Chapter 3: Green apple

"What in the bloody hell was that?" Ron assaulted her with the obvious question right after Potions class ended.

The three of them regrouped as they exited the classroom, Harry to her right, Ron to her left, both of them confused. They had every right to feel that way, Hermione had acted rash, alarmingly so. Moreover, they had no indication as to why her behaviour and, by consequence, her motivation had changed. It would be impossible to explain to them she had lived the future and had returned to change it. All the magic in the world would not account for their distorted present and in Hermione's opinion, the time used to explain the whole ordeal could be put to better use.

"I know it looked insane but trust me, this is necessary," Hermione said, mustering all the confidence she could. She, too, had to come to terms with the implications of her plan.

Ron scoffed while Harry pressed further. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that if you are right about Draco being marked as a Death Eater, we have to keep a close eye on him."

"Yeah, from afar not being best mates and sharing a Potions table together! Have you gone full mental, Hermione?"

"I have to agree with Ron," Harry said, "This is Malfoy we're talking about. If Voldemort got to him, all the more reason to be careful around him. I don't think it's such a good idea to approach Draco carelessly."

"I know that Harry, but you have to trust me. I know what I'm doing. He might be the key to finding out more about Voldemort's intentions and the only way we can do that is by showing him some grace."

"He's never going to trust you," the green-eyed wizard pointed out, stopping them in their tracks.

"Maybe. I can still try, see where it takes us. You know how it is to be alone, have no one believe you. Sometimes, all it takes is just someone offering you a chance."

"Can't argue with that," Harry said, remembering how lost he felt every time he tried to tell people Voldemort was back and all he got in return were pitying or mistrustful stares. He doubted Draco would ever feel comfortable enough to share his secrets with any of them, really, but he could always slip some information by mistake. Granted, the method employed by Hermione was beyond orthodox but something in her eyes told Harry she needed to do this. She looked as if she was in control. Determined to help.

"Are you actually considering this?" Ron asked incredulously.

"No," Harry replied, "But you know how Hermione gets when she sets her mind on something."

"Which is why we have to band together and convince her this is the stupidest idea since Self-Propelling Custard Pies!"

"Ronald…" Hermione began but was immediately cut off by him.

"Don't Ronald me! This is beyond dangerous, Hermione. I can't believe you're buddying up with Malfoy, of all people!"

"Do you think I want this? But we have to be prepared and gather information from all sources. We can't stand to lose any more of our loved ones," Hermione said, feeling tired from having to justify her reasons to such extent, especially when she understood both of their motivations. It was in Harry's best interest to have an inside man - or in this case woman - to spy on Malfoy while Ron was acting out of his growing affection towards her. His brain didn't know it yet but his heart did. But what about her own interest? Neither of them ever considered what Hermione wanted, what Hermione felt. She had to grind her teeth and keep moving because she was clever, she was strong and she was a woman and what did men really understand about female struggle?

A shadow of regret settled on Harry's face, his thoughts flying to Sirius most likely. She knew she had struck a chord within him with her last statement and she might have even succeeded in getting a nod of approval if it weren't for McGonagall interrupting them.

"Ah, Potter, perfect timing! The Headmaster is expecting you in his office, whenever you have the time."

"Well, I'm free now," Harry answered, looking back at the two of them.

"Very well," The Professor said, gesturing a gloved hand toward Harry. "Follow me."

"And I have Quidditch practice but this conversation is not over," Ron warned, holding her gaze.

Both of her friends left in separate directions, leaving Hermione to dissect their entire conversation. She made her way toward her next class, her thoughts fixated on Ron and how disturbed he had been by her proposal to get closer to Malfoy. Hermione had missed that side of him. In all truth, it had been one of the very select few times he acted with authority. Over the years he had lost that side of him and had mellowed except for when they had arguments, of course. He invested no effort in verifying if she was happy or not - it only mattered that he was content which meant that everyone else had to be as well, right? Wrong. She hadn't been happy in a long time and while she should have known and should have followed her instinct right then, at the beginning, when she said yes to his marriage proposal without fully understanding what it would entail, she did get Rose and Hugo out of it. Only that…right now, they did not exist. Would she even see them again? Would she have the chance to return to the future? She did miss them. But they no longer existed, not unless she encouraged her affections for Ron.

Hermione stopped in front of a mirror and regarded herself. She was so young and dar she say prettier than what she remembered. When and how did time pass so quickly? One moment she came out victorious of a Wizarding War, the other she was 10 years older, married with children, stuck in a boring Ministry job and having an exaggeratedly-long identity crisis. Well, not anymore. Right now, she intended to be very careful with her choices.

OOO

It was no wonder she found herself in the library by the end of the day. Hermione had dived her nose so deep in her books that she hadn't even noticed daylight dying out in flakes of grey tones - a prelude to the upcoming evening. Rustles of pages and parchment alerted her of the growing number of students entering the premises and voices - although in whispers - were making their way to her ears, causing the young witch to lose focus. It was time she stopped for the day.

She closed the Pure-Blood Directory grand book with a thud and relaxed into her chair. After finishing all her classes, Hermione had spent a good deal of her afternoon browsing through the Directory, gathering information on the Malfoy family. Her knowledge of the Sacred Twenty-Eight was satisfactory from an informational point of view yet, if she wanted to befriend Draco, she had to burrow even deeper with her questions and her curiosity.

Know thy enemy, Hermione, she told herself internally.

Still, books can only get you so far. After pages and pages of reading about blood purity, ancestors, and hereditary obsession, Hermione concluded she still wasn't richer in the Malfoy history. Either way, she did make some notes and managed to rearrange the events that would mark that school year in sorrow.

She needed to go over her notes, reread all the compiled information and consider her options. The library was now full of prying eyes and her Common Room would be filled with students by now, leaving her no alternative but to change locations. Another option was the Astronomy Tower which was either deserted at this hour or occupied by students busy snogging and giggling. Hermione decided she would take the risk anyway.

The circular staircase posed a bit of a problem, especially now when darkness ascended so Hermione went ahead and casted Lumos to light her way up. She could have sworn she heard a rustle above and when she reached the top and spotted a blonde head swiveling in her direction, she realized her hearing woked perfectly indeed.

"What are you doing here?" Draco asked, visibly annoyed to see her up there. With him.

He was holding a green apple in his hand - elegant, long fingers grasping it fully. As always, he had a certain aristocratic poise to him, bred to be the next heir of a centuries-long bloodline while she was just Hermione, wearing jeans and a sweater, standing awkwardly near the railing. Usually, she wouldn't notice these things. Usually, it wouldn't bother her but now that she had worked at the Ministry and had become aware of power and hierarchy, she could comprehend the benefits of influence and even learn to appreciate it. When you're a teenager, you are free to act however you want. You are forgiven easily and that is why you understand far too late that your upbringing dictates the way you "move" into the world. It didn't matter how spoiled or entitled Draco had been, he was always going to mature into the epitome of timeless charm. He was always going to have class and education speak for himself. After all, Hermione had experienced it first-hand in the rare occasions she had been in his presence later on and, while currently there were only seeds of such refinement, they would sprout and bloom and leave foolishness behind.

"I usually come up here to read," she lied. "What are you doing here?"

"Leaving," he responded, already up to his feet, taking long strides towards the stairs.

"Well, you don't have to," Hermione blurted out, fearful to miss the opportunity. She finally had him alone and she could try and build a bridge. "I can still read with you here as long as you stay quiet, of course."

"You expected us to have a conversation, Granger?" He raised one delicate eyebrow, sarcasm dripping from his tone.

"No. What would we even talk about? Your egomaniac tendencies? Your constant need to do evil things to people who don't deserve it?"

Oh, shoot, Hermione thought. She simply couldn't keep her mouth shut around him, could she?

"Is that your opinion of me? You know nothing, you sad, pathetic Mudblood," he stopped in his tracks, throwing the words in her face.

"I know more than you think," she said, ignoring his insult. That word did not hurt her as much as it used to. In fact, she amassed a certain pride in it. Wore it like a badge of honor, even if the scar from it had slowly healed in the future. Even if now, she had yet to receive it from Bellatrix.

"I doubt it. Your head is filled to the brim with Potter's ideals and Weasley's nonsense, you can't even be your own person anymore. You're blindly following them around like a puppy when you have the strength to stand on your own two feet. That's something I will never respect."

How strange, that among the denigrating words, he had also let slip a compliment, referring to her plausible independence. Did he realize it?

"Right back at you, Malfoy. From where I'm standing, you don't seem to be in control of your own life."

"Because unlike you, Granger, I have real things to lose."

"And I don't? Your aunt killed Sirius Black, your father is at Voldemort's beck and call, not to mention your entire existence threatens Harry!"

"There you go with Potter again," he laughed bitterly, swishing his hand in a dismissive manner.

"Fine, you want to leave him out of the conversation? Done! But we both know you've been cruel to me solely because of my friendship with him. You tormented me."

"You punched me in the face in our third year!"

"Because you were asking for it!" Hermione retaliated.

At that, they both went quiet, breathing heavily, much like after a strenuous match. It felt good, letting it all out. Hermione had no idea she had so many things to say to him. It was as if all her resentment, her disappointment with how her life turned out and the unfairness of being judged over and over again based on her friendships had propelled her into a direct offensive at Draco Malfoy. Regrettably, she would need to tread lightly or else Draco would never open up to her, not to this explosive version of herself. She wondered, what did he think of her, of their blunt exchange and particularly, of her sudden outburst. Her answer came shortly.

"Why am I even talking to you, Granger? You're wasting my time," he sighed, set on leaving the tower for good this time.

"Draco," Hermione tried.

"It's Malfoy to you. We've never reached that level of informality and we never will," he pointed his finger at her and made himself scarce, receding footsteps convincing Hermione of her defeat.

She exhaled a shaky breath, walked over to one of the marble arches and flopped down on the ledge he had previously occupied. She had no idea what Ron was so worried about. Clearly, Malfoy wanted nothing to do with her.

OOO

Author's Note

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