wordlessly to get on with her story. She shot him a half-hearted glare before continuing. "The interesting part is that a marten as a totem can teach a person to become less dependent on other people and more in control of their own lives; less influenced by external pressures and more flexible and adaptive."
"Your point, Granger?"
Hermione sighed with annoyance. "Come on, Malfoy, you know what my point is. Your Patronus' form is literally telling you that you've grown as a person. Don't you think that's a good thing?"
He remained quiet for a good while as he stared down at the pages in front of him before finally looking up at her again with a quite unreadable expression on his face. "You really believe all that, don't you?"
"If you don't, I can find you several more books that will back it up," she answered at once.
Malfoy let out a breathy chuckle, and Hermione was surprised to see that there was amusement in his eyes. "That's fine, Granger." They both fell silent again for a little while, during which the blond stared at her with a thoughtful frown on his brows. "Did you mean what you said during class?" he asked finally. "About vouching for me?"
Hermione gave him a frown of her own. "I wouldn't have said it if I didn't mean it. I feel strongly about standing behind my actions."
He narrowed his eyes a little. "What has changed?" he asked. The question was soft and probably came out more doubtful than he had intended.
She studied him for a second. "Well… You have." It was apparently not the answer he expected, because there was clear surprise visible in his eyes. "At least, I think you have," she muttered.
Malfoy averted his eyes and glared down at the book again. "Yes, I've gone quite soft," he said in a bitter tone.
"We've had this conversation before," Hermione said softly. "Compassion is not weakness, and it's not the same as pity. What you just did in class was pretty impressive. No one in that room will think you've gone soft after hearing what you had to say. If anything, they might finally understand you a bit better. I think you did great."
He looked at her for a while, and Hermione couldn't help but feel a little uncomfortable with the intensity of his stare. "You're really something else, aren't you?" he muttered.
She frowned a little and snorted quietly to try and cover up her surprise. "I can never tell if what you say is meant as an insult or not."
"Trust me on this, Granger, if I meant to insult you, there would be no doubt about it," Malfoy replied softly. "I have never been a big fan of subtlety."
"Or tiptoeing around subjects," Hermione muttered before pausing and studying him briefly. He hadn't snapped when she had told him about the meaning behind his Patronus form, which was quite a personal matter and not something he would normally willingly discuss with her.
In fact, he had been unbelievably civil to her in the past two months altogether, and after her conversation with Ginny — and the redhead's suggestion that Malfoy was starting to let go of his former prejudice — she had played around with the idea of testing just how much Malfoy's mindset had changed in the past few months. He had brought it up himself during class today, so perhaps this was the right moment to give it a go.
The blond was frowning at her, and Hermione took a deep breath. "Remember that you just said it yourself: you're not a fan of subtlety," she reminded him, "but I was wondering if you would be willing to have a conversation about pureblood supremacy."
His frown deepened. "I thought we already had that conversation some months ago."
"That was about you personally," she countered. "I want to discuss the general belief."
"Why would you want that?" he asked after a brief silence, not entirely successful in covering up both his surprise and his annoyance.
Hermione crossed her arms on the table and leaned forward a little, carefully choosing her next words in the hopes of not further setting him off. "Because I want to better understand, and right now I feel like our partnership has reached a point where I'm not scared of asking you."
He didn't say anything for quite some time. His eyes seemed to search for something on her face, but she wasn't sure what it was. Suddenly he pushed his chair backwards, got to his feet and marched past her. Hermione tensed and stared after him, bewildered that he would leave so abruptly, but then she realised that he had left all his belongings at the table. She blinked her eyes and slowly turned back around, trying to remain patient.
When Malfoy came back about ten minutes later he was carrying a book with the seal of the restricted section on its spine. Instead of taking his original seat across from her again he surprised her by taking the one next to her. His demeanour betrayed that he was feeling disgruntled, but Hermione could see that he was trying to push that aside.
"What do you hope to achieve with this?" he asked quietly as he browsed through the pages.
"I just want to gain a deeper understanding of how this mindset originated," she answered carefully. "How it has managed to ingrain so deeply in a part of society."
He nodded and leaned back in his chair, his eyes finding her again. "Before we begin, how much does your family name mean to you? What does it represent?"
Hermione glanced at him while she considered the question. "I never thought my name was very important to me," she started softly, looking away from him, "until I removed myself from my parents' memories and gave them new identities. After that, every time someone addressed me by my last name it hurt, because it reminded me of what I had lost. Ever since I found my parents and restored their memories, I have a new appreciation for my family name."
Next to her, Malfoy shifted in his seat and gave her a sympathetic glance, though she didn't fully register that.
"Apart from my parents I have some notable family members that have done and achieved impressive things that I'm proud of, but that doesn't mean my family would pressure me to uphold the family name, or that I'm expected to achieve certain things. I would never feel compelled to do things in the name of my family."
He gave her a slow and thoughtful nod when she looked up at him again. "I hope I can assume that despite not feeling it yourself, you do understand on some level why ancestral history means a lot to some people?"
"Yes, I understand that."
Malfoy pushed the book in her direction. "You should read this later for an in-debt explanation," he said softly. "Pureblood supremacy is something that didn't just happen one day. It finds its origin in superstition combined with historical events."
"Superstition? Really?"
He shot her a half-hearted glare. "Yes, Granger. Superstition." He tapped his finger on an illustration in the book, and Hermione glanced down to study it. It reminded her of biblical illustrations: colourful and dramatic, with gold accents. It showed a line of seven wizards holding hands. The one at the front had his wand raised, shooting sparks from the tip that moved over the page. The hand-holding wizards all stood proud with their chins raised and their shoulders pushed back, radiating confidence.
Below them was an image of seven other men. They didn't hold hands like the wizards above them, and instead of standing tall they all had a slumped posture. This image was drawn in black-and-white, and the sparks shot from the first wizard's wand didn't compare to those of the wizard above him, and instead of cheerfully moving over the page they seemed to flutter sadly down from his wand.
Hermione let her eyes glide over the illustration, immediately understanding that the first image showed a pureblood wizard from a long, uninterrupted line of wizards. The second image was clearly supposed to show a Muggleborn wizard, who wasn't as powerful as the first wizard because he lacked a magical lineage.
"Back in the Late Middle Ages, people believed that the purer the magical lineage was, the more powerful the descendants would be," Malfoy explained softly. "Most people recognised this for the superstition that it was, but then the Wizard-Muggle relations went sour and the persecutions began, which changed everything. It was subtle at first, but as you well know it soon became widespread."
He turned a page, and Hermione was taken aback by a very graphic illustration of the burning and beheading of wizards—mostly children—at the hands of Muggles.
"The persecutions instilled an absolute fear of Muggles in most of Wizardkind, which caused for very few people to be willing to mingle with the non-magical people, let alone procreate with them," Malfoy continued. "People who did were considered insane and were shunned for their recklessness because it meant that one willingly put oneself and one's loved ones at risk. This is how the term blood traitor originated. It implicated something far more serious back then than it does now."
Hermione looked up from the book to find that Malfoy was studying her facial expression. He brushed his blond fringe back and turned another page, showing an illustration of two groups of people, separated by a ravine and a glowing silver line that was probably meant to be a visual representation of the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy. In the illustration the wizards stared at the Muggles with sad expressions, while the Muggles were completely unaware of their onlookers.
Malfoy leaned back in his chair. "With the introduction and enforcement of the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy there came an end to the war between wizards and Muggles. This was a traumatic time for Wizardkind because of all the losses, and many people resented that we had to go into hiding to protect ourselves instead of retaliating. The hatred of Muggles was very common for at least two generations, and during this time the belief spread that procreating with non-magical folk would taint one's bloodline."
He abruptly looked up and angrily frowned at her, and Hermione realised that she had scoffed out loud. "Like I said, Granger: superstition," he bit at her. "I know that's not actually how it works."
"I'm sorry," she said softly, though she couldn't resist rolling her eyes a little at his offence. "Please continue."
Malfoy narrowed his eyes for a moment and sighed. "Eventually, after the International Statute of Secrecy was passed, knowledge of magic was lost among the Muggles. That also meant that their hatred of us disappeared, and the animosity against the non-magical folk slowly disappeared as well. Many families still clung to their caution, usually the families with the highest number of losses at the hands of Muggles, and this created a sort of divide among Wizardkind. While marriage with Muggles once again became common practice over time, these cautious families kept mingling amongst each other, and this small gene pool caused inbreeding and the loss of certain bloodlines altogether."
He closed the book and pushed it towards her. "These days, everyone knows that the length of one's magical lineage says nothing about one's magical skill," he said, raising his eyebrows and gesturing a hand at her, as though underlining his statement, "but the importance many people hold to their ancestral history has always remained. It's what we take pride in; what we identify with."
"It's a very archaic mindset," Hermione said softly. "But it makes some sense." She hesitated briefly. "The Black and Lestrange families have very high numbers of unstable people due to inbreeding, but the Malfoys don't. How do you remain pure of blood without creating instability?"
"Technically, we don't," Malfoy said, grimacing. "Proclaiming oneself to be pureblood really has nothing to do with biology anymore. It's mostly a declaration of political or social intent these days: we stay away from Muggles and those with Muggle ties, and we don't embrace their lifestyle. Most pureblood families, my own included, allow marriage to halfbloods as long as those families have no ties to Muggles. Usually that means at least a fourth-generation halfblood; a third-generation if their Muggle grandparent is deceased."
Hermione let out an audible sigh of disbelief. "You have to hear how ridiculous that sounds," she said, staring at him in indignance.
"Way to listen with an open mind, Granger," Malfoy said coldly.
She grimaced apologetically and turned a little further towards him. "I'm sorry," she said softly. "I just find it really difficult to understand how someone can choose to write a person off based purely on their bloodline. You hate me because of something I have no influence over; something I can't change. I just don't understand how you don't see what's wrong with that."
"Granger, you started this conversation by saying you wanted to discuss the general belief," Malfoy said in a soft but firm tone. "Right now, you're making things personal." Hermione opened her mouth to argue—even though she knew he was right—but he held up his hand to silence her. To her own surprise, she quietly obliged.
"I thought we had already established last time we had this conversation that I don't hate you," he continued, leaning forward a little. "Prejudice is just that, Granger. It's an opinion or feeling against something, formed unfairly or unreasonably without proper knowledge. It may not have been voluntarily, but I'd say we've gotten to know each other quite well over the past few months."
They fell silent for a while and Hermione couldn't help but stare at the Head Boy in surprise. While his eyes were normally quite cold, she couldn't find any sign of enmity right now, and his stare was surprisingly neutral. After what seemed like a long time, Malfoy took a deep breath and narrowed his eyes a little.
"Rationally, I do see what's wrong with it," he said softly, never breaking off their eye contact. "But prejudice is sneaky, and it has become part of who I am because it has been drilled into me ever since I was a child. I am definitely starting to see things differently, but it's a very slow process."
He slowly exhaled through his nose, sat up a little straighter and raised his chin. "I will say this only once," he said slowly, and she could clearly see the tension in his shoulders. "I realised some time ago that a person can't be both beneath you and better than you. And you, Hermione Granger, are a far better person than I could ever hope to be."
Hermione felt her heart pound in her chest as she stared at Malfoy with wide eyes, and even though she felt a little juvenile thinking it, she couldn't quite believe her own ears after hearing what he had just said and hearing him use her first name. The air around them felt heavy with tension, and suddenly she couldn't help but be hyper-aware of the fact that Malfoy had voluntarily chosen the seat next to her instead of across from her, on the other side of the table. The way he was staring at her reminded her strongly of their encounter on the Quidditch pitch a few weeks ago: strangely determined.
She had been witness to a lot of Malfoy's character development these past few months, but even though she had been there during some personal moments, she had never expected Malfoy to acknowledge that there had been a definite improvement in their partnership. She was starting to respect him as a person, a little more every day, and from context she dared to conclude that he felt the same way about her.
Hermione took a deep breath and couldn't quite decide if the blond sat closer to her than he had mere moments ago. She felt a little breathless all of a sudden and subconsciously rubbed her lips together. Something in Malfoy's eyes changed; she recognised this look, but she couldn't find it in her to listen to the little voice in the back of her mind that told her to get up and leave—that she didn't want this; that she had told him she didn't want this, but she could swear he was leaning in ever so slightly, and not a single part of her felt compelled to get up and leave.
Her eyes dropped down from Malfoy's eyes to his lips for a fraction of a second. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew this was a mistake, and she could see that he had noticed. He narrowed his eyes, looking a little unsure of himself; something Hermione couldn't remember witnessing before.
Suddenly a shrill bell chime echoed through the library to announce the end of their free period and the start of their last class before dinner, causing them both to jump in their seat.
"Shit," Malfoy swore, getting to his feet immediately and moving to the other side of the table to get his jumper and robe, readjusting his tie and sleeves as he moved.
Hermione got to her feet as well, clumsily swinging her book bag over her shoulder and snatching the book that Malfoy had gotten from the restricted section from the table to return it to Madam Pince. She felt a little lightheaded and tried her hardest to silence the voice in the back of her mind that was suddenly very vocal again and insisted she had almost done something very stupid.
"I can't believe you're going to be late for the second time this week," the blond commented once they left the library and rushed through the corridors together, to the Arithmancy classroom. Hermione glanced up at him in disbelief, ready to snap at him for making fun of her right now, only to have the Head Boy flash a genuine grin her way, once again reminding her of the fact that Malfoy looked like an entirely different person when he was smiling. Miraculously enough, it was enough to quiet her mind again.
She almost didn't feel bad about being late for class.