Hermione stood in front of the mirror in the girls' dormitory, staring at her reflection with growing unease. Her heart pounded in her chest, and she felt a knot of anxiety forming in her stomach. She had agreed to go to Hogsmeade with Draco, but now that the day had arrived, doubt was creeping in.

"What if this is all some elaborate trick?" Hermione muttered, her voice shaky. "What if he's still the same bully he was before, just pretending to be nice to get what he wants?"

Ginny, who was sitting on the edge of her bed, looked up from her magazine and rolled her eyes. "Hermione, you've been working with Draco for weeks. He's been nothing but decent to you. You've said he has changed. Stop overthinking everything."

"But what if I'm wrong?" Hermione asked, her voice filled with uncertainty. "What if I've been blind to who he really is? What if he's just been tricking me this whole time?"

Ginny got up and walked over to Hermione, placing her hands on her shoulders. "Listen to me. You're the smartest witch I know. You wouldn't be fooled so easily. If Draco Malfoy was trying to trick you, you'd see right through it. Besides, you're not going on a mission to the Department of Mysteries—you're going on a date. And if he does turn out to be a git, you can just hex him and leave."

Hermione couldn't help but smile at Ginny's words, but the anxiety still lingered. "I don't even know what to wear. This isn't exactly my area of expertise."

Ginny grinned, her eyes lighting up with mischief. "Lucky for you, it's mine. Now, sit down and let me teach you a few things."

Over the next half hour, Ginny helped Hermione pick out an outfit—a simple yet elegant knitted dress that flattered her figure without being too flashy, and a smart overcoat. She also showed Hermione a few quick spells to style her hair and apply a touch of makeup. Hermione was amazed at how much of a difference the spells made, transforming her appearance with minimal effort.

"There," Ginny said, stepping back to admire her work. "You look fantastic. Draco won't know what hit him."

Hermione looked at her reflection, feeling a mixture of excitement and nervousness. "Thanks, Ginny. I just hope this isn't a mistake."

"It won't be," Ginny reassured her, giving her a supportive smile. "And if it is, you'll handle it. Now, go knock him dead."

Hermione took a deep breath and headed down to the Gryffindor common room, feeling a bit more confident after Ginny's pep talk. But as soon as she stepped into the room, her heart sank. Ron was sitting by the fire, looking up as she entered.

"Hermione," Ron said, his voice tinged with confusion and something darker as he took in her appearance. "You look... nice. Where are you off to?"

Hermione hesitated, knowing this was going to be a difficult conversation. "I'm meeting someone," she said carefully.

Ron frowned, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Who?"

"Draco," Hermione admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Ron's expression darkened, and he stood up abruptly. "You're going to Hogsmeade with Malfoy?"

"Ron, please," Hermione began, but Ron cut her off, his voice rising.

"I can't believe this, Hermione! After everything he's done, you're just... what? Going on a date with him? Have you lost your mind?"

"It's not like that," Hermione said, trying to stay calm. "He's changed, Ron. He's not the same person he was before."

Ron scoffed, shaking his head. "People like Malfoy don't change. He's a snake, and he'll turn on you the moment it suits him. But if you're too blind to see that, then maybe you deserve whatever happens."

Hurt by his words, Hermione bit her lip, fighting back tears. "I didn't expect you to understand, but I thought you'd at least try to support me."

"Support you?" Ron's voice was incredulous. "Support you while you go off with that—"

"Ron!" Ginny's voice cut through the tension as she entered the room, glaring at her brother. "That's enough! Hermione can make her own decisions."

Ron clenched his fists, his face red with anger. "Fine. Do whatever you want. Just don't come crying to me when it all goes wrong."

With that, he stormed out of the common room, leaving Hermione feeling shaken and unsure.

Ginny walked over and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Don't let him get to you, Hermione. He's just being overprotective, and more than a little jealous. Go and have a good time."

Hermione made her way to the empty classroom where Draco had asked her to meet him. She hesitated outside the door for a moment before pushing it open. Inside, Draco was waiting, leaning casually against a desk. He looked up as she entered, a small smile playing on his lips.

"You're on time," he remarked, sounding almost surprised. "I half expected you to back out."

Hermione forced a smile, trying to push away the lingering doubt. "I thought about it," she admitted, "but I'm here."

Draco's smile widened, and he reached into his robes, pulling out a small, leather-bound book. "I brought you something."

Hermione's curiosity piqued as she took the book from him, her fingers brushing against his. She glanced at the cover, her eyes widening slightly as she realised what it was. "This is... from your family's library, isn't it?"

Draco nodded, watching her closely. "I figured you wouldn't want flowers or chocolates like other girls. This seemed more... you."

Hermione felt a strange mix of emotions—gratitude, curiosity, and something else she couldn't quite name. "Thank you, Draco. This means a lot." She quickly slipped it into her trusty bag, feeling grateful for the extension charm.

Draco shrugged, though his expression softened. "You're welcome. Ready to go?"

They left the classroom together, walking side by side through the castle corridors. As they made their way to Hogsmeade, they fell into deep conversation about the book Draco had given her. They discussed the dark magic it contained, the dangers and the allure, and the fine line between desire and need.

"It's strange," Hermione began, glancing at the book Draco had given her. "This room... it's supposed to respond to what we need. But now it's more interested in what we desire."

Draco nodded, his expression thoughtful. "Desire and need—they're often confused, but they're not the same thing, are they?"

"No, they're not," Hermione agreed. "Desire is about wanting something, often driven by emotions or impulses. Need is about what's essential, what's truly required."

Draco looked at her, his eyes narrowing slightly as he considered her words. "But aren't desires often rooted in needs? People desire things because they believe they need them. The line between the two can be blurry."

Hermione frowned, mulling over his words. "That's true to an extent, but sometimes desires can cloud our judgement. We think we need something when, in reality, it's just a want. The Room of Requirement was always about providing what people truly needed—whether it was a place to hide or a place to learn."

Draco's gaze drifted to the ground as they walked, his tone more contemplative. "But what if the room's magic has changed? What if it's more attuned to desires now? How do we restore it to support people's needs again?"

Hermione considered this, her brow furrowing in concentration. "Maybe the room has been influenced by curses used in the battle, or by the fiendfyre. So many people fighting were driven by their desires—desires for power, safety, revenge. It's possible that the room's magic has been affected by that shift in energy."

Draco nodded slowly, his expression serious. "So, we need to find a way to recalibrate it, to refocus its magic on needs rather than desires. But how do we do that?"

Hermione thought for a moment, then looked at him with a determined expression. "We need to strip away the excess, the distractions that come with desire. The room is responding to the strongest emotions, but maybe we can guide it back by focusing on simplicity—on what's truly essential."

Draco raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "You think if we approach the room with a clear intent, focusing on the need rather than the want, it will respond accordingly?"

"It's worth a try," Hermione said, her voice filled with conviction. "We have to re-establish the room's purpose. It was never meant to fulfil idle desires—it was meant to be a sanctuary, a place that provided what was necessary for those who needed it."

Draco looked at her with newfound respect. "You're right. It's about more than just magic—it's about intent. If we can align our intentions with the room's original purpose, maybe we can restore its balance."

Hermione nodded, feeling a sense of clarity. "Exactly. We need to approach the room with a pure intent, focusing on the needs of those who will use it. Only then can we help it remember what it was meant to be."

They walked in silence for a few moments, both lost in thought as they considered the challenge ahead. The crisp autumn air filled their lungs as they stepped out of the castle and onto the path to Hogsmeade, the conversation between them lingering in the air.

Draco broke the silence first, his tone more introspective. "It's ironic, really. My whole life, I've been taught to go after what I want, to fulfil my desires. But now, it's about stripping all that away, about finding what's truly needed."

Hermione looked at him, her expression softening. "That's part of growing, isn't it? Learning the difference between what we want and what we actually need. It's not easy, but it's necessary."

Draco glanced at her, a small smile tugging at his lips. "You always know how to make things sound so simple, Granger."

Hermione smiled back, feeling a warmth between them that hadn't been there before. "Maybe it's simpler than we think. It's just a matter of perspective."

They continued their walk to Hogsmeade, their conversation shifting to lighter topics as they passed through the village's bustling streets. But the discussion about desire and need lingered in their minds, a reminder of the deeper connection they were beginning to share.

When they arrived in Hogsmeade, Draco led Hermione toward a quaint little café nestled on the main street. As they approached, however, they saw that it was packed with customers, and a small line had formed outside.

Draco frowned, clearly displeased. "They used to always have a table for me, no matter how busy they were. They'd even make others leave to accommodate me."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "And now?"

Draco sighed, his frustration evident. "Now my name means nothing. If I wanted a table, I'd have to actually bother with a bribe. But I'm trying to… I don't need all my desires satisfied."

Hermione looked at him, surprised by his honesty. "You've changed."

"Not yet," Draco admitted, glancing around the bustling street. "But after everything I've seen—after watching people suffer while I lived in luxury—I can't be that person anymore. I have to be better."

Hermione felt a swell of empathy for him, understanding how difficult it must be to change old habits. "You're trying, and that counts for a lot." She reached for his hand, locking her fingers in his.

Draco smiled, though it was tinged with sadness. "Maybe. But let's find somewhere else to eat."

They walked hand in hand toward the Three Broomsticks, deciding that a casual pub meal would be just as enjoyable. The warmth of their hands clasped together brought a sense of comfort and connection that Hermione hadn't expected.

The Three Broomsticks was bustling with its usual lively crowd. Hermione and Draco found a table near the back, away from the noise. They had just settled in when the door swung open, and in walked Harry and Ginny, followed closely by a brooding Ron.

"Great," Draco muttered under his breath, his mood souring instantly.

Hermione squeezed his hand, trying to reassure him. "They're my friends Draco. It's been fine in the great hall, it will be fine today." She glanced up at him, and widened her eyes before adding, "Plus I haven't seen Harry since the train. You wouldn't deny me that, would you?"

He shook his head, and Hermione was sure she heard him mutter, "Slytherin," under his breath.

It wasn't long before Harry spotted them and made his way over, Ginny and Ron trailing behind. Harry's expression was neutral, but Hermione could sense the underlying tension.

"Malfoy," Harry greeted, nodding slightly at Hermione. "Hermione."

"Potter," Draco replied, his voice cool.

Ginny, oblivious to any tension, quickly made a suggestion, "Why don't we all sit together? It's busy, and we need to get to know Hermione's new suitor."

Hermione flushed red, but not as red as Ron.

Ron was glaring at Draco, clearly unhappy with the situation. "I'm not sitting with him," he muttered, crossing his arms.

"Fine," Harry said, his patience wearing thin. "You don't have to."

Ron hesitated, then with a scowl, turned on his heel and stormed off to the bar, leaving Ginny shaking her head in exasperation. Ginny took a seat beside Hermione, while Harry sat across from Draco, his expression guarded.

The air was thick with tension as they all settled in, but Hermione tried to break the ice. "So, Harry, how's work at the Ministry going? I read about the new legislation you're pushing for."

Harry glanced at her, his expression softening slightly. "It's going alright. They've been working on reforms, trying to undo some of the damage done during the war. It's slow, but they're making progress."

Draco nodded, surprising everyone by joining the conversation. "I suppose you're the Ministry's new poster boy, then? It makes sense, given how much they owe you."

Harry stiffened slightly, and Hermione could see the flicker of irritation in his eyes. "I'm not interested in being anyone's poster boy, Malfoy. I'm just doing what needs to be done."

Draco, sensing the shift in Harry's mood, tried to steer the conversation back to safer ground. "Well, it's good to see that someone is taking responsibility. The Ministry was a mess even before the war."

Ginny chimed in, trying to keep the conversation civil. "It's definitely a lot of work, but Harry's been doing a great job. We're all proud of him."

Harry gave Ginny a small, appreciative smile, but the tension between him and Draco had grown. Hermione could feel it simmering just below the surface.

They continued to make small talk as they waited for their food, with Ginny and Hermione doing most of the talking. Every now and then, Draco or Harry would contribute, but it was clear that neither was comfortable with the situation.

After a brief lull in the conversation, Draco spoke up, trying to keep things light. "Well, at least you don't have to deal with NEWTs or the Auror exams, Potter. Must be nice, having everything handed to you on a silver platter."

Harry's eyes flashed with anger, his knuckles tightening around his glass. "You're one to talk," he scoffed. "Actually, Malfoy, I do have to take the Auror exams."

Draco blinked, caught off guard by the sharpness of Harry's response. "I didn't realise you were—"

"Of course you didn't," Harry interrupted, his voice growing colder. "Why would you? You've never had to work for anything in your life, have you? Everything's always been handed to you because of your name, your money."

Draco's jaw tightened, and he met Harry's gaze with a steely look. "I'm well aware of how things were, Potter. But I'm not that person anymore."

"Really?" Harry shot back, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Because from where I'm sitting, it doesn't seem like much has changed."

Ginny quickly tried to intervene, sensing where this was headed. "Harry, let's not do this here—"

Hermione reached out to Draco's arm to soothe him, as she tried to pull the conversation back, "Harry, have you been using the study planner I sent you?"

Harry nodded stiffly, "It's not the same without you though, Hermione. It has been years since we've done an exam, and in that old house with nobody around it's… hard to study."

"Get your house elf to quiz you," Draco said softly, "write some notes, and they'll quiz you on it. It's good revision, and you get some company."

Three pairs of eyes stared at him, all imagining the prospect of spending hours studying with Kreacher. Draco stiffened.

"Don't tell me you don't have a house elf!" He spluttered..

Hermione rolled her eyes. She could only help him so much. Harry's jaw tightened, but he thankfully held his tongue.

But Draco, growing more restless as the tension thickened, glanced around the crowded pub, then back at the bar, where their food seemed to be taking an unusually long time.

"It's been ages," Draco muttered, more to himself than anyone else. "You'd think they'd have some sense of urgency."

Harry looked up, his eyes narrowing slightly. "You're not exactly in Malfoy Manor now, are you? People have to wait like everyone else."

Draco's frustration bubbled over, and he met Harry's gaze with a sharp retort. "I'm not asking for special treatment, Potter. But it's still ridiculous how long it's taking."

Harry leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. "What's wrong, Malfoy? Not used to waiting for things? Or maybe you're just missing the days when you could throw your name around to get whatever you wanted."

Draco's expression darkened, and Hermione could see his hands clench into fists under the table. Before he could respond, Harry continued, his voice laced with venom.

"Maybe you should try using the Imperius Curse on the bar staff. That seemed to work well for you in the past, didn't it?"

The words hung in the air like a curse, and the tension that had been simmering finally boiled over. Draco's face paled, and for a moment, he looked as though he might lash out. But instead, he stood up abruptly, his chair scraping loudly against the floor.

Without a word, Draco turned and stormed out of the pub, his expression a mixture of anger and something deeper—something that looked a lot like guilt.

"Draco, wait!" Hermione called after him, but he was already heading for the door.

"Nice going, Harry," Ginny said sharply, glaring at him. "Was that really necessary?"

Harry looked guilty, but his eyes were still hard. "You heard the comment about house elves! The prick acted like I was the entitled one. Besides, just because we agreed to be civil doesn't mean we have to be friends."

"Maybe you should try," Ginny retorted, her voice filled with disappointment.

Hermione quickly stood and followed Draco out the door, her heart pounding with worry.

She found Draco pacing in a secluded corner outside, his expression a mix of anger and guilt. "Draco, I'm sorry. He shouldn't have said that."

Draco stopped pacing and turned to her, his eyes filled with a mix of emotions. "Don't apologise for him, Granger. He's right."

Hermione frowned, confused. "Right about what?"

"About me," Draco said, his voice low and filled with self-loathing. "I did it. I used the Imperius Curse. Not just once—many times. And just because I was scared for my life and my mother's, it doesn't excuse what I did. I hurt people, Hermione. I was a coward. Too much of a coward to do the job properly, and too much of a coward not to do it at all."

Hermione's heart ached at the pain in his voice. "Draco, you were in an impossible situation. You did what you had to do to survive."

"But that doesn't make it right!" Draco snapped, his voice filled with anguish. "I should have been better. I should have been stronger."

Hermione reached out to him, but he took a step back, shaking his head. "No, Hermione. You don't understand."

"Then help me understand," Hermione pleaded, her voice softening. "I want to be there for you, but you have to let me in."

Draco looked at her, his eyes that had been so full of pain suddenly glazing over like ice forming on a lagoon. "Do you really want to walk past the spot where I almost killed Katie Bell? Do you really want to be with someone who could do something like that? Wasn't she your friend, Granger?"

Hermione's breath caught in her throat as the memory of Katie Bell flashed through her mind. But before she could respond, Draco turned on the spot and disapparated, leaving her standing alone in the cold evening air, the weight of his words hanging heavily in the silence.

After returning to the castle from Hogsmeade, Hermione found herself drawn back to the Room of Requirement. The conversation with Draco had given her hope—hope that they could restore the room's magic, that they could help it remember its true purpose. But as she stood before the door, anxiety gnawed at her. What if their theories were wrong? What if the room had been irreparably damaged by the war?

Determined to find out, Hermione took a deep breath and entered the room. The moment she stepped inside, the familiar sight of the luxurious four-poster bed greeted her, mocking her efforts with its very presence.

Ignoring the bed for now, Hermione set to work, focusing on the task at hand. She cleared her mind, recalling the conversation with Draco, and tried to channel the room's magic toward fulfilling a need rather than a desire. She paced back and forth, her wand at the ready, muttering incantations under her breath as she tried to guide the room's energy.

But no matter what she tried, the room remained unchanged. The bed stayed stubbornly in place, a stark reminder of her failure.

Frustration boiled over inside her, and with a growl of anger, she threw her wand onto the bed and slumped down on it, burying her face in her hands. She had been so sure that they were on the right track, that their combined efforts would be enough to set things right. But nothing was working. Nothing was fixing the room, and nothing was fixing the deep, aching emptiness she felt inside.

Hermione let out a scream of frustration, the sound echoing off the walls. The scream turned into something more desperate, her voice breaking as she shouted to the empty room.

"I desire Draco Malfoy!" she yelled, the words raw and filled with anger. "There! I said it! Is that what you wanted to hear?"

The room remained silent, the bed looming large and oppressive, as if daring her to continue.

Hermione's anger flared, her emotions spilling over in a torrent of words. "How could I desire him? How could I want someone who bullied me, who did horrible things, who stood by while others suffered?"

Her voice cracked as she continued, the anger mixing with confusion and self-loathing. "He was cruel! He mocked me, looked down on me, and now... now I find myself drawn to him. How could I be so weak? How could I let myself feel this way about him?"

She stood up abruptly, pacing the room as her emotions surged. "I hate that I feel this way! I hate that I can't control it! I hate that he's changed, that he's trying to be better, and that I can't stop thinking about him!"

Her hands clenched into fists, the frustration boiling over. "Why? Why do I desire someone who caused so much pain? Someone who made me feel so small, so insignificant?"

She stopped, staring at the bed as if it held the answers to all her questions. "Is that what you want, Room? To remind me of my weakness? To show me that I'm just as flawed as everyone else?"

The room remained unchanged, the bed's presence almost mocking her outburst.

Hermione's anger began to ebb, leaving behind a deep weariness. She sank back onto the bed, her voice quieter now, the fury replaced by a more somber tone.

"But this isn't about what I desire," she said, her voice trembling. "It's about what I need."

She took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of emotions swirling inside her. "I need to fix this room. I need it to be what it was before. I need to make Hogwarts whole again."

The tears began to well up in her eyes as she continued, her voice breaking. "I need to make things right. I need to fix what was broken. I need to atone for all the lives that were lost, all the people I couldn't save because I didn't figure it out sooner."

Her hands clutched at the sheets as the tears started to fall, her control slipping away. "I need this room to help me, to give me a chance to make amends. I need it to be a place of refuge, of safety, of hope. I need it to be what Hogwarts needs."

She buried her face in the pillow, her tears soaking into the fabric. "I need to fix it," she whispered, the words barely audible. "I need to make things right. But I don't know how."

The weight of her guilt, her frustration, her sense of helplessness pressed down on her, and finally, the tears came in earnest. She cried for everything she had lost, for everything she had failed to do, and for the overwhelming pressure to make it all better.

She cried for the people who had died, for the friends who had suffered, for the weight of responsibility that had been thrust upon her shoulders. She cried for the fact that no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't change the past, couldn't undo the horrors of the war.

And in the midst of her tears, she cried for herself—for the feelings she couldn't control, for the desires she didn't want to admit, for the confusion and guilt that gnawed at her every day.

Stubbornly, she picked up her wand and tried the spell one last time, through the tears. The bed didn't change, which she belatedly realised was a good thing as she sat upon it.

Drained and exhausted, Hermione curled up on the bed, her sobs quieting into soft whimpers. The room remained silent and unchanged, offering no comfort, no answers, just the echo of her own pain.

As she cried herself to sleep, her last thoughts were of the overwhelming task ahead of her, the impossible burden she felt she had to bear alone.

Hermione awoke slowly, her eyes fluttering open to the dim light of the Room of Requirement. For a moment, she felt disoriented, the soft pillow beneath her still damp from her tears. As her vision cleared, she noticed a shadowy figure seated at the foot of the bed. She jolted upright, her heart pounding in her chest.

"Professor Snape?" she gasped, her voice thick with sleep and surprise.

Severus Snape sat in a high-backed armchair that had not been there before, his dark eyes observing her with an inscrutable expression. His hands were steepled beneath his chin, and he looked entirely at ease, as if he had been sitting there for some time.

"Miss Granger," he acknowledged in his usual smooth, measured tone. "I trust you slept well?"

Hermione blinked, still trying to process the situation. "I—I didn't mean to fall asleep... How long have you been here?"

Snape leaned back slightly, his gaze steady. "Long enough. The wards of the castle shifted, alerting me to unusual activity in this room. I came to investigate and found you asleep, surrounded by a faint residue of magic. The room, in its current state, provided me with this chair. So I waited."

Hermione stared at the chair he was sitting in, her confusion growing. "The room just... provided it for you?"

Snape raised an eyebrow, his tone laced with sarcasm. "Yes, Miss Granger, it seems the room decided that I deserved the luxury of a seat while I observed your rather... undignified slumber."

Hermione felt a flush of embarrassment creeping up her neck. "I didn't expect it to respond like that. It's only produced this bed and nothing else for me."

Snape's eyes flickered with mild interest. "Curious. Perhaps it senses a more refined need in some of its occupants."

Hermione tried to brush off the comment, quickly shifting her focus back to the task at hand. She stood up, determined to test the room's capabilities. "Let's see if it can do more," she said, concentrating on a single, simple need. "Books," she whispered, closing her eyes as she channelled her intent.

When she opened her eyes, a single book appeared on the edge of the bed—an old, dusty tome that looked as though it had been pulled from the shelves of a long-forgotten library. However, the room remained unchanged in all other respects. The bed stayed in place, and no other objects appeared.

"It's only providing one thing at a time," Hermione observed, her brow furrowed. "The room isn't responding to everything we need. But something has changed."

Snape nodded slightly, his expression thoughtful but still edged with his characteristic dryness. "The room's magic appears to be limping along, like a three-legged dog. But perhaps your efforts haven't been entirely wasted after all."

Hermione felt a spark of hope amidst her frustration. "The magic must be regenerating, but it's still not strong enough. We need to find a way to strengthen it, to layer the magic and restore its full potential, if we're even capable of that level of charmwork."

Snape's gaze lingered on her for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly. "And here I thought you enjoyed a good challenge, Miss Granger. Or are you hoping that simply wishing for the room to mend itself will do the trick?"

Hermione bristled slightly at his tone, especially given that's almost exactly what she had done. "No, Professor. I'm fully prepared to work at it, but I'd appreciate any insights you might have on how to proceed."

Snape's lips curled into a faint smirk. "I'm sure you would. However, my time is not something I offer freely, especially when it involves solving the messes left behind by others. I suggest you continue your attempts with the diligence I've come to expect from you. Perhaps, in time, the room will remember its purpose—or not. Either way, I'm certain the pair of you will figure it out."

Hermione nodded, feeling a mixture of determination and frustration. "We will."

Snape observed her for a moment longer before shifting the topic abruptly. "Speaking of the pair you're working in, I couldn't help but notice that Mr. Malfoy didn't return from Hogsmeade until well after dinner. Sensible enough to take a Sobriety Draught before he attempted to sneak back in, but I wonder... what kept him out so late?"

Hermione stiffened, her heart skipping a beat. "We... had a lot to discuss," she said vaguely, trying to avoid giving away too much.

Snape's gaze sharpened, though his tone remained deceptively casual. "I see. How you managed to discuss issues with him whilst sleeping in a room with me, I'm less certain on." He paused for a moment, his eyes trying to bore holes into her, "I trust that whatever was discussed won't distract you from the more important tasks at hand. It would be a shame to see you get lost in... shall we say, less productive desires."

Hermione swallowed, understanding the implicit warning in his words. "I'm focused on the room, Professor. That's my priority."

"Good," Snape replied, his voice tinged with something Hermione couldn't quite place—surely it was simply concern, but coming from Ron it would have clearly been jealousy. "Keep it that way. Mr. Malfoy may be making strides toward maturity, but he is still very much a work in progress. I'd hate to see you... distracted by unfinished projects."

With that, Snape stood up from the chair, his robes billowing slightly as he moved toward the door. Just before he left, he glanced back at her, his expression unreadable. "You have potential, Miss Granger. Do not squander it on unworthy distractions."

Hermione nodded, absorbing his words as he left the room. She stood there for a moment, processing everything that had happened. The room was far from what it once was, but it wasn't beyond saving.

It was late—very late—by the time Hermione made her way back to the Gryffindor common room. The castle was eerily silent, the only sound her soft footsteps echoing off the stone walls. When she finally reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, she muttered the password and slipped inside, expecting the room to be deserted.

But as she stepped into the common room, she was surprised to find it filled with her closest friends. Ginny and Ron were curled up on one of the couches, wrapped in blankets, fast asleep. The fire was burning low, casting a warm, flickering glow over the room.

To Hermione's surprise, Harry was there. He sat near the fire, a stack of files in front of him, his brow furrowed in concentration as he read. He looked up as she entered, relief washing over his features.

"Hermione," Harry said quietly, careful not to wake the others. "We were worried about you. The Room of Requirement disappeared from the Marauder's Map again. You were there one moment and then just disappeared."

Hermione froze, realising how much the room's magic had changed. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to worry you. I... got caught up fixing it."

Harry nodded, his gaze softening as he noticed her weary expression. "It's okay. I'm just glad you're back."

Hermione looked around at Ron and Ginny, then back at Harry. "How did you get into the castle without triggering Snape's wards?"

Harry's expression became guarded, but he didn't avoid the question. "Severus and I have... an understanding. I've actually been sneaking in a bit more than just tonight."

Hermione's eyes widened in shock, not that he'd been sneaking around. She'd assumed he'd been at the Shrieking Shack. It was the familiarity that shook her. "Severus? You're on a first-name basis with the Headmaster now?"

Harry shrugged, a slight smirk playing at his lips. "It's not as if we're best mates, Hermione. But we've found a way to work together. He knows I've forgiven him."

Hermione's shock quickly turned to anger. "You've cordially forgiven Severus, and yet you still accused Draco of being evil? Severus has used a hundred more unforgivables than Draco ever has!"

Harry blinked, clearly taken aback by her vehemence. "Hermione, it's not that simple. Severus has done terrible things, yes, but he's also been... trying to make amends, in his own way, and it wasn't like he had much choice. And Malfoy—"

"Draco's trying too!" Hermione interrupted, her voice rising in frustration. "You don't know him like I do, Harry. He's not the same person he was. And you, of all people, should understand that people can change. He didn't have much choice either, which is what you told the Wizengamot at his bloody trial. Have you forgotten already?"

Harry stared at her for a long moment, then sighed, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. "You really care about him, don't you?"

Hermione felt her anger ebbing, replaced by a deep, conflicted sadness. "I... I don't know what I feel. But I know he's not the villain you think he is. Not anymore."

Harry ran a hand through his hair, looking weary and older than his years. "I'm sorry, Hermione. I didn't realise... I didn't think about it like that. I've been so caught up in everything, I haven't really been fair."

Hermione softened at his apology, sitting down in the armchair across from him. "Why did you react like that to his comments? I know you're under a lot of pressure, but it felt like... something more."

Harry glanced at the files spread out in front of him and sighed deeply. "I'm sick of them, Hermione. The pureblood elites. The way they act like the world belongs to them, like they're the only ones who matter."

Hermione's expression softened with concern as she listened. "What do you mean?"

Harry picked up one of the files and handed it to her. "The Ministry... it's designed to keep people like them in power. Even the Auror exams are rigged. There are questions about ancestral properties, ancient laws—things that don't matter anymore, but they're used to trip up people like us. It's all designed to maintain the status quo."

Hermione scanned the file, her heart sinking as she read. "These questions... they're completely irrelevant to modern life. And they're being used to exclude Muggle-borns from positions of power."

Harry nodded grimly. "Exactly. It's just one example of how the system is stacked against us. There are laws that technically aren't enforced, but they're used as excuses to confiscate the assets of Muggle-borns who don't know better. It's infuriating, Hermione. Every step forward feels like two steps back."

Hermione felt a surge of anger on Harry's behalf, and on behalf of all the Muggle-borns who had been kept out of positions of power by such underhanded tactics. "Harry, this is... this is awful. No wonder you're so frustrated."

Harry sighed, leaning back in his chair. "I thought that by now, things would be different. That we could change the world we fought so hard to save. But the more I dig into the Ministry, the more I see how deeply ingrained the corruption is."

Hermione reached out and squeezed his hand, offering him a comforting smile. "We'll keep fighting, Harry. We can't give up. Change takes time, and it's not always easy, but we'll get there. We'll break down these barriers, one way or another."

Harry looked at her, a flicker of hope returning to his eyes. "Thanks, Hermione. I needed to hear that."

Hermione nodded, feeling a renewed sense of determination. "You're not alone in this. We're in this together. And we'll make sure that the sacrifices we made weren't in vain."

As they sat there, the fire crackling softly in the hearth, Hermione felt a deep sense of solidarity with Harry. Especially when he wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close before asking, "So, have you snogged him yet?"

Her laugh almost woke the Weasleys up.