Mon ange gardien

by virgules

We all know what Harry went through during his years at Hogwarts. But what happened where he wasn't looking? A love affair between his best friend and his nemesis...? Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy, from first to seventh year, gradually fall in love during the real books. Chapter every Sunday evening!

79. 79 : Charles Baudelaire's peace treaty

Happy Sunday everyone!

I'm super grateful for the growth this fic is getting, the stats have been accelerating over the last few months and I still can't believe how much you love MAG. I'm still having so much fun writing it, I have ideas popping into my head every day and I can't wait to get home to write them. I'm on holiday until September, so I'm spending a lot of time writing to get ahead on the chapters, I hope you enjoy the next ones 3

Again, thank you so much for your comments, they motivate me enormously.

There's some Dramione interaction in this chapter, they're going through a difficult phase but it was necessary to sort out some lingering tensions...

notes:

- The French translation of each sentence is at the end of the chapter.
tw: emetophobia (at the end of Draco's first POV)

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Draco

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"Come on... Come on, Eris, please..."

Draco sighed for the twentieth time, at exactly the same time as Blaise. The latter was holding Eris's leash with the tip of his fingers, and they had gone deep enough into the Hogwarts grounds that no one could see them from the castle.

"Come on, Eris..." muttered Blaise.

The "dog" (because Draco still wasn't convinced it was one) looked at them calmly, head cocked to one side, sitting on the grass. It was so dark that it would have been easy to lose it if its fur hadn't been so white.

"Come on, you bloody dog..." Blaise hissed through his teeth, wiggling the leash to get the animal to move, but it didn't flinch.

"Why did you buy this again?" asked Draco with a barely concealed hint of sarcasm.

"To make Pansy happy."

"And why do I have to put up with the spectacle of it pissing on the floor?"

"He's not pissing on the floor, that's the whole point." Blaise grunted. "Come on, Eris!"

"I'm leaving." Draco declared, taking a step forward.

"No!" yelled Blaise. "Wait for me."

"What, are you afraid of the dark?" asked Draco with a mocking chuckle.

"No, I'm afraid of creatures that are far too dangerous to be standing next to a school of underage students just a few steps away from us." Blaise said, pointing to the dark edge of the Forbidden Forest. "Wait five minutes, he'll have to pee eventually..."

"Chances are I'll freeze to death before then."

"You sound like Theo."

Draco muttered to himself, looking out at the Castle's lighted windows to keep his eyes off the dog on the floor. He heard Blaise mutter some words of encouragement and stopped himself from rolling his eyes.

"And why isn't Pansy walking it, exactly?" asked Draco after a few minutes of silence.

"She's rushing to finish her Herbology essay with Theo." Blaise explained. "I offered to do it so she wouldn't have to go out."

Bloody Blaise and his gentlemanly ways in all circumstances. Draco shoved his hands into his pockets to warm his fingers and kicked the ground with his foot to get rid of the snow.

"Do you think he's cold?" asked Blaise, looking worriedly at the dog. "Maybe that's why he won't pee there."

Draco looked down at its paws embedded in the layer of powder and raised an eyebrow:

"Yeah, maybe."

Blaise took the animal in his arms and carried it a little further, to an untouched layer of earth. The dog remained in the same position, looking at them without making the slightest movement.

"Is that a brainless option dog you bought?" asked Draco, earning a chuckle from his best friend.

"Pansy loves him, and he loves her. That's the most important thing." he replied, still so wise and calm.

Even if Draco didn't want to admit it, Blaise was right. It was hard not to notice the drastic change in Pansy's mood between before and after her birthday. Eris hadn't just added a ton of white hair to their clothes, it had also given Pansy a new reason to live, and she was getting better every day. She smiled more, and no longer looked sick or hung-over all the time. She was with Eris whenever she could. She spent her time combing its fur, pampering it, holding it in her lap. And Eris returned the favour, barking happily whenever she entered a room, or licking her face from side to side. And for the first time in her life, Pansy didn't care if it ruined her make-up. When it was Eris, she didn't care.

So, even if Draco didn't really understand it, he had to face the facts: Theo and Blaise had had a brilliant idea in giving her this gift. Even if it meant Draco had to go out in the snow to watch it piss.

"By the way, I managed to get an old bottle of Firewhisky for the party tonight." Blaise said in a more cheerful tone. "1713, liquorice flavour. Want to try it?"

"Can't, I've got the Prefects round." Draco replied.

"Oh, right." said Blaise, a little disappointed. "With Granger, is it?"

Draco nodded, biting his tongue in stress at the thought of her. He knew Granger would probably ignore him, but even if they didn't talk all evening, it would still be the first time they'd been this close since the match. Since he'd kissed her. How could he walk around the Castle with her as if nothing had happened?

Noticing his silence, Blaise asked:

"Nervous?"

"Me? Why would I be nervous?" asked Draco, feigning detachment as best he could.

Blaise chuckled, sending a cloud of icy mist into the air:

"Merlin, I'd be terrified if I had to spend two hours with Granger."

Draco felt his insides clench as he heard this. Knowing her, he knew she'd be capable of locking him in a jar and throwing him in a London park if she felt like it.

Why had he kissed her?

"I'm not." Draco said. "I don't give a crap about her."

Blaise didn't answer, and Draco wondered how much his best friend knew what a lie that was.

"Come on, Eris, hurry up..." Blaise continued to the dog, who hadn't moved a muscle.

"Maybe you should talk to it like Pansy does." Draco suggested.

Blaise turned his head towards him, slightly horrified.

"You mean...?"

"Yeah. Maybe that's the only way it'll work."

"You do it." ordered Blaise.

"No fucking way." replied Draco. "I'd rather be eaten by a creature from the Forest than talk to that thing."

Blaise rolled his eyes and leaned towards Eris and its dangling tongue.

"Come on, Eris... Little... Little furball of love, do a wee please... My... My sweet heart..."

Draco burst out laughing when he heard Blaise's deep voice say these words, but he was right, because Eris barked and raised its hind leg to relieve itself. As soon as it had done so, Blaise exclaimed:

"Well done, good doggie!"

And Draco was convinced that he had said it out loud without meaning to.

Blaise then picked up the dog and put it on his forearm and Draco covered it with Zunko's invisibility cloak to make it disappear, then they returned to the Castle.

Pansy and Theo had probably finished the Herbology test, because they now had a chessboard between them and seemed to be in the middle of a game. Theo was watching the board with such extreme concentration that it was almost comical: Draco could see the vein in his forehead standing out. Pansy, on the other hand, was half reclining on the sofa and looking deeply disinterested, until she spotted Blaise and Draco walking through the door of the Common Room:

"They're here!" she said, rising to her feet. "Where's my baby?"

Blaise approached Pansy on the sofa and freed the dog from the cloak. Eris immediately rushed to its mistress and she gave it a huge hug, as if they hadn't seen each other for years, even though it had only been half an hour.

"Oh, my love, I've missed you! You're so beautiful and clean! Did you have a good wee? Did you have a good time with Uncle Blaise and Uncle Draco?"

Blaise smiled but Draco winced behind his back at hearing such a nickname.

"Oh, my love baby, I missed you, yes yes yes..."

Pansy's words quickly turned into incomprehensible squeaks. Draco sat back in his armchair and consulted the clock apprehensively. He still had twenty minutes before the start of the round. After Blaise had given Pansy a full report on "Eris's journey", he sat down in his favourite armchair and took out a book, uninterested in the game in progress.

Draco, for his part, lost himself in contemplating the depths of the Black Lake through the window, thinking about the round tonight. He knew Granger was angry with him, but he didn't know if it was because of the kiss itself, or her reaction afterwards. Now she was ignoring him as much as he was. He knew she was waiting for him to make the first move, but he couldn't find the courage to tell her.

He was deep in thought when Theo asked him:

"Draco, qu'est-ce que tu me conseilles de faire ?"

He turned his head towards his best friend, who was still gazing intently at the chessboard.

Since second year, Theo and Draco had found an excellent way of talking to each other without anyone else around them understanding what they were saying: by speaking in French. Pansy had never listened to a single foreign language course before Hogwarts, and Blaise had only learnt Italian. So, as soon as they realised that the other could speak French, they immediately used it as a secret language. Most of the time, Theo used it to insult Crabbe and Goyle in front of them, and Draco to make fun of Pansy, who couldn't stand it when they spoke French in front of her.

This time, Theo wanted to draw his attention to the game. Draco looked wearily at the board and analysed Theo's white pieces.

"Tu ne veux pas prendre son Fou ?" he asked.

"Hey, that's cheating!" cried Pansy, glowering at them. "You can't do that!"

"Do what?" questioned Theo, pretending to not understand. "Je ne peux pas, son Cavalier va prendre ma Reine si je fais ça."

"Ask Draco for help with the game!" squealed Pansy.

"We're not talking about chess." replied Theo with a shrug.

"Tu devrais ouvrir le jeu sur la gauche avec tes pions." advised Draco.

"I may not have paid attention to the French lessons, but I know what "Cavalier" means, Theodore Nott!" indignantly snapped Pansy, causing Eris to stir in protest in her lap.

"It's not forbidden, as far as I know?" said Theo. "You could always ask Blaise for advice in Italian. Je sacrifie mon Fou pour détourner son attention ?" he added to Draco, in a perfect French accent.

Pansy rolled her eyes. She had some basic knowledge of Italian, but not enough to ask Blaise's opinion on such a specific subject. The latter was still reading his book and wasn't paying the slightest attention to them, even when he heard his first name.

"Non, pas la peine." Draco replied, leaning back against the back of the armchair. "Ouvre le jeu et elle sortira son Roi d'elle-même."

"That's cheating." muttered Pansy with a disgusted look on her face.

"No, it's strategy." Theo disagreed, moving his pawn forward as Draco had suggested.

Pansy looked at the chessboard, her lips curled. And just as Draco had predicted, she brought out her King to counter Theo. He smiled as he realised how well he knew her, even though he had never played against her.

For the first time in weeks, Theo managed to checkmate. As soon as Pansy's King dropped his sword on the dusty tiles, Pansy crumpled up against the sofa in a bad mood:

"It's not fair, you asked Draco for help." she said with a sulky pout.

Theo grinned victoriously and put the pieces back in place.

"Draco, how about a game?" he offered.

"Can't, I've got the prefects' round." he replied as he got up. "See you."

Theo and Pansy waved at him and Draco heard Theo behind him asking if Blaise wanted to play. He stepped out into the dungeon corridor, shivering under his jumper. He was a little early, but he knew Granger would be too.

On the way to the Great Hall, Draco tried to Occlude without much success. He hadn't been able to close his mind properly for days, and several books from his mental library had still fallen to the floor without him picking them up. He couldn't bring himself to open the doors and let the memory of his kiss with Granger assault him.

She was waiting for him near the doors to the Great Hall. At least the advantage was that tonight she didn't have to pretend to hate him in front of the others to create a cover. It was as if she hated him as much as she did the first years, which was an extremely disturbing sight. He struggled to recognise the girl dressed as an angel on their bench.

She didn't even say good evening when he reached her level and took off towards the stairs at an impressive speed to begin the patrol. Draco followed her, his hands in his pockets, his head lowered to avoid seeing the lips of the girl in front of him that had haunted his nights for days.

Granger continued to walk in front of him without turning around. This attitude reminded him of the one she'd had before the Ball, and just like then, Draco couldn't find the courage to speak to her first. By kissing her, he had broken something that had been building up between them, he had acted on his feelings, the ones he was desperately trying to push aside in his mind. Now the air around them wasn't just charged with electricity, it was charged with something else, a bond, a moment they had shared, and it was impossible to erase.

He was angry at himself for kissing her, and he didn't know how to tell her because he'd never been good at communicating. It wasn't like with Pansy. They'd had hundreds of fights since they were kids, and Draco had gone through long, excruciating days after he'd kissed her without her wanting him to, but she'd forgiven him in the end, as she always did. He hadn't needed to make a long speech full of confessions and apologies. Pansy could read him.

Granger was different. He might have known her after all this time with her, but he had no idea how she would react. He didn't know how she felt, or the reason for her ignorance these past few weeks. And he hated not knowing. When he saw the way she treated him during this round, pretending he didn't exist, he understood that she had chosen to wait. Wait for him to decide to talk to her again.

They would talk again, he was sure of it. He would probably go to the bench one evening and they could pretend that nothing had happened. They could continue to study together in the Library and forget that the kiss had ever happened. He could do that. They just needed time to put it behind them and move on.

Draco had practically convinced himself of this probability when Granger suddenly turned, grabbed his shirt collar and opened the door to the room to their right, throwing him violently inside.

Draco half stumbled and slammed into the wall of the entrance hall. It was a large, empty classroom, the wooden desks stacked to one side, the blackboard and wastepaper basket covered in a thick layer of dust. The stained glass windows projected a faint light that reflected off the floor in white mosaic squares. But Draco barely had time to take in the place before Granger stood in front of him, her wild curls surrounding her anger-soaked face.

"You're a coward, Draco Malfoy!" she shouted in her high-pitched voice.

And just like that, Draco knew he had been completely wrong.

"What?" he stammered, far too surprised by what she had just done to be outraged by her words.

"Why are you ignoring me?" she asked, sinking her glowing gaze into his.

"I'm not..."

"You are ignoring me." Granger replied dryly, crossing her arms over her chest. "I want to know why. Or rather, what did you expect? You kiss me, you run away, you don't speak to me afterwards, then what? What did you expect, Malfoy, that I would wait quietly until you decided to come back to me? Explain yourself!"

Draco felt his palms sweat.

"I don't know, Granger, I..."

"You don't know?!" she repeated in a piercing voice that made Draco tense at how terrifying it was. "Seriously? You've forgotten? You've forgotten me?" She placed an index finger on his chest and pushed him back against the wall with a snarl. "You're so used to kissing girls you chat to every day that you've forgotten I exist, haven't you?"

Draco took a step forward, trying to argue with her, but she spoke much louder than he did:

"Well, I haven't forgotten, Malfoy! I waited for you all week on the bench and on the table in the Library and you didn't come, you ignored me, like it was my fault! I'm furious with you, and you don't even have the guts to come and talk to me? After what you've done? You're such a coward!"

She pressed her forefinger a little harder against his chest with each word, as if to emphasise her anger, and Draco had no choice but to step back and let her continue her tirade without interruption:

"This time, you have no excuse, Malfoy!" she said, her voice unusually full of venom. "You can't use your father, or your anger, or whatever. You kissed me, and then ran away like a coward, without any explanation, and did you really expect me to let that go? Pretend it never happened so you could run away from your responsibilities again?"

"Hey!" shouted Draco, his ego stung. "It's got nothing to do with that, it's just..."

Granger stabbed him again in the chest with her index finger:

"No, that's enough! I don't want to hear anything from you! You had all last week to do it, now it's over, I'm tired, I'm tired of waiting for you to show up! And I'm more than tired of you deciding everything between us. You tell me you're in love with me, but you don't let me talk about it, as if I'm supposed to ignore this, this... this bomb you dropped without warning, and as soon as I have the misfortune to try, you reject me. And now you're kissing me and pushing me away without even knowing what I think! Because you don't really care what I think, do you? You're so focused on your family, your Malfoy values, other people's opinions, that you couldn't care less about what I feel! Is that it?"

"That's not true, Granger..."

"If it's not true, why didn't you come and talk to me about it?" she asked sharply. "Why didn't you come to the bench so we could discuss it together?"

"Because I was afraid of how you'd react!" replied Draco in a loud voice as he pushed back her accusing finger. "I was afraid you'd start hating me again, that you'd never want to see me again after what I've done! I thought that... that you took it badly and I didn't... I didn't want to hear you reject me, it would have been too painful..."

"So you chose to ignore me until I had to drag you into an empty classroom to yell at you, is that it?" asked Granger, full of sarcasm.

"No!" Draco retorted immediately, finding it hard to find the words when she looked at him with such fury. "I was afraid, Granger! I was afraid that after... I did what I did, you'd never want to speak to me again, or hold it against me! I never should have done it, I felt bad, I thought... I thought you never wanted to speak to me again, that you needed time to see me again, to..."

Granger rolled her eyes gravely, as if he'd just said the most absurd thing she'd ever heard in her life.

"For someone who likes to brag all the time, Malfoy, you're the worst communicator I've ever met."

"Stop calling me that." Draco pleaded in a choked voice.

"No, because that's what you've been for the past week." Granger replied dryly. Her tone had softened, but she still wore the marks of anger on every feature of her face. "Malfoy. Unimpressive, obnoxious, insufferable Malfoy. Why didn't you come to the bench?"

"I was afraid." Draco admitted, looking into her eyes so that she could see his sincerity there, as opposed to his words, which he struggled to make clear. "I was afraid that everything would change after I kissed you. I was afraid of how you'd react, afraid you'd resent me or ask me never to come near you again, and that frightened me, Granger."

"So you'd rather walk away and never speak to me again than hear me say that?" she asked, her eyebrows raised to show how ridiculous she found the thought.

"Yes, I think so." Draco admitted. "I didn't know how to... I didn't know how to apologise. I chose to ignore all my problems rather than face them."

Granger rolled her eyes a second time, on the verge of despair.

"Well, that was stupid." she decided. "Because if you'd taken responsibility for once in your life, I could have told you that I have no regrets."

Draco had opened his mouth but closed it when he heard the end of her sentence. She saw his surprised expression and continued in an even harsher tone:

"It was unexpected, and I shouldn't be pleased that it happened because you'd just had a fight with Harry and George, but I am. If you had come to this bench I could have told you all this, but you preferred to run away! All I did was wait for you like an idiot on that bench for days, and wait for you to turn up in the Library, and I hate it!" Granger tapped her foot on the floor to show her exasperation. "I hate being that girl who waits for you, who only thinks about that, about you, about your kiss! I'm not like that, I've never been like that!" She suddenly stepped closer to him, and Draco didn't know if she wanted to hit him, or cry. "I'm supposed to be a thinking, sane, logical, rational girl, but you've turned everything upside down since you told me you loved me!"

Draco clenched his fists as he heard her say this.

"And you've turned everything upside down since you set foot inside this fucking Castle!" he shouted, taking a step forward. "I was supposed to be a respectable Pureblood, and find a respectable Pureblood wife, and live in the shadow of my father and his respectable values, but then you came along, and you showed me that everything isn't black and white, you managed to get under my skin, change everything I've believed since I was born, and I fell in love with you! Do you really think I have any idea what I'm doing? Do you think I planned to kiss you? I don't even understand what I'm feeling most of the time! I'm constantly angry, except when you're around, and I don't even know why! It's as if you put a spell on me, as if you had the ability to change me in the blink of an eye, and you know the worst thing about it? I don't give a fuck! I'm addicted to it, to you! For the longest time I thought the Library was helping me breathe, but it's not the Library, Granger, it's you!"

Draco was so close to her that he could see the tears forming at the corners of her eyes. Her chocolate eyes were locked with his.

There was a few seconds of silence as Draco paced in front of her to calm his breathing and Granger wiped away her tears of anger.

"Why didn't you tell me all this after you kissed me, Draco?" she asked, without any gentleness in her voice.

He stopped walking and stood in front of her. Close. Too close. He could smell the strawberry in her hair.

"Because I can't tell you that." he replied, just as quietly. "I can't tell you all this because I'm afraid you'll fall in love with me, and I'll have to break your heart. And break mine in the process."

He brought a hand up to wipe away the tear that had escaped her lashes and rolled down her cheek. Granger let out a small laugh that made her lip quiver:

"Too late, Draco."

He stopped moving and looked at her uncomprehendingly.

"Too late to break your heart?" he asked.

"No." Granger said, not taking her eyes off him. "Too late not to fall in love with you."

Draco's heart pounded in his chest. He took a reflexive step back.

"Don't say that." he growled, almost threatening.

But Granger, stubborn as ever, shook her head.

"No, I'm going to say it. You don't want to admit your feelings because you're afraid I'll share them. But I do, Draco."

"You don't mean what you say." he said firmly, refusing to believe that she could actually say those words at this moment.

"Yes, I do." Granger asserted with a firmness that was so uncharacteristic of her. She didn't even blush.

Draco Occluded.

"It's the kiss, it's gone to your head." he breathed, not really sure if he was trying to convince her or himself. "You're just saying that because you're confused, that's all. You're not in love with me, you're in love with Weasley."

Granger's features hardened and she stepped back as if he had physically pushed her away.

"Stop talking in my place!" she shouted in her high-pitched voice. "You don't know how I feel! I'm not in love with Ron, I'm in love with yo..."

"No!" cut in Draco, who didn't know whether to be angry or horrified. "Don't say that Granger, please don't."

"But why?" she asked, anger piercing every syllable. "Why don't you want to hear it? Why won't you let me say it, why won't you talk about your feelings?"

Draco grabbed his hair and pulled, hard.

"Because we can't, Granger!" he said. "We can't, it's too dangerous! Do you know what you risk if it gets out?"

Granger let out a sound somewhere between a sob and a laugh:

"Yes, I do! You're Lucius Malfoy's son and I'm Harry Potter's best friend, I'm a Gryffindor and you're a Slytherin, you're a Pureblood and I'm a Muggle-born! I know all these things! You've been telling me that for months!"

Her eyes were so blazing that Draco could feel her gaze piercing through his shell of Occlumency.

When Granger spoke again, it was in a much more confident tone:

"I just wanted to tell you... so you'd understand what's at stake. You're not in this alone anymore, Draco. I'm in love with you too, and we're just going to have to deal with it."

Draco took these last words like a punch to the chest: he exhaled all the air in his lungs brutally. It was even more violent than what Potter and Weasley had done to him after the match, an explosion of combined joy and fear that hit him hard, violently. He almost wanted to cover his ears to avoid hearing what Granger said, but it was too late: she had said it. There was no turning back now. She'd said the words he'd wanted to hear for years, but dreaded just as much.

Lucius' waxy face appeared on his eyelids, like a spiteful reminder, and Draco became instantly nauseous.

"You can't... Granger..." he whispered, his head in his hands and his body practically bent forward.

She straightened as if to tower over him with her height and said, weighing her every word:

"I can, and I do."

Draco lifted his head to look at her and was not surprised to find the flame of determination in her all-too-stubborn Gryffindor eyes.

"It can't be, Granger!" cried Draco, suddenly turning to face the wall. Anything rather than see the hope on the girl's face in front of him. "We can't! It's too risky! If my family finds out, if the Slytherins..."

Obviously that wasn't the right thing to say. Granger's hope suddenly turned to rage, her neck covered in small red spots and her mouth twisted into a grimace of disgust:

"So that's it, then!" she said in a bitter voice that didn't sound like her at all. "You're afraid your friends are going to find out you're in love with me, aren't you? Afraid your precious Parkinson will find out how you feel about a Muggle-born like me? Or how would Zabini react if he found out you were hanging out with a Mudblood every night?"

Draco lunged forward to stop her from uttering the insult, but he didn't have time to silence her: the word echoed off the stone walls of the room, and it was so empty that it sounded like an echo.

"No!" he shouted, horrified that she could have jumped to such a conclusion. "It has nothing to do with this, Granger!"

She pushed him away from her with both hands and, strangely, the impact was even more brutal than when Fred Weasley had done it a week earlier.

"You think I don't know the risks?!" she continued, her body shaking with fury. "Do you really think you're the only one who would lose everything if they found out? Let me remind you that I'm best friends with Harry Potter, your sworn enemy! If he knew I was in love with you, he'd take it as a betrayal, and I'd lose everything! How do you think I've lived since you sat down at the Library table?" It was a rhetorical question, but Draco didn't know the answer: she'd never mentioned it before. "I live every day with the fear that they'll figure out who I'm spending my evenings with, and as soon as I get home, the guilt eats away at me, and keeps me awake! And after what you did during the match, after what you said, how am I supposed to defend you? When even I don't know if you deserve my forgiveness? Do you think I'm telling you all this lightly, that it's just a fleeting crush? Do you honestly think, Draco, that I would risk the two best friendships I have for you on purpose?"

"That's precisely why I don't want to hear what you told me!" contracted Draco, so loudly that he was suddenly afraid the portraits behind the door might hear their screams. "I want to protect you, Granger! I don't give a fuck if my friends find out how I feel about you, I'm scared because if it gets back to my father's ears, it won't just be me who'll be punished, it'll be you! And you don't know what they're capable of, they can destroy you, you won't just lose your Weasleys and your Potter, you'll lose your reputation, your family, maybe even your life, and fuck, there's no way I'm losing you!"

More angry tears rolled down Granger's cheeks, and Draco thought he felt the same on his own face, but did nothing to wipe them away. He couldn't understand the shivers that ran down his arms: was it anger, fear, or the desire to get close to her to kiss her?

"But you're already losing me, Draco!" Granger said in a strangled cry.

"I'd rather lose you early than see you broken when it's too late." he said, the words coming out of his mouth before he could even process them. "I would rather set you free than condemn you to a disastrous future." He lowered his voice. "I'm doing this for your own good, Hermione. I'm doing this so you don't suffer for what I've done. I'm taking responsibility, for once in my life."

A sob broke from Granger's throat and Draco had to brace himself against the wall to keep from pulling her into his arms.

"So you end everything before it even starts?" she asked, lowering her head so he wouldn't see her tears. "You don't even give me a choice? Don't I even get to decide what I want?"

"No." Draco said quietly. The shivering on his arms subsided, his head empty, his throat dry, his heart broken. "I'm doing this to protect you."

"But I don't want to be protected!" she said stubbornly. "I want us to go back to the way we were, I want you to be Draco again, my Draco..." Then she added in one breath: "I miss you."

Draco's feeble attempt at Occlumency collapsed as soon as he heard this. He felt the contradictory and all-consuming urge to cross the few feet that separated them and kiss her again. As if that was the only way to know if she was sincere.

"I miss you too." he admitted, because it was true.

"Then come back." Granger said, half command, half plea.

"I can't." Draco replied with a small, pained smile. "We can't be together, Granger. Merlin knows I crave it, but we can't. And it's nothing to do with Pansy, or Blaise, or Theo." He moved closer to her and, without realising it, brought his hand to her cheek to caress it gently, as if to soften the harshness of the words he was about to speak. "You should be with someone who's right for you, Granger, not some doomed boy already condemned by his family who support the regime you hate. You deserve to be with someone good. Like... Like Weasley." he spat in spite of himself. "Or Goldstein, or Longbottom, or even that Muggle Hufflepuff. You should be with someone who supports your struggles, not someone who threatens your existence by daring to hold your hand. You should be with someone who's gentle and kind, not someone who destroys everything at the slightest provocation. I was selfish to think we could be friends, because I led you down paths that were far too dark for you to follow. I'm sorry, Granger."

Draco had no idea how he'd managed to get that speech out without his voice trembling or him feeling physically ill after he'd said it. He remained upright and even dared to look into her eyes. Without any Occlumency. Bare. Sincere. Granger shook her head, a little less forcefully.

"You're in love with Weasley." Draco whispered, an affirmation. "He's the one you should be with."

They looked at each other for a long moment. He could see all her determination melt and dissipate, to become a mask of deep frustration. Tears stagnated on the edges of her eyelids now, and she wiped her cheeks one last time with the sleeve of her cloack, then said:

"Very well. If that's what you want."

Her voice was white and off, unrecognisable and the opposite of her usual high-pitched timbre that he loved so much. And just like that, before he could even tell her that it wasn't what he wanted, but rather what he was being forced to do, Granger turned on her heels and walked out of the empty classroom.

Draco waited a full minute, perhaps in the hope that she would return. But Granger didn't come back, so Draco opened the door, took the corridor, crossed it in a few strides, entered the toilets, and vomited all the contents of his stomach, as if to wash away what he'd just said.

.

.

---

Hermione

---

.

.

Hermione cried furiously all the way back to her Common Room. For the first time in her life, she failed her prefect duties and skipped the end of rounds, unable to patrol the Castle after her fight with Draco.

She was grateful to see that Harry and Ron had already gone to bed. She wasn't sure she could lie to explain her tears at that moment. Hermione rushed towards the dormitories before being hailed by a Gryffindor and climbed the stairs four at a time towards Ginny's dormitory.

She didn't even knock on the door to enter the round room and rushed onto her best friend's closed bed. She vaguely heard the sounds of the shower that one of Ginny's housemates must have been using before Hermione opened the bed curtain. Ginny was lying there, cross-legged on her duvet, her radio playing rock music in the background, reading a battered Quidditch magazine. She didn't seem surprised to see Hermione, but frowned when she saw her tear-streaked cheeks.

"Mione?" she called gently as she closed her magazine. "What happened?"

Hermione lay down next to Ginny, closed the curtains with a flick of her wand, then soundproofed around them. There was a silence, where Hermione stared at the ceiling and Ginny stared at her profile waiting for her to explain.

"Draco Malfoy's a massive twat." she finally declared.

To Ginny's credit, she didn't even blink. Yet Hermione never used a vulgar word.

"Yeah, you could say that." her best friend admitted. "But he's not supposed to be one with you. What did he do?"

"We had a fight." Hermione said with a sigh of annoyance.

"Again?"

"Yes, again, because he's just unbearable!" Hermione explained in a voice close to a squeak. "He decides everything and I don't get a say, not even on a subject that concerns me! He makes me sound like a little girl who doesn't know anything about life and can't make her own decisions, it's, it's... it's so frustrating! He's suffocating, that's what he is! He doesn't let me get a word in edgewise, and I always end up crying, and he runs away before I can give my opinion!"

"He ran away from your argument?" asked Ginny, her eyebrows knitted together, clearly trying to decipher Hermione's shaky explanation.

"No, I did." she replied. "But he'd pissed me off!"

Ginny sat cross-legged on the blanket in front of Hermione.

"Okay, Mione, you're going to have to explain all this to me more clearly." she said very seriously.

Hermione took a deep breath and told her everything. From the Gryffindor match to the argument in the empty classroom, not forgetting the kiss in the stairwell that made her cheeks flush. Ginny listened to his story without interrupting, but opened her mouth wide when she heard that Draco had kissed her.

When Hermione got to her attempted confession, her best friend interrupted her for the first time:

"Are you in love with him?"

Hermione was suddenly embarrassed: strangely enough, this confession was even harder than saying that they had kissed.

"Yes, I think so." she replied in a whisper.

"Since when?"

"I don't know." Hermione admitted. "It happened gradually..."

"And you told him just like that, out of the blue?" asked Ginny with a hint of admiration.

"I tried, at least!" cried Hermione. "But he wouldn't listen! He kept telling me we couldn't, that it was too risky..."

She felt the tears well up again and sniffled. Ginny said quietly, without any judgement in her tone:

"He's not wrong, Mione. It is dangerous. If this gets out..."

"I know that. But... His reaction was... He didn't even apologise for what he said to Harry and your brothers after the game, he'd rather... break what we have than do it. He's a coward, he's selfish and he's a massive twat."

Ginny nodded, thoughtfully.

"He's scared." she whispered after a moment.

Hermione looked up at her best friend in surprise. She wouldn't have thought Ginny would come to his defence now.

"I'm not saying that's a reason for what he did." the redhead went on. "When George told me what he said that day, I can assure you I wanted to rip that ferret's head off. But hearing it from your point of view... I think he's afraid of the amount of feeling he has for you.

"He told me to fall in love with Ron instead."

Ginny grimaced:

"As if he could choose who you fell in love with."

"That's exactly what I told him!" Hermione fumed, picking up a pillow from her left and hugging it to her chest. "And now I don't know what to do. I have no idea what I'm supposed to do. I've never read a novel like this before. One where the girl is rejected by the boy, not because he doesn't love her, but because they can't be together... And she should be in love with her best friend instead."

Ginny gave a small, amused smile:

"There isn't really an instruction manual for that. That's the beauty of it."

"Whatever." Hermione said with a sigh. "I don't want to give up, not yet. I'm sick of him calling all the shots. I want to have a say too!"

The two girls stopped talking as Ginny's roommate came out of the bathroom humming a song. It took her a while to put her things away and get into bed, and when she finally drew the curtains, Ginny was lost in thought as she stared at the burgundy blanket.

"I have an idea." she said after the long silence. "I think I know how to annoy Malfoy enough to change his mind..."

"How?"

"It actually makes perfect sense." Ginny said with a knowing air. "All you have to do is make him jealous."

Hermione frowned.

"Jealous? Of Ron?"

"No, not of Ron exactly." Ginny cut in confidently. "If you do, he'll think he's won. Surprise him. Get revenge. Find a boy he hates and hit on him in front of him."

"He'll be furious." Hermione said worriedly, imagining Draco's face if she did something like that.

"So what?" the redhead replied immediately. "He deserved it. That's what he told you to do, isn't it? To find someone else. And I'm sure he'll be back in a week begging you to take him back."

Hermione considered the plan. She had no idea who she should choose to annoy Draco the most. She didn't even think about Harry for a second: she was incapable of flirting with him, even falsely, and besides, Draco would understand that it would be a ruse. She thought of Neville, but she didn't want to hurt him by giving him false hope. Krum came to mind, but how could she make Draco jealous when all they did was write letters from time to time?

"You'll figure it out." Ginny said, seeing that Hermione had gone off on a tangent. "And in the meantime, don't beat yourself up too much, Draco Malfoy doesn't deserve it. Dry your tears. Mum always told me never to cry over boys."

Ginny gave her a sympathetic smile and Hermione snuggled under the covers. Ginny leaned against the pillows and offered to rest her head on her shoulder, and Hermione let out a small, pained sigh. The smell of the flowers from the Burrow garden on Ginny's skin helped to calm her racing thoughts.

The two girls remained in this position for a long time. Ginny had picked up her Quidditch magazine and was leafing through it at regular intervals. She was reading a page about the aerodynamics of the future 2005 Nimbus when she suddenly whispered:

"I envy you, you know."

Hermione lifted her head slightly to analyse Ginny's expression.

"What do you mean?" she asked in a worried tone.

Ginny closed her magazine and looked up at the ceiling of her bed, searching for words:

"I envy you, Mione. I mean... Michael's nice, and respectful, and I like him a lot, but... I just don't have that spark, you know? When you describe the way Malfoy kissed you... No one's ever kissed me like that. No one's ever loved me like that. And it's not just my love life that's dull. The courses at Hogwarts are interesting, but with six older brothers, let's just say I've already studied the syllabus from cover to cover. I like my friends, but I feel like we talk about the same things all the time. There's nothing new. Nothing... explosive."

Hermione felt her heart clench at such an admission.

"It may look explosive, but don't envy me. Look at the mess I'm in." Hermione said, showing her cheeks streaked with dried tears.

Ginny turned to face her:

"Oh, I'm not saying you're not. I know he hurts you and you're forced to endure a lot of difficult things because of it, the guilt, the fear, the pain... He acts like a jerk sometimes, and I know that hurts you, and I admire you for your patience." Ginny said, patting her hand affectionately. "I don't envy you for that. But... the adrenaline, the secrecy, the passion... That, I envy you."

Hermione didn't know what to say. She herself had too many conflicting feelings to understand them, but it had to be said that the moments she shared with Draco were all addictive, no matter whether they were arguing or kissing. No matter how much she hated him half the time because of his ego, his destructive impulses or his childish attitude, Hermione could never tear herself away from him. She always came back, and so did he. Like magnets that can't be separated.

"I've got nothing to complain about." Ginny continued. "There's a war going on, people are dying to protect the world we live in, and I'm complaining that my boyfriend is boring..."

Hermione squeezed tighter against Ginny to half hug her:

"I'm sorry you feel that way. I hope one day a boy can make you feel the way you want to feel, without making you cry for it."

There was a small silence where Ginny mechanically stroked the back of Hermione's hand as she weighed her words. Then, in a barely audible whisper, as if afraid her housemates might hear her despite the spell of silence around her bed, Ginny asked:

"He's in love with Cho Chang, isn't he?"

Hermione stiffened a little at hearing this. Part of her instinctively wanted to lie, but what was the point? Ginny knew. She always knew everything. She must have intercepted his glances during the last AD meetings.

Hermione nodded reluctantly.

Ginny spasmed a little and picked up her magazine again to feign indifference:

"She doesn't know how lucky she is." she declared, in a tone tinged with hostility that almost sounded like Draco's when he talked about Ron. "First Diggory, then Harry? She's really attracted to fame."

Hermione nodded sharply, though she'd never really thought that.

"Well, so do I, I guess." Ginny said after several seconds. "I had a crush on Harry all my childhood because... you know, he was Harry. But now I'm in love with him because he's... Harry. You know? Our Harry."

Hermione said nothing, and Ginny hastily corrected:

"Not that I'm still in love with him. I've grown out of it. I've moved on."

"Of course you have. I know." Hermione confirmed.

Ginny concluded the conversation with a determined nod, then both girls pretended to read the Quidditch magazine.

Ginny's two flatmates didn't seem surprised that Hermione was sleeping in her bed, as neither of them said anything when they saw her brushing her teeth in the pyjamas Ginny had lent her, a long, tattered Gryffindor Quidditch shirt that had once belonged to George.

Ginny fell asleep quickly, but Hermione couldn't rest. She kept replaying the argument with Draco in her head. She had thought that by confessing how she felt about him, he might change his mind, maybe even apologise, but it had been quite the opposite. She hadn't been dealing with Draco or Malfoy, but with some strange in-between version she couldn't quite put her finger on: the Draco with the glassy grey/blue eyes, the dull voice. The one who was always strangely... distant.

Hermione finally got out of bed and went to the Common Room for tea. She knitted a bit, reread her lessons for the next day and was about to go back to bed when she heard familiar footsteps on the spiral staircase behind her.

"What time is it?" asked Harry's sleepy voice.

"Almost two. Can't sleep?" she asked.

He sat down beside her with a sigh and shook his head. The fire had long since gone out, only a few embers still glowing in the cave.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked.

"Knitting while I read through my lessons." Hermione said, knowing that Harry would never make fun of her for it, unlike Ron who would have called her a Know-It-All. "Would you like some tea?"

"Why not. Thank you." the boy said with a pale smile on his tired features.

Hermione poured him a second cup of tea, but preferred not to give him the cinnamon one, not really knowing why. She was under the impression that it was a tea to be shared with Draco. Instead, she handed him his favourite, an Earl Grey with a splash of milk, and Harry brought it to his mouth to take a sip. Immediately his glasses began to fog up.

He took them off to wipe them on his pyjamas and asked:

"Are you all right, Mione?"

"Yes." she replied.

He put his glasses back on his nose with a puzzled look on his face.

"I feel like you're always fine." Harry explained after a few seconds of thought. "You never say when you're not. You always know how I am, and it's always about me, about Voldemort, about how I can't sleep... But you, how are you really?"

Hermione swallowed, thinking of her conversation with Draco. Perhaps he could see the traces of sadness on her face? Hermione settled more comfortably against the back of the sofa, in the same position as Harry, and looked out the window at the dark sky as she replied:

"I'm fine, Harry. To tell you the truth, even with the O.W.L. coming up, and a war going on, and my best friend being targeted by the most powerful Dark Lord of all time, I'm doing surprisingly well. In that order of priority, of course."

Harry gave a small laugh before becoming serious again:

"But you've been saying that since our first year, Mione." he pointed out. "How do you know when I'm not well? You seem to see everything. Know everything, guess everything."

"It's just deduction." she said with a shrug.

"You knew I was in love with Cho before I even admitted it to myself." Harry went on in an almost accusatory tone. "How can you know about my heart problems without even talking to me about it?"

"Because I know you by heart Harry. Did you doubt it?"

"No, I didn't doubt it." he admitted with a smile. "But sometimes I get the feeling that you know more about me than I know about you. I mean, you're like my sister, and yet I don't even know... your favourite colour."

Hermione smiled as she heard the distress in his voice.

"Just because you don't know my favourite colour doesn't mean you're not like my brother, Harry. You know me a lot better than you think."

Harry looked relieved to hear that.

"Even so. I want to know things like that. You always know the right questions to ask. So let me ask you a few. Hermione Granger, what's your favourite colour?"

She laughed at his solemnity and answered:

"Brown."

"Like the Library?" asked Harry with a smile that creased his eyes and pushed up his glasses.

"Exactly. What about you?"

"Green, I think." Harry replied.

"Like Slytherin green?" asked Hermione, thinking of the emerald colours Draco and Parkinson always wore.

"No, like my eyes. But that's terribly self-centred, so I'll just tell you." Harry added with some embarrassment.

"It's not self-centred." Hermione said. She pushed back a black lock of hair that had settled in front of his eyes and whispered, "Everyone says they're just like your mum's."

Harry nodded sadly:

"See? You already know everything."

"No, far from it." Hermione assured him. "But that's the exciting part, isn't it? There's still so much to discover."

"One question a day then." Harry decided. "How's that?"

He held out his hand and Hermione suddenly felt a lump in her throat as she thought of that gesture she had made with Draco many times in the past. She squeezed Harry's hand and tried to imagine all the differences between his hand and Draco's: softer, warmer, more comforting. It didn't send shivers down Hermione's spine, just a sense of agreement that made her smile in spite of herself.

"I can see that something is troubling you." Harry continued. Hermione tensed a little. "You're going through something. Aren't you?"

"You've been studying Divination too much." Hermione replied, trying to make him laugh and change the subject.

Harry smiled and seemed to sense that she didn't want to talk about it. He turned his head to look at the pile of books she had accumulated on the table.

"Aren't you tired?" he asked.

"Terribly." Hermione admitted.

"Then it's my turn to read you a book. You're always reading the legends of the Knights of the Round Table, let me do the reading for a bit."

"Ron will kill us if he finds out we've gone on without him." Hermione said, thinking back to Ron's unexpected interest in Muggle knight stories lately.

"Fair enough." Harry said. "Got any ideas for other novels we could read?"

"As a matter of fact, I do!" exclaimed Hermione, thinking of a book title she'd been dying to read again. "Wait here!"

She stormed up to her dormitory and retrieved the book with as little fuss as possible, then came back down and handed it to Harry.

"The Odyssey?" he read from the cover. "Oh, I vaguely remember that, I think our primary school teacher read a few chapters of it in class..."

"It's a fascinating book about Greek mythology and the journey Odysseus takes to find his wife after the Trojan War!" she explained enthusiastically.

She loved talking about things like that with Harry, because she didn't have to explain every word of Muggle culture to him. That was one of the many benefits of being with Harry: it was refreshing to spend time with someone who knew both worlds as well as she did.

"You convinced me." Harry said with a smile, sinking back into the sofa.

He opened the novel and Hermione lay on the other side of the sofa, her legs resting on Harry's and covered by the thick red Common Room blanket. Crookshanks then came from nowhere, and rolled into a ball on Hermione's stomach.

"So. Chapter one..." read Harry.

Hermione was amazed that Harry's voice could be so lulling. Soon she was drifting off to sleep, dreaming of ships, cyclops, and a blond boy who had nothing to do with Odysseus.

.

.

---

Draco

---

.

.

Draco didn't know if it was just an impression, but the day after the fight with Granger, she seemed much closer to Weasley than before. When he asked her for the sugar pot at breakfast, Draco noticed that the smile she gave him was much warmer than usual. When he copied her notes during Transfiguration, she let him do it without saying a word. And when they shared her jam jar filled with blue flames in the courtyard, they seemed much closer than usual.

This realisation gave Draco two opposite reactions: on the one hand, he felt a kind of serenity at the thought that she had listened to him. She had undoubtedly come to her senses and realised that it was much healthier to try with Weasley than with him, pathetic as he was. The other reaction, however, quickly drowned out the first: the flash of jealousy that seized his throat as soon as he saw them together. He might have known that it was a good thing, that it was even what he himself had wanted, what he had specifically told her to do, but that didn't stop the jealousy from burning every inch of his skin. The hatred he had felt for Potter at the end of the match was transferred to Weasley. Every night that week, before going to bed, Draco didn't try to meditate. He preferred to imagine kicking Weasley until he was exhausted.

He hated Weasley, he hated Lucius for unwittingly preventing him from being fully in love, and he hated himself for always being so afraid of him. Perhaps he was being punished by Merlin, or Lucius, or even Lucifer. Maybe he was paying for all those stolen moments with her, maybe they were chastising him for daring to kiss a Muggle-born, or maybe this was the price he had to pay after kissing Pansy. This was his punishment: to watch the girl he loved slowly fall in love with another boy, and not be able to do anything to stop it.

When December arrived, McGonagall told the Prefects that they would have to help put up the Castle's Christmas decorations this year. So, on the first Sunday of the month, all the Prefects gathered in the Great Hall and McGonagall took charge of assigning each of them a task. Draco was pleased when Hannah Abbott and Ernie McMillan were called to hang the tinsel outside, as he had no desire to spend an hour with his feet in the snow, until McGonagall announced:

"Miss Parkinson and Mr Malfoy will stay in the Great Hall to decorate one of the two trees, and Miss Granger and Mr Weasley will take care of the other."

Draco clenched his jaw as he realised that he would have to spend the whole afternoon enduring the vision of Weasley and Granger together. After all, he'd much rather be out in the cold. Pansy rolled her eyes, as irritated as he was.

Hagrid, his face still covered in bruises and cuts, brought two fir trees fresh from the forest and placed them on either side of the Great Hall, behind the teachers' table. Without consulting each other, the Gryffindors chose the one on the left and Draco and Pansy took the one on the right. Flitwick brought them each a box of ornaments, and Draco began hanging the red and green baubles on the lowest branches.

Hagrid stayed with Weasley and Granger to help them with the higher ornaments. Draco could hear them laughing a lot, especially Granger, whose laugh was unmistakable: a melody far more beautiful than any Christmas carol.

But Draco enjoyed it less when he wasn't the one making her laugh.

He gritted his teeth when he heard her gleefully shout:

"Oh, Ron, stop it!"

Clearly, Weasley had cast a spell on the Christmas baubles to make them change colour. Draco thought Granger would be outraged, but she was rather delighted. She laughed and did nothing to stop the spell. Draco looked at Weasley's smug grin and couldn't hold back an exasperated sigh.

"Did you say something?" asked Pansy, who was trying to hang an uncooperative fairy from one of the branches of the tree.

"No, nothing." he replied grumpily.

Hagrid had brought a ladder and placed it against the wall so that Granger could go up and put baubles on the top of the tree. Apparently none of the three remembered that they were wizards. Granger climbed the ladder to the top and hung some of the ornaments Hagrid was handing her. Draco watched, ready to lash out at Weasley if he dared look up her skirt.

"Can you help me?" asked Pansy suddenly. "I can't get the star all the way up."

Draco took it from her hands and threw a powerful Wingardium Leviosa, which lifted the star into the air. He used his wand to guide it onto the tree and as soon as he had succeeded, he turned his head back to Granger.

"They're stupid, doing it like Muggles." Pansy commented as she saw where Draco had turned his attention.

"Yeah..." he said distractedly.

"Ron, stop moving the ladder!" cried Granger, almost amused. "I'm afraid of heights, remember?"

"If you fall, I'll catch you!" Weasley promised with a grin.

"If Hermione falls, I'm sure she'll manage to throw an Arresto Momentum on herself before we even realise what's happening." said Hagrid, his voice filled with pride for the Gryffindor.

Weasley nodded vigorously, his eyes glowing with admiration, and before he realised what he was doing, Draco crushed the bauble in his hand.

"Draco!" cried Pansy.

"Sorry." Draco grumbled.

The shards of glass had cut his palm. Pansy stopped the bleeding with her wand, then wrapped a bandage around it. Draco couldn't count the number of times his best friend had tended to his wounds after a fit of rage. He thanked her and didn't even bother to find an excuse; he was sure Pansy understood why he had acted as he had.

He expected to meet Granger's worried gaze, but when he looked back at the other tree, she was still putting up her decorations. She hadn't even noticed that he'd hurt himself. She was laughing with Weasley and Hagrid, and Draco had the painful feeling that he was invisible.

Pansy and Draco didn't say another word. They hung the baubles, fairies, ribbons and all the decorations in the box in silence, forced to endure the laughter of the Gryffindors next to them. Draco was in such an advanced state of agitation that he had to concentrate to make a proper Wingardium Leviosa, which was rather embarrassing considering he had supposedly known how to do it since his first year at Hogwarts. Pansy was kind enough to pretend not to notice.

As Granger and Weasley put the last of the tinsel on the tree with two big, stupid grins on their faces, Granger ended the afternoon by saying cheerfully:

"It's so much nicer to prepare for Christmas with the people you love."

And when Weasley showed his approval with another silly grin, Draco felt his own heart break as he realised she wasn't talking about him.

.

.

.

.

Draco realised the following week that he'd probably missed his chance.

Ever since their argument in the classroom, Draco had done everything he could to deny what Granger had said about her supposed feelings for him. Part of him, the larger part, couldn't quite believe it. He was sure she'd said it in anger, or to get him back to the Library. Perhaps she had confused her friendship with love for him, perhaps his own confession had disturbed her and she could no longer understand her own judgement.

Granger was in love with Weasley. That was a fact, and as painful as it was for Draco, he'd come to terms with it a long time ago. She had always loved him, it had never been any different. Draco didn't stand a chance against that poor Weasley, because he had everything to offer her, and Draco was the opposite. She couldn't love him, it was impossible.

But there was a tiny part of him that wanted to believe it was true. He clung to it, unconsciously, to the unthinkable hope that Granger could have fallen in love with him. That she might feel the same way he did, watching him discreetly whenever they passed each other in the Castle, looking forward to their next session in the Library. Just like him.

It was wrong. His whole body protested violently as soon as the thought crossed his mind, and he Occluded without even controlling it. He couldn't think like that. He couldn't cross the line, he couldn't forget who he was, who she was.

But... What if it was true?

His heart pounded in his chest just thinking about it.

Draco, like the Gemini he was, was torn.

Reason or heart.

Family or love.

Values or feelings.

And the more the years went by, the harder it was to take the first side. Because how could a feeling so beautiful, so pure, so all-consuming, be evil? How could loving Granger be a crime for his father, when it was the most beautiful thing that had ever happened to him?

To be in love with her was one thing, but for it to be mutual was quite another. Because if he fell, she would fall with him, and he couldn't stand that. He couldn't protect her. They would be bound by something too strong to destroy, and the only possible solution would be to break her heart. Draco didn't know if he could do that.

So he'd rejected her, because it was the right thing to do. He had to. To protect her.

But as he watched her move closer to Weasley, he realised that he would never have to make that choice again. He realised that his words had had the right impact, that Granger was well and truly out of reach. But that meant what he had always feared: that they would stop talking to each other for good.

Draco saw his future in a flash: married to a Pureblood with an icy face, surrounded by stuffy blonde children, working at the Ministry in an important but boring department, and where his only pleasure would be playing Quidditch with Blaise on the weekends.

"Are you all right?" whispered Pansy.

She patted him gently on the arm to make him react and Draco went back to stirring the contents of his cauldron without enthusiasm.

"You seem a bit off today." she commented. "For the last few days, in fact."

"I'm fine, I'm just... It's just a weird time." he mumbled by way of explanation.

Pansy puckered her dark lips and said nothing more.

Draco was so exhausted by recent events that he was unable to produce any magic at all when he repeatedly cast his Legilimens on Thursday nights. At the beginning of December, Snape didn't even bother to reproach him for his lack of concentration. He simply invited him to sit down at his desk and asked gravely:

"Do you want to know what's stopping you from reading my mind, Draco?"

Draco shook his head, although he had a slight idea of what his teacher was getting at.

"It's because you don't meditate." Snape said, his face closed, almost disgusted to look at him. "I can see that. You don't meditate."

"I... Professor, I don't have time…"

"You have until Christmas." Snape ordered with a blank voice. "If you haven't managed to extract a single thought from my mind by then, we'll stop the lessons. I can't help you if you don't try, Malfoy. And I can't afford to waste my precious time teaching something to someone who doesn't understand its importance."

"I understand, Professor!" exclaimed Draco indignantly as he jumped to his feet, but Snape didn't blink.

"Don't just say it, Draco. Act to prove it to me. Meditate. You may leave my office."

Draco left without saying anything more. He was exhausted, his brain was mush. He couldn't think of anything but what Granger had said in that empty classroom.

I'm in love with you too, and we're just going to have to deal with it.

He couldn't sleep that night, let alone meditate.

.

.

---

Hermione

---

.

.

Hermione spent the beginning of December buried in homework, in a state that oscillated between hatred and longing for Draco.

Ron, who had chosen his timing well, took the opportunity to be particularly sweet to her. It was as if, without realising it, he wanted her to choose him over Draco. He was attentive to her, gallant, sometimes even slipping in a compliment or two, which was very unlike him. Hermione found the change unsettling, but pleasant. It was always nice when Ron was in a good mood. Perhaps he could sense her inner turmoil and decided to make her laugh instead of asking her what was wrong, and it worked. The resentment she felt towards Draco diminished when she was in Ron's presence. He could make her worries disappear just by being there, close to her.

Hermione drowned herself in work to avoid thinking about it for too long. She stayed by the fire with Harry, Ron and Ginny, studying, knitting and trying not to think about the boy who was driving her mad in every way.

One evening, Ginny took advantage of the absence of Harry and Ron, who were still dining in the Great Hall, to subtly ask her:

"So, the jealousy plan? Is it working?"

Hermione sighed:

"I don't know... I think I'm making him jealous of Ron without meaning to. When we were putting up the Christmas decorations last Sunday, he broke a bauble and cut his hand when he saw me talking to him."

Ginny raised her eyebrows:

"A bit dramatic, that boy." she pointed out.

Hermione nodded. Draco Malfoy was probably the most dramatic boy ever. And as much as she was always annoyed with him for provoking Harry and the twins, and as much as she hated using Ron to annoy Draco, she couldn't help but admit that it was a bit flattering to see him get all worked up whenever she got close to another boy.

"I don't really like using your brother to make Draco jealous." Hermione admitted.

Ginny shrugged, obviously less sensitive to her brother's dismay.

"So which boy are you going to choose?" she asked, glancing around the half-filled Common Room.

"I'm not sure..." Hermione said, her cheeks flushing at the thought. "I'm terrible at flirting, I've never done it..."

"You don't have to do much, you just have to go with it." Ginny replied with another casual shrug.

Hermione didn't dare say it out loud, but she thought it was easier for her: Ginny was one of the most popular girls at Hogwarts, and probably the prettiest. She had a dozen boys at her feet.

"Cormac McLaggen?" Ginny offered as she stopped by a blond boy doing his homework.

Hermione's eyes widened:

"No way!" she squealed. "He's a year older than me!"

Ginny looked at her wearily:

"Remind me again who you danced with at the Yule Ball last year?"

"It's not the same." Hermione said, though she couldn't say why. Maybe because McLaggen looked like an idiot.

"You'll find someone. Maybe a Prefect?" offered Ginny.

"Don't you think that's a bit... mean?" asked Hermione. "It would be giving false hope, wouldn't it?"

Ginny dismissed the idea with a wave of her hand:

"You don't have to do anything with him. It's just harmless flirting. Besides, you don't even have to bring out the big game, Malfoy will be furious just to see you chatting with a boy. It's just a reminder. Besides, the boy you choose will be lucky enough to have the famous Hermione Granger's eye on him."

She nodded and Hermione felt her ears burning at such a compliment. Ginny had a gift for reassuring and restoring confidence in a few sentences.

"And you, are you feeling better?" asked Hermione as she moved closer to her on the sofa.

The redhead shrugged:

"Same old story. Boring classes, boring boyfriend, boring girlfriends. Except for you, of course." Ginny added with a small smile in her direction. "But hey, at least I still have one thing that makes me happy."

Hermione frowned and Ginny exclaimed victoriously:

"Quidditch, of course!"

It was an obvious answer. Hermione knew of Ginny's attraction to the sport, and even if Hermione didn't know half the rules, she knew that her best friend was particularly good at it.

An idea struck Hermione:

"Gin! You should sign up!"

Ginny looked at her strangely.

"Sign up? For what?"

"The Gryffindors Quidditch team!" Hermione explained. "Now that Fred, George and Harry have been banned, you can easily get in!"

"Oh..." she replied, a little anxiously. "I'm not sure, Harry's so good..."

"You're good too!" exclaimed Hermione eagerly. "And if it makes you happy, why not try it? Just think, you wouldn't have to get up at the crack of dawn to practise in secret, you could do it with the team and show everyone your talent!"

Ginny bit her lip as she imagined what Hermione was describing.

"My brothers will be furious..." she said in a low voice.

Hermione raised an eyebrow:

"Ginny Weasley, wasn't it you who told me a few weeks ago that you wanted to show them what you could do? Your brothers were practically all on the team. I'm sure they'll be proud of you when they see what you can do."

Ginny smiled shyly, brushing away a long strand of red hair that had settled in front of her eyes:

"You're right. Thank you, Mione, that's an excellent idea."

Hermione was pleased with her suggestion, which seemed to motivate Ginny. She excelled at the next D.A. meeting, as if the prospect of Quidditch trials had managed to lift her spirits.

For Hermione, however, nothing had really changed. Draco was half unaware, half observing. She could feel his icy gaze wherever she went, especially when she was in Ron's company. When she sat with him instead of Harry in Defence Against the Dark Arts, she even thought she heard an annoyed grunt from Draco a few desks over.

One Sunday evening, when he still hadn't appeared in the Library and Hermione had spent her dinner watching him laugh with Pansy Parkinson, she decided to put Ginny's plan into action and watched the Common Room, knitting evasively.

Who could she use to make Draco jealous?

Hermione crossed Harry, Neville and Danny off her mental list. Ron too, but not for the same reasons as the previous three. Hermione was afraid of raising his hopes that she wasn't sure she could fulfil, and besides, that was exactly what Draco had suggested, and she didn't want to prove him right for anything in the world.

She thought of Ernie McMillan, who was always very kind to her, but she spoke to him most often during shared lessons with the Hufflepuffs or during D.A. meetings, and Draco wasn't present during either of those times. Hermione opted for a second for Anthony Goldstein, because she knew it would drive Draco mad after the prefect round episode, but she had the same problem as Ernie: she rarely saw him at the same time as the Slytherins, and she had no desire to flirt with him if Draco wasn't even around.

She was thinking of a way to subtly show him Krum's letters when an explosive went off right next to the sofa. Harry and Ron jumped as she did and the three of them turned towards the source of the noise. Hermione was not surprised to see George, his hair blackened at the ends and his face covered in soot, holding a half-open firework at close range. Fred, beside him, jotted something down in a notebook.

"Sorry, mishandling!" said George, reaching for his wand to clean up the mess.

The Gryffindors, who were all extremely used to this kind of sudden commotion, went about their business without flinching. For Harry and Ron, this meant finishing the Herbology essay due the next day.

As for Hermione, she continued to stare at the twins. And Fred in particular.

For a brief second, she imagined making Draco jealous with Fred. It wouldn't be difficult, because Fred flirted with everyone: he'd throw compliments at all the girls without even realising it, Draco would just have to pass by at that moment and he'd hear every time. Or better still, she could tell Fred the plan directly. After all, he knew about Draco now, and she was sure he would take her up on the offer on the spot and become the perfect fake boyfriend.

Hermione hesitated for a long time, even after Ron had given up trying and gone to bed. On the one hand, she thought the twin was a good match for Ginny's idea. They were close, close enough for her to reveal the ploy to him in advance. And they'd always had a different relationship than with George, more... playful. They knew each other well. He would probably be the only boy Hermione could pretend to hit on without feeling like she was making a complete fool of herself.

But on the other hand, she wanted to spare Fred from the complexities of her and Draco's "relationship". He'd already suffered enough from the fallout of the match without adding another layer. Besides, she wasn't really keen on the idea of choosing another of Ginny's brothers. Even though she knew she probably wouldn't care, Hermione couldn't help but find it invasive.

The dilemma gave her a headache, so Hermione preferred to wish Harry a good night and go upstairs to bed rather than think about it any longer. She fell asleep dreaming of blond and red hair, silver rings and freckles.

.

.

.
.

The next day, Monday morning, when Harry and Ron had gone to Divination and Hermione was going to Arithmancy on her own, the Universe decided to test Hermione by putting her right behind Draco on the stairs, who was accompanied by Blaise Zabini, Pansy Parkinson and Theo. She tried to walk around them, but the four of them took up too much space to pass, and she couldn't really stop in the middle because of the rush of students behind her.

So Hermione was forced to stay behind Draco, who hadn't noticed her, and listen to Parkinson's hysterical laughter. She gritted her teeth.

"You can't say that!" cried Parkinson, laughing at some joke Theo had obviously just made. "But he was really crying when I left this morning. Poor thing, I think he's become a little attached to me..."

"A little?" repeated Zabini in a tone of sarcasm. "Are you joking? You haven't let go of him all weekend!"

Hermione frowned slightly. Did Parkinson have a boyfriend?

"By the way, Pansy, you haven't told us about the dream you wrote in your diary?" asked Zabini when they reached the fourth floor.

Hermione automatically rolled her eyes at such a stupid question, and Theo sighed in annoyance as she did.

"I dreamt I was stung by a bee." Parkinson explained, very sternly. "It symbolises..."

"After squirrels, bees!" Theo interrupted with a laugh. "Maybe it symbolises you wanting to go to the zoo?"

Zabini chuckled, but Parkinson seemed annoyed by the remark:

"Stop talking about your Muggle stuff and listen to me!" she snapped. "I read in my textbook that it could symbolise three things. Either I'm going to have success in a few days, or my love life is going to change, or I'm going to have tension with an animal. I'll ask Professor Trelawney what she thinks."

"Probably not the third option, Eris isn't even a real animal." Draco commented.

This made Theo and Zabini laugh, but Parkinson used her Divination textbook to punch him in the rib. Draco grabbed the railing to avoid tripping on the impact.

"Hey! Why don't you say anything when it's Theo making jokes about him, but you get annoyed when it's me?" he asked in a loud voice.

"Because he's funny, and you're not." Parkinson replied matter-of-factly.

Hermione had expected Draco to get angry at such an insult, but he simply turned his head towards her and she saw a small, tender smile form on his lips as he looked at Parkinson.

Hermione had listened to the entire dialogue without understanding half of it, a feeling she hated, but seeing Draco's profile smile made her feel something else, an emotion she couldn't quite put her finger on. It wasn't really sadness, or frustration, or even anger. Hermione couldn't understand why she was clenching her fist to release the tension that had suddenly built up in her arm and neck.

It was only when they reached the sixth floor that Hermione realised that what she was experiencing was nothing more than jealousy.

Hermione had never been envious, let alone jealous. The only time she had felt similar effects had been when Ron had slobbered all over Fleur Delacour on the night of the Beauxbatons' arrival the year before. But that was nothing compared to the fire that ran through her body when she saw that smile meant for Parkinson. Why did she get one of his smiles and not her? She thought Draco would have been as miserable as she was after two weeks of not speaking to each other, but he didn't seem particularly affected. He was smiling and laughing and chatting quietly with his friends, while all Hermione's thoughts were on him, and his ignorance was costing her several sleepless nights.

Was this how he felt every time she spoke to Ron? Was the Universe trying to punish her by showing her what it felt like to be jealous? Was Merlin sending her a signal to stop her plan before she'd even started?

When they reached the seventh floor, the group of Slytherins split up: Theo and Draco continued down the corridor, while Zabini and Parkinson went the other way, saying:

"Have a good class in Arithmantic, or whatever it is!"

"Arithmancy." Theo corrected, so quietly that Hermione almost didn't hear him.

Draco and Theo made their way down the crowded corridor, Hermione trailing behind. As they approached the classroom door, Crabbe and Goyle suddenly came running to catch up. At first, Hermione didn't understand why. They weren't part of the Arithmancy class, they were far too stupid to understand a word of it. She was considering the possibility that they'd got lost in the Castle they'd been going to for five years when Crabbe cut her theories short:

"Hey, Nott, have you got our History of Magic essay?"

"Have you got the money?" retorted Theo in a sour voice that was nothing like the one he used when talking to his friends.

Goyle reached into his uniform pocket and pulled out some large gold coins, which he handed to the boy:

"Here, five Galleons each. We'll add another five if you manage to get us an Acceptable."

Hermione gasped at the amount of money. It was clear from Goyle's tone that this was a long-standing arrangement. Draco paid no attention to the exchange.

Theo took the money without thanking them and slung his bag over his shoulder as he continued walking:

"I deliberately put the wrong date on the Armistice of the Giant War." he said, taking the scrolls from his bag. "But I kept the..."

Something came out of his bag at the same time as the parchment and fell to the stone floor with a loud "clap!" All eyes in the corridor turned to the source of the sound, and Theo turned as Hermione looked down.

It was a book.

A square, white, paperback book. The cover was beautiful: long dark green stems surrounded the title, which ended in large white peonies with the author's name on them. Les Fleurs du Mal, by Charles Baudelaire.

You didn't need to know the title to understand that it was a Muggle book. No wizard had a book like this, theirs were all huge, bulky, heavy. No wizard-born person in this corridor had ever seen a book this small.

Theo's face immediately lost all colour. He stared at the book in horror, his mouth agape, and impulsively clutched the two rolled-up parchments in his hand. Then a bright scarlet flushed across his cheeks, his neck, and even his forehead.

Draco stared at the book, unsure what to do, clearly debating whether to pick it up or pretend he hadn't noticed. For three long seconds, a heavy silence fell over the corridor. Hermione could feel a dozen eyes on her and Theo, who were only a foot apart.

"Hey, Nott!" shouted Goyle, pointing at the book with a slight delay. "Why do you have a Muggle book in your bag?"

A group of young Gryffindors standing by the window began to laugh, other older students whispered amongst themselves. Some pointed at Theo and Hermione thought she heard, "That's his!" "Theodore Nott!" "He's a Slytherin!"

Draco tried hard to keep a straight face, but Theo's gave them away. He was so red that even the curls that fell across his forehead couldn't hide the state of his skin, Hermione could practically feel the heat radiating from it. His fingers tightened on Crabbe and Goyle's essays, which buckled under the force.

Hermione could have walked around them and into Arithmancy class. She could even have laughed with the Gryffindors, pointed at the boy in front of her and watched him break down with an evil smile. She could have taken revenge for all the times the Slytherins had made fun of her.

But Hermione couldn't. It was physically impossible not to feel a surge of pity when she saw Theo's panicked eyes.

"Are you the one reading that?" continued Crabbe with a greasy laugh. "You're a Squib, Nott?"

Hermione did the first thing that came to her mind.

She bent down, picked up the book, and clutched it to her chest:

"Actually, it's mine."

The two stupid looks from Crabbe and Goyle passed from Theo to Hermione without understanding.

"I dropped it." she explained confidently.

"No, it was in his bag!" shouted Crabbe, pointing at Theo. "I saw it!"

"No you didn't, it's mine." Hermione challenged, trying to control the fear in her tone.

Crabbe frowned, making him look even stupider than before.

"Oh yeah? Then what's it about?"

Hermione considered giving him a scathing reply. He was so stupid that she could probably tell him anything without him suspecting that she was lying, but as she looked around and met the eyes of the students who were waiting for her answer with suspicious expressions, she decided to go for the truth.

"It's a French collection of poems in which Baudelaire tells of his boredom and disgust with the world as he tries to extract all the evil that beauty has to offer." Hermione explained in one breath.

She mentally thanked her father for signing her up for the book club when she was young. Goyle blinked several times, probably not understanding a word she had just said. Crabbe snatched the book out of her hands and silently read the back cover. It took a full minute.

Theo was still horrified, but his blush had faded. Draco, on the other hand, was staring at Hermione and it was the first time she met his grey gaze in two whole weeks. His jaw was clenched and Hermione could see his tongue brushing the side of his cheek. He looked furious. Furious that she could have done such a thing to Theo. But Hermione wasn't intimidated. Whatever emotion he was feeling, it was only his eyes that captured her. The last time they had rested on her like that, with so much fury in every shade of grey and blue, he had kissed her.

The memory set her skin on fire and she dropped her gaze to stare at her shoes.

"It's true." Crabbe muttered disappointedly.

"Of course it is." she replied defiantly. "It's my book."

He threw it at her and Hermione barely caught it, then wiped his hand roughly on his uniform trousers, as if holding a Muggle object had contaminated him. The students around them shrugged and let go. Some moved on, while others muttered "Granger" and "Muggle girl" in not-so-discreet whispers.

"Can you believe it?" said Goyle, nudging Draco who flinched slightly. "The Mudblood reading Muggle books."

Draco looked at Goyle with an expression that was difficult to interpret, as if he was hesitating between laughing with him or punching him in the nose. Theo, who hadn't moved since the book had fallen to the floor, turned his head sharply towards Goyle when he heard the insult, as if he had attacked him personally.

"Yeah." Draco finally said, his voice a little more strangled than his usual drawl. "Pathetic."

Crabbe and Goyle laughed and Hermione felt her fingers tremble with the urge to pick up her wand and cast the most painful spell possible on them, but she stopped herself. The burn on the back of her neck itched, a painful reminder of a memory she didn't like to remember.

Crabbe reached for the scrolls, but Theo shoved them back into his bag.

"Hey!" Goyle snapped as he watched his precious essay disappear. "What's the matter with you? We weren't talking about you, we were talking about her!"

He pointed at her with a grimace, as if she were some particularly repulsive monster.

"Sorry." Theo replied, and Hermione never thought his voice could become so threatening. "We're late. Get lost."

And the two Slytherins continued on their way to Arithmancy class without saying anything more. Crabbe and Goyle just stood there, looking haggard.

Hermione entered the room so confused that it took her several seconds to remember where she was supposed to sit. She put the book back in her bag and took notes of Vector's lecture without really listening to it. Draco didn't look at her, returning to the same state of ignorance he had been in for days, but Theo muttered a silent "thank you", to which she replied with a small smile.

.

.

.

.

When Hermione sat down at the dinner table with Harry and Ron that evening, Ginny immediately put a hand on her arm and asked hurriedly:

"Are you all right, Mione?"

"Yes, perfectly all right." Hermione said, a little surprised. "Why?"

"I heard Crabbe and Goyle gave you a bit of a hard time this morning..." said Ginny.

Harry and Ron turned to her with the same head tilt.

"What?! You didn't tell us! What happened?"

"Nothing too serious." Hermione assured them, seeing their concern. "I dropped my Muggle poetry book in front of the Arithmancy class and they laughed at me, nothing new."

Harry and Ron had two relatively opposite reactions.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Mione." Harry said, his eyebrows meeting in a face full of pity.

"What a bunch of little gits!" shouted Ron, glaring at Crabbe and Goyle three tables over.

They were far too busy eating their sausages to pay any attention to Ron, but Hermione was grateful all the same.

"Should we make them spit out glitter every time they open their mouths, Mione?" suggested Fred, who had overheard the conversation. "That's a side effect we can't detect on the new prototypes..."

"... but it can be very useful in certain situations." George finished, with a grim look on his face.

"That's very kind, but it won't be worth it." Hermione said with a slight smile. "Crabbe and Goyle have never managed to make me feel anything but pity for their undeveloped brains."

George held out his hand to high-five her.

"What were they doing in front of Arithmancy class, anyway?" asked Ginny, her mouth twisted by the dislike she felt for the two Slytherins in question. "Don't tell me they took that option?"

"Impossible, I'm sure they can't even understand the name of the class." Harry said shaking his head firmly. "Only our Mione can decipher that subject."

Hermione gave her best friend a grateful smile.

"They're in Divination, but they spend all their time asking Parkinson what they're supposed to be doing." Ron said, not hiding the hatred in his voice. "They were late earlier, we thought they'd got lost again..."

"Actually they went to ask Theodore Nott something." Hermione explained as she helped herself to some food. "That's when they saw my book."

Ron frowned:

"Who?"

"Theodore Nott, a Slytherin from our year." Hermione said, surprised that he didn't know who it was. "Malfoy's best friend."

"Oh." he replied, obviously not seeing who she was talking about.

"Is that the boy who can see the Thestrals?" asked Harry.

Hermione nodded. The memory sent a series of uncomfortable chills down her arms. She hated the idea that a boy as pure as Theodore Nott could have seen someone die in front of him. At the thought, Hermione automatically looked up at him. He was the only one of the group of four not speaking. He seemed to be thinking, absently digging into his plate without eating, a wave of sadness crossing his face that he tried in vain to hide.

Hermione felt the same way about Theo as she did about Harry: unfair and powerless. She didn't know exactly who Theo had seen die, but Draco had told her about his father and she knew about his difficult childhood. Either way, neither Harry nor Theo deserved what they'd been through.

"Was he mean to you too?" asked Ron as he attacked his sausage.

"No!" she said, a little too loudly. "No, he wasn't. I... Nott's never been mean to me. Do you know he's second in the overall rankings?"

Ron rolled his eyes at such a justification, as if being clever meant he had nothing to be blamed for.

"And Malfoy was there too, I suppose?" guessed Harry, his worry replaced by anger. "He must have jumped at the chance."

"Yes." Hermione said without the slightest sympathy for Draco. "Unbearable as usual."

Harry leaned over his plate to carve his sausage and Fred took the opportunity to give her a confused look. Hermione shook her head to show she didn't want to talk about it.

At the Slytherin table, Theo had started talking and Parkinson and Zabini were listening with some concern. Hermione realised that he was recounting what had happened that morning in a low voice so that Crabbe and Goyle, a few seats away, wouldn't hear him. Draco did not speak, but Hermione saw his silver-ringed fingers gripping the table with all their might.

Theo imitated the scene, then Hermione's intervention. Zabini asked several questions while Parkinson remained silent. Draco said nothing. Hermione tried to read Theo's lips to understand this silent exchange, but she could only decipher the words "Muggle" and "save."

Then, just as Hermione was about to look away to resume the conversation the Gryffindors were having around her, Parkinson suddenly turned her head towards her.

For the first time in five years, Hermione was shocked to see that Parkinson's dark pupils did not reflect the usual animosity that was constantly present when she looked at her. Instead, there was a kind of... gratitude. And it was so opposed to everything she knew about Pansy Parkinson that Hermione didn't know how to react.

So, she preferred to turn her attention away from this strange shift, and chatted with Ginny and George as she finished her dinner.

After the meal, Hermione went to the Library for the first time in ages, hoping to find Theo there to return her book.

As soon as she crossed the threshold of the huge room she loved so much, she found him in his usual place, next to the section on Magical Cultures of the World. He had three different pots of ink around him and looked agitated as he compulsively ran a hand through his hair. Draco was sitting opposite him, reading a Potions book. Hermione winced when she saw that he was there, but before thinking any further, she walked over to the table of the two Slytherins and didn't stop until she was next to them.

"Here's your book, Theo." she said, in a slightly softer tone than usual.

Both boys gasped when they heard her speak. Hermione placed Les Fleurs du Mal on the table and stood strategically with her back to Draco.

"Oh!" said Theo. He took the book and clutched it to his chest reflexively, exactly as she had done that morning, as if he wanted to protect it. "Merlin, thank you, Hermione, you saved my life."

She distinctly heard Draco's small breath of anger at hearing him use her first name, but Hermione continued to pretend she hadn't noticed him.

"That's all right." she assured him with a smile. "You would have done the same for me."

"I don't know, you're a lot braver than I am." Theo replied with an embarrassed chuckle. "Seriously, I owe you one."

She hesitated to remind him that, technically, he had saved her first, but she didn't dare do it in front of Draco.

"Let's call it even." she said instead, and held out her hand for him to shake.

Theo did so without hesitation, and they exchanged a sincere smile. Draco, on the other hand, was livid. Hermione could hear his rings hitting the wood of the table repeatedly. As if he'd just remembered he was there, Theo turned to him and suddenly frowned, giving him a stern professor look:

"Would it kill you to thank her?"

Draco stopped drumming his fingers on the table.

"Wha... What?" he stammered, gazing at his friend as if he'd gone completely mad.

"Put your shitty prejudices aside for five minutes and thank her!" continued Theo, pointing at her with a shake of his head. "Do you realise what would have happened if Crabbe and Goyle had realised I was reading Muggle literature? Can you imagine the disastrous consequences if your father had found out? It's all thanks to Hermione that that didn't happen. So thank her for me, Merlin!"

Hermione felt the corners of her mouth rise at hearing Theo reprimand him like that, as if he were talking to an unbehaved child, and even more so when Draco's face stretched considerably in shock.

"I..." he began, but Hermione interrupted him.

"Oh, don't bother, Theo." she said, putting great emphasis on his first name and sweeping a hand in Draco's direction. "Some people never change, I suppose. Draco Malfoy could never stoop to such a weakness as thanking a Muggle-born."

She knew Draco well enough by now to know that her sentence had struck a nerve. She heard him jerk back in his chair and retort sharply:

"And how much longer are you planning on lecturing us, Granger?"

Despite the intensity of his sentence, he didn't look at her as he said it.

"Malfoy!" cried Theo loudly. "Stop being an arse! She can stay here as long as she likes!"

Draco tried to glare at the boy in front of him, but Hermione could see that he was confused. By her presence or by the accusations that were being made against him, she didn't know.

"Right in the middle of the Library, where everyone can see us talking to her?" he hissed through his teeth, still without setting his gaze on Hermione once. "That would be worse than your Muggle books!"

"I don't give a fuck." snapped Theo. Hermione was surprised to hear him say such a vulgar word so casually. "She's just done me a huge favour and we should all be grateful to her, including you. I don't give a shit if the others see me talking to her, they've never helped me like Hermione did just now. If you're not happy, just go to another table."

Draco scowled against his seat, muttering something that sounded very much like an insult, but remained seated all the same and continued reading his Potions book.

Theo turned to Hermione again and put on the warm face he always wore with her:

"Thanks again, Hermione. Have you read it, then?" he asked, pointing to the white book.

"Yes, when I was a child." Hermione replied. "I was in a book club and there was a whole chapter on the poems of the world, and I'd really liked that collection."

"Les Fleurs du Mal before Hogwarts?" said Theo in a perfect French accent, amazed. "That's impressive."

"I don't remember all of it, except that it was quite gloomy. Do you like it?" asked Hermione.

Theo took the book and flipped through the pages evasively.

"Some poems, but not all of them. I have a hard time with anything that deals with death in general. I really like the Spleens, I find it fascinating to understand how Muggles cope with life without magic, or their different ways of making it their own."

Hermione nodded, and Draco resumed with the painful sound of his rings against the table to show his impatience.

"I'd have to read it again, but I think my favourite was Paysage." Hermione said, pretending not to hear the boy behind her.

Theo smiled, not surprised by this answer.

"If you'd like to read it again, I'd love to lend you mine, but it's in the original French..." he said in an apologetic tone.

"That's very kind of you." said Hermione, touched that he could do that. To her, sharing a book was a great proof of friendship. "Maybe I'll buy it this summer."

Theo seemed to be about to ask more about Muggle life, but stopped when Draco coughed loudly, as if to remind them of his presence, which was nevertheless hard to forget. Hermione took her leave, still addressing only Theo:

"I'll leave you to your work. See you later."

She was about to leave when Theo's hand shot forward to stop her. He grabbed her wrist and Draco nearly fell out of his chair at the sight.

"Nott!" he yelled indignantly.

Theo ignored him and looked Hermione in the eye.

"I wanted to tell you... I'm truly sorry about what that git Goyle said earlier. I should have said something, I..."

Hermione understood that he was referring to the insult about her blood that he had uttered that very morning and she immediately reassured poor Theo, who was confoundedly embarrassed:

"Oh, it's nothing serious, I'm used to it..."

"It is serious, though." the boy asserted firmly. "It's not normal for someone to use that word in the school corridors without being punished. I've decided to stop doing their homework, that'll teach them, and hopefully they'll be kicked out of the Castle before next year."

"Thanks, but feel free to take money from them for my benefit." Hermione said sincerely.

Draco's eyes were still riveted on Theo's hand around Hermione's wrist, in the same place where he himself had placed his own fingers several times. She could see his face melting as the seconds ticked by and Theo continued to touch her, but Hermione didn't feel bad. In fact, she even hoped he was jealous. At least it wasn't ignorance.

"Good luck with your essay.'" she finally said, and Theo gently released her.

She went and sat down at the table she normally took with Harry and Ron and took out her Astronomy homework. She spread the map of the sky over three quarters of the table and practised placing the stars that would be expected for the O.W.L., and it was such busy work that she forgot Draco was standing a few feet away.

He and Theo left before the Library closed, but Hermione stayed until Madam Pince had to order her to close her map and go to bed.

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The next day, Hermione spent her evening studying the last chapter of History of Magic in preparation for the O.W.L., taking notes on the dates and names of the peace treaties between the giants. Her eyes stung with fatigue, but she didn't want to stop until she'd finished, lest her timetable scold her the next day.

Just after dinner was over, Theo entered the Library, this time alone. They exchanged a cordial half-smile and he headed for his usual little table.

Hermione returned to her scroll of notes, wrote "1808: Battle of Baltia" and finished her tea in one gulp when a shadow passed over her table. She spontaneously looked up to see who had approached and her breath caught when she saw Theo, his chestnut curls falling over his face, a big smile on his face and all his books in his arms.

"Hey." he said.

"Hey." she replied automatically.

"Can I sit with you?" asked Theo cheerfully.

Hermione couldn't help but widen her eyes.

"Sit here? With me?" she repeated stupidly.

"If you don't mind?" he asked, pointing to the chair in front of her. "I'm struggling with the last Arithmancy lesson and I'm thinking, we've been having this unspoken competition between us for years, why don't we just give up and combine our knowledge and pass our O.W.L.'s instead?"

Hermione felt the corners of her lips turn up without her approval.

"What competition?" she asked innocently.

"Oh, come off it, you know perfectly well what I'm talking about." replied Theo with a smile.

"You're just asking because I'm winning." said Hermione.

"Yes, totally." he admitted shamelessly. "I hate losing. And I really need help with this diagram. So, can I sit?"

Hermione glanced around them. A few students were occupying tables, and Madam Pince was sitting at her desk. Hermione's table was in the centre of the room, directly opposite the large door.

"Right in the middle of the Library?" she whispered anxiously. "Are you sure? Everyone could see us..."

She tried not to think about how similar this scene was to the one she'd experienced with Draco the year before, when he'd casually sat next to her as if he'd done that every day.

Theo frowned slightly and looked around as if he'd just realised they weren't alone.

"Oh, you don't want to be seen with me?" he asked, surprised.

"Of course I do." she replied without thinking. "It's for you that I was saying that... Gryffindor, Muggle-born, all that..."

Theo rolled his eyes gravely and pulled out the chair to sit in.

"I don't care about any of that."

Hermione felt a deep sense of relief when she heard that sentence, the one she had been desperately waiting for from Draco for months. Theo had said it impulsively, sincerely, without the slightest doubt in his voice. Once again, she felt strangely reassured by his presence.

He sat down and put his Arithmancy textbook between them to start working. Hermione watched him without saying anything, too surprised to think of anything to say or do. Suddenly he looked up at her:

"By the way, I found this for you."

He pulled out a book from under his textbook and handed it to her. It was the same book she had picked up to save him, Les Fleurs du Mal, but in English. Hermione admired the pretty cover with the stems intertwined around the title and had a small, stifled exclamation:

"My God, Theo! It's beautiful! How did you..."

"I ordered it with Blaise's owl yesterday." he explained, suddenly a little embarrassed. "Consider it a thank you gift, or an early Christmas present."

Hermione felt her heart swell as she saw his cheeks rosy with embarrassment.

"Thank you, that means a lot to me." Hermione said, full of honesty. "I'm going to read it again over the holidays."

"You let me know if your favourite poem has changed." said Theo as he watched her leaf through the collection.

"What a lovely Christmas present." sighed Hermione as she brushed the green stems that ran through all the pages. "Now I have to get you one just as beautiful."

"Well..." the boy said with a mischievous smile, the kind that dimpled the hollows of his cheeks. "Actually... if you could help me understand the lesson in Arithmancy, I'd be very grateful."

Hermione gave a small laugh at the request.

"Ah, Slytherins, always with your deals..." she said as she took the textbook and opened it to the correct page.

"You've got it all figured out. And I was thinking..." Theo coughed a little, both embarrassed and amused. "Now we're even. You helping me not to make a fool of myself in front of everyone, me helping you to cure Potter with the Essence of Dittany under Snape's nose... Perhaps this gift can mark peace between us? It would be a shame to deprive ourselves of a friendship because we weren't put in the same Houses when we were eleven. And I think we can help each other. Well, especially you, for Arithmancy." he added to diffuse the slightly too solemn atmosphere.

Hermione would hardly have been able to find better words than those. Ever since that day when Theo had covered for her with Snape, and perhaps even before that, she had always found Theo different from the other Slytherins. Draco had often said that they looked alike. Hermione rather thought that they complemented each other.

"That's fine by me." she replied, instinctively holding out her hand to him.

He shook it hastily, obviously relieved by her reaction. They grinned at each other, and a movement in Hermione's field of vision made her turn her head.

It was Draco, standing between the two doors of the Library.

He had stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes wide as he stared at Theo and Hermione's shaking hands.

Hermione tried to put herself in his place, to catch him with her best friend, on a table in the Library, in the very place where they had fallen in love with each other, and felt a strange impulse, the opposite of her usual reactions, the opposite of everything Hermione was used to feeling, a very Slytherin impulse: pleasure at the idea of hurting him. To inflict pain, to press where it hurts. The pleasure of revenge.

And Hermione realised at that moment that she had just found the perfect boy to make Draco jealous.

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French translation :

- Draco, what should I do?
- Don't you want to take her Bishop?
- I can't, her Knight will take my Queen if I do that.
- You should open the game on the left with your pieces.
- I sacrifice my Bishop to divert her attention?
- No, don't bother. Open the game and she'll get her King out on her own.

I just love Harry and Hermione friendship so much 3

I don't know if it was obvious but the empty room where Draco and Hermione have their argument is where Harry found the Mirror of the Rised in the first book!

I know a lot of readers are disappointed with Draco's behaviour in the final chapters, with the match and all that. I just wanted to point out that, even though he's changing for the better thanks to the influence of Hermione and his friends, he's still a complex and troubled character, with major anger issues that he hasn't quite got to grips with yet. The Draco in my story isn't necessarily dark like the one in Manacled or Secrets and Masks, but he's definitely a bit toxic. This chapter also serves as a reminder that he's not the only one. I think everyone has their toxic side, and Hermione shows it here. She too can be toxic towards Draco. Many will say that he deserved it, and I certainly wouldn't disagree. So I prefer to warn you that Draco isn't going to become magically better all of a sudden, it happens gradually, and thank goodness for that, otherwise we'd get a bit bored, wouldn't we?