When this started as a fully drafted plot to get it out of my head, it was 13 chapters long. It's now looking like it will be double that; I'm just enjoying it too much!

The sound of clinking cutlery and chatter filled the Great Hall, but at one section of the Gryffindor table, the conversation had lulled. Hermione, Draco, Ron, Ginny, Neville, and Luna were seated together, finishing up their dinner. It was a rare moment of calm between them all, except for the occasional side-eye Ron threw Draco's way.

"You know what Hogwarts really needs?" Hermione said, looking thoughtful as she pushed a piece of broccoli around her plate.

"A dragon petting zoo?" Neville suggested, only half-joking. Luna nodded dreamily in agreement.

"No," Hermione said with a grin, "a class about wizarding life and etiquette. Kind of like Muggle Studies, but in reverse—for Muggle-borns to learn about wizarding customs."

Ron raised an eyebrow, pausing mid-chew with mashed potatoes still on his fork. "Brilliant, Hermione. Because what I need is more lessons on how to be looked down on by blokes like Malfoy. You want me to curtsy to his house-elf next time I see him?" He grinned, but there was a hint of resignation in his tone, as if he already knew he wouldn't win this argument.

Draco gave Ron a smug smile. "We don't have house-elves for curtsying, Weasley. They're far too busy ironing our socks."

"Oh, of course," Ron said with mock seriousness. "Wouldn't want to wrinkle your precious family crest."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I'm serious, Ron. Think about it. I didn't know half the customs when I first came to Hogwarts. I didn't know why people were bowing, or why certain words held more weight. It would have been useful!"

Ginny nodded, backing her up. "I agree. It could be like an introduction to wizarding society. You might not have realised it, but there are a lot of traditions we grew up with that aren't exactly obvious to Muggle-borns."

Draco leaned forward, clearly interested. "Ginny's right. There's more to it than just the basics. There are customs about family alliances, dinner etiquette, even how to properly address someone in formal settings. Most of it would go completely over a Muggle-born's head."

"And that's supposed to be a bad thing?" Ron grumbled, tearing into a roll. "I've survived just fine without needing to bow every time someone with more money than me walks by."

Ginny shot him a sharp look. "It's not about bowing, Ron. It's about understanding the traditions, whether you follow them or not."

Draco smirked. "She's got a point. You wouldn't last five minutes at a formal event without embarrassing yourself, Weasley."

Hermione gave Draco a playful nudge with her elbow. "Play nice, Draco. We're trying to have a civil conversation here."

Draco smirked down at her, his eyes twinkling as he placed a kiss on her cheek. "I am being nice. That's my version of a compliment."

"Oh, how generous," she teased, shaking her head but clearly amused.

Luna, who had been quietly buttering her bread, suddenly chimed in. "It sounds lovely. Etiquette is important, especially when dealing with rare magical creatures. I've heard that a poorly-timed bow can offend a Crumple-Horned Snorkack."

Everyone blinked at her for a moment, before Ginny stifled a laugh. "Luna's right, you know. Maybe this class could include magical creature etiquette too."

Ron groaned dramatically. "Great, so not only do I have to learn how to kiss up to pure-bloods, now I have to worry about offending invisible creatures?"

"Come on, Ron," Hermione said with a smile. "It wouldn't hurt to learn something new. Besides, you could finally stop eating like a troll at the dinner table."

Ron raised an eyebrow, grinning. "You're telling me you want to sit in a class where Malfoy teaches us all how to use three forks for a salad?"

"Actually, I'd find that quite amusing," Draco quipped, crossing his arms. "I'd even bring visual aids for you, Weasley. Flashcards with pictures of forks and everything."

Hermione giggled, nudging Draco again. "Stop teasing him."

Neville, who had been listening intently, finally spoke up. "I think it's a good idea. I mean, I've never been sure which fork to use at those fancy Ministry dinners. Gran's told me, of course, but I learn better at Hogwarts." He shuddered slightly, "Last time, I just used the same fork for everything."

"See, Neville gets it!" Ginny exclaimed, shooting Ron a triumphant look. "There's more to wizarding life than just spells and potions."

Ron leaned back, shaking his head but clearly amused. "Fine, fine. But if Malfoy starts teaching me how to properly tie a cravat, I'm out."

Draco smirked, leaning back in his chair. "Don't worry, Weasley. Cravat lessons are strictly optional."

Hermione glanced around the table, noting how the conversation, though filled with banter, felt lighter than usual. Even Ron's jabs at Draco lacked their usual sting. Maybe, she thought, there was hope for them all to find some middle ground.

"Alright," she said with a grin, "I'll talk to Professor Snape. Maybe we can get a class started. You can all thank me when you're not embarrassing yourselves at the next formal event."

Draco smirked and leaned closer, his voice dropping low enough for only her to hear. "I look forward to being your co-professor, Granger. Might even teach you a few things myself." He brushed his lips softly against hers, lingering just a moment longer than necessary, leaving her blushing as she swatted his arm.

She rolled her eyes but smiled. "In your dreams, Malfoy."

The corridors were quieter now, the day winding down as shadows stretched long across the stone walls. Hermione and Draco walked in step, though the silence between them was far from comfortable. Draco had been eyeing her since they left the common room, and Hermione could feel the tension radiating off him like a brewing storm.

"You're really going in there alone?" Draco muttered, breaking the quiet. His tone was low, tinged with something between concern and frustration. His hands were stuffed deep in his pockets, his silver-blonde hair catching the dim light as he cast a sideways glance at her.

Hermione sighed, already anticipating where this conversation was headed. "Yes, Draco. I can handle myself."

He scoffed, shaking his head. "It's not that. You don't know how he is with you these days. He's always—" Draco hesitated, searching for the right word, "—watching you. I don't like it."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Oh, don't be ridiculous. He's my professor, not... whatever it is you're imagining."

Draco stopped walking and reached out, lightly grabbing her arm to stop her too. His expression was serious now, darker than usual. "I'm not imagining anything. You know what Snape's like. You didn't see him the way I did in my... previous life. He's not exactly harmless."

Hermione pulled her arm away, a flash of irritation rising in her chest. "Draco, I'm perfectly capable of having a conversation with the Headmaster without needing a chaperone. I'm not a child."

Draco's jaw tightened, but he didn't argue further. "Fine," he muttered, his voice clipped. "But I'll be right outside. Don't say I didn't warn you."

Hermione gave him one last look before turning and continuing up the stairs to the Headmaster's office, ignoring the unsettling feeling that Draco might have a point. She knocked on the heavy oak door, and it opened with a low, drawn-out creak, revealing the dimly lit room beyond.

Stepping inside, she felt the atmosphere shift immediately. The weight of the silence pressed against her, the soft flicker of candlelight casting long shadows on the shelves stacked with ancient books and dark potions. And then there was Snape—standing behind his desk, his black robes blending into the darkness of the room, watching her with that unreadable, piercing gaze.

"Miss Granger," he greeted her smoothly, his deep voice reverberating through the room. "What a surprise. To what do I owe this honour? Have you come to discuss the merits of dabbling in dark magic, perhaps? Or shall we return to last week's riveting conversation on ancestral spells gone awry?"

Hermione's breath hitched slightly, but she kept her face calm. "No, Headmaster. I'm here to propose something else— a class that might benefit the students at Hogwarts."

Snape raised an eyebrow, his expression dripping with scepticism. "Don't tell me you want to start a class on ancestral spells or perhaps the finer points of curses. I believe the students had their fill of Dark Arts during last year's... curriculum." He stepped out from behind the desk, his movements slow and deliberate as he began circling the room, his hands clasped behind his back.

Hermione could feel her pulse quicken, though she wasn't sure if it was nerves or something else entirely. She forced herself to focus, gripping the parchment in her hand. "I believe Hogwarts should offer a class on wizarding life and etiquette, particularly for Muggle-born students. It would help us understand the traditions and customs of the wizarding world."

Snape's lips curled into a slow, sardonic smile as he circled her, his black robes swishing like shadows creeping across the floor. "A class on wizarding etiquette?" His voice dropped dangerously low, almost a purr. "Tell me, Miss Granger, do you intend to teach these Muggle-borns to bow before their betters or perhaps instruct them on the art of pure-blood alliances? Your ambition is… quaint."

Hermione bristled but kept her composure, her fingers tightening on the parchment. "It's not about etiquette for etiquette's sake, Professor. It's about understanding. Muggle-borns like me come into this world knowing nothing about it. We don't know the traditions that pure-bloods grow up with, the stories, the way households function."

Snape stopped in front of her now, his gaze sharp as he leaned forward slightly, as if daring her to continue. "Stories?" he repeated, his voice soft and dangerous. "You wish to teach them fairy tales, Miss Granger? Perhaps you'd like to include lessons on how to properly care for one's house-elves or how to use a self-cleaning teapot?"

Hermione's face flushed, more from frustration than anything else, though the intensity of his gaze didn't help. "No, sir. It's about understanding the differences between magical and non-magical cultures. Pure-bloods are raised in a world where magic is part of their daily lives. Muggle-borns are thrown into it without knowing how things work—the legends, the social customs, even the way wizarding households are run."

Snape's smirk deepened, and he resumed his slow, deliberate pacing, moving behind her once more. The tension in the room thickened with every step he took, and Hermione could feel her pulse racing in her ears, though she refused to let it show.

"And you believe that teaching a few lessons on family hierarchies and bedtime stories will change anything?" he asked softly, almost a whisper as he passed behind her again. His voice sent a shiver down her spine. "Do you really think a class like this will erase centuries of misunderstanding?"

Hermione stood straighter, lifting her chin. "It's not about erasing everything, but it's a start. If we don't understand each other's worlds, how can we ever hope to bridge the gap? This class could help Muggle-borns feel less like outsiders."

Snape stopped directly in front of her again, his eyes narrowing slightly as he considered her words. For a long moment, there was nothing but silence, the air between them thick with something unspoken. His gaze lingered, and she found herself holding her breath, unsure of what he would say—or what he was thinking.

"You always were... too capable for your own good," he said softly, his tone low and strangely intimate. The words hung between them, heavier than they should have been. His dark eyes flickered briefly to her lips before meeting her gaze again, and for a split second, Hermione could have sworn she saw something else there—something that mirrored the tension she was trying so hard to ignore.

She swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. "I... I believe it's important."

Snape watched her for another long, agonising moment before a smirk pulled at the corner of his lips once again. He stepped back, breaking the spell between them, though the tension still lingered like a heavy fog in the room.

"Very well, Miss Granger," he said, resuming his slow pace around the room. "You are, of course, aware that I cannot approve such a class on my own. The school board, and naturally the Ministry, will need to be persuaded."

"I know," Hermione said quietly, though the intensity of the conversation had left her more shaken than she wanted to admit.

Snape stopped again, this time by the desk, his back turned to her. For a moment, she thought that was the end of it, but then his voice, softer now, reached her ears. "You will need more than ambition to convince them."

Hermione let out a breath she hadn't realised she was holding. "I'll prepare."

With a final nod, she turned to leave, her mind still spinning from the strange undercurrents of their conversation. But just as her hand touched the door, Snape's voice stopped her.

"Miss Granger."

She turned, her heart skipping a beat.

Snape's gaze was still fixed on her, and for a moment, his expression softened. "You have my support," he said, his voice quieter, almost... gentle.

Hermione blinked, surprised by the unexpected shift in his tone. "Thank you, sir," she replied, her voice barely a whisper.

As she stepped into the corridor, Draco was waiting, leaning against the wall with a casual air that didn't quite mask his concern. He straightened up when he saw her, his eyes scanning her face for any sign of distress.

"Well?" he asked, his tone carefully neutral. "Did he tear you apart?"

Hermione smiled faintly, though her mind was still swirling with the intensity of what had just transpired. "No. He said he'd support the petition."

Draco's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "He agreed? Snape?"

Hermione nodded, feeling a strange warmth despite the lingering tension. "Yes. But he made it clear that it won't be easy."

Draco gave a low whistle, shaking his head. "You must've impressed him more than usual."

Hermione shot him a look, though a small smile tugged at her lips. "Maybe."

The Gryffindor common room was quiet, the fire casting a warm, gentle glow across the cosy space. Hermione and Ginny sat at one of the small tables near the hearth, their parchments spread out in front of them, quills scratching as they worked on letters. Hermione was carefully addressing her letter to one of the more traditional members of the Hogwarts Board of Governors, while Ginny was halfway through her letter to Harry, biting her lip in thought as she wrote.

"So," Ginny began casually, glancing up from her parchment, "how's your letter going? Persuaded any crusty old governors to your side yet?"

Hermione sighed, dipping her quill back into the ink bottle. "I'm trying, but it's not easy. You'd think asking for a class that encourages understanding between Muggle-borns and pure-bloods wouldn't be so controversial, but these governors are set in their ways. I keep overthinking every sentence."

Ginny chuckled, setting her quill down and resting her chin in her hand. "Don't worry. You'll convince them. You always do. Besides, you've already got Harry on your side." She tapped her own letter to him for emphasis. "I'm just telling him all about how brilliant you are."

Hermione smiled faintly, though the tension in her shoulders didn't ease. "Thanks, Ginny. I hope they see the value in it. The last thing I want is for it to seem like I'm trying to stir up trouble."

Ginny shook her head, leaning back in her chair. "You? Stir up trouble? Never. I mean, it's not like you've been spending all your time with Draco Malfoy or anything."

Hermione shot her a look, but Ginny just grinned, clearly enjoying herself.

"You know," Ginny continued, "I'm glad you two are spending more time together. You were miserable for those few days when you weren't talking after that date."

Hermione groaned, setting her quill down as well. "Don't remind me. That whole thing was awkward. I wasn't even sure we were going to... you know, work out after that."

Ginny waved a hand dismissively. "Oh, please. You were both being stubborn. Draco was sulking, and you were overthinking everything. I knew you just needed a little nudge."

Hermione blushed slightly, remembering how Ginny had cornered her after the date fiasco and told her to stop over-analyzing every little thing Draco did. "Well, your 'nudge' worked. We've been spending more time together lately, and things have been... nice."

"Nice?" Ginny raised an eyebrow. "I've seen you two snogging by the lake. That's more than 'nice.'"

Hermione's cheeks flushed deeper. "Did anyone else see?" She questioned sharply, when Ginny shook her head Hermione relaxed slightly, "Alright, fine. It's more than nice. But it's still new, and I'm just trying to figure it all out. Draco's... different with me. He's still himself, but there's this softer side he shows when we're alone."

Ginny smiled warmly. "I knew he had it in him. You just had to drag it out."

Hermione rolled her eyes, though she couldn't help but smile as well. "It's funny, really. There's this... spark when he teases me. It's playful, not mean like it used to be. And when we're together, I feel... alive."

Ginny grinned. "That's more like it. I'm glad to hear it, Hermione. I mean, I know he's been different since the war, but seeing him with you makes me think he's actually capable of being... decent."

Hermione nodded, picking up her quill again but not quite ready to start writing. "Yeah, he is. But it's still complicated. His family... Well, Narcissa, he says she's been supportive, but it's still not exactly easy. We haven't talked about Christmas yet. I think he's planning to spend it with his mum, but it's hard to know where I fit into all that."

Ginny's expression softened. "Well, that's understandable. But who knows? Maybe he'll surprise you and invite you over."

Hermione gave a small, sceptical smile. "Maybe. But it's still strange thinking about spending Christmas at Malfoy Manor."

Ginny chuckled but then turned thoughtful. "What about you and Draco? Have you talked about what the etiquette would even be for spending Christmas together? I mean, your etiquette class might come in handy for this."

Hermione furrowed her brow in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"Well," Ginny said, leaning forward slightly, "if we were acting like proper pure-blood families, there's no way Mum would ever let me spend Christmas at Grimmauld Place with Harry unaccompanied. There are all these traditions about what's appropriate, especially for unmarried witches. But Muggles? They wouldn't care as much."

Hermione's eyes widened slightly, realisation dawning. "That's a good point. Pure-blood families have all these rules about courting and being chaperoned, but for Muggles, it's completely normal to spend time alone with someone you're dating, even sometimes overnight. The cultural differences are massive, and that's exactly why this class is so important."

"Exactly!" Ginny said with a grin. "You should bring that up to the governors. Half of them probably grew up with those rules. Maybe it'll help them understand why it's necessary."

Hermione nodded, her mind already racing with new ideas. "You're right. Pure-blood customs shape so much of wizarding life, and Muggle-borns are left to figure it out on their own. If we could teach that in a structured way, maybe it would help bridge the gap."

Ginny grinned. "See? I'm not just pretty. I have good ideas sometimes."

Hermione laughed, feeling a little lighter. "I'll have to mention that in my letters. Maybe it'll be what tips the scales."

Ginny leaned back, stretching her arms above her head. "Well, I'm sure you'll manage to convince them. You always do. And if not, you'll at least have Harry backing you up."

Hermione smiled, picking up her quill again. "Let's hope so. Now, how's your letter to Harry going? Have you mentioned your Christmas plans yet?"

Ginny sighed dramatically. "Not yet. I want to spend Christmas at Grimmauld Place with him, but I'm not sure how Mum will feel about it. Like I said, if she were acting like a proper pure-blood matriarch, there's no way she'd let me go."

Hermione smiled sympathetically. "Well, she's not a pure-blood matriarch, and she adores Harry. I'm sure she'll come around."

"Maybe," Ginny said, tapping her quill on the edge of the table. "But I've still got to find the right way to ask without making her feel like I'm abandoning the family for Christmas."

Hermione gave her a reassuring smile. "You'll figure it out. And if all else fails, just tell her you're going for 'etiquette research' for our class."

Ginny laughed, the sound light and easy. "Good idea. I'm sure that'll go over well."

They both returned to their letters, the crackling fire providing a comforting backdrop to their quiet work.

The corridors of Hogwarts were quieter as Christmas approached, the castle draped in snow and twinkling lights. Hermione pulled her cloak tighter as she wandered through the cold, making her way toward his hidden study rooms. It wasn't hard to find Draco—he had a knack for finding the most secluded spots, perfect for avoiding people and studying in peace.

When she stepped inside, she found him lounging in a chair, pretending to be deeply engrossed in a potions textbook. His eyes, however, flicked up the moment she entered, and a smirk quickly appeared on his face.

"Ah, Granger. Late again," he teased, his tone light. "I was starting to think you'd forgotten about me."

Hermione rolled her eyes, unable to stop the smile that tugged at her lips as she crossed the room to join him. "I was in the library. Believe it or not, Malfoy, I have other things to do besides chasing after you."

Draco's smirk softened, his voice dropping a bit as he stood and moved closer to her. "Shame. I'm starting to think I'm the highlight of your day."

Hermione felt a warm flutter in her chest, but she gave him a mock-exasperated look. "In your dreams."

He grinned, stepping closer until he was only inches from her. "Funny you should say that."

Hermione blushed, her pulse quickening, and Draco leaned in, brushing his lips gently against her cheek. It wasn't the first time he'd kissed her like that—soft, teasing—but it never failed to send a rush of warmth through her. Her hand automatically went to his arm, lightly resting there as she tried to gather her thoughts.

"You're insufferable, you know that?" she muttered, but there was no real bite to her words.

Draco chuckled, his breath warm against her skin. "You wouldn't have it any other way."

They stood like that for a moment, the quiet warmth between them growing. Finally, Hermione pulled back slightly, her mind drifting to the holiday looming ahead.

"Have you decided what you're doing for Christmas yet?" she asked, breaking the comfortable silence. "Are you staying here at Hogwarts?"

Draco's face darkened slightly, and he shifted in his seat, looking away as if considering whether to answer. "I'll be going home," he muttered, his voice tight. "My mother... well, things aren't great for her right now. She's alone. With Father in Azkaban and everyone else... gone." He trailed off, his jaw clenched, clearly uncomfortable with the admission.

Hermione's heart ached at the vulnerability in his voice, though she could tell he was trying to keep it hidden. Draco rarely spoke about his family, and when he did, there was always a reluctance there, like he was navigating a minefield. She walked over and sat beside him, reaching for his hand.

"That must be difficult for her," Hermione said quietly, squeezing his hand gently. "Everything's changed so much."

Draco stared at their intertwined fingers, his expression tight. "Yeah. She's used to... a different life. It's been hard for her, even though she won't admit it." He hesitated, his voice softening. "She's still my mother. I can't leave her alone for Christmas."

Hermione's heart swelled with sympathy, and before she could think twice, she leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. Draco blinked in surprise, his gaze meeting hers, the tension in his face easing slightly.

"I think it's wonderful that you're going to be with her," Hermione said, her voice gentle but firm. "She'll appreciate having you there."

Draco's smirk returned, though it was softer now, more genuine. "Look at you, Granger. Always finding something good to say, even about my mother."

Hermione laughed softly, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "Well, she did save Harry's life in the end, didn't she?"

"True," Draco conceded, though his eyes held a flicker of amusement. "That should earn her some points."

A comfortable silence settled between them for a few moments before Draco tilted his head, his expression curious. "What about you? Why aren't you going home to your parents for Christmas?"

Hermione froze, the question hitting her harder than she expected. Her parents. The parents who were currently living in Australia, oblivious to the fact that they even had a daughter. She had wiped their memories during the war to protect them, and though she had tried to reverse the spell, she still hadn't been able to restore everything.

She forced a smile, brushing it off with a wave of her hand. "Oh, they're travelling. Always off somewhere new."

Draco raised an eyebrow, his expression sceptical, but he didn't push. "You don't want to join them?"

Hermione swallowed hard, her fingers tightening around his. "No. It's... complicated."

He studied her for a moment, as if weighing whether or not to dig deeper, but after a beat, he gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "Fair enough."

She let out a small sigh of relief, grateful he hadn't pressed further. Shifting in her seat, she changed the subject. "I was going to spend Christmas at Grimmauld Place with Harry, but now Ginny's going too, and... well, I don't want to be a third wheel."

Draco's smirk reappeared, though it was laced with affection. "Oh, so that's what this is about. You're running away from Potter and Weasley's moon-eyed lovefest."

Hermione blushed, laughing despite herself. "It's not like that! It's just... I don't want to intrude. They'll want their time together, and I'd feel awkward."

Draco leaned closer, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Granger, I highly doubt they're going to spend their whole holiday snogging in front of you. But I get it. No one wants to be a third wheel."

Hermione let out a frustrated sigh, biting her lip. "So, I was thinking of just staying here at Hogwarts. It's quiet, and I could get a lot of work done."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Christmas alone in the library? That's tragic, even for you."

She swatted his arm, but he caught her hand, pulling her gently into his lap. "I'm not that bad," she muttered, though her cheeks flushed as he wrapped his arms around her.

Draco smirked, resting his forehead against hers. "Admit it, you were going to drown yourself in books and forget the holiday existed."

Hermione laughed softly, though she couldn't deny the truth. "Maybe a little."

Draco studied her for a moment, his playful smirk fading slightly. He hesitated before speaking again, his voice softer. "You know... you could always come with me."

Hermione's eyes widened in surprise, her heart stuttering. "To Malfoy Manor?"

Draco nodded, his fingers brushing lightly through her hair. "My mother would appreciate the company, and it's better than spending the holiday alone, right?"

The words hung between them, but the moment Draco mentioned Malfoy Manor, the memories hit Hermione like a wave. Bellatrix's cackling laugh, the sharp pain as the knife carved the word into her arm, the feeling of complete helplessness as she lay on that cold, stone floor.

Hermione's breath hitched, her vision swimming for a moment as the memories crashed over her. Her hand went to her arm instinctively, fingers tracing the scar through her sleeve. She could feel her chest tighten, her breath coming in shallow, rapid bursts. The room seemed to close in, her heart pounding in her ears.

Draco noticed immediately, his expression shifting from playful to concerned in a heartbeat. "Hey—hey, it's okay." He pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her, his voice low and soothing. "You don't have to go if it's too much. I won't let anything happen to you. I promise."

"Hey," Draco murmured softly, his lips brushing against her hair as he held her tighter. "It's not like that anymore."

Hermione leaned into him, her heart still racing, her forehead resting against his chest. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to push the memories away, to focus on the present. "Draco... I don't know if I can go back there. After everything that happened—"

"I know," he said quietly, his hand gently rubbing her back in slow, comforting circles. "I know. But we won't go near that room. I swear it, Hermione. We've been working on cleaning the Manor up... my mother and I. We've been clearing out the dark magic that was left behind. That room... we've sealed it off. It's not like it was."

Hermione's breath came in short bursts, but the panic began to ease as Draco continued to speak, his voice low and soothing.

"One wing of the Manor wasn't even touched by the war," he went on, his tone growing softer, more reassuring. "It's... different. And the gardens—they're beautiful. You'd love them. They've always been my mother's pride and joy. They're untouched by anything dark."

Hermione lifted her head slightly, her forehead still pressed against his chest, her fingers gripping the front of his robes. "The gardens?"

Draco nodded, his hand sliding up to cup her cheek, his thumb brushing gently across her skin. "Yeah. You won't have to be anywhere near that part of the Manor. I won't let you. It's just... it's not the same place anymore, Hermione. I promise."

Hermione looked up at him, her eyes still filled with doubt but softening slightly at his words. She could see the sincerity in his expression, the way his gaze held hers without a trace of his usual teasing. There was something raw and vulnerable there—something real.

"I don't want to make you uncomfortable," Draco continued, his voice quieter now. "But I think... if you came, maybe you'd see it's different. You wouldn't be alone."

Hermione felt the panic slowly ebb away, replaced by the warmth of his arms around her, the steady beat of his heart beneath her cheek. She let out a shaky breath, her fingers still clinging to his robes as she processed his words.

"We won't go near that room?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, her throat tight.

"Not even close," Draco promised, his eyes soft as he leaned down, resting his forehead gently against hers. "I'll take care of everything, okay? You won't have to deal with any of it. Just... think about it."

Hermione nodded slowly, still feeling a trace of unease but finding comfort in his closeness, in the quiet promises he was making. "Okay," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. "I'll think about it."

Draco smiled, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, lingering there for a moment. "That's all I ask."

Hermione closed her eyes, letting herself relax into his embrace. The fear wasn't gone, but with Draco holding her like this, she felt stronger, more capable of facing the ghosts of her past. For the first time, the thought of returning to Malfoy Manor didn't feel entirely impossible.

The morning sun filtered through the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall, casting a soft golden glow over the rows of tables filled with chattering students. Hermione sat at the Slytherin table, as had become more common for her lately. Her presence there no longer caused whispers or surprised looks—people were getting used to seeing her by Draco's side. He was reading the Daily Prophet, sipping his tea, while she picked at her toast and absentmindedly leafed through a few pages of notes she had brought with her.

An owl swooped down from the ceiling, dropping a crisp-looking letter onto her plate. Hermione frowned, instantly recognizing the official Ministry seal stamped on the parchment. She picked it up carefully, feeling a knot form in her stomach. Draco glanced over the top of his paper, noticing her sudden tension.

"What's that?" he asked casually, though his curiosity was clear.

Hermione didn't answer right away, her fingers already working to break the seal. She unfolded the letter and scanned the contents, her eyes narrowing as she read. The knot in her stomach tightened, and by the time she finished, her hands were shaking.

"They've invited me to speak at the Ministry about the class," she said, her voice clipped. "The Board of Governors is going to 'entertain' my proposal."

Draco raised an eyebrow, setting his paper aside. "That's good, isn't it?"

Hermione's jaw tightened. "They're only doing it because I have your headmaster's backing... and Harry's. They're not even pretending to care about the merits of the idea. Listen to this—" She held up the letter, her voice rising as she read the part that had her blood boiling. "'We are willing to hear your arguments, though we would not have considered it without the support of both the Headmaster and Mr. Potter, whose influence is, of course, considerable.'"

Draco's eyes darkened, and his jaw tightened as he scanned the letter over her shoulder. "That's ridiculous," he muttered, his voice filled with quiet anger. "It's insulting." He looked at Hermione, his fingers brushing against hers. "They'll regret underestimating you."

Hermione slammed the letter down onto the table, the sound loud enough to cause a few nearby students to glance over. "Exactly! They're making it seem like I can't stand on my own, that I only deserve a hearing because Harry's backing me up, not because the idea is worth anything!"

Draco's hand reached for hers, his touch grounding her as he spoke calmly. "You knew this wasn't going to be easy, Hermione. The Ministry and the Board are full of people who don't want to change anything. They're stubborn."

"I know," she snapped, though she immediately regretted the sharpness in her tone. "But it's the way they phrased it—like my ideas don't matter unless someone powerful says they do. It's infuriating!"

Draco squeezed her hand gently, his voice softening. "I get it. They're testing you. But you'll prove them wrong."

Hermione's anger simmered beneath the surface as she pulled her hand back, standing abruptly. "I need to go find Ginny and Ron. I'm not dealing with this right now."

Draco raised an eyebrow, watching her as she gathered her things in a huff. "You sure you don't want to calm down before storming off?"

"No," Hermione snapped, her frustration evident in every movement. "I'm furious, and they'll understand why."

Without another word, she spun on her heel and stormed out of the Great Hall, her shoes clicking sharply against the stone floor. Heads turned as she passed, but she was too angry to care. Draco watched her go, shaking his head slightly but smirking to himself. She was unstoppable when she was angry—he almost felt bad for the Ministry.

Hermione's pace didn't slow as she made her way through the castle corridors, her mind racing with a mix of fury and determination. She found Ginny and Ron sitting together near the entrance to the courtyard, finishing their breakfast. Ginny spotted her first, her eyes widening when she saw Hermione's thunderous expression.

"What happened?" Ginny asked, immediately setting her food down.

Hermione thrust the letter in front of them, her words coming out in a rush. "I got the invitation from the Ministry. They're only letting me speak because of Harry and Snape. Listen to this patronising rubbish!"

She snatched the letter back and read aloud, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she recited the offending line.

Ron scowled, shoving his plate away. "What a load of dragon dung. That's just them trying to make themselves feel important."

Hermione let out a sharp breath, pacing back and forth in front of them. "I know! It's just so... so insulting. I thought they'd at least pretend to take it seriously, but no, it's just another reminder that unless I have Harry or Snape supporting me, I'm invisible to them."

Ginny stood and placed a hand on Hermione's arm, trying to calm her. "We'll make them listen. You're not alone in this, and you'll have us all there when you present the idea."

Ron nodded, standing up as well. "You're right to be mad, but you're also going to prove them wrong. They'll hear you out, and they'll realise they can't ignore the idea forever."

Hermione took a deep breath, trying to let their words sink in. Her heart was still racing, her anger still bubbling beneath the surface, but having Ginny and Ron's support helped ease the tension slightly. She gave them a tight, grateful smile.

"Thanks," she muttered, brushing her hair out of her face. "I needed to vent."

Ginny smiled back. "That's what we're here for. And honestly, the Ministry deserves a good telling off."

Hermione's smile widened slightly, the fire in her chest beginning to cool. "I just... I didn't expect it to feel so dismissive."

Ron threw his arm around her shoulders, pulling her into a half-hug. "It's their loss if they don't take you seriously. But they will."

Hermione sighed, leaning into the hug briefly. "You're right. I'm going to make sure they do."