A/N: I've been wanting to write this evening out since I was stuck in Chapter 11 land, so let's all take a moment to celebrate that we did it! We got here! AND it's by far the longest chapter of the story to date! Multiple celebrations! Much rejoicing! Etc!
With warmer weather has come my beloved gardening and outdoor music season. Know that if updates are more spread out, it's because I'm playing in rich soil and singing my heart out onstage.
Hermione had engulfed Minerva in a hug before she even knew what she was doing. She heard the older woman chuckle as she returned the gesture (though with much more decorum). They parted after several long seconds, Hermione wiping stray tears from her eyes and grinning like a fool.
"It's wonderful to see you, Headmistress."
"And you, my dear." Minerva held her at an arm's length, wearing a watery smile of her own. "Are you well?"
"Very," Hermione nodded, and in the moment she truly meant it. "Malfoy and I have been making incredible progress so far."
"Yes," the headmistress replied, stepping sideways and reaching out her hand to the man in question. Malfoy shook it with a short nod. "I must say it is odd to see the two of you working together like this—though if you were to ask the Ministry, they'd claim these kinds of script-flipping friendships were regular occurrences thanks to their post-war efforts. Academically, it's a perfect match, of course," she added with a tilt of her head, "but unfortunately it doubles as a very good look for the Ministry."
Malfoy grimaced, whether at the implication of friendship or the Ministry's heavy-handedness, Hermione didn't know. It didn't really matter, of course, but as the headmistress led them up the main staircase, she hoped it was the latter.
"Now of course you won't be staying in the castle overnight," Minerva said with a hint of annoyance. "Not that I didn't offer, but your supervisor seemed intent that you should sleep in that horrid tent." She pursed her lips in clear disapproval.
"That's alright," Hermione hurried to assure her. "It really is better that we're as consistent as possible with our presence by the lake while we're here."
They stopped on the second floor before a painting of an empty, high-backed armchair in front of a full-to-bursting ebony bookshelf. Minerva tsked softly.
"Oh, this is just like him. I told him you'd be arriving today. Why anyone thought it was a good idea to put him in charge of a portrait hole…" she continued to grumble as she brought her wand out, waving it in a slow arc that had the frame swinging forward on its hinges.
"Well, if you need to regain entry at any point tonight and he does return, the password is Sanentur. In the meantime, you have about two hours until everyone's expected in the Great Hall for a light dinner before the dance. You'll find a full bathroom and two separate chambers inside, and we've taken the liberty to provide you with attire that will alter itself to your specifications as requested." Minerva sighed lightly and looked between them. "I know this isn't the most pleasant of circumstances for either of you, being surprised with yet another dog-and-pony event. But it really is wonderful to have you both back."
Malfoy offered another stiff nod, as though he didn't quite believe her. Hermione, as usual, went right in for the hug.
"Tea soon?" she whispered, and felt Minerva nod before she stepped back.
"Well, we'll see you both in the Great Hall at seven. Or perhaps a little before, unless you'd like to make an entrance. You may use the staff doors, as you'll be joining us at the head table, and you will be introduced, so prepare yourselves however you see fit for the attention you're certain to receive."
They said their thank-yous and watched Minerva head back down the hall before Malfoy darted through the open portrait hole with a rushed "I'll shower first!" Hermione groaned.
"You'd better be quick!" she called after him, barely keeping the you vain bastard bit to herself.
She walked into a neutrally decorated sitting room with a cozy-looking armchair and sofa arranged in front of a small bookshelf. Steady, she chided herself. Now was not the time to curl up with a book, no matter how badly she wanted to spend the rest of the evening that way. Instead, she made her way across the room, past the bathroom where she could hear the shower running, to two doors that stood side by side.
She opened the door on the left and found an inviting four-poster bed of deep purple and mahogany wood with a matching dresser and nightstand. A set of plain black dress robes was suspended in midair in front of a full-length mirror. A quick check of the right-hand door showed an identical room with identical robes hanging in an identical fashion. Shrugging, she left that door slightly ajar and went back to the first, closing it behind her to let Malfoy know it was the one she chose. Then she turned her attention to the dress robes, took out her wand, and got to work.
/\ /\ /\ /\ /\ /\
Hermione was showered, dressed, and as ready as she would ever be with over thirty minutes to spare. She wore her hair mostly down with a small section at each temple pulled loosely back and tied in a simple knot at the crown of her head. Her curls fell gracefully (much to her surprise), settling just below the modest-enough neckline of the off-the-shoulder gown she and the enchanted dress robes had fashioned for the evening. It was a deep, rich azure with a meandering pattern of shimmering turquoise embroidered along the bodice and the edges of the cap sleeves. The skirt flared at the waist and was only a little wider than her shoulders by the time it reached the floor, with just enough body to swish delightfully around her legs should the opportunity arise to twirl tonight. And she really hoped it did; twirling was the best part of dancing. The shoes she wore were practical (shoes should always be practical, a rule she'd established during the war and had yet to relax), the same comfortable trainers she'd been wearing for most of the expedition, spelled the same shimmering turquoise as the inlay of her dress with dark blue soles. Her eye makeup was simple—just to enhance those gorgeous lashes, darling, her mother's voice had whispered in her mind—but she'd gone rather bold with a deep burgundy lipstick. It was one of her secret indulgences, especially after a particularly trying day at the office: come home, change into the comfiest clothes she owned, and throw on a lip color that made her feel like she could conquer anything (or anyone) with ease. Tonight, Hermione would be conquering her nerves, the expectations of the attendees, and the twice-damned Ministry.
She stepped somewhat timidly out of her room and into the common area, her heart beating erratically in her chest for reasons she refused to acknowledge, but she found it empty. She took a couple of calming breaths as she glanced around, knocking lightly on the closed door next to the one she had come out of. When no one answered, she pushed it open softly and peered inside, but Malfoy was nowhere to be seen, and the template dress robes had gone. A quick search revealed that he wasn't in the bathroom, either. Hermione's heartbeat picked back up for a different reason. Had he left without her? Draco Malfoy was in no way her ideal escort to a work-mandated formal event with a school full of teenagers, but she much preferred the idea of going with him than entering the Great Hall by herself.
She was just steeling her nerves and mentally preparing herself for her solo journey when she heard muffled voices coming from the hall outside the entry. She hurried to the portrait hole to listen more closely and, when she'd confirmed the current speaker was Malfoy, pushed the door open and stepped out to join him—only to find him leaning against the wall opposite her, completely alone.
He stopped talking as soon as the portrait swung forward, pushing himself gently off the wall to stand straighter as he appraised her with a calculating look. For her part, Hermione knew she was doing the same. Malfoy was dressed in his traditional elegance, wearing a combination of muggle and wizarding attire. His trousers and vest were a matching black and he'd fashioned a silk cravat of deep burgundy, complemented by his sleek dress shoes. He wore black dress robes that looked almost like a long muggle jacket with intricate silver dragons embroidered along the lapel and cuffs, perfectly tailored and hugging his torso before widening slightly at the waist, reaching to mid-calf in a slight billow that Professor Snape would have sneered down his nose at for its understated grace. His hair should have upset the entire look, nearly disheveled in its careless arrangement, but somehow it made his pretentious elegance that much more dashing. He was the epitome of masculinity and class, and Hermione couldn't help the drop in her stomach as she took in his appearance.
After several long seconds, Malfoy spoke. "Well done, Granger," he said, "you actually don't look a complete fright." Her stomach picked itself right back up at his words and she felt both her spine and her resolve stiffen. But before she could respond in kind, the portrait swung shut over the hole and she heard a familiar voice that nearly stopped her heart in her chest.
"And may I add my congratulations on finally learning to control that insurmountable hair of yours, Ms. Granger."
Hermione spun around, tears already forming in her eyes as she took in the freakishly realistic portrait of Professor Severus Snape in his trademark high-collared black robes standing in front of the bookshelf and thumbing lazily through a massive tome, his hair tied back with a ribbon.
"And you," she said, trying and failing to keep the emotion from spilling into her voice, "on exploring the wonderful world of hair ties."
Malfoy let out a bark of laughter behind her and she thought she saw the corner of Snape's mouth pull upward as he closed his book and faced them properly.
"I'm sorry to hear the Ministry is still using you like this." His eyes shifted to Malfoy, who had pushed off the wall and stepped up beside her. "Both of you." Malfoy nodded curtly.
"Ah yes, well…" Hermione's mind was still stumbling trying to find the right words to respond with when her mouth decided to blurt out, "I'm terribly sorry you died."
Snape snorted, and she saw Malfoy's head snap around to give her what she was sure was an affronted glare. She blushed a little (though on the inside she felt like slowly melting into a puddle) and cleared her throat nervously. "That didn't come out very well, but it's true nonetheless," she said, her voice only shaking a little. She'd never expected to have the chance to speak with him again, and she wanted to take advantage of this sudden opportunity. "Thank you for everything you did for us, sir, as a member of the Order and as our professor."
"As always, it was my pleasure traumatizing you and your classmates, Granger," he sneered. "Now if that's quite all, I believe you have some sort of publicity stunt to pose for. If it gets too unbearable, Hooch is always a good bet for a pinch of something to liven up the tedium."
"Thank Merlin," Malfoy said before casting a tempus. They had twenty minutes before dinner was to start, and they both wanted to arrive before most of the students had assembled. "So long, Severus. I expect you'll be here when we return this evening?"
"One never can tell, Draco, but I shall make an effort." Snape's gaze shifted to Hermione. "It is good to see you well, Ms. Granger," he said with a small nod. She smiled back at him.
"It's good to see you at all, Professor."
He snorted once again and turned his attention back to his book, sliding gracefully into the armchair. Malfoy watched him for a moment longer before offering his arm to Hermione.
"Shall we?"
She threaded her arm through his almost automatically and they turned to make their way to the Great Hall. But before they had gone more than three paces, Snape's portrait called out.
"Oh, and Granger," he drawled, waiting until she looked back. "If you tell Potter I'm here and he comes to visit me, I will find a way to haunt you for the rest of your life."
Hermione laughed. "I think I'm willing to risk it," she called back, and they continued down the corridor.
"That was… surprising," she said carefully when they were a distance that she considered to be out of earshot for Professor Snape's portrait (though, really, she knew nothing about the keenness of a painting's senses).
Malfoy looked amused. "He said the same thing when I told him you and I were working cohesively together." Hermione chuckled. They had made it halfway down the hallway before he added, "I've missed him. I didn't even think to wonder if I'd be seeing him around here."
Hermione gave his forearm a gentle squeeze. "I'm glad you got to talk to him," she said softly. They walked the rest of the way in silence.
/\ /\ /\ /\ /\ /\
Dinner went about how Hermione had expected it to: she and Malfoy were gawked at and whispered about from the moment they entered the Great Hall. As more students entered (sitting at any table in the name of inter-House unity), the whispers grew into more of a buzz. She did her best to ignore it, instead chatting with the staff members nearest to her at the head table and Occluding what she couldn't block out on her own. It was a skill she tried not to rely too heavily on, but it was dead useful in situations like this.
Minerva gave a brief speech before the meal was served, reminding the students to see this kind of event as proof of progress in wizarding Britain's ever-ongoing rebuilding efforts. Hermione barely paid attention to the speech, if she was being honest, letting the words wash over her and instead keeping her ears perked for the change in cadence that would indicate she and Malfoy were being introduced. When the time came, she shifted her unfocused gaze from Minerva to just over the heads of the crowd of students in front of her and nodded, a practiced smile on her face. There was applause, and then her role in it was over.
Dinner was uneventful as Hermione tried to soothe the butterflies in her stomach with a vegetable medley and some plain toasted bread. Before she knew it (and certainly before she was ready), all of the plates were cleared and Minerva stood up once more. The Great Hall quickly fell silent.
"It is now time for the festivities to begin," she announced, and the buzz of students (and Hermione's stomach) picked right back up again. Minerva raised her voice. "In the continuing spirit of the evening, the band performing tonight will be our own Hogwarts alumni, The Slytherpuffs—" the Great Hall erupted in excited cheers and whistles "—and the first and last dances of the night will be open to inter-House partners only. To make things… interesting," Minerva's lips twitched in a small smile, "the dance floor will ensure no one bends that parameter."
Hermione wondered what that might mean as her eyes swept the floor in the middle of the huge room, thinking back to her fourth year and George and Fred's matching white beards. Sorrow sliced through her all at once, as it did from time to time when she couldn't stop her heart from imagining losing a soulmate the way George had. She felt her shields shudder at the sudden impact, her gaze no longer unfocused but clouding with unshed tears. She held her eyes open and concentrated on her breathing, willing the ducts not to spill over as she gently carried the pain into the corner of her mind currently marked Later, dear. And not a moment too soon—she had barely gotten control of herself when the music started up.
Hermione watched as a good number of students made their tentative ways onto the dance floor, some awkwardly holding one another at unnatural distances, others quite comfortable with getting close. It was a few moments before she saw Malfoy stand from the corner of her eye and make his way over. She tried to ignore the sudden pounding in her chest.
She turned sideways in her chair to face him when he arrived and he bent into an absurdly low bow, holding out his hand. Lifting his eyes to meet hers, he asked sardonically, "Would you do me the honors of getting this over with, Granger?"
She rolled her eyes at his theatrics, but the smile that came out was genuine. "I'd be very much obliged," she replied, placing her hand in his, and Malfoy chuckled at the double entendre. He led her to the dance floor and she forced herself to maintain eye contact, to not even blink when he placed his hand on her waist. Her free hand floated gently around at his back, barely grazing his shoulder blade with the edge of her thumb. She felt him inhale slightly in time with the music—and then they were off.
Malfoy was an exquisite dancer. She shouldn't have been surprised, knowing what she did about his upbringing, but she had (understandably) never considered it until now. She felt like she was gliding within the song itself, not being led but rather invited through a seamless combination of steps and turns. Though he put barely any pressure into his touches, his presence absolutely surrounded her, and she found herself lost in the feeling.
As the song came to a close and the next one started up, dozens more students flooded the dance floor. Much to Hermione's surprise, Malfoy showed no intention of letting her go, shifting gracefully into the rhythm of the new song and sweeping her along with him.
"You know, we were only required to put on a show for the first song," Hermione said somewhat timidly as he led them easily through an upbeat waltz.
Malfoy scoffed. "As if I'm doing any of this for the Ministry," he replied drily. "I haven't danced properly in ages, and you're an adequate partner. I'd like to continue." Then he looked down at her and smirked. "If it's not too much of a challenge for you, that is."
Hermione snorted. "Such a charmer you are," she muttered, but she made no move to pull away.
They shared a few more dances until the music became too fast for formal patterns, and by that point Hermione was nearly breathless, sure her cheeks were pink with exertion. They abandoned the dance floor, now packed with students writhing to the pulsing beats, Malfoy carrying himself with a laughable amount of decorum as Hermione did her best to lift her skirt out of the way of the more wild dancers. She led them over to the wall where several of the staff were clustered, occasionally casting an eye over the hall but for the most part enjoying the celebration together. Minerva brightened as she saw them approach and took Hermione's other arm as soon as she was within reach. Malfoy was more at ease than Hermione could remember seeing him, almost smiling as he slipped his arm free and walked off, most likely to find them something to drink.
"Hermione, my dear," said Minerva as Malfoy retreated into the sea of students. "May I introduce you to Grace Richard?" Hermione smiled and shook hands with the dark-haired witch across from her. "Professor Richard teaches Muggle Studies," Minerva continued. "We've been lucky enough to have her on board since Hogwarts' reopening."
"It's fantastic to meet you, Ms. Granger," the young woman gushed. "We must've only just missed each other in school, but of course I know all about you."
"Hermione, please, if I may call you Grace," Hermione responded politely, cringing internally at the formality of even her own peers.
"Of course!" Grace blushed prettily, seeming a little embarrassed herself at her awe-struck tone, but she moved smoothly past it. "I was so excited to learn you'd be leading the research Minerva and the school are funding. I know it's not your main focus, but I wonder if you've been considering the similarities and differences between how these self-isolating magical beings navigate interactions with humans, and how purebloods have historically viewed and treated muggleborns?"
Hermione leapt at the question, wasting no time delving into the finer points of what she'd noticed so far and the connections she had, in fact, started to note between the hesitance of centaurs to engage with humans and the biases modeled by pureblood magical folk against those of muggle heritage.
"Like you said, it's certainly not the primary objective, but I would love to explore it further," Hermione sighed after a while. "This whole experience has been absolutely magical so far. We've already learned loads."
"For example," Malfoy cut in, stepping up beside Hermione and handing her a drink, "were you aware that it is in fact possible to sleep comfortably in a muggle tent?"
Minerva snorted, clearly unconvinced, and Hermione felt her cheeks warm at the memory as she took a sip of her punch—which, she was pleased to note, had not been altered by a well-meaning Rolanda Hooch. Completely oblivious to the reference to the morning's events (or maybe there wasn't a reference in there at all and Hermione's mind just couldn't let it go), Grace leapt at the segue.
"Oh, is it side sleeping, no pillow?" she asked eagerly.
Hermione laughed out loud at Malfoy's look of rather stunned disbelief as he took in the unfamiliar witch in front of him.
"This is Professor Grace Richard, she's been teaching Muggle Studies since the war." Malfoy tensed ever so slightly as he extended his hand, but Hermione paid it no mind—whatever that was about, she knew him well enough by now to know his reaction wasn't rooted in intolerance. "Professor Richard, this is Draco Malfoy. He and I graduated together and if you'd asked me then, I would've bet my book collection that he'd never lower himself to sleeping in a muggle tent."
Grace smiled widely as she shook his hand. "Ah, one of those students, were you?" she chuckled. "I'm glad to see there's long-term hope for some of these walking propaganda machines to turn out alright, even after a childhood of exposure to some of their families' purist ideals."
Malfoy looked somewhat torn between discomfort and pride. "Why are they even taking Muggle Studies, if they're so..."
"Bigoted?" Hermione suggested helpfully, and Malfoy sent her a sour look that she accepted with a sweet smile.
"Oh, it's become a mandatory course for first through third year. I guess the board figured it'd be helpful for purebloods to have some understanding of the roles muggles play in our wider world." She shot Hermione a sardonic smile. "What a concept, right?"
"And is it working?" Hermione suddenly needed to know. "Has the school tracked the trajectory of pureblood ideologies year-over-year?"
"It is, actually!" Professor Richard's eyes lit up and Hermione felt herself even more drawn to the witch. "Part of the rebuilding requirements for the school included ensuring we were providing a safe environment for students to not only grow into their magic, but grow out of their more… archaic ideologies." She glanced to either side before leaning in conspiratorially, and Hermione couldn't help but mirror the action. "Between us, though, let's just call those ideologies what they are: classist, purist, and dumb as shit." She glanced a bit nervously at Malfoy. "No offense, I guess?"
He laughed drily. "No, you're pretty much right on the money there," he said with a shrug. "Glad to hear the school is being more proactive about it these days."
They spoke for a bit on the changes Hogwarts had seen since they'd been students, and Hermione and Malfoy were introduced to the rest of the newer staff members. Before long, Hagrid made is way over.
"Hope 'm not interrupting," he said, "but would yeh care for a dance, Hermione?"
Hagrid led her in a surprisingly graceful foxtrot, considering their height discrepancy forced them to make some serious adjustments to their hand placements. Once or twice her gaze was drawn to Malfoy's unmistakable shock of hair, unable to ignore him as he flitted in and out of the corner of her eye, leading Madam Hooch around the floor. When the next song started it was Professor Andrew Killian, the Charms professor since Filius had retired, who approached her for a dance. She felt tense in his arms, as she often did when being led by a partner she didn't know and especially at public events. One never could quite gauge someone's motivations in situations like this.
As that song began to wind down and Hermione prepared to finally honor the small part of her that still wanted to hide in a corner and turn down any invitation that might come next, she noticed Malfoy and Grace, still dancing smoothly to the music, making their winding way over. Malfoy's eyes locked on hers. He looked deeply uncomfortable.
"We've just heard the most horrific thing," Grace said without preamble as soon as they were close enough to speak without being overheard. "Truly terrifying. I'm not sure how anyone could be expected to handle such a threat."
Hermione's senses, so ready at all times to be on high alert, relaxed at the mischievous look on the professor's face. Her eyes flicked between Grace and Malfoy, waiting for one of them to continue. Andrew, apparently, was not so patient.
"Well?" he prodded, looking somewhat nervous and tightening his grip on Hermione's waist even though the song had ended. She rolled her eyes and shifted away from his side, noticing Malfoy's gaze drop briefly to where the professor still touched her.
"You bloody Gryffindors," he muttered, shaking his head. Grace laughed.
"We overheard some of the seventh years who just happen to be Gryffindors conspiring on the dance floor," she said, her smile growing in obvious delight. "In the name of inter-House unity, they've decided that one of them will approach the infamous Draco Malfoy and ask him for a dance." She glanced casually over Malfoy's head. "Oh, and would you look at that, here comes one of them now."
Dropping all pretenses, Malfoy stepped forward and grabbed Hermione's hand, his eyes pleading.
"Dance with me the rest of the night, Granger, please," he said, and ohhh was it tempting to tell him no. She was tired of dancing, tired of being looked at, and tired of the politics that seemed to follow her wherever she went. But Malfoy looked absolutely desperate, and her stupid heart went out to him.
"You'll owe me," she said finally, surprised when he nodded immediately.
"Anything you want."
She looked at him appraisingly and saw him swallow hard, but he didn't look away. Grace was watching the entire exchange, cheerfully whispering updates on the fast-approaching Gryffindor girl, while Andrew stood stiffly at Hermione's side as though ready to protect her at a moment's notice. Finally, at Grace's hushed "three meters and closing in!" Hermione nodded with a small smile. Malfoy wasted no time, practically yanking her around their companions to circumnavigate his impending doom.
"That girl should thank me," Hermione groused as she stumbled after him. "Bet she had no idea she'd be asking an absolute brute to accompany her."
Malfoy slowed down and shot her an apologetic look over his shoulder. "Right, sorry," he muttered. "I just… don't like surprises like that." He shook his head. "After all this time, I still don't know what's expected of me. I just know that I'll end up painted the villain nine times out of ten, even if I'm on my best behavior." He smiled wryly as he turned to face her near the center of the dance floor, their hands meeting naturally. He began to lead them smoothly, pulling Hermione closer to suit the timbre of the music. "Who ever would have guessed it'd be you I feel safe with?"
"Makes sense to me," she shrugged, focusing on breathing evenly and following his steps rather than the way her heart was beating. "The people I stand beside tend to come out spectacularly."
Malfoy pulled back enough to glance down at her in slight shock before laughing. "And they say I have an ego."
She shrugged again. "Last time I knew you, your ego was unearned," she explained bluntly.
"I was second to you in nearly every class."
"Yes, but that's never what you were bragging about. You were a little more focused on… other aspects of your supposed superiority."
With the smallest push, Malfoy sent her twirling gracefully outward, keeping a gentle hold on her hand as she watched her skirt swirl around her legs in the most enticing way. The fabric flowed like a swell of music that sweeps the heart away, taking Hermione's breath with it. And then she was back in his arms, wishing she could beg him to twirl her again and again.
"I am sorry," he said, his eyes flitting between hers as though imploring her to find the truth in what he was telling her. "I promise you I'm better now than I was."
Hermione nodded. "I know you are," she said. Malfoy smiled lightly—then sent her spinning again. She was laughing gaily when she returned to him.
"That's got to be my favorite part," she admitted. "My clothes never move like that in real life."
Malfoy chuckled, pulling her close again as the song began to wind down. "This is real life, Granger," he said lowly, and she felt his words rumble through his chest and tickle her ear. "Although dancing with a partner as chivalrous and debonair as myself, I can see why you might think you were dreaming."
She pulled her hand out from his to slap him lightly on the shoulder as Minerva's voice rang loudly over the crowd of students.
"Thank you all for attending the Unity Dance tonight, and a special thank you to our alumni and guests of honor." Hermione felt her cheeks warm as the Great Hall was filled with polite applause, but her smile was genuine as she looked around the room. She'd had a surprisingly good time.
"And of course, many thanks to The Slytherpuffs." The applause was definitely more enthusiastic this time, and Hermione joined in. "Isn't it simply wonderful to see where collaboration can lead us?
"And now, it is time for the final dance of the night. As a reminder, the dance floor will only be open to inter-House couples. So if you'd like one more dance, you'll have to find someone from outside your House to partner with."
There was a bit of a frantic rush as students raced to find an eligible partner. Hermione watched over Malfoy's shoulder as a pretty blonde girl broke away from her group of friends and boldly made her way towards them. Hermione acted quickly, dipping into an elegant and deeply obnoxious curtsey.
"May I save you from the predatory Gryffindors?" she asked obsequiously, holding out her hand much as Malfoy had done earlier in the night. He took her hand with a slight bow, looking (to his credit) only slightly panicked.
"I'd be honored and indebted," he replied.
The dance floor was much more crowded than it had been for the first song, and so far none of the students had been magically kicked off for trying to work around the rules. Apparently they all knew better. And apparently, this silly bid for inter-House unity was actually working. Hermione mused on the strangeness of the day and lost herself in Malfoy's arms as he guided her through the music, twirling her three more times before the song ended.
/\ /\ /\ /\ /\ /\
Hermione's head was buzzing and her ears were ringing as they made their way through the corridors in silence. She hadn't had an evening this enjoyable in months at least, and she was still trying to wrap her brain around it by the time they made it back to their appointed room. Snape was standing in his painted study, the armchair having been pushed into a back corner to make room for the cauldron he now poured over. He glanced up as they neared.
"Ah, and how were the festivities?" he asked drily, not trying to hold back a sneer.
"Surprisingly delightful," Malfoy said, his voice sounding as tired as Hermione felt.
"Ah, Rolanda got you some of the good stuff, did she?"
Malfoy laughed. "She did offer, which was very much appreciated, but no, it was a surprisingly delightful sober affair." He glanced sideways at Hermione. "Unless you snuck some while I wasn't looking?"
She snorted indelicately. "Oh yes, you know me, just itching to set a bad example in front of a school's worth of students while representing the Ministry."
Snape rolled his eyes so hard she almost heard it. "You need to stop caring so much about others' expectations, Granger," he said, measuring out the proper amount of crushed asphodel. "There are more important things in life."
Hermione yawned widely. "Yes, well, I shall keep that nugget of wisdom with all of the other nurturing and supportive advice you gave me when I was your student." She looked down at her dress. "Oh, but I don't have pockets! Drat, I suppose your guidance will just have to float around down here until someone else stumbles upon it."
She turned to face Malfoy directly and lowered her voice, hearing Snape snicker from his frame. "I'm going to change, but take your time out here if you'd like. I'll be in the common area when you're ready to head back to the tent."
Malfoy nodded and she turned back to the portrait. "Sanentur," she said to Snape, and with a characteristically sarcastic sweep of his arm, the painting swung forward.
Hermione made her way to the room she had claimed as hers for the day, looking at her jeans and jumper with mild distaste. The enchanted robes had been luscious on her, like a warm hug that left her body feeling safe and supported, and she was loathe to take them off. She spun in a lazy circle, watching as the skirt swished gently around her legs. Then she twirled again, faster, until the fabric billowed out and up just under her knee. By the time she stopped herself, she was grinning and more than a little dizzy.
With a last pang of acceptance, Hermione slipped out of her gown and returned it delicately to its place, charming it to hang once more in front of the mirror. She stared at it a moment longer before shaking her head—it's just a dress, for Merlin's sake—and returning it to its original dress robes design with a soft "thank you" and a gentle touch of her hand. She watched as the fabric faded from brilliant blues into the more standard black, still as soft as before but lacking the individualism it showed during the evening's events. She looked for a tag, intent on getting a set for herself when she returned home, but was unsurprised when she didn't find one. Magical designers were so much more covert than their muggle counterparts.
After sliding into her awaiting (and now noticeably common) clothes and wishing she'd worn sweatpants instead of jeans, Hermione made her way to the bookshelf in the common area. She found a selection of muggle and magical works, both fiction and non, and decided on a novel she'd never heard of by an author unknown to her. As soon as she settled into the armchair, a steaming mug of tea appeared on the table by her side.
"Thank you, Winky," Hermione said to the empty room, and opened her book to a random page and began to read. She let her mind drift across the words as she sunk lazily into the story.
When she next opened her eyes they immediately locked with grey ones. Malfoy was crouched in front of her, already back in his (relatively) informal attire, with his hand on her shoulder as though he'd shaken her awake. Which, Hermione realized, he probably had. His lips quirked when their eyes met but all he said was a soft, "Ready to go?"
Hermione blinked and nodded as she regained her bearings. Malfoy stepped back as she stretched and then stood, returning the book (whose title and author she had both already forgotten) to where she'd found it and looking around the small room as she followed Malfoy to the portrait hole.
"Goodnight, Severus," he said, turning as the painting swung closed. Hermione walked to the opposite wall for a nice lean. She really was extraordinarily tired.
"Goodnight, Draco," Snape returned. "And goodnight, Granger."
"Goodnight, Snape," she yawned, waving at his blurry visage. "I'm sure Harry won't find out you've got a portrait here."
"Cruel, but fair," Hermione heard Snape mutter. Malfoy chuckled and held out his hand.
"Come on, then."
With an effort that she didn't try to hide, Hermione all but hoisted her arm to meet his and groaned as he hauled her off the wall.
"Merlin, you weren't sneaking sips, were you?"
"Of course not," Hermione huffed. "It's just been a while since I was around that many people. And we did a lot earlier today in unusual physical conditions. I'm just—" she let out a massive yawn— "I'm just knackered."
He gently pulled the hand that he was apparently still holding and brought her arm through his, resting her palm in the crook of his elbow.
"At least this way I'll feel if you start to fall."
Hermione hummed in agreement and let her eyes drift half closed. She came slowly to the realization that tears were falling gently but steadily down her cheeks. She welcomed them, as she had long ago learned to do, accepting that her body and mind must have needed this release, and grateful that it had come so kindly out of her.
The tears dwindled as the castle doors opened to the grounds, the cool air kissing the wet tracks on her face. Hermione inhaled deeply, eyes still half closed, feeling somewhat renewed. Malfoy continued to lead her down a meandering path to the lake, the night around them filled with the sounds of wakening spring bugs and night birds.
"Granger," he said suddenly, stopping so quickly that Hermione felt herself get jolted back from where she was still looped around his arm. Her eyes shot open and she saw that they had made it to the tent. So why had he stopped them?
"What is it, Malfoy?" she asked, thinking longingly of her sleeping bag on the hard ground, and how deeply she wished she was no longer standing.
He seemed to be searching for the right words, looking back and forth the between her and the tent with furrowed brows, his lips pursed. Hermione was ready to pass out where she stood. What could possibly be so important?
"Spit it out, then, or I may very well fall over."
And spit it out he did.
"We should sleep together."
Well, she was certainly awake now. Hermione's eyes, which had been slowly drifting closed again as she waited for Malfoy to speak his mind, were now wide with surprise. She turned to face him, her disbelief almost definitely making itself known on her face.
"That came out wrong," he said, running a hand through his hair with a soft snort. "What I meant was, sleeping in a tent is awful. Co-sleeping in a tent seems to be… less awful. I'd like to continue sleeping well on this trip where I can, and so far each morning I've woken up… holding you, I've been well rested and much less stiff from sleeping on the bloody ground." He'd been looking at said ground for most of his declaration, sometimes at the tent, but now he met her shocked gaze. "Come on, you're telling me you haven't noticed the same?"
Hermione blinked, clearing some of the residual what the actual fuck as she processed what he'd said. He was basically offering what she'd been lacking this entire expedition: physical connection with another human, support and security through platonic touch. It may be self-serving, but tenderness could be an interpretation as much as it is an intention. Soon she felt herself nodding.
"I have noticed," she said rather matter-of-factly (although her brain was still playing catch-up). "I think it's worth trying."
Malfoy looked at her, his mouth slightly agape. "Just like that?"
Hermione shrugged. "Proper sleep is very important," she said, then marched into the tent to grab her necessities.
/\ /\ /\ /\ /\ /\
Malfoy was flung face-down across his sleeping bag (he'd already moved both nearer to the center of the tent) when Hermione came back from changing into her pajamas and brushing her teeth.
"Come on then, a great night's sleep's not gonna have itself." His voice was muffled, his face half-pressed into his pillow. Hermione snorted at his haphazard sprawl and made her way to her own sleeping bag. She stopped before climbing in, sitting back on her knees and crossing her arms as she looked down at him.
"You don't thrash in your sleep, do you?"
"Hush, Granger, I haven't the last two times this happened," Malfoy said, opening his eyes to roll them at her. He reached out and pawed lazily at her arm. "Now are you still up for this or what?"
"Alright, alright," she muttered, swiping his hand away when it landed on her yet again. She crawled into her sleeping bag, willing her pulse to regulate as she settled on her side with her back to Malfoy. She had to remind herself to breathe normally as she heard him shuffle forward and felt her heart slam against her ribcage as his arm reached around the outside of her sleeping bag and settled across her waist, tugging gently her back was flush to his chest. His other arm stretched outward and she lifted her head to let it pass.
"What, no pillow, Granger?" he asked into her hair.
"You signed up to be the pillow when you asked to cuddle," she said primly, reaching clumsily for his arm and bending it at the elbow to make a more effective cushion.
"I did not ask to cuddle," he groused.
"Fine. What is it you suggested? Sleeping together?"
Malfoy pulled her tighter against him with a huff. "Shut up, Granger. Are you comfortable?"
Hermione hummed in acknowledgment, already starting to drift.
She barely heard his whispered "Good." Her sleepy mind was suddenly trying to make sense of the warm feeling that had been growing steadily since he'd broached the topic with her. Friends do this, she decided firmly, allowing a small smile as she relaxed further into Malfoy's arms. I think we're friends. And before her mind could consider if there was anything more to it, she dropped into a convenient and contented sleep.
A/N: Bookended spooning day for these two! Normalize snuggling up with your friends :)
