Hermione told herself it was the noise in the common room that made it so hard to study. But that was a lie. Study had become near impossible as all of her waking moments, and some of her sleeping ones were consumed pondering how on earth she and Malfoy had almost kissed.

Surely, it had been a joke; she could almost imagine the mocking look in his eye as he pulled away at the last second and taunted her relentlessly for the foreseeable future. Hermione fidgeted with the quill in her hand. Malfoy had not properly taunted her in weeks. He'd poked fun at her, called her insufferable, but strayed away from the usual bigotry since they started patrolling together.

He had also had ample time to bring up seeing her in Madam Malkin's, and he hadn't. Instead he had been considerate, he had repeatedly let her leave watch early to go and read. In fact, Malfoy had been mostly cordial, and even open at times. He also had not stopped staring at her.

In the Great Hall, in the corridors, in class; he was at least smart enough to avert his eyes when Harry or Ron were nearby. But Hermione caught him, he was looking at her like she was a code he was trying to decipher. A terrible thought crossed Hermione's mind: perhaps he wasalsotrying to decide whether this was all a joke.

It was for this reason she had taken to studying in the common room rather than the library, or anywhere else she could theoretically run into Malfoy. But it was loud, and distracting, and Hermione was becoming increasingly irritable.

That night, after the almost-kiss, Hermione had climbed through the portrait hole; how she'd made it up the Gryffindor Tower stairs with her legs shaking, she did not know. Malfoy really hadn't said anything more to her and she had just stood in silence while he reported to Filch. They had parted ways without a word.

Entering the common room, she had beelined for her dormitory, hurriedly stepping over a game some third years had set up on the floor. Her insides were swirling. She thought she might be sick.

"Hey Hermione! Where are you going?" Hermione's head snapped around to the settees, where Ron and Harry were playing a game of Wizard's chess. Hermione faltered.

"Uhm, up to bed", she said, trying to compose her voice into something resembling normal.

"Well, come here", said Harry. She shook her head. She could feel her heart hammering in her chest.

"I really need to go to bed", she insisted, taking another step towards the dormitory stairs.

"Just for a second", said Ron, beckoning Hermione over. Harry nodded adamantly. Hermione approached the settee slowly and Harry gestured for her to lean over.

"Well, tell us about your patrol", whispered Harry. Hermione felt her stomach lurch.

"No!" She said, too loudly. The Common Room went quiet. Ron and Harry looked at her quizzically. Hermione winced, looking around to find the other Gryffindors staring at her.

"I only mean that I know where this is going", she said in a hushed tone. Harry frowned. "Nothing interesting happens on our patrols, we don't speak", she forced the words out of her mouth.

"I can't believe he doesn't say anything to you! He called you a -" Ron paused. "Well, you know, only a few months ago". Hermione rubbed her temples.

"I suspect it's because I don't give him the rise that you two always do. He's just a child, stop reacting and he'll stop taunting. Now, I'm going to bed." She turned on her heel and stepped quickly up the stairs to her dormitory leaving a sullen looking Harry and confused looking Ron behind her.

Her mood had not improved since that patrol. It certainly didn't help that everytime she closed her eyes to sleep she dreamt of Malfoy closing that distance between them. By the time next week's patrol wrapped around Hermione had endured more than a few sleepless nights.

Her heart seemed to leap from her chest with every step as she descended the staircase from Gryffindor tower to the atrium. Willing her body to calm down she reminded herself that the dreams were just that: dreams. She did not want it, she did not want Malfoy, that would be absurd. He was beautiful, sure, but he couldn't be trusted. He did not perceive them as equal. His father had tried tokillher.

Her rising panic was interrupted by what she saw as she entered the atrium. Malfoy was already there and he was not alone. Standing next to him was a short Slytherin girl with a blunt black bob: Pansy Parkinson.

Parkinson was talking emphatically at a bored looking Malfoy. His arms were crossed and his eyes flat. As Hermione stepped into the space Malfoy's gaze flicked towards her, over Parkinson's shoulder. For the briefest moment a smile crossed his features. This must have been odd enough that it prompted Parkinson to turn around.

Pansy's eyes narrowed as she saw Hermione approaching. A smirk tugged at her lips and she turned to face Malfoy, who had recomposed his face into an indifferent expression.

"Look who's here," Pansy said, her voice dripping with insincerity. "It must be just dreadful for you, Draco, being stuck on patrol with Granger. I can only imagine how much you're suffering."

Malfoy gave a soundless laugh. Apparently, it was enough to spur Parkinson on. Pansy's mouth contorted into a wicked grin. Hermione's stomach churned with a mix of irritation and unease. The Slytherin girl turned and put her hands on her hips.

"I can't believe McGonagall is stupid enough to pair you with a mudb-"

"That's enough, Pansy", Malfoy's tone was icy and authoritative. His gaze flickered towards Hermione, and for a fleeting moment, there was something unreadable in his eyes. He quickly turned his attention back to Pansy, his expression darkening.

Pansy's mouth dropped open in shock, her eyes darting between Malfoy and Hermione. "Draco, are you—"

"You need to leave. Now." Malfoy interrupted, his voice brooking no argument.

Pansy hesitated for a moment, clearly taken aback by the forcefulness of Malfoy's command. With a final, scathing glance at Hermione, she turned on her heel and stormed off, her footsteps echoing down the corridor.

Hermione watched Pansy go, dumbfounded. She turned her gaze to Malfoy, who was now standing alone, his expression a mix of frustration and something she couldn't quite place.

"Why did you do that?" Hermione asked, her voice barely more than a whisper. The confusion in her tone was palpable. "I didn't expect you to—"

Malfoy shrugged, a smirk spreading across his face.

"I enjoy fucking with you, I enjoy fucking with Pansy", he said casually, though there was little playfulness in his eyes.

"I thought you enjoyed fucking Pansy", said Hermione, piercingly. Malfoy's smirk faltered, his eyes narrowing slightly at Hermione's sharp retort.

"Sometimes", he said ruefully. Hermione frowned. There was a beat of silence. He offered nothing else.

"So, you just wanted to stick it to your girlfriend, and I happened to be in the way?" Hermione raised an eyebrow, suspicious.

"It's not that simple", replied Malfoy. He turned his attention to his robe, picking at some invisible lint, clearly this conversation was over.

"Fine," she said, turning on her heel.

The large doors of the Great Hall creaked open under Hermione's hands. The sconces had gone out, the magical sky above them periodically flashing with lightning overhead. The candles above flickered in the wind, extinguishing and springing back to life.

Malfoy lent against one of the tables as Hermione walked the length of the hall to check no students were where they were not supposed to be. She'd made a habit of checking after she found two Hufflepuffs behind the headmaster's chair one evening. However, only shadows were to be found at the far end of the hall.

She turned back around to see Malfoy, strikingly illuminated by the lightning. His features looked so sharp in the stormlight, his skin so pale, it almost emitted its own soft glow. He looked ethereal. Hermione forced herself to keep the same pace back regardless. Shaking off the traitorous thoughts, she reached a spot in front of him.

"All clear", she said. He pushed himself up from the table and gestured for her to go first out the door. She frowned just a little but stepped forward.

As they made their way down the corridor, Hermione desperately tried to push from her mind the infiltrating images from her dreams. Malfoy's hands on her neck, his lips on hers, his eyelashes tickling her cheeks. She almost felt like if she thought about it too much, he'd somehow be able to read her mind. She was so caught up in trying to banish the thoughts that she jumped when he spoke.

"So, how is he doing it then?" Malfoy asked.

"Who? Doing what?" Asked Hermione.

"Potter. Potions", he clarified. "You never explained how he was doing so well". Hermione raised an eyebrow at him.

"What makes you think I know?" She asked sceptically.

"Oh, because you would be even more insufferable if you did not know how he was doing it", he glanced sideways at her. Hermione took a few steps in stunned silence. Not because she was mad, but because Malfoy was right.

She was mad at Harry, but she would have been incorrigible if she didn't know that he was using separate instructions. It would have eaten her alive. Malfoy had been right too; about the flying. She had been so excited to learn when she started at Hogwarts, but that had evaporated when she had found it so difficult. It was something she felt some shame over. What good was a witch that couldn't fly a broom? But more than that, how did Malfoy know these things about her?

"He's been using alternative instructions…" she said noncommittally.

"And you are not using these, arguably better, instructions because?" Malfoy trailed off. Hermione huffed.

"Because they're not the approved instructions! Why would we be given instructions that don't work properly! Slughorn wouldn't give us useless instructions", she protested, throwing her arms up in an exasperated gesture. Malfoy smirked and shook his head.

"I'm not convinced Slughorn knows what day of the week it is, let alone what texts he's prescribed for us", said Malfoy incredulously. Hermione's laughter was quick and surprised, a small release of the tension she'd been holding. Malfoy's smirk widened in kind.

"So, what's your plan?" Malfoy continued.

"My plan?" Asked Hermione.

"You're just going to let him get away with it?" Malfoy raised an eyebrow.

"What, no!" Hermione exclaimed, "I've gone over the instructions for next week's potion a hundred times, but it didn't help at all this week". Malfoy considered her words, frowning.

"Maybe there are better instructions in another book," he began, Hermione did not know what he was suggesting, and looked at him quizzically.

"While we check the library, why don't we look for extra instructions of our own?" He finished. Hermione chewed her lip. She had not wanted to try and find alternative recipes, determined to do it as Slughorn had prescribed. However, with each week she grew more agitated by Harry's success. But why was Malfoy offering to help her? As if the thought was telegraphed on her face he answered.

"It's unnatural to see Potter outcompeting you, I'd simply be helping restore balance", he smirked. Hermione frowned.

"We still have to check and patrol the rest of the castle", she fussed.

"We'll be quick", he said.

"We're not really supposed to be in the library after it's closed", she worried.

"I've never been caught before", he retorted with a suggestive raise of his eyebrows. Hermione sent him a scathing look, but he only continued to smirk.

"Okay", she said, her features relaxing into indifference. She started off in the direction of the library. From behind her she heard the faint sarcastic tone.

"You're welcome, Granger".

They had found two textbooks that seemed to cover the potions that they were working on this term. It was so strange. Malfoy had simply helped her - they had gone into the library, he had pulled out some books, she pulled out some books and they'd quickly scanned through them looking for a recipe forMuffling Draught.

Hermione sprinkled extra mugwort into her cauldron, just as theProverbial Potionstextbook had recommended. The potion swirled into a brilliant green, as expected. She looked over at Harry's cauldron to see that she was at least keeping pace with him. It was working! She smiled widely.

Her eyes instinctively slid over to where Malfoy was seated amongst the other Slytherin's, but he was not looking her way. Realising she was beaming at the Slytherin table she quickly schooled her face back into indifference. Nott, however, saw this, and raised his eyebrows at her, questioning. She darted her eyes back to her own cauldron, fidgeting with the stirrer. It was patrol night again tonight. It had been another sleepless week; there had been more disappearances, more homework and of course, more dreams.

He was early again. But this time Parkinson was nowhere to be seen. He sat slouched on the fountain's ledge, elbows on his knees, looking down at his hands where he twirled his wand around. A few strands of his hair fell over his forehead, out of place.

As she stepped off the stairs onto the stone, his gaze snapped up to hers. Her breath hitched. He looked at her the way he had for the last two weeks. His face was hard, but his eyes were curious. Hermione tried to slow her breathing. She didn't want to be scrutinised, and especially not by Draco Malfoy. Forcing herself to put one foot in front of the other, she walked towards the fountain.

When she was within a few yards of him, he stood. Closing the remaining distance, she carefully breathed in and out as the smell of parchment and clove hit her nose.

"Granger", he said, giving a small nod.

"Malfoy", she said, attempting equal casualness.

His eyes darted back and forth across her features, but stilled for a moment on her lips. She swallowed. She felt like she couldn't breathe. His eyes roved back to hers. The silver in them looked more like a stormy grey. Not unlike the storms that had been raging most of the week, and continued to rage tonight. With effort, she pulled her eyes away from the Slytherin in front of her and gestured down the corridor.

"Shall we?" She asked, not daring to meet his gaze again.

"Lead the way", he said.

Hermione took them on a winding path, hoping to stay indoors until the storm passed. Yet, lightning flashed and thunder rumbled ceaselessly through the castle. It was clear that this storm would not let up anytime soon, and that they would have to brave the elements to reach the other main building.

With a sigh, Hermione pushed open the door to the bridge connecting the two halves of the castle, only to be greeted by a wall of rain that made the next dry spot seem like a distant dream.

"Lovely weather," Malfoy commented. Hermione shot him a weary look, and he smirked in response.

"You first," he said, motioning toward the torrential downpour. Hermione grimaced but stepped out into the storm. The rain felt like icy needles driven by the wind. She pulled her robes tightly around her and hurried across the bridge.

The darkness of the stormy night rendered even the magical lanterns dim. It was difficult to see where she was going even once she made it back undercover on the other side. She could just make out the stone steps that connected the bridge to the Transfiguration courtyard. Steps that were slick with the water that was cascading down from above.

She turned her head to see if Malfoy was following. She could just make out his form a few feet behind her as her foot hit a jagged part of the stone. Water rushing past her ankles, she lost her balance, and very quickly found herself plummeting towards the bottom of the staircase.

Hermione felt her tights snag and rip and cried out as a sharp pain sliced through her leg. She forced her hands out in front of her, and finally jarred her body to a stop at the bottom of the stairs.

"Granger!" Malfoy's voice cut through the storm, but she didn't answer, hoping to stay hidden in the darkness. She attempted to push herself up but winced as pain shot through her wrist.

"Lumos Maxima!" Malfoy's wand flared brightly, illuminating the corridor and revealing a soaked, wide-eyed Malfoy standing above her. His white shirt clung to him, becoming nearly transparent in the light. She watched as he knelt down beside her.

Tears pricked at Hermione's eyes, whether from pain or embarrassment, she couldn't tell. Malfoy reached out to her, and she instinctively tried to pull away, but the movement made her wince more. She glanced down at her leg.

A deep gash marred the side of her calf, the blood seeping through her tights and into the puddle beneath her. She felt faint as she watched the blood mix with the rain. Malfoy's pale fingers reached for her wound.

"Malf-", she protested. He pressed his palm to the cut, wrapping his fingers around her lower calf and ankle.

"Malfoy, it's fine", she yelped again as she tried to push up with her wrist. Malfoy's gaze shifted from her leg to her face.

"It's not fine, Hermione", he withdrew his palm from her leg which caused the wound to well up with blood again. Hermione felt herself turn pale. He quickly replaced his hand back, applying pressure.

"Healing spells work better when the wound has stopped bleeding", he said, propping his wand on the ground beside him. He eyed her wrist.

"Let me see", he said gently. Hermione's heart was hammering, from the fall, the pain, whatever in Merlin was going on with Malfoy, had he called her Hermione? She suddenly became very aware that her blood had stained parts of this white shirt. She felt a panic rising as she noticed the hand that squeezed her wound shut was covered in a brilliant shade of red.

"M-Malfoy", she said unsteadily, "m-my blood, it-" she trailed off. Malfoy looked at where his hand was wrapped around her leg.

"Is just as red as mine", he interrupted, "show me your wrist, please". She begrudgingly held out her hand. He gently reached out to grasp her wrist, but nonetheless, Hermione winced at the touch. "Sorry", he murmured.

Malfoy's fingers were gentle but firm as he inspected her wrist, his touch surprisingly soothing despite the circumstances. His eyes, usually so sharp and calculating, were soft with concern.

"It's not broken," he said, though his voice was barely above a whisper. He turned his gaze back to her leg, where the blood was beginning to pool more freely despite his efforts. "This might be a bit more serious."

Hermione swallowed hard, trying to steady her breathing. She felt a fresh wave of pain as Malfoy carefully applied extra pressure to the wound. She glanced up at him, seeing the faintest hint of worry etched into his features.

"I'm not terrible with a healing charm, but if you would prefer we can get you to the infirmary".

Hermione shook her head slightly, wincing as Malfoy's fingers applied more pressure to her leg. "No, it's okay. Just… just do what you can here," she said, her voice trembling. Somehow the thought of including more people in…whatever this was, was more mortifying.

Malfoy nodded, his expression serious. He settled onto the stone floor and carefully lifted her leg into his lap. Retrieving his wand, he carefully began to cast a series of spells, his motions careful and precise.

The sconces around them dimmed as Malfoy's focus shifted to the healing spell. The glow from his wand bathed them both in a soft light, casting long shadows on the wet stone. The rain still poured, the wind sending light sprays of water over them, even as they sat undercover. Hermione watched the droplets of water form on the ends of Malfoy's hair.

Slowly, the bleeding eased. Hermione tried to insist he'd done enough, but he ignored her.

"Hold still", Malfoy instructed, not breaking his concentration. She sighed in irritation but complied. As he murmured the last part of the spell she watched as her skin pulled back together leaving nothing but a thin, pink line where the wound had been. Malfoy exhaled deeply.

"That should do it", he said, running his thumb over the scar. Hermione shivered at the gesture. Gently, he moved her leg off his lap. Malfoy stood up, offering a hand to help her off the floor. She hesitated for a moment before taking it, feeling the warmth of his grip and he helped her up.

Carefully testing her weight on the now-healed leg, Hermione smiled in surprise at the lack of pain. "Where did you learn that?" she asked earnestly. A shadow crossed Malfoy's face, something like fear or guilt.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to intrude," Hermione said softly. "It's just impressive."

Malfoy's expression softened slightly. "I've picked up a few things," he said, though his eyes remained distant. Hermione gave a faint nod. He looked down at her wrist.

"We should fix that too", he said. Malfoy gingerly took her wrist in his hand.

"Episkey", he cast, flicking his wrist. Hermione felt her wrist go taut and then relax as the pain subsided significantly. She sighed in relief. He began to let go of her arm but Hermione stopped him, catching his own wrist in her his hand over in hers she saw her blood drying into the creases on his palm. He drew a breath in and she felt him tense.

"Let me clean this up for you", she said quietly. She pointed her wand at his palm.

"Lavas cutis", she watched the blood dissipate leaving only Malfoy's pale skin. She looked up to meet his eyes. Hermione's thumb lingered on Malfoy's palm, she brushed it across the skin in an identical gesture to that which he had made upon her calf. She thought she felt him shiver too.

The storm outside seemed to fade into the background, the relentless rain and thunder reduced to mere whispers. Malfoy's gaze, once sharp and guarded, was now soft, almost vulnerable. His eyes locked with hers, searching for something.

She assumed he would break the contact, pull away, and let the cold return between them, but instead he reached up her arm to take her gently by the elbow.

"We should get out of the rain", he said. Hermione nodded. She cautiously took a few steps, Malfoy steadying her. The two of them crossed the courtyard and entered the south building. Once inside, she took a reluctant step away from Malfoy, breaking their connection.

They made slow work of the patrol. Though her leg felt better and better. Malfoy also seemed to stay closer than usual. Hermione tried to ignore the way it made her heart flutter in her chest.

Neither of them made any mention of her leaving early. They circled back at midnight to report to Filch, who promptly took off with Mrs Norris. Alone in the atrium, Hermione was the first of the two to speak.

"Thank you. For the healing, I mean", she said. Malfoy nodded, not looking at her.

"It's not a problem", He replied. Malfoy's eyes remained fixed on the fountain, a small, ancient structure gurgling softly in the dim light of the atrium. Hermione watched him, noting the contemplative set of his shoulders and how the glow from the lanterns played across his damp, tousled hair.

"I really do appreciate it," Hermione said, trying to break the growing silence. "I know you didn't have to help me, but you did."

Malfoy finally turned his gaze from the fountain to her, his expression a mix of something unreadable and surprisingly earnest. "You wouldn't have done any less for me," he replied quietly. Hermione gave a gentle nod.

"Goodnight, Draco", she said. It was only for a moment, but his eyes widened, and he blinked. As soon as she saw it - it was gone.

"Goodnight", he replied softly. She moved towards the staircase that would take her to Gryffindor tower but paused before ascending the first step. She looked back over her shoulder where Malfoy was still standing by the fountain, watching her. Her heart skipped a beat, but she forced herself up the stairs.

The storm still raged outside Gryffindor tower, but Hermione heard none of it. In a daze, she put her wand on her bedside table. But as she did, redness caught her eye. There on her wrist, in her own blood, was Malfoy's handprint. All the evidence of something no one would ever believe.