That evening, Hermione was in the corner of the common room reading her disguised Occlumency book when Draco came over and took a seat next to her. Hermione raised her eyebrows over the edge of the book, glancing at him, before returning to her reading. A moment later, Draco cleared his throat, and Hermione closed her book and set it aside, looking at Draco expectantly.
"We have a bit of an issue, Hermione," he said carefully.
Hermione raised an eyebrow.
"Oh, do we?" she said. She leaned forward. "Do tell."
Draco scowled at her, before quickly smoothing his face back into a neutral mask.
"Our pact is in disagreement," he said. "Didn't you feel it yesterday?"
Hermione looked at him quizzically. "Our pact?"
"Last night, at dinner," Draco said impatiently. "We were all joking about Weasley. But when we looked at each other, our seams tugged. I know you felt it too."
Hermione's eyes widened.
She had felt it — there had been a sudden, hard yank in her chest when her eyes had met Draco's, something powerful enough that it had hurt. And if it was connected to Ron, and seams…
"Perhaps you'd better tell me what conclusions you've come to," Hermione said. "You seem to have an idea of what's going on already."
Draco hesitated.
"Last year, we declared Ronald Weasley foe to House Slytherin," he said slowly. "You and I acted as seam, for the girls and for the boys, and together we united the house against our common enemy."
"I remember," Hermione told him. It'd been the first ritual she'd ever been in; she'd doubt she'd ever forget the feeling of the eerie green energy that had zapped through them all.
"If our seam is tugging, it's because we're pulling in different ways," Draco told her. "You and I are on differing pages regarding Weasley being foe to House Slytherin, now, and it's tugging at the pact."
Hermione blinked.
Her first response was We're still doing that nonsense? and I thought that ended last year with all that mess at Quidditch. Hermione bit back her reflexive words, however, swallowing hard. She couldn't appear so casually dismissive of the magic she and her house had wrought, no matter how much trouble it had caused in the end.
"I thought we were done with the Weasley mess," she finally said, the words like ash on her tongue. "Are we not?"
"We could be," Draco admitted. "All of the plans everyone agreed to last year were completed, so as far as the pact is concerned, we could allow it to dissipate safely, with Slytherin's victory over Weasley achieved."
Hermione's eyes watched him carefully. "And yet…?"
Draco's eyes flashed, and Hermione was surprised to see anguish flare through them.
"I don't want to let it go," he said finally. He looked back up at her. "I don't want it to stop."
Hermione gave him an incredulous look.
"Surely you don't want to keep getting him into trouble all year again?" she said. "He barely scraped by last year, his marks the bottom of the barrel, his whole house mad at him for losing them the House Cup…"
"I don't care about holding the pact for him," Draco said, his silver eyes pleading with her. "I care about holding it for you."
Hermione scoffed.
"Draco, I got over the troll thing ages ago," she said. "I assure you, I'm strong enough to fight my own battles against Weasley-"
"Not that." Draco's voice was anguished. "Hermione, I want to be able to keep talking to you."
Hermione stopped short.
What?
His eyes implored her, but Hermione was incredulous.
"…keep talking to me?" she said, attempting to keep her voice neutral.
Draco winced at the bite in her tone, but Hermione couldn't bring herself to care.
"Perhaps you'd better explain something to me then, Draco," she said. "Why, pray tell, wouldn't you be able to talk to me if the pact weren't still active?"
Draco swallowed hard. He looked away.
"I'm not supposed to talk to people like you," he admitted. "I'm only supposed to associate with people of similar social status and ability. That's why I couldn't talk to you at the start of last year."
Hermione stared at him. Draco chanced a glance up at her, before looking away again and hurrying on.
"But it ended up okay, because when all of us Slytherins united in the ritual, we were on the same power level," he told her quickly. "I was seam; you were seam. That marked us as the two most powerful people in our year in Slytherin, and the magic that flared between us recognized us as equals. That meant that you were okay to talk to."
"Let me get this straight," Hermione said, sitting up. "You were an absolute berk to me at the start of last year because of what you presumed to be my blood status? And now, despite you toasting me in front of everybody last year as a New Blood and congratulating me on being top of the year, you're saying if we don't continue this unnecessary grudge, you're going to stop talking to me again?"
Draco looked anguished.
"I thought it'd be enough," he told her in a low voice. He sounded pained. "I thought it would be okay."
"That what would be okay, Draco?" Hermione's voice snapped out like a whip. "That it'd be okay to treat me like trash once again?"
"No!" Draco objected. "That's not- that's not what I meant!"
He ran his hand through his hair, distressed. Hermione glared at him, indecision warring inside her with whether or not to storm up to her room with her pride and damn the consequences or wait for him to get whatever issue he had finally off his chest. She watched as he swallowed hard, and his fingers trembled in a fist at his side. Hermione bit her lip, feeling opinion tip over on the balance.
She sighed.
"Then Draco," she said, "tell me frankly – what do you mean?"
Draco's took a deep breath.
"Word got 'round to my father last year, once I started speaking to you in public," he said quietly. "My father is very concerned with public appearances and decorum. When he heard I was talking to someone not of pure blood as an equal, he was horrified."
Unfortunately, Hermione could all too easily imagine Lucius Malfoy reacting in just such a way.
"I was able to explain it away that magic had judged us equals, and that we'd united Slytherin in a ritual as a house together against Weasley," Draco carried on. "My father despises the Weasleys, and by being a seam in the ritual, I'd established myself as a leader within Slytherin. He was proud of me, for it. And he acknowledged that if you were the girls' seam, then it was appropriate to treat you as an equal as well."
Draco took a shaky breath. Hermione waited.
"Apparently, the details that reached him over the year weren't quite accurate," he said finally. "When he heard 'person of unequal blood status,' he presumed you were a half-blood. It never entered his mind that someone born of Muggles would be admitted to Slytherin. And when I told him about the most powerful student in the class, the one who beat me, the New Blood, he didn't realize you were the same person – I think he thought you were in Gryffindor, possibly from hearing about you hanging around Potter so much." He looked away. "When I went home over the summer, he was mad… said I'd shamed the family, coming in second to a Muggle-born… he wouldn't listen to me about you being New Blood, he wouldn't believe it at all."
His voice was shaking slightly, and Hermione watched as he swallowed hard.
"So your father doesn't want us talking anymore, then, I take it?" Hermione said quietly. "Is that it, Draco?"
Draco's eyes shot up to hers.
"He doesn't want to see you as an equal to me," Draco stressed, "because of your parentage. He thinks- he thinks your blood makes you unworthy. But because magic bound us in the pact as equals, he hasn't a choice but to accept it, unless he wants me to dishonor the pact."
"And you?" Hermione prompted. "What is your opinion, on viewing me as an equal?"
Draco's eyes darkened slightly in the candlelight, making the grey of his eyes look almost a liquid silver.
"Hermione… I'm well aware that we're not equals," he told her, his voice low, "but it's because I am not equal to you."
Hermione's eyes widened, and Draco's hands darted out to grasp hers before she could pull back.
"I know you are more powerful than me, Hermione." His eyes implored her. "I know that. I feel it. When we did that ritual, and I felt your magic, the power in you… I have no doubt which of us is higher than the other, blood status or not. And I will do my best to become your equal, to be someone of equal status and power who can stand alongside you with pride."
He was smoothing his thumbs over the backs of her hands in small circles, soothing gestures. Hermione's eyes fell to watch his hands; she was suddenly finding it hard to find her breath. She let herself be soothed by his small gestures as she closed her eyes and took several deep breaths, sorting out her thoughts.
"What does that mean, then?" Hermione asked.
Draco gave her a puzzled look. "I just told you—"
"You just told me that you fear going against your father, even though you disagree with him," Hermione interrupted. "You told me that you want me to continue something I don't believe necessary anymore just so you can continue speaking to me without needing to take a moral stand against your father."
Draco winced. "When you put it that way…"
"When I put it that way, it doesn't sound nearly as noble, does it?" Hermione said calmly. She tugged her hands free of Draco's, ignoring the flicker of anguish that crossed his face, and sat back onto her chair, tucking her legs under her. "So, Draco: what will you do?"
He licked his lips. "What will I do?"
"Yes, Draco," Hermione said patiently. "You are making it clear to me that you want to continue speaking to me. But what you do not seem to realize is that if you do not have the courage to stand up to your father, I will have no further interest in speaking to you."
Draco's eyes widened, and Hermione heard him suck in a gasp.
"You claim to view us as equals," Hermione said, her voice hard, "or as me higher than you, even. That you want to earn my respect, to catch up with me and reach my power. But you hold this paper monster of your father in front of me, a bogey to fear and cower behind, and claim he prevents you from taking your own stand and becoming a man. Tell me, Draco: how am I supposed to respect you when you do that?"
"But he does, Hermione!" Draco urged. "You have to believe me."
His voice was quivering, and Hermione caught his hands shaking slightly, clenched tightly in his lap. Hermione opened her mouth to refute him, before she paused.
Something about the quivering in his hands was tugging at her mind.
"Draco," she said slowly, "how does your father express his discontent with you speaking to those he views as lesser?"
Draco went as white as a sheet, and Hermione felt sick to her stomach.
"He beats you," she said, her voice one of horror. "Draco, he beats you?"
"No," Draco objected. "No, Hermione, it's not-"
"The hell it isn't!" Hermione snapped. "No one reacts to that question like that unless something awful is going on-"
"He doesn't beat me," Draco said quickly. "He's not- he's not a Muggle. But there are spells… there are spells that don't leave marks. Ones that hurt, but aren't strictly illegal. Other punishments…"
"And he did this to you this summer?" Hermione was doing her best to contain her horror, but she knew it was leaking into her tone. "He tortured you, Draco? Because my grades were higher than yours?"
"It's not like that! They're just brief pain spells – harmless, really. And he stopped, after he met you," Draco said, looking away. "Once he put together you were in Slytherin, the seam I'd talked about, he loosened up a bit. Said that 'we'd see' if you were who you claimed you were this year one way or another."
Hermione swallowed hard.
"Draco…"
"My father loves me," Draco said vehemently. "He just doesn't know, okay? He doesn't understand you like I do. He hasn't seen you cast magic, hasn't seen you do anything, really. He's just trying to protect me as best he knows how."
Hermione felt her stomach sicken.
"But it'll be okay, because we're right, Hermione," Draco told her, reaching for her hand again. "Whatever test he has, it'll be okay, because you are my equal, Hermione. You are New Blood, and he'll see eventually. I know he will. But…"
He trailed off, before looking back up at her, his eyes a mercurial silver.
"…I don't want to have to wait a year to be able to talk to you again."
Hermione swallowed hard, but she let him hold her hand, torn.
On one hand, she was disgusted with the entire circumstance. The fact she had to justify her power and status to anyone before they would so much as deign to speak with her was revolting and offensive. It disgusted her, that people would be so rude and closed-minded. And she was disgusted that Draco bought into any such system in any manner or fashion.
But on the other hand… a father, magically punishing his son, for talking to a Muggle-born?
And Draco was still trying to find a way to talk to her anyway…?
Hermione supposed she would have tried to come up with a way to keep up their acquaintance as well without worrying about being beaten, too, if their positions had been reversed. She couldn't in good conscience expect Draco to rebel against his father if it meant he'd be tortured when he went home.
She sighed.
"I am not going to continue an expired grudge pact that I believe has been completed in full," she announced.
Draco's eyes sank to the floor, his shoulders slumping, as his eyes fell shut.
"…but," Hermione said gently, "I am willing to do a new ritual with you, Draco."
Draco's eyes fluttered open to meet hers immediately.
"You- we can-"
"It's the power balance of equals, is it not, that matters?" Hermione mused, tapping her fingers along her armrest. "If we conduct a ritual as equals, and magic recognizes us as such, then your father will be able to offer no objections, correct?"
She watched as Draco swallowed hard.
"Y-yes," he said, faltering. "That's correct. But- Hermione, The Fallen Foe is the only ritual I know…"
"Don't worry," Hermione said, waving off his concern. "I know more rituals than that. I'll come up with something that'll work for us."
Draco's eyes grew huge in the dark.
"You'll owe me, though," Hermione said pointedly, "for putting up with this nonsense to begin with, and for finding a solution to your ridiculous problem. If there are expensive ritual components to get, you are going to be the one paying for them, got it?"
"Got it," Draco agreed immediately, and Hermione sat back in her chair, satisfied.
"Give me a week or so to figure something out," she told him quietly. "I'll have to look through my things to find a ritual that I think will suit. Until then… try not to aggravate the Weasley pact too much?"
Draco grimaced, and Hermione sighed.
"A bargain, then – leave Harry and Neville alone, and you can wheedle Ron all you want until the pact is formally closed," she compromised. "But once we do, if you go after him, you do it on your own."
"That's fine," Draco agreed.
Hermione looked at him for a long moment, before she let out a long sigh.
"I want to finish reading this before I go to bed," she told him, waving a hand. "Shoo. I'll see you in the morning."
"'Shoo'?" Draco smirked. "Am I a cat, now?"
"You're certainly hanging around like one, begging to be petted," Hermione shot back. "And you certainly enjoy chasing Weasels enough to be one."
"Maybe you should scratch me behind my ears," he teased, his eyes glinting, "and see if I purr for you."
Hermione felt herself flush.
"Or maybe I should zap you with my wand and see if you squeal and dart away," she challenged, her face hot. "Shall we experiment and see?"
Draco laughed, but he pulled back.
"Fair enough," he said amicably. His mood seemed lightened. "Goodnight then, Hermione."
"Goodnight, Draco," Hermione bid, pulling out her book once more. "Sweet dreams."
She pulled open her book, her eyes rapidly resuming their reading, not seeing the way Draco's eyes hesitated softly on her from the shadows before he finally disappeared down the corridor to his dorm.