Hermione read the instructions for the dreamless sleep potion a third time over dinner. While hers had been fine, just fine, Harry's had been exceptional. Or at least that was what Slughorn had said. She traced her finger over the steps;crush the thistle, stir counterclockwise six times, add extract of poppy.

She had refused to ask Harry what further instructions he had followed. Instructions given by the "Half Blood Prince". She was still furious at him for keeping that copy of the textbook. In her spare time she'd begun looking for evidence of this Half Blood Prince, who they were, but so far she had found nothing.

Hermione idly spooned the last bit of her pudding into her mouth, reading the instructions for the fourth time. She would just have to try harder. Hermione shut her textbook and pulled out today's Daily Prophet. She began her process of redacting the more alarming news stories. She would take it to the owlery tomorrow morning before class to send to her parents.

More disappearances were buried within the pages. From the names Hermione recognised she could piece together that the majority were muggle born witches and wizards. She wondered whether the Daily Prophet would even report disappearances of muggles related to witches and wizards.

Hermione felt herself grow cold at the notion that muggle disappearances could be happening and the wizarding public was none the wiser. Would her parents end up unnamed and forgotten casualties of the war, if it was a war, in the end? She worried she was running out of time to save them.

After her argument with Ron, she had tried not to dwell on her plan. She was not sure she could do that to her parents anyway. She did not think she had the strength to erase herself from their lives. They were her parents, her first friends. What kind of person would she be to remove their memory, to use her magic in that way?

Hermione packed away her things. Tonight was a prefect patrol night, a Malfoy duty night. She spotted the Slytherin over the Great Hall. His blonde head was buried in a book. It seemed every time she looked over at him this was the case. An unusual change for Malfoy, she noted, until this year she had never seen him study during dinner time.

Hermione returned to the Common Room to drop off her school bag in favour of a smaller satchel. She wondered whether she might have time to do some reading on patrol and therefore should bring her bigger bag. She opted instead to bring the smaller bag and carry the book. The book would also disincentivise her to start water fights with Malfoy.

On her way out of the Common Room, Hermione saw Harry sitting with an icy Ron. He had been sulking somewhat since the first Slug Club Dinner, and his bad mood had only grown now that the success of his Quidditch Trial had been replaced with anxiety about his future performance on the team. Hermione and Harry had not yet had time to talk about how to placate him, and tonight would not be the night anyway. She threw Harry a sympathetic glance as she exited through the portrait tunnel.

Hermione was first to arrive by the fountain in the main atrium. The slight spray of water made the air cooler than it needed to be on an autumn night, Hermione thought as she gave a slight shiver. The marble creatures that adorned the statue had retreated into their slumber states. The unicorn had its head bowed, eyes shut peacefully, yet the marble still breathed.

Moving staircases stretched in all directions around the atrium, the walls of the space plastered with painting after painting. Much like the statues, the subjects in the paintings were mostly resting peacefully, awash in the low glow of the candle light. She heard the drum of footsteps, and from one of the lower staircases she saw him emerge.

Malfoy strutted into view, pale and blonde as ever, uniform looking unruffled despite the length of the school day. His hands were in his robe pockets, and he seemed to be walking with haste. She met his eyes, noticing a fierce glare directed at her, and Hermione felt her body go rigid as he approached. She scrambled to get up from where she was seated on the fountain's edge but he was already in front of her.

"What are you doing with Nott?", He demanded. He was standing too close for her to reasonably get up, as she would bump right into him. His face was full of malice, hatred, and she desired to smack it out of him.

"He asked me to study with him", she said resolutely, looking up at him.

"And why would he do that?" he said callously. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Oh Malfoy, I don't know, perhaps because I'm the best student in the grade", she retorted. She thought this might get a rise out of the blonde Slytherin, but he just waved a hand around.

"No, I know that, but what's his angle?" He said dismissively, seemingly looking behind her around the fountain.

"Why don't you ask him?" She shot back at him.

"I did ask him," he replied.

"And what did he say?" asked Hermione.

"He didn't say anything, said you made for a good study partner", he replied, still agitated. Hermione looked at him blankly.

"Well what do you want me to say? There's your answer", she said, giving a shake of her head. Malfoy turned his cold eyes back to hers, staring her down. If he meant to intimidate her, he was doing a poor job. He looked more tired than he had a week ago, and even though their workload had significantly increased, it seemed out of proportion.

"What more do you want from me?" She asked defiantly. His jaw tensed.

"I want to know why you said yes", he countered.

"Afraid I'll make a muggle sympathiser out of him?" She retorted. It was easier to talk about this with Malfoy than with Nott, as she knew exactly where he stood on the issue. He narrowed his eyes on her. They held that silence for a moment before he turned away.

"Let's go", he said, and began for the west side of the castle. Hermione rolled her eyes, but followed.

They rounded the transfiguration courtyard, the main classrooms, and the Great Hall, traversing the same pathway they had taken the previous times. Thankfully, as they climbed the stairs to the second floor corridor, there was no flooding in sight. Hermione felt herself flush as she recalled the run-in with Myrtle. What a strange night that had been.

Malfoy had been silent since they started walking, and Hermione was content to leave him to his own thoughts. Confident that the night should go smoothly from now on, she pulled open the book she had brought as they walked. Hermione shuffled through the pages to find where she was up to.

The castle remained quiet save for their footsteps and Hermione was able to continue going over what she suspected would be next week's potions. She was determined to beat Harry in the next class, and she would do the extra reading to make it so.

Hermione was reading about unusual preparations of eye of newt when she felt Malfoy grip her arm and pull her to the right. She looked up just in time to see herself nearly collide with a suit of armour.

"Can you watch where you're going, please?" He asked scathingly. Hermione looked down to where he was still holding her by her upper arm. His hand felt warm and tight. She looked up at his face, all scowling and tired. But his eyes still burned. With what, she was unsure. She shrugged off his hand, putting some distance between them.

"Sorry", she said sheepishly. She closed her book and tucked it under her arm. Malfoy rolled his eyes and started walking again.

"So swotty you can't even put down the books for a few hours", he mumbled. She glared at him.

"Oh yeah, and what do you call your dinnertime reading? Surely that's as swotty as it comes?" She rebuked. His face turned towards her with a deadly smirk.

"You watching me from across the Great Hall, Granger?," he asked slyly. She ignored his taunt.

"Why's that, Weasley not doing it for you anymore?", he asked with feigned innocence.

Hermione paused, feeling hot and angry.

"Shut up, Malfoy", said Hermione, and she began to stomp away. He gave pursuit.

"Or maybe you are not doing it for him?" He teased from behind her. She pushed forward.

They exited onto the suspension bridge that connected the main castle to the part that housed most of their classrooms. The cool breeze whistled through the night as they crossed the bridge. It did nothing to temper Hermione's anger.

Malfoy was so good at wedging his way into the places that hurt her. But what use did it do getting angry? He was not reasonable, he did not care. Her hurt did not matter to him. Why would it? His hurt did not matter to her.

This made her pause. She looked out over the grounds, where the night sky met the hills. She wrapped the cold rope in the palm of her hand. Malfoy's father was imprisoned. Lucius had tried to kill her. Did he know that? She turned to look back at where they had exited. He was looking at her, a self-satisfied smirk plastered over his stupidly angelic face. He enjoyed her suffering, but she would not enjoy his.

"What were you reading?" She asked earnestly. He blinked.

"What?" He asked.

"At supper", she continued, "what were you reading?" She gripped the rope tighter. His eyes narrowed at her, they swept all over her face, like he was madly trying to decipher a tablet of runes. He waited, she waited, then he forfeited.

"A book about Egyptian runic magic", he said nonchalantly.

"You don't take Ancient Runes", Hermione said. It was not a question.

"No, I do not", he agreed.

"Why are you reading about runic magic?" Hermione asked. Malfoy cocked his head just slightly to the side, allowing the moonlight to reflect in his silver eyes.

"Interest", he replied, "we don't all just readHogwarts: A history, over and over again". He teased, but did not scowl. She did not either.

"It's my favourite book", she said with a shrug.

"A terrible choice for someone so well-read".

"I seem to remember you being able to quote it word-for-word", said Hermione, feeling the corners of her mouth tug upwards. He scoffed.

"It was my favourite book when I was eight, I nearly set fire to my bed trying to read it under the covers with a candle", he said it with no hint of embarrassment, he stated it matter-of-factly. Hermione might have looked at him like he had three heads. She tried to imagine eight year old Malfoy readingHogwarts: A Historyby candlelight. She found herself wanting to ask more about that eight year old boy but stopped herself.

"So, what's your favourite book now?" She asked instead.

"Are you asking for recommendations?" He said, raising his eyebrows sceptically.

"I suppose I am", Hermione said softly. Once again, he stalled, appraised her, as if she might just let it go if he waited. But she was patient and let the question simply hang in the air.

"Dragons and Omens", he said carefully. "By Daisy Whisp", he added.

"What's it about?" Hermione asked quietly, she was afraid if she spoke too loud it might sever this thin thread between them.

"It is a novel about two warring wizarding families but set before, I suppose in the times you would call mediaeval, when dragon riding was more common", he did not take his eyes off hers as he spoke. Hermione had a thousand questions to ask about the book but as the cold wind rushed between them she settled for one.

"Like a historical fiction?"

"Yes, you could call it that", he replied.

"I'll have to borrow it from the library", she said.

"They don't have it at the library, it's old", he corrected.

"Oh", she said, trying not to let too much disappointment show on her face. They stood in silence. Hermione felt the moment be swept up by the wind and carried away into the night air. She shivered and finally looked away out at the stars.

"We should go, it's getting late", she said. She felt him walk past her and off the bridge.

The rest of that watch had been uneventful. Things were quiet but not tense. Malfoy seemed lost in thought, although as they completed the last part of their round he told her she should go back to her reading and that he would report to Filch. She had taken him up on the offer, keen to finally relax.

She had double checked the library for Dragons and Omens the following week and Malfoy had been right - they did not have it. Madam Pince had told her that the book was older and it would take them time to locate a copy if she really wanted it. It seemed silly to be caught up over a book that Malfoy recommended to her so she told Madam Pince not to worry about tracking it down.

Hermione waited by the fountain in the atrium. The week had gone quickly and tonight was her patrol night. She had considered not being first there to avoid being a sitting duck for Malfoy's antagonism, but her instincts got the better of her. So there she was, waiting.

He approached much more slowly than the previous week, not sparing a glance her way at all. But he came to a stop in front of her just the same.

"Granger", he said. She looked up at him. Heavy dark circles underscored his silvery eyes.

"Malfoy", she greeted.

The evening was quiet with the exception of some third year Hufflepuffs attempting to sneak away after bedtime. Hermione disciplined them while Malfoy rolled his eyes. Beyond that, he barely acknowledged her. Though she swore sometimes he would flinch when they were simply walking down a corridor.

Her picture of Malfoy was not any clearer than it had been a few weeks ago. Harry was still convinced that he was now a fully inducted Death Eater. But that still seemed far-fetched to Hermione. She was inclined to agree with Ron: what would Voldemort want with a sixteen year old boy?

That said, Hermione was keeping the contents of their patrols a secret, simply stating that they barely talked whenever Harry or Ron pressed for details. She did not want to fuel Harry's concerns. It would probably be better if they did not talk anyway. But an hour into the patrol she found herself wanting to fill the void.

"Are you reading anything at the moment?" She asked tentatively, eyes ahead on the corridor. He scoffed.

"You want to make small talk?" he asked suspiciously.

"Sure", she said, but even she did not sound convincing to her own ears. He turned his head to look at her then. His eyes were dark and focused despite the circles underneath. Once again, she felt like some small prey animal he had stalked down.

"Ask me something you actually want to know", he ordered. Hermione frowned, what did she actually want to know about Malfoy?

"Why do you care if Nott studies with me?" She asked. Malfoy considered her question.

"Why do you think I care?" he responded. Hermione bit her lip, it seemed unfair for him to answer a question with a question, but why would he care what she thought?

"I suppose you think I'll infect him with some of my dirty blood", she knew it was a risky answer, but something in the way he had invited the question made her bold. He let out a laugh.

"I suppose you would think that", he said. She huffed.

"Of course, you called me a Mudblood only a few weeks ago", she said, but she did not meet his eyes this time.

"I did", he said, not a question.

"So why would I think any differently?" Her eyes drifted out the windows, towards the darkness that expanded from the castle.

"I thought you were clever", he said sardonically. She did not answer. He scoffed again.

"There are few completely pure-blooded families left, plenty of half-bloods amongst us", he paused, "that aside; and they are all vying for attention and power, especially when fractures appear", he trailed off.

"Like when Nott's father was imprisoned", she suggested. She looked back at Malfoy to see him nod.

"Theodore is too comfortable flaunting his own whims", Malfoy continued.

"So?" questioned Hermione.

"So he is risking himself, and his name", Malfoy twirled his wand around in his fingers.

"They would hurt him?" asked Hermione. She had always imagined that pure blood would be so coveted that it would prevent torture befalling a witch or wizard, even if they had failed a task set by Voldemort.

"If it was advantageous to them, yes", Malfoy replied flatly.

"But this is okay?" She gestured between herself and Malfoy.

"Well, I am not here willingly, am I", he retorted. They walked in silence for a little while.

The muttering of paintings disturbed by their footsteps filled the hall as they descended to complete their patrol of the dungeons. As they crossed by the potions classroom Malfoy spoke.

"And to think you gave detention to those poor Hufflepuff's for just being out of bed", he muttered. Hermione looked at him quizzically. He gestured to the door they had just passed - Snape's supply closet.

"I presume that is where you stole your ingredients for Polyjuice potion from in second year?" Hermione felt herself flush.

"It was for the greater good", she said.

"Naturally, Gryffindors never do anything out of self-interest", he said with a thick layer of sarcasm. Hermione refused to give him the rise he clearly wanted.

"Three measures of Fluxweed, three bundles of Knotgrass, Lacewing flies…", he trailed off.

"Two bundles of knotgrass", Hermione corrected.

"What?" Asked Malfoy.

"It's two bundles of knotgrass", repeated Hermione, "are you making polyjuice potion?" she said, narrowing her eyes. Malfoy put his hands in the pockets of his robe.

"No, I am writing my potions essay on it though", he replied.

"Oh, right", said Hermione, she began to open her mouth to give her tips about making polyjuice potion but stopped. Malfoy regarded her curiously.

"Go on", he urged. She shook her head.

"I know you are dying to tell me the one-hundred and one ways I can perfect polyjuice potion, spit it out". Hermione fiddled with the stitching on her robes.
"Well, the lacewing flies are better stewed in darkness, and the fluxweed needs to be picked under the full moon, which of course is noted in all the texts, but the bicorn horn can also be pre-prepared and placed under full moonlight to slightly increase how long the effects last. I found that in one of the advanced potions tomes in the library", Malfoy shook his head softly as she finished.

"What?", she demanded.

"How is Potter out-performing you in potions?" He asked with a laugh. Hermione felt flush return to her cheeks but not of embarrassment, out of anger.

"Right!" She said, then shrunk back, realising she was disparaging Harry in front of Malfoy of all people.

"It's getting to you", he stated, not a question.

"No, it's great that Harry is doing well in potions, he's a great wizard", protested Hermione.

"Gryffindor's really are terrible liars", retorted Malfoy.

Malfoy asked a few more questions about polyjuice potion whilst they patrolled the Great Hall and the Grand Staircase. Hermione answered freely. It was surreal to simply be discussing potions with Malfoy. She turned over what he had told her about Nott, and as they turned to make their way to Filch's office Malfoy made his now usual offer: leave now, he would report to Filch. She was quick to take him up on such an offer but paused just before she headed off.

"Malfoy", she said.

"Yes, Granger?"

"Would you please tell Theodore that I won't be able to study with him anymore", she said carefully. Malfoy's eyes roved her face. She did not know what he was searching for. When he was done he simply nodded and turned away in the direction of Filch's office.

"How lovely that you and Draco are becoming fast friends", came Nott's smooth, but taunting voice as he saddled up beside her in Ancient Runes the following week. Hermione jumped, she had been deep in some paragraphs about Egyptian to Nordic translations. Nott pulled out his books, the heavy tomes landing with the thump on the desk. He did not look at her.

"We're not friends", Hermione said in a hushed whisper. Nott raised his eyebrows and peered at her from the corner of his eye.

"Funny that, then why are you taking orders from him?" He asked incredulously, though in an equally hushed tone.

"I'm not!" Hermione protested. Nott smiled something devilishly.

"Then why did I have the blonde haired ponce bursting into my bed last night telling me our little study sessions are over?" A student beside them handed Nott a piece of parchment, briefly interrupting their conversation. Nott read it and then passed it to Hermione. Hermione snatched it from his hand.

"I'm doing it for your own safety, Malfoy said you could get in trouble", Hermione whispered, feeling the eyes of her other classmates on the two of them. She handed the parchment to the student next to her without looking away from Nott.

"Why would it matter to you if I got into trouble?" Nott said, emphasising the "you". Hermione looked at him confused, her brief interactions with Slytherins this year were making her wonder how any of them had friends.

"He said people would hurt you", Hermione said, barely above a whisper. Nott opened a book.

"So?" He asked.

"You don't deserve that", she said, turning the page on her own tome. Nevermind that she had not read a single sentence on the page. Nott did not say anything so she continued.

"Malfoy too, he wouldn't deserve it either, I mean", Hermione trailed off. Nott watched her with a slight shake of his head.

"Brightest witch of her age, hey?" He said under his breath. He nodded to the other end of the table.

"You might have wanted to read that piece of parchment Granger, it had the marks for our first translation on it", Hermione felt her stomach drop and snapped her head around to where Anthony Goldstein was holding the parchment. She jumped up from the table, and when she returned with the parchment Nott had moved across the classroom to the seventh-year table.