Hermione was seated in the back corner of the library. It was getting late, but her Arthrimacy report was due by the end of the week and she was determined to get it finished tonight. She had scurried away from dinner to the refuge of the library, lest she have to continue to hear how well Quidditch practice was going from Ron. Once he'd finally subdued from the anger of not being part of the "Slug Club", he had decided that recounting each Quidditch practice, including his personal philosophy on goalkeeping, would be the only topic of conversation. And, of course, the disappearances and deaths, which they all discussed quietly in the mornings over breakfast once the Daily Prophet had arrived. The deaths and disappearances that Hermione carefully removed before sending the paper onto her parents.
Needing extra motivation to finish the last six or so inches of her essay she retrieved the small square wooden box from her bag. The wood was smooth in her hands, the intricate engravings all around it looked even more dramatic in the candle light. She popped it open and retrieved the miniature gramophone inside. She set it on the desk and reached in her bag for one of the miniaturised records.
She was the last one in the library tonight, and far enough away that Madam Pince would not mind, especially if she played it quietly. Small melodies filled the air as she let the needle drop onto the record. The music did make it easier to focus and as the album played she was able to write a decent paragraph explaining the arithmancy she had used to solve the problem they had been set. Hermione looked at her watch, it was half past nine, if she worked quickly she could finish up before the library closed at ten. She had just put the quill back on parchment when she was interrupted.
"Come on Granger, we have patrol", Hermione's head snapped up from the parchment. Malfoy lent against the bookshelf, his arms crossed. She had barely seen him since their previous patrol nearly a week ago. He looked worse. His face was just a little thinner, and the dark circles under his eyes remained. But his expression did not betray any tiredness, only frustration. Taking in her confused silence, he pressed his lips into a thin line, his eyes not meeting hers but surveying the table she sat at.
"What? Why?" She exclaimed, flicking through her diary, this was not right, they did not have patrol until tomorrow night, and she told him so. He rolled his eyes.
"Well, the prefects rostered on are sick, and your head of house enjoys my misery, and of course…" he trailed off.
"No one else will patrol with you", Hermione finished.
"Five points to Gryffindor", he said sarcastically. Hermione sighed and began packing up her things. The music abruptly ended when she removed the needle and carefully slid the gramophone back into its case.
He watched her as she got up from the table, his tall frame crowding the passageway of the little alcove of bookshelves she had secluded herself in. He made no move to walk away. Hermione came to stand in front of him. She was learning that he was put off when her behaviour was amicable, and she enjoyed this.
"Well, let's go", she said, gesturing in the direction of the library's exit. He raised an eyebrow.
"No protest?" He asked. She shrugged.
"I'm sure McGonagall had a good reason to put us on, or, more likely, no one else who could do it", she said. He still made no effort to move.
"I'd prefer it if we can move quickly and then perhaps stop for twenty minutes so I can finish my Arithmancy essay", she continued, patting her bag. He peered down at her, considering. The smell of burnt parchment and clove filled her nose.
"I suppose we can", he said carefully.
"Great", she said, and seeing that he still was not moving, pushed her way past him.
To his credit, Malfoy did seem to make an effort to speed through their regular checklist of patrol locations. He only briefly departed to check the Slytherin Common Room, she quickly checked the Gryffindor tower, and together they checked the classrooms building, the dungeons, and the Great Hall. As it neared eleven, Hermione began to think anxiously about her assignment. If she did not get it done tonight it would mess with her study schedule for the rest of the week. She was about to bring it up, but he spoke first.
"I was thinking the astronomy tower might be a good place for a break", he said nonchalantly. Hermione was taken aback at his suggestion but tentatively agreed.
They climbed the stairs to the tower in silence. Even the portraits were quiet as they passed. Malfoy opened the door and gestured for Hermione to go through first. She gave him a quizzical look and he shrugged.
Hermione wandered into the classroom, heading towards the large windows where you could glimpse the small observatory they stargazed in during their Astronomy lessons. She set her bag down at a desk and went to pull out her wand to light the sconces in the room. However, Malfoy beat her to it, and the room was bathed in a soft warm glow.
He could have sat anywhere in the classroom, or even gone off for twenty minutes, but to Hermione's surprise he sat right next to her. He did not say anything, just looked out the window, twirling his wand around in his hand. As she rolled out her parchment and began to formulate the final paragraph of her essay, he interrupted her thoughts.
"What was that thing you had before, in the library?" He asked. She looked at him, and he was already looking at her. His face was still guarded, the slightest trace of a sneer still evident, but his eyes betrayed his curiosity. Hermione smiled. She reached into her bag and retrieved the wooden box. She set it in front of him.
"Open it", she said. He regarded the box distrustfully but slowly reached out to unlatch the lock. As he opened the box he chuckled.
"Slytherin green", he remarked, referring to the velvet inlay. Hermione shrugged.
"It's a nice colour", she said. Malfoy gently removed the gramophone and turned it over in his hands. He ran his thumb over the wooden carvings, tracing the lines around the base. He set it down on the desk in front of him.
"It plays music", he said. Hermione nodded. She pulled out one of the records from her bag and held it out to him. He stared at her outstretched hand for a moment before taking the disc.
The needle landed on the record with a softthwarp.Soft music filled the classroom.
"Muggle music", he said, without derision, just as a fact.
"Yes", she answered. He looked away from the gramophone.
"Where did you get this?" He asked.
"My parents got it for me, as a birthday gift", she said, looking at the instrument.
"But this is magic", he reached back out to touch the carvings. The room felt so quiet despite the music. His words felt suspended in the air, he was asking her to explain something he did not understand at all.
"In the muggle world we have something called CD players, they're electric", she trailed off unsure if she should continue. She thought perhaps she was inviting mockery, but none came. She pulled out another record.
"But those won't work here at Hogwarts, so my parents thought up a miniaturised record player. Of course they could not create one with magic, which would be easiest, so they wrote to Mr Weasley, who put them in touch with a crafter in Diagon Alley", she paused. Malfoy's eyes were back on the gramophone, his eyebrows knotted together.
"You parents designed this?" He asked softly. Hermione couldn't help but let out a little laugh.
"Well, they're dentists Malfoy, they're very capable people, they're not stupid", she said with only the slightest teasing inflection. He did not bite back, just seemed to consider what she was saying.
"Well, they couldn't be, could they", Malfoy reached out to stop the needle, and replaced the record with the other one Hermione had pulled out from her bag. Hermione frowned.
"What do you mean?" She pulled back a little when he looked back at her. He seemed to search her face again, as was becoming a regular habit.
"They can't be stupid, can they? You are quite literally the brightest in our class", he gestured in her direction. Hermione's mouth might have fallen open if she wasn't so tense. Had Draco Malfoy genuinely just paid her a compliment? She opened her mouth to say something and then closed it. Malfoy raised an eyebrow.
"Don't pretend you don't know it", said Malfoy. She could only nod. He looked back to the Gramophone and slid his hands into the pockets of his robes. As he lent his head back against the window behind them, he closed his eyes.
"Wake me up in twenty minutes, Granger", he said, before leaving Hermione to her work.
Hermione tried to return to her assignment, tried to put ink on the parchment and complete the final few inches. But her mind was moving one hundred miles an hour. These patrols were becoming more confusing than any of her classes. But she felt something growing in her chest, a tentative hopefulness. Malfoy was not a Deatheater, he was just a confused teenage boy. In Slytherin, there was no one to advocate for Muggleborns, no contact with witches and wizards with Muggle parents, or at least none who would own up to it if Malfoy was to be believed.
Maybe their patrols were changing him, and maybe his changing would change others. Hermione smiled to herself. She inscribed the final lines of her essay and gave it a once over using her wand to change a sentence here and there. Her music was still humming away as the twenty minutes passed.
It was time to go. She looked at the sleeping Slytherin next to her. Hermione packed up her bag slowly and permitted herself a glance at her companion. There was a terrifying thought emerging in the back of her mind as she traced his features with her eyes. His silvery hair, his high cheekbones, his angular jaw. She didn't even allow herself to finish the thought.
Hesitantly she reached for the needle of the gramophone and the music came to an abrupt halt. Malfoy lurched from sleep, eyes wide, looking like a startled deer in headlights. Instinctually, Hermione grabbed his shoulder.
'Sorry, sorry!" She said. Malfoy froze under her touch but his breathing was still elevated. He looked down at where her hand was clasping his shoulder, Hermione quickly withdrew it.
"I didn't mean to startle you, I was just turning off the music", she began to busy herself with packing up the gramophone. Malfoy said nothing but eased himself out of the chair and stood. Hermione hurriedly packed up her things and they exited the astronomy classroom.
The air warmed as they descended the Astronomy tower to make their final round.
"How do your parents feel about you being a witch?"
The question nearly made Hermione fall down the staircase.
"They're proud of me", she said with a little shrug. A few beats passed with nothing but the sound of their steps on stone.
"They were apprehensive at first, I think. It's a whole new world to take in, but they try to understand, and we're all learning together, me and them", she said, a bit embarrassed. She sometimes wondered if her learning about the magic world would ever really compare to being born within it. Despite years of being immersed within it, and despite being very good at magic, she often felt that she might be missing out on a more intangible aspect of it. Malfoy kept looking ahead as they descended, but his brow furrowed in response to her answer. Hermione did not know whether she should expand on her thoughts. She could not imagine why Malfoy would even be interested in knowing anyway.
"Would you choose it again?" He asked.
"Choose to come to Hogwarts?" She clarified. He nodded. Hermione paused, considering the weight of his question. She ran a hand through her hair. "Yes," she said slowly. "Absolutely. Even with all the challenges and the uncertainty, I wouldn't trade it. It's who I am." She looked at him defiantely, daring him to disagree, to tell her she was a filthy mudblood trying to steal magic. Malfoy said nothing, he simply nodded his head, seemingly lost in thought. Hermione softened her gaze.
"Would you choose it?" She asked. Malfoy's eyes flickered to her then, something haunting those silvery irises.
"I don't know", he admitted softly. Cold wind swept up the staircase from the doors below rattling her with all of the uncertainty of what Malfoy had just confessed.
Hermione stood still in the cold wind, her breath forming wispy clouds that vanished into the night air. The silence between them felt heavy, laden with unspoken fears and regrets. Malfoy's admission hung like a dark cloud, casting a shadow over their conversation.
"I don't know," he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper. "Sometimes I think about what my life would have been like if I'd been given a choice. But then..."
He trailed off, lost in thought. Hermione could see the struggle etched on his face, the conflict between what he had been taught to believe and what he might have wished for himself.
"But then?" she prompted gently. Malfoy had come to a stop on the staircase and was gazing out a window. She watched as his hand clenched into a fist, his shoulders tensed. He arched his neck to one side with a crack before his gaze came to rest on her again. This time his eyes were flat, stony.
"Nothing", he said, pushing past her on the steps.
They did not speak again until they approached the staircase that led up to Gryffindor tower. Hermione had kept walking past it when she realised Malfoy had stopped. She turned to see him looking at this watch. He looked up at her his gaze meeting hers.
"You should go up to bed, I'll go to Filch, it's already my fault you're doing double watch this week", he said.
"What do you mean it's your fault?" She asked, "I thought you said the other prefects were sick", she frowned. He shrugged.
"I forgot to do my Transfiguration homework", he said nonchalantly. She sighed. He laughed. She frowned at him and made for the stairs, only stomping a little.
"See you tomorrow", he called gaily up the staircase after her.
Hermione had gotten next to no sleep. The strange behaviour from Malfoy kept her from succumbing to her tiredness, thoughts buzzing through her mind. He was curious; about her present from her parents, about what her parents thought about magic, about whether she would choose to enter the wizarding world again given what she knew now, and he had seemed so close to offering her an insight into his thoughts. A real insight, not the usual bravado or rage filled front he normally gave her.
The thoughts finally receded, giving way to sleep. It was a relief, but only a temporary one, as Hermione awoke only a few hours later from a dream where Malfoy had been curious about … other things. The lingering feeling of dream Malfoy's hands on her body forced her to promptly throw herself from her bed. Once dressed, she tiptoed from her dormitory, where the rest of the Gryffindor girls were still sleeping and found herself in the Great Hall nursing a cup of tea.
Groggily, she flipped through her potions textbook. She would have double potions in the afternoon, and this time she was determined not to be outdone by Harry. Hermione had already asked Professor Slughorn what they would be working on this week and had revised the potion in advance.
The Great Hall was quiet so early in the morning. A handful of students populated the tables. The sky above was grey and dreary. Long shadows stretched from the candles that lit up the hall. Hermione would've quite liked to remain in bed had her dreams not become a treacherous minefield of nightmares.
The tea was strong and bitter; the hint of honey stirred through it soothing her dry throat. Despite her best intentions to revise for potions she found her eyes wandering up and over. Just looking around, she would tell herself. Though with each person who filtered into the hall she would feel her chest jump, just a little. She knew she was waiting for that shock of blonde hair.
He did not make it to breakfast. But soon Ginny arrived and began talking to her about Dean Thomas. Hermione smiled at her redheaded friend. Ginny suggested that they might all get together for the first Hogsmeade trip in a few weeks. Hermione internally winced at the thought of Harry watching Ginny and Dean cosy up together. She saw the way he had looked at her during the summer.
Malfoy did make an appearance for their transfiguration class in the morning. Like Hermione, he appeared to have not slept much at all. McGonagall demonstrated intricate transfiguration of different kinds of cloth, and set them two chapters and a fourteen inch essay due in a fortnight.
The reshuffling of classes for NEWTs meant that students from all four houses were piled into the same sessions. This meant that Malfoy was now in most of Hermione's classes. Every time she caught a glimpse of him, images from her dream would flash through her mind, and she would feel her cheeks flush with heat.
The dream was only forgotten once she had made it to potions. Yet again, Harry had produced an inimitable quality potion and Slughorn had sung his graces to the class. Hermione was livid. It was not even his work. It was all she could do not to storm out at the end of the class.
She skipped dinner, not wanting to face Harry. Instead she planted herself in the library and tried to tick off as much of her to do list as possible. She did make good progress; ticking off a Transfiguration chapter, a few paragraphs of her charms essay, and some extra runic homework, however it did nothing to bolster her mood.
Indeed, at quarter to ten she sat by the fountain tapping her foot in agitation. If she could just get patrol over and done with, maybe she could read in bed until she calmed down. She picked at a thread on her robes.
"Granger", Malfoy's voice startled her, making her heart jump. She turned to see him round the fountain coming to stand beside where she was seated.
"Hello, Malfoy", she replied bluntly. She shrugged the strap of her satchel over her shoulder and stood up.
"You seem well", he said, voice dripping with sarcasm.
"Do I?" She said just as facetiously. Malfoy smirked.
"Saint Potter's potion proficiency getting to you?" He cocked an eyebrow. Hermione huffed, earning a genuine chuckle from Malfoy. Hermione pushed the door leading to the transfiguration courtyard open. It was raining outside but she was too angry to care. She stepped out onto the stone.
"It's not fair!" She exclaimed, louder over the rain. She stalked across the courtyard to the edge that was undercover. As expected, they were the only students out in the rain. She pulled out her wand and cast a drying charm on herself, and instinctually, as she might have with Ron or Harry, she cast one on Malfoy too. He raised his eyebrows at her.
"You could poison him", he suggested casually. Hermione scoffed and rolled her eyes. She lent her elbows on the balustrade looking over the cliff, the river rushing below them. Malfoy followed suit.
"Or if that idea is not to your liking, you could take up Quidditch, and beat him at something he loves", he said dryly. Hermione found this idea even more absurd than the poisoning.
"I hate quidditch," she retorted. Malfoy was looking out into the distant mountains. In the low light he was all shadows.
"You only hate it because you're bad at it", he said matter-of-factly. Hermione looked at him mouth agape. He turned to meet her gaze with a deadly smirk.
"Really, Malfoy? Is that what you think?" said Hermione incredulously.
"Have you even flown a broom since first year, or did you just give up when it did not immediately come easily to you?" He lent in closer to her as to emphasise his words. The smell of him hit her hard, all smokey parchment and clove, and she desperately tried to shove away the images from her dream.
"And so what if I haven't! It's not like it's a necessary skill, I'm sure plenty of witches and wizards don't like flying", she said resolutely. Malfoy raised an eyebrow, his smirk turning into a more thoughtful expression.
"I'm not saying you need to be able to play Qudditch. I'm saying you might be missing out on something because you're too stubborn to try again."
"I'm not missing out on anything," Hermione insisted, though her tone was softer now. "There are plenty of things I'm good at, and I don't need to be good at flying to prove that."
Malfoy's gaze softened, and he glanced away, watching the rain cascade down the stone walls. "You know, it's not just about proving anything. It's about… not letting fear hold you back." There was a beat of silence. She watched as the smirk returned to his face and he glanced back at her.
"And you know, it would probably be a good release for someone as pent up as you", he said devilishly. Hermione frowned at him, causing him to grin.
"As pent up as me?" She asked, her voice rising with irritation.
"Yeah, as pent up as you," Malfoy replied, leaning a little closer, his gaze intense and probing. The playful smirk was gone, replaced by something more genuine—almost vulnerable. "You're always so tightly wound. You could relax, it would make you less insufferable", he said, but there was no malice in the joke.
Hermione's heart raced, both from his proximity and the surprising sincerity in his voice. "Oh yes, because you seem so relaxed and happy", she said but the end of the sentence trailed off into something of a whisper. Malfoy gave a half-hearted chuckle.
"I suppose it is difficult to be relaxed at the moment", he said.
"Yes", she agreed breathlessly. She felt his eyes drop to her lips.
"That's why…distractions can be so helpful", he murmured. The rain continued to fall, but the world around them seemed to shrink, focusing only on the two of them standing close together. The space between them felt charged with something electric, something unspoken. Hermione found herself unable to look away. Malfoy's gaze drifted back up to her eyes.
His eyes were darker, hungrier, and it sent a thrill through her. She could feel her heart hammering in her chest, heat rising around her neck. Her mind whirled for something to say.
"Distractions, like flying, you mean", she said, her voice barely above a whisper. He gave a low chuckle, his eyes searching hers.
"Yes, like flying", he agreed. He leaned just imperceptibly closer. The air between them felt electric, the noise of the rain completely fading away. All Hermione could focus on was the smell of Malfoy, the sound of his breath, the way his eyes were locked onto hers.
The door from the east side of the courtyard flew open. Malfoy jumped back from Hermione, the cool air rushed between them, dissipating whatever had been transpiring between them. The sound of other students met their ears and when they turned they saw the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff prefects who were on patrol with them.
Hermione gave a casual greeting to them as they passed. Malfoy ignored them. Once the other prefects had passed she turned back to face Malfoy. He was looking back out over the cliff.
Hermione stood beside Malfoy, the charged atmosphere from moments before now replaced with a quiet, uneasy tension. The rain continued to fall steadily, creating a constant rhythm that matched the unsettled beat of her heart. The sound of the other students' footsteps had faded, leaving only the muted whispers of the rain and the distant rumble of thunder.
Malfoy's gaze remained fixed on the rain-soaked cliff below, and Hermione found herself unable to break the silence that hung between them. Her thoughts were a tumultuous mix of confusion and regret. The almost-kiss had been an unexpected turn, and the weight of the conversation they'd avoided pressed heavily on her.
"Malfoy, I-", she stopped when Malfoy's eyes met hers, cold, unreadable.
"We should go", he said, and he brushed past her, making his way to the east door.
