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Chapter 16

Hermione and Ginny spun round when they heard Malfoy's voice, and Hermione wasn't entirely shocked to see Parkinson accompanying him, both dressed for outdoors and Malfoy's broom slung casually over his right shoulder. What did shock Hermione, however, was the expression on Malfoy's face as he regarded them.

The tone and words were reminiscent of their interactions of years past, though his face was devoid of his ever-present derisive sneer. As she surreptitiously assessed him, she was surprised to notice his eyes appeared bright with mischief and something else she couldn't quite articulate. His lips wore a sardonic smirk, rather than his standard pout of unpleasantness.

"Malfoy, Parkinson," Hermione nodded at them, her expression carefully neutral. These were Theo's mates, and as of right then she had no quarrel with either Slytherin. There was history that at some point would need to be sorted, but at the moment, they were four students, standing in a corridor, ready to venture out onto the grounds.

Ginny mirrored her greeting.

"Ah, new broom. I see it's not too substandard a model, Weasley, might even hold up decently against my own. Fancy a scrimmage?" He said, nodding toward the broom Harry had purchased for Ginny over the summer. His taunt lacked bite, however, as the broom Ginny clutched in her grasp was the newest release in the Firebolt line — a point Ron couldn't stop harping on about over the summer to Hermione's exasperation — whereas Malfoy still flew what appeared to be his broom from second year.

Despite not sleeping, eating and breathing Quidditch like her mates, it was hard to forget the broom that was forever entwined in her subconscious with her introduction to the word Mudblood.

Hermione saw Ginny's hand grip the wood of her broom tighter, her knuckles whitening before she relaxed slightly, tossing her hair over her shoulder as she did when excited. Her eyes glinted in competitive anticipation and her lips pulled back into slightly feral smile. Hermione found Malfoy's self deprecating humor — a rarity for him, she was sure — almost… endearing, everything considered.

"You're on, Malfoy. But first, we need to discuss terms." Ginny flashed her teeth, though this time with more warmth.

"Indeed," nodded Malfoy, and as he did, Hermione felt as if he thawed somewhat. It wasn't anything she could tangibly describe, but having Ginny accept his scrimmage offer seemed to have slightly smoothed the lines fanning from his eyes and across his brow, and his posture had softened, becoming less… taut. He looked… lighter, less guarded.

Hermione glanced to his left, where Parkinson hovered, an uncomfortable energy vibrating off her. Her customary look of distain painted her features, and she stood regally, arms crossed and chin raised, but there was a wariness about her. For all that she appeared resigned to waiting on Malfoy as he and Ginny began stating terms, Hermione could see little fissures in her aloof veneer.

The pinch around her eyes as they threw sharpened, darting glances. The way her fingers twitched as if preparing to reach for her wand if necessary. The way that despite her ramrod posture, there was the sense that without her arms folded aggressively, she'd have crumpled in slightly.

"I guess we're the cheering section," said Hermione, giving Parkinson a small smile. She was determined to at the very least be civil, if not friendly. For all the years they'd attended Hogwarts together, Hermione reflected that she'd really had scant run-ins with the witch in front of her. Millicent Bullstrode had been the Slytherin thorn in her side on numerous occasions, but Parkinson…

She realized with a jolt that most of her antipathy and mistrust of the witch stemmed from Harry's influence, and as much as she loved Harry, she could acknowledge he was completely obtuse when it came to analyzing and observing human behavior, and quick to project his own beliefs and judgements onto a person or situation.

"So it appears," replied Parkinson, inspecting her long, perfectly maintained fingernails, though falling into step beside Hermione as they followed Ginny and Malfoy who'd begun walking down toward the pitch.

"No, I say we should have a mix of seeking and chasing." Ginny was saying, "Play to both our strengths. Keep it fair."

"If you want to stick with chasing only, I'm on board with that." Said Malfoy, shrugging, causing Ginny to squint at him suspiciously. "I actually prefer chasing, if I'm honest, Weasley. I only played seeker here to appease Father." he spit the word as one would a poisonous sunflower seed. "He deemed it the only position worth playing and therefore supporting. And of course, for the opportunity to best Potter." He grinned pompously at that, but ruined the effect by rolling his eyes simultaneously.

Hermione was flummoxed by this open, less abrasive version of the boy she'd grown up alongside. She wondered at how at ease she was beginning to feel alongside this version of the boy she'd once slapped, who Harry'd almost killed with an unsanctioned hex, and that they'd all thoroughly detested.

"Which you never managed to do." Said Ginny automatically, then scrunched her nose and rubbed at her face. They both saw Malfoy wince at her words.

"No I didn't…" he said, and looked off toward the castle.

"Sorry," Ginny said after a beat, and Hermione could hear genuine contriteness under her sharp words. "Knee jerk reaction. It's hard, to turn off the knowledge that you've been a git from the start to pretty much everyone I love, in one capacity or another. And you bringing up your father…" she liked away, shuddering and Hermione guessed she was thinking back to her first year and the fallout from a harmless looking book, along with the battle at the ministry where they'd faced off against Malfoy Sr.

Malfoy halted and squinted at her for a long moment, his face a mask of granite that did nothing to hide the despondency of his gaze.

"Maybe this wasn't a good idea." Said Malfoy finally, beginning to turn around back whence they came. Hermione and Parkinson had come to a stop just behind them, and Hermione could see trepidation and anger — was that… disappointment? — playing out across the other witch's face as Malfoy took a few steps in their direction.

Ginny's hand reached out and attached itself to Malfoy's arm. They all looked at it, her pale, lightly freckled fingers wrapped around the soft grey leather straps of his Quidditch robe's arm guard. She heard Ginny sigh heavily as he shot a raised eyebrow in her direction, and was surprised when he made no cutting remark or made to shake Ginny off.

Removing her hand from his arm, Ginny instead held it out to him.

"Weasley, Ginny Weasley. It's been said that I'm stubborn as a doxy and speak my mind without restraint. That said, you've been a right proper arsehole to pretty much everyone over the years Malfoy, even your mates. Though I understand now, to a point, why you were, and really don't envy the position you were in because of your father. Hopefully this past year has put your obnoxious tosser inclinations to rest. I am fiercely loyal to those I consider friends, but am not blind or daft to their faults and can be quite forgiving when the mood strikes me. I'm a firm believer in second chances, and am always open to the possibility of new friendships. I'm a right wicked Quiddich player, creative with jinxes and hexes — so best stay on my good side — and I'm fluent in humor and pranks. It's a pleasure to make your re-acquaintance."

She stood there, her hand hovering in the void between her and Malfoy. Parkinson, Hermione noticed, was staring at Ginny with blatant disbelief, as if she wasn't quite certain what she was witnessing or hearing. Malfoy's gaze was darting between Ginny and Hermione, who was staring at him in open contemplation. She wondered if he'd grasp Ginny's olive branch, or if his ego would forbid him show his underbelly.

"Malfoy, Draco Malfoy," he drawled finally, grasping Ginny's hand firmly and shaking it before turning it up and, like Theo the day before, kissed the back of it lightly before releasing it. "I'm… finding my way, re-evaluating previously ingrained beliefs and doing my best to not revert back to my — what was it? — obnoxious tossed inclinations. I realize I've been a right git over the years, and appreciate the opportunity to reacquaint myself with differing opinions and those I've… purposely avoided. I'm incredibly magically talented, adore my mother beyond measure and would do literally anything for, and I wager I'll wipe the pitch with you very soon." He flashed a smile and Ginny laughed.

"Not bad, Malfoy… not bad at all." She said.

"Has everyone gone barmy this year?" Said Parkinson, running her fingers through her sleek, perfectly coiffed hair.

'Damn but she has lovely hair,' thought Hermione, feeling a twinge of wistful resentment flutter in her chest as she resolutely kept her own hand from tugging the errant curl currently tickling her ear.

"I mean, what the bleeding fuck is going on? First Theo's acting strange and cuddling up to Granger over here, and now you two are… what?" Her voice had climbed almost an octave by the time she finished, and her lips had thinned.

"Starting over," stated Ginny, apparently finding Parkinson amusing, judging by the twinkle in her eye as she surveyed the witch at Hermione's side. "We'll work out the details later, I'm sure some hexing and yelling will be in order before the hatchet can be fully buried."

Hermione covered the laugh that escaped unbidden with her hand, noticing as she did that Malfoy looked slightly ill at the thought of being at the end of their two wands.

"Right…" he drawled. "Well, when you decide to extract your pound of flesh, please send me a formal invitation to the event thought my personal owl. Wouldn't want to mess up your anticipated revenge by being tardy."

"Consider it quilled," said Ginny and the two appraised each other. No longer enemies but neither were they friends, Hermione was pleased to note.

"Granger?"

She saw the undisguised hope behind his silver orbs.

"As Ginny said, we'll sort out the details later. But as of now, I'm amenable to a fresh start."

He nodded, a true grin gracing his features at her words. Hermione heard Parkinson scoff beside her.

Despite her words, Hermione still had reservations. Numerous emotions whirled around inside her at the thought of becoming mere acquaintances with Draco Malfoy, let alone the possibility of a true friendship.

He was so indelibly linked to negative parts of her childhood and all that her, Ron and Harry had endured; standing from the vantage point of both the condemner, and the condemned.

He was the reason she'd learned that vile slur that was now permanently branded on the inside of her arm, at the ripe age of thirteen.

He was the reason she'd aged over and above the age limit she'd agreed upon with Professor McGonagall, back in third year, due to the extra time-turner use she'd employed compiling the defense for Buckbeak.

He'd caused her to snap and actually hit him — physically assaulting him. In all other areas of disagreement or vindication in the magical world she'd utilized her wand, but he'd reduced her to retaliating like the common muggle he felt was so beneath him.

He'd been a bigoted arsehole.

He'd also warned them — well, warned Harry — to hide her, get her to safety, during the masked revelry following the Quidditch World Cup. Warned them despite her being a muggleborn and therefore a worthy target of the night's actions.

He'd helped them, without benefit to himself.

He'd been turned into a ferret, a creature with bones so brittle that she knew from Madame Pomfrey — in confidence — that it'd taken quite a large amount of potions and spells to right the damage inflicted by Crouch Jr bouncing him around without care. Despite how foul he was to those outside his precious inner circle, she'd known even then that no one — at least no student — deserved what Malfoy had endured.

He had suffered for his father's allegiance, rather than his own actions in that instance.

He'd deferred identifying them last year to his aunt and father, an act he must have known would result in himself being subjected to their displeasure, once exposed.

Yet he'd given them that potential, that possibility of escape, by not gleefully revealing their identities and instead stammering and delaying.

If you stripped away the trappings, Hermione realized he was just as scared, just as scarred, just as flawed as the rest of them trying to rebuild from the ashes of the war that had spanned the past two decades.

"Please spare me the same verbal sewage Granger." Said Pansy, as they began following their respective friends once more.

"And here I was, ready to make us friendship bracelets. Shame that." Quipped back Hermione. She caught Pansy's eye, and suppressed a smile as the other witch wrestled to hide her baffled expression.

They walked in silence save for the sounds their feet made in the uneven ground until they entered the pitch.

"So many bloody stairs," Hermione heard Pansy mutter under her breath.

"It's less than climbing Gryffindor tower, or even the Astronomy tower." Said Hermione, shrugging.

Pansy continued on as if she hadn't heard, and they climbed up the rickety stairs with only their thoughts between them until they came upon the open stands. They'd headed to the Slytherin section, Hermione deferring to the direction Parkinson had sauntered, uncaring where she sat, in full honesty. It was just a bunch of seats, set between banners of their house.

Green and silver.

Not something to get in a snit about.

She felt her cheeks heat at the thought of maybe one day, wearing those colors…

'Shame Theo never played Quidditch, though. Wasn't that the thing to do, pilfer a boy's Quidditch robes and wear them?' She blushed slightly at the thought of wearing something of Theo's. Of his reaction…

'Merlin, but I've got it bad,' she mused, dusting her hand across the weathered bench before sitting down beside where the other witch already sat. She saw Parkinson roll her eyes.

"There's a whole section here Granger. You don't have to cozy up."

"I realize I'm not the sort you would associate with, given the choice." Said Hermione, staring ahead at the two figures flitting around the pitch.

"Obviously," said Parkinson.

"I think," said Hermione, turning to face the other witch, "that if you got to know me though — actually know me — you'd revise your opinion. In fact…" she smirked. "Disregarding prejudices, I believe I'd fit in quite well amongst you lot."

Parkinson raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow incredulously.

"Little miss muggleborn, integrated amongst those of established society and in league with The Dark Lord? Just look at you." She slowly perused Hermione from head to toe, leaving her feeling slightly violated. "You'd never last a day amongst our lot, Granger, let alone an hour."

Turning back toward the pitch and all but dismissing Hermione, she bit out, "There is absolutely nothing about you that could possibly interest me to seek your acquaintance."

Hermione sighed.

'Bloody hell, and Ron thinks I'm stubborn!'

She'd try once more, then give it up as a lost job if she still met the icy wall of resistance. She'd need to change tactics apparently, however; nice didn't appear to be the way to slice this particular ribbon.

"Aren't you tired of it all?" She asked, quietly. "The pretenses. The Masks. The constant dance of social approval. I know I am. I'm bone weary, if I'm honest. We are but the sum of our parts, and I for one am exhausted from trying to fit into so many predetermined molds and ideations of what I should or shouldn't be. I'd like, for once, to be taken at face value, not condemned at the outset due to circumstances beyond my control."

Parkinson made to speak as Hermione turned and looked at the witch beside her, but was cut off as Hermione continued. "If Malfoy and I, along with Ginny, can work at overcoming the shite that's between him and us in the past, I'd think… that with the current climate of change, you'd at least be open to fostering a potential ally, and would refrain from being a snarky, condescending cow!"

The two witches stared at each other, each taking the others measure, postures rigid with tension. Hermione could feel her eyes watering but intrinsically knew that if she broke eye contact first, she'd lose more than the staring match.

After what felt like eons, Parkinson pursed her lips before sighing, "Alright, Granger. Enlighten me as to what would make me consider you worthy of my company."

"I won't grovel for your favor, Parkinson. What I've done, what I'm capable of… I'm not only the do-gooder bookworm who can't keep from spouting off knowledge. I could wax on to you about unsanctioned potion brewing in the toilets during second year, or about my effective form of blackmailing an unregistered animangus, by keeping her in a jar for a year."

She wasn't sure, but she swore a hint of vulnerability and unease flickered across Parkinson's face as she spoke.

"Those seems like attributes of your house; ambition, ruthlessness and cunning. Or should I mention that in first year, in an attempt to save a life, I set Professor Snape's robes on fire…" Hermione grimaced slightly before adding, "publicly…without getting caught or punished."

"You didn't." Stated Parkinson, her surprise barely hidden behind her mask of disinterest. Her voice, however, betrayed her; it had dropped to be no more than a strangled whisper.

"Did." Said Hermione. "During a Quidditch match even. While he was seated in the professors box."

"Wha—?" Began Parkinson, her mask shattered, her mouth hung open and eyes were wide as saucers.

Hermione waved her hand, "Long story; ultimately it was right intent, wrong person."

"I…" The other witch faltered, her face blanching before she rose with abrupt fluidity.

"I forgot, I'm late for a previous engagement. Excuse me."

Before Hermione could even open her mouth to protest or call her back, Parkinson had pushed past her and was gone, descending into the depths of the stairwell leading from the stands to the ground below.

'Oi! Granger! Where'd Pansy run off too?"

She blinked and turned her head toward the pitch.

Malfoy was hovering in front of the stands, a few feet from her, close enough for her to see the concern and suspicion etched upon his face. Shifting her head slightly, she saw Ginny hovering behind him, her face more alive than Hermione had seen in months. Flying with Malfoy seemed to have chipped away bits of the grief-forged shell that had encased her friend since the battle of Hogwarts.

"I'm not sure." Hermione replied honestly. "One moment we were in conversation, the next she up and bolted. Said she was late for a previous engagement." She shrugged, feeling discomforted by the other witches abrupt departure. She'd let her tongue run away from her, and realized how hostile her overture had been.

"What was the last thing you said to her?" Malfoy asked, his eyes intense. All levity she'd witnessed between him and Ginny out on the pitch seemed to seep out of him with each panted breath. Now, instead of the flushed face youth enjoying an evening fly, he appeared a haggard and bone weary young man.

Hermione was shocked by the suddenness of his transformation.

"I mentioned setting Professor Snape's robes on fire first year during a Quidditch match." Hermione said.

"Fuck. This is all I need tonight, I need to find her." About to turn, he swing his head back. "Hold up, that was you?" Malfoy spat incredulously. "I remember overhearing Severus relaying that incident to my father. I didn't know it was you."

"Neither did he," she shrugged again. "It was rather a case of mistaken identity. You see, I'd thought he was behind Harry's cursed broom during the match, when in fact it was Professor Quirrel's doing. I was pleased to hear no harm was done to Professor Snape's leg, once I learned of my mistake."

Malfoy was pinching the bridge of his nose.

"You… I can't even begin… of all the…"

He seemed unable to formulate a coherent thought let alone sentence.

"Kneazle got your tongue?" Hermione said, enjoying his rare loss of composure.

"You're not what I thought at all, Granger." He finally said. His brow was furrowed and he was steadily, appraising her with his piercing slate eyes. "I don't know whether to warn Theo, or applaud his fortune."

"Well… I would assume a warning could be viewed as disrespectful," she said, "As his friend, it demonstrates a lack of trust in his intuition and decision making abilities." Hermione smiled, letting warmth saturate the gesture as she took note of Malfoy's surprised expression, "If I were you, Malfoy, I'd applaud."

"Duly noted, Granger. Now, I really need to go find Pansy." He nodded distractedly, "Evening Granger."

Turning, he flew back toward Ginny, the two exchanging words and, to Hermione's surprise, affable pats on the shoulders, before he sped off toward the castle.

Ginny headed for the stands, dismounting and throwing herself down onto the bench beside Hermione.

"Merlin, but he can fly!" She exclaimed. "I haven't flown like that in…" her eyes shuttered slightly, her voice dropping. "Well, in ages. It's nice to have some actual competition to push me, keep my skills in top form so I can attract the scouts."

Hermione smiled, happy to see Ginny in such high spirits.

"We should probably head back," she said, noting the darkening sky and dropping temperature. Ginny nodded.

"Reckon I should also shower before meeting Luna."

"Wasn't about to mention, but you are a bit ripe," quipped Hermione, earning a none to gentle nudge and a laugh.

The two made quick work of the stairs and soon were at the entrance to the castle.

"Have you and Nott figured out what your project's focus will be?" Asked Ginny as they made their way toward the Gryffindor tower.

"Not yet. We're meeting tomorrow night." Said Hermione, feeling her cheeks warm. "But… it's more a study date, rather than just meeting to study."

"Only you would make that distinction, Hermione." Ginny chuckled.

"Who're you partnered with?" Hermione asked.

Ginny looked uncomfortable for a moment before replying, "Terrance."

"He's really made an impression." Hermione said, mentally making note to prod Nott for information about this younger Slytherin.

"Luna is partnering with Millicent, his sister. She's in your year."

"Right." Hermione replied. Despite what Luna had said about the Slytherin Witch a few days before, Hermione had never found her anything but a bully.

They'd reached the bottom of the main staircase.

"Maybe I'll see if Theo's in the joint common room and available to discuss the project now?"

Ginny waved her fingers at her before blowing a kiss. "Go forth, and be merry. I'm off to wash this layer of sweat off before tackling the fundamentals of transfiguration between sentient and non-sentient beings with cellular elements." She made a face. Transfiguration wasn't Ginny's favorite subject by any measure, a fact she'd made known to Hermione during their years of friendship. "Hopefully I can copy from some of Luna's notes."

"Ginny! Honestly, you're as bad as your brother!" Hermione said, sighing in exasperation. Ginny winked and began sprinting up the stairs, while Hermione turned toward the corridor that would lead to the joint common room.

A/N: Thank you thank you to all who've reviewed or commented. I appreciate your words more than you can imagine. They truly make my day!