Stunned, Hermione blinked at her.
"E-excuse me?" It was official. She had spent way too much time with Malfoy and as a result, she was losing her mind. Surely, she had misheard...or both of them were playing her to be a fool.
Truthfully, she supposed anything was possible at this point.
"We're to be engaged," she repeated, the words rolling off her tongue effortlessly.
The confidence Astoria held in her statement and the tender way Malfoy looked at her prior to his parting was all Hermione needed to be convinced; she definitely heard right...and was likely still losing her mind.
"You're marrying him," Hermione stated, dumbfounded.
Astoria laughed lightheartedly as she spoke. "Eventually, yes. Unless the definition of the word has changed in the last couple of months." Her smile remained even as a line appeared between her brows.
"Though I suppose it would come as a bit of a shock if you've been spending all this time with him and he hadn't taken the time to mention it." Her tone was free of any accusation but the insinuations in her statement was enough to make Hermione become riddled with sweat. The last thing she needed was petty drama...
While maintaining her composure, the bookworm tread carefully. "We have only been spending time together because we're partners for a potions assignment. I assure you, I have never thought of him in that way."
"You would be the first," Astoria noted.
Hermione wanted to laugh. Loudly. And obnoxiously.
"You can't be serious?"
"You haven't noticed? I've even seen girls from Gryffindor practically throw their knickers at him for his attention," she added, disdainfully.
"Why would anyone want someone like—" Hermione paused and recalled Astoria's initial reaction when she found the two of them arguing. She didn't seem to be aware of the oppugnancy or the long standing history of resentment between them. How that was even remotely possible, she wasn't sure. She seemed to know of Hermione's blood status. Surely, she had to be aware of the hatred he held towards her sort? There was also the fact she managed to take one look at the two of them while each other's throats and assumed they were friends.
Ultimately, she ended up taking a different route to explain before she inadvertently insulted her company's future beloved. "What I mean is... you don't have to worry about me showing any interest. We've never really gotten along. Things are certainly less tense since the war ended but even now, we're just—" she trailed off. Was it accurate to label them as enemies now? They certainly weren't friends. He had made it explicitly clear...
Are you expecting us to be friends merely because we ended on the same side?
Hermione frowned as his unwavering voice echoed along the walls of her mind.
Let me be clear about something...we didn't win...we survived.
She hadn't realized how accurate he was until now.
"...survivors."
The sound of Astoria giggling took her out of her thoughts. "Merlin, you sound just as depressing as him."
She winced involuntarily. "Sorry, I...honestly don't know where that came from. Regardless, our history isn't relevant. I'm sure he's a different person towards you and many happy returns. Truly, that's very exciting."
"Thank you," she beamed. Hermione internally sighed with relief. :We're very happy about it."
At least she seemed happy about it, she thought. Malfoy on the other hand...
Hermione hadn't seen him happy since he and the rest of the Inquisitorial Squad caught them in the room of requirement fifth year. That was the last she had seen of childish, imprudent Malfoy before he was replaced the following year with a taller, brooding version that often carried an cloud of woe wherever he went.
"Do you have a date set?" She inquired.
"Not officially. Our parents are aiming for the end of summer in 2000. Since it won't be happening for another few years, we have a contract being drawn up at the moment," Astoria clarified.
"A contract?" she pressed. For a betrothal? "That seems rather excessive."
"I know, it seems silly. But given the fact that I'm currently fifteen, our parents wanted to be cautious." Applying a slight emphasis on her age, she smiled warily at Hermione's mixed expression of comprehension and sympathy. She was not one to judge couples based on their age gaps. After all, Viktor had three years on her.
"It's one of the reasons why we are putting it off the engagement until the end of the year."
"I see. And you aim to plan a wedding while you are in school?"
"I wouldn't be returning next year."
She worked out the math in her head. "Aren't you only in your sixth year? Your education would be incomplete."
Astoria shook her head. "Draco and his parents had the same concerns but my parents reassured them that I would be able to finish the remaining curriculum at home. Eventually they settled on this being my final year here so that I could start my lessons as quickly as possible."
"Lessons?" she echoed, confused.
"Yes. It's a common requirement in our society." Hermione swallowed the lump in her throat.
Their Pureblood society.
"The lessons are to prepare me for life as a wedded woman; mannerisms, social gatherings, expectations and such—" she explained straightforwardly while Hermione's ardor steadily evaporated.
Lessons to prepare her to be his wife...
Draco Malfoy's wife.
Hermione looked up when she noticed Astoria's mouth was still moving. "I should go. I'm meeting with my parents to talk more about the contract so we'll have to catch up another time. It was a pleasure seeing you again." She smiled brightly before she walked off.
Hermione stood in place, taking in all of the newly acquired information. She supposed she didn't know much about his personal life. There was always talk of him and numerous witches but nothing was ever confirmed. If anything, everyone had their suspicions of him and Pansy after he escorted her to the ball fourth year.
Purebloods had always had a more 'traditional' approach to most things which she was well aware of but never quite knew the specifics. In her mind, they were far too young. They were on the other side of a war that began long before they were born and finally had the chance to take the time to find their own place and figure out what their aspirations were. For her, it was just the beginning. Marriage seemed so far away when there was still so much she hadn't done and so much she wanted to achieve.
It was too soon...
September 19, 1998
"Looking good, Granger."
Hermione looked up from her spot in the stands to see a seventh year grinning at her as he flew by with his broom. She gave him a small, kind smile before turning her attention back to her book.
Outside of the time she spent in class, she found herself enjoying a series Ron had gifted her over the summer. He and Harry were nothing if not cognizant of her obsession with A. Penmenski's works as often as she mentioned him. He was a writer known for his passion and riveting redemption story lines and his latest series was no exception. 'Black Roses' was an indiscriminate tale that was sure to go down in the books as a classic as it had the ability to hook readers of all ages, even those who detested reading.
She recalled a memory from a few months when she caught Ron reading the first book one evening, claiming it fell from the shelf and was simply checking for any damages.
He was fifty pages in when she found him.
Needless to say, he ended up buying his own copy a few days later.
She was quite fond of that memory. Originally, she hadn't wanted to continue the series until the seventh book was in her possession. Since the release of his latest novel occurred this past summer while she was preoccupied with other events, she was unable to get her hands on a copy before it was sold out in every bookstore nearby. With the wizarding world in disrepair, a second publishing of the book was unlikely to occur in the near future. Deciding not to wait any longer, she picked up where she left off in the sixth book in hopes of keeping the more pleasant thoughts of Ron fresh in her mind.
On the other hand, it was the perfect reason to keep her head down while she waited and avoid any unwanted conversation—
"Reading about the sport is not going to help you get a spot on the team, you know."
She felt her lips twitch, eyes remaining firm as she flipped a page.
"I would never read a book on something so unimaginative and superficial," she retaliated as his footsteps approached her. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be out there on the field?"
Or pestering your future wife...?
"Well, I would if your friends weren't monopolizing it like they have been for the past four hours." Instinctively, she turned her attention to the field for the first time since she sat down, only to see it was indeed overrun by her fellow Gryffindor classmates. It looked like they were in the process of wrapping things up as they were all on their feet as opposed to the usual scrimmaging on their brooms.
"Huh. Can't say that I've noticed," she stated flippantly as she shifted her attention back to her literature.
"You don't say." She didn't have to look at him to know he was grinning smugly at her. Testing her. Hermione bit the inside of her cheek to refrain from saying something ill-advised. Like usual, she went for the topic of conversation with the least chances of receiving of push back.
"Look, if you're here to ask about the potion, I haven't forgotten about it. I've been working out the logistics and assuming you've done your part, everything should be set for tomorrow evening."
It had been a week since the day she met up with Malfoy. During their brief interaction, they constructed a new timeline as planned while he revealed he had intentions to reserve a section of the astronomy tower for them before the next new noon. After they parted ways that day, she hadn't seen much of him outside of classes due to tryouts.
Incidentally, she hadn't seen much of Ginny either.
When he didn't respond, she turned her head, looking in his direction for the first time since he approached her. He stood tall beside her, fully donned in Quidditch attire. Her eyes trailed upwards to land on his pointed face, his attentive eyes fixed on her lap until his gaze suddenly flickered to meet imploring brown. Almost in sync, they turned their respective gazes to the field, focusing their attention anywhere else.
He cleared his throat and kept his head forward.
"Yes. I've done my part," he replied derisively.
She nodded slowly in acknowledgement. They let the impending silence consume them for a few moments. Then the silence got to be too much. She needed something to fill the silence. Anything.
"I'm actually here for Ginny," she blurted. She kept her focus on the field when she felt his gaze on her again.
"Ah right. I forgot Red did mention you might be stopping by."
Her eyebrows shot up. "'Red'?"
"Yeah, the Weaselette?"
"You mean Ginny," she emphasized.
"No, I mean Red," his lips twitched upward seeing how flustered she was getting.
"You have another name you call behind her back?"
He raised a brow as if to oppose her when Ginny appeared beside her.
"Red," he addressed.
"Blondie," she responded curtly before turning her attention to the brunette between them. "Hey Hermione, glad you could make it."
Hermione's eyes nearly bugged out of her head. "Am I missing something?"
They stared at her blankly. As if nothing was out of the ordinary.
"The names," she clarified. They both exchanged glances.
"Weasley failed to respond to 'Weaselette' when she nearly smacked me with her bloody bat during a practice round. So I called her 'Red', instead." He seemed proud of himself.
Hermione, however, was unimpressed.
He shrugged. "She responded."
She turned to Ginny. "And 'Blondie'?"
"Pretty self-explanatory but if you'd like an explanation, I told him his large, blond head made him an easy target," she grinned.
"I have you know, you happen to be mocking a signature, hereditary trait of a Malfoy—"
"I'm not mocking, it's true. Your hair is blinding and your head is rather large." Ginny cut him off nonchalantly, inspecting her fingernails.
"Whatever," he scoffed, crossing his arms across his chest.
Hermione's eyes flickered between the pair. "Are you two...getting on?"
"If you could call it that," he mumbled.
"We've been practicing together in preparation for tryouts," Ginny said, ignoring him. "Remember McGonagall at the start of the term? She wanted more 'respectable interactions' between the houses, especially in Quidditch; to highlight the importance of 'friendly competition' so to speak. So I figured, why not work with someone I won't feel bad about if they end up in the hospital wing?"
"Believe me, the feeling's mutual," he sneered.
"Oi Draco! They're ready for us!" The three turned to see Blaise calling for him. He briefly waved to Hermione before retreating back to where the rest of the Slytherin students had congregated.
"Good luck, Blondie. Try not to get bloodied up too badly," Ginny joked. Hermione smiled at her usual methods of unyielding affection. Times like these made her appreciate the fieriness Ginny often brought to their circle of friends.
Hermione looked up at him and although his jaw was tight, she could make out a hint of humor dancing in his eyes.
"I think I'll manage," Malfoy said, eventually smirking at her.
The blond then turned his attention to Hermione. Gone was the trace of humor, replaced with something muddled for only a second. Then...nothing.
Before she could ponder on it, he abruptly excused himself and headed for the field. Hermione frowned at his retreating figure while Ginny took a seat beside her.
"So I take it things are going reasonably well with the ferret?"
"Why do you say that?" Hermione asked distractedly.
"Wasn't he just talking to you? That's probably the first time I've seen the two of you not yelling at each other."
Hermione turned to face her. "I suppose? That interaction was the most civil we've had so far."
"Well I must say, I'm impressed and amazed that you haven't killed him before me."
Hermione chuckled lightly, "You never know. The school year is still early..." She chewed on her bottom lip as another topic forced its way to the surface. "Did you know he's to be engaged?"
Ginny snorted. "How couldn't I?" She gave a brief nod to the other side of the stands where Astoria sat as she chatted with her friends. "His little priss of a soon-to-be-fiancée has shown up to almost every single practice we've had."
Hermione's lips pulled together tightly. "How lovely."
"How tiresome, you mean. Her and her little flock of birds are always gossiping and it's so distracting. Thank Merlin, it won't affect me after today since we won't have any more practices together."
"She seemed nice enough to me." If two, short conversations were enough to make that judgement call.
"Well, he's going to have his hands full with that one. I almost feel bad for the git," she admitted.
"You do realize this is Malfoy you're talking about." Hermione blinked at her, unconvinced. "The same person who made a daily routine of teasing your boyfriend, insulting your brother and threatening me all before noon."
"I'm well aware of what he did, Hermione, but we aren't our past. You heard what McGonagall said, we have to try to give everyone a chance. And honestly, he's not as intolerable to work with as I was expecting. And he's good at the game. Really good..."
With the current track record, Ginny would have spent more time with him in the past few weeks than herself. Maybe she knew something she didn't. But no one understood the level of hate he held for her kind better than herself.
"Don't get me wrong, he's still a dick—" Hermione smiled at her bluntness, "—but it was actually helpful practicing with him because I never had to hold back like I would if it were my teammate. That being said, I think you could use him to your advantage," she said with a glint of mischief.
It unnerved Hermione almost as much as when she saw the same expression on him.
Almost.
"What do you mean?
"How winded would Ron get knowing you have to spend multiple evenings with Draco Malfoy?" She waggled her eyebrows at her.
The audacity of the concept outweighed the pang in her chest at the mention of Ron. Hermione forced a neutral expression as she let out a harsh, swift laugh. "He would never buy it. He knows I would never get involved with someone like him. What on Earth makes you think I could ever want such a thing?" She knew she would regret asking the question when the fire in Ginny's eyes grew.
"For one; he's hot."
"Ginny!" Hermione gaped at her. Sure, he had always been more put together than other wizards at their school. Whatever had happened in the summer before their sixth year at Hogwarts had done him favors. Even as a bratty, spoiled child with slicked back hair, he was admired by many Slytherin girls. Now that it seemed he had grown into his looks, the several inches he held over her.
It hit Hermione that somehow Astoria's claim to him having a collection of witches at his beckoning call didn't seem so unbelievable after all.
"What? Even you can't deny it's true," Ginny laughed.
"You were literally just making fun of his looks!"
"I was only teasing, Hermione. It's fun getting a rise out of him and oddly enough, it makes him play better. And while I'm being honest..." she looked behind them, as if to see if there was anyone eavesdropping on their conversation, "—his hair is only one of his many alluring features," she continued quietly as she winked at her. "And when you see him on a broom?" She feigned a schoolgirl fainting and landed her head on the brunette's lap. She cracked open one of her eyes to see Hermione staring down at her, unimpressed.
"Did you actually need something or can I leave now?" She asked flatly.
The redhead rolled her eyes at the brunette's attempt to avoid the subject and sat upright. "Harry owled me this morning. He said he and Ron weren't going to be able to make it to Hogsmeade tonight. They're in the middle of a big case and are working on a Saturday due to the shortage of staff."
She exhaled in relief. To be honest, she wasn't sure if she was able to face Ron knowing he was deliberately avoiding to communicate with her...and to have to sit through an entire evening that was intended to be a double date. There was also the fact that she still hadn't told Ginny or Harry of their current situation. She was waiting for the right time...whenever that was.
"It's fine. We can do it another time."
Ginny was incredulous. "Really?"
"Yes. Why?"
"Harry was worried you would be upset they cancelled. Especially today."
Hermione's brow furrowed.
What was today?
Oh.
Oh.
"I...completely forgot. I suppose I've been rather busy lately." She laughed lightheartedly.
After her meeting with Malfoy, she had spent more time in between classes to try to get ahead knowing what lay ahead of them the next couple of months. Not to mention the emotional exhaustion from her constant attempts to distract her thoughts regarding her strained relationship.
Thank goodness for books.
Her eyes softened. "You've been working too hard...I can see if they'd like to try for tomorrow night? I have my ways of making him say yes—" she insisted but was cut off when Hermione laughed and shook her head without hesitance.
"I appreciate it, Ginny, but I wouldn't be able to make it tomorrow."
"How come?"
She refrained from looking at the field as she thought of a green and silver tie and a handsome smirk.
"I have another obligation..."
Later that evening, she began packing away the notes she prepared for the commencement of their brew when she saw the time. She hadn't planned to stay up this late but was put slightly behind schedule as a result of spending the majority of her evening in Hogsmeade.
Shortly after she and Ginny returned from the pitch, she came back to a familiar eagle owl tapping on her bedside window. While Ginny headed for the showers, Hermione let the owl in and opened the large parcel from Harry which contained a long-written apology and various limited editions of books he had accumulated for her. In his letter, he assured her that even though he and Ron were unable to attend, he insisted they keep their original plans and have Ginny and Luna take her for a 'girls night out.'
She waited for Ginny to finish showering so she could read the letter aloud to her while she toweled her hair dry. She hadn't even gotten to the part where he said he would take care of any expenses before she was yanked out of the room to begin the search for Luna.
Not an hour later, Hermione found herself in the middle of the Three Broomsticks and savoring every sip of her butterbeer. There, they mainly gossiped about Luna's potions partner who had transferred from a wizarding school in America. She said he started there because it was where his grandmother attended but ultimately wanted to finish his education at Hogwarts when his interest for magical creatures grew with age. Hermione was fascinated by the stories she shared about him as a student attending a different school and as the grandson of a famous magizoologist.
She noted that she didn't have much to say about Neville the entire time. If something happened between them, she didn't show any signs of it and continued to enjoy herself regardless. It inspired Hermione to do the same, at least for the rest of the night...
*tap*
*tap*
She turned her head to investigate the noise coming from her bedside window. She smiled endearingly when she saw an owl and walked over to let him in. She had been receiving packages sporadically throughout the afternoon, bearing treats and flowers and heartfelt messages from former classmates.
She was surprised to see it was Harry's owl again.
Without a second thought, she let him in and took the package from its talons to unwrap it.
Hermione's tired eyes lit up in disbelief and read the cover four times to make sure she wasn't seeing things. But there was no mistaking what book she was holding. She looked at the owl again who stared back at her. Besides Harry, the only other person who knew was...
Ron.
Her hand shakily untied the note attached and flipped it over. She stared at the two, simple words that shattered her core...
Happy Birthday.
September 20, 1998
With a newfound burst of motivation, Hermione decided to get a head start and spent the later part of her afternoon in the section of the astronomy tower Malfoy had reserved. Upon her arrival, she set her belongings down by the door and cast a quick cleansing to rid of any dust and cobwebs. She swiftly pulled two cushioned stools from her charmed handbag and took a seat on one of them, shedding her robes and tying her hair up into a messy bun. She glanced down at her watch;
6:30PM
She had half an hour before he was set to arrive. What could she do in the meantime? She bit her lip as she looked at her backpack guiltily.
Once she had the seventh book in hand, the sixth did not last much longer and was completed early this morning. Initially, she had brought the newest one to read while they took turns stirring. Surely, she could get in a few pages before he showed up. The ingredients were prepped and sat in their vials on the counter and it's not like she could start working the potion without the cauldron...
Forty five minutes later, she was three chapters in. Her large, brown eyes were so enraptured by the new book that she hardly flinched when the door flung open.
Her eyes snapped up to follow his figure as he set his items down next to hers and began to shrug off his robes.
She looked at her watch again. "You're late."
He rolled his eyes as he set his robes on his bag and went to unbutton his cuffs. "You could have started without me," he retorted irritably as he rolled up his sleeves.
"As I recall, you're the one with the cauldron," she replied, standing from her stool and walking over to him.
He scoffed, bending down to pull said object out of his bag. She went to take it from him when he held it out but he pulled it back last minute.
"Tsk tsk, Granger. Not even a 'please'? You really should learn to mind your manners," he taunted pretentiously.
She eyed the cauldron he held behind him. His height gave him the advantage. If she tried to grab it from where she stood, he could easily hold it high out of her reach.
Then she had an idea.
She raised a brow as if to challenge him. He watched her curiously as she did so. With a small grin and a flick of her wrist, she wandlessly expelled the cauldron from his hands. Bracing herself in a slightly squatted position, she extended both arms and caught the pot, holding it tightly to her chest. As she stood upright, she could have sworn she saw his jaw slacken for a second before it was tight again. His piercing eyes fixed on her as part of his bemused expression as his now-empty hands fell to his side.
Beginnings of a victorious smile etched its way onto her face.
"Please make yourself useful and acquire five hundred grams of petroleum," she asked primly before sauntering away.
As she set the pot on the counter, she heard him huff and say something along the lines of "bossy little swot" while he reluctantly did as she requested.
Once the petroleum was added and had begun to melt, he unpacked and prepped the freshly acquired feather and molies on the counter top space beside her.
When she stirred and he stripped the feather of its fibers, she cursed the approaching twisting in her stomach that occurred several times since she agreed to do this potion. If her theory was wrong, all the time she had spent trying to crack the code would have been a waste. She couldn't be wrong. The time frames for each of the attempts matched up to the lunar phases of their respective years. Malfoy even agreed with her theory. And she knows Draco Malfoy would never agree with her for the sake of it...not in this life.
It would work, she decided then. It had to work.
"Granger."
His abrasive tone cut through her. Suddenly alert, her head turned to his direction and blinked blankly at him. "What?"
"I asked if the base is ready," he said, staring at her pointedly.
"It will be. Just be patient," Hermione replied brusquely.
His cold, calculating gaze didn't waiver.
"I have been patient. You've had it heating for over twenty minutes now."
She turned her attention back to the pot in front of her, horrified to see the petroleum hadn't melted completely. That was odd. Maybe it was because of the higher elevation...
"Do you need me to take over?" She heard an edge at the end of his sentence but he wasn't taunting her this time. No, he wasn't amused in the slightest. "I won't have you fucking up because you're too busy getting distracted—"
"Don't be dramatic, Malfoy, it's probably because we're higher up than we were before. It only needs a few more minutes." She cut him off abruptly, uncomfortable with him towering over her still. "Please sit down."
"Am I making you nervous again?" He said smugly. The harsh undertones had receded; he was back to teasing her again. Hermione debated if that change was reassuring or not while she stirred absentmindedly.
He huffed an aggressive scoff. "You have no reason to be. I'm not the same as before." He had a point. A few years ago, he would have thrown himself off a bridge before voluntarily placing himself in the same room as her.
"No, it's not you. It's just—" she paused, contemplating her choice of words. "I don't want to get my hopes up..." In the end, she blamed it on her inability to lie, like she hadn't meant to tell him. She resumed the clockwise motions so she wouldn't make the mistake of looking at him again. From the corner of her eye, she could see him walk to the other side of the room until he was completely out of sight. Though he stayed silent. Originally, she assumed she had broken him with her moment of vulnerability and didn't know how to respond. Not that she could blame him...she wouldn't have a clue of what to do if their roles were reversed. When her nerves were able to settle down, she understood; he was giving her space.
Approximately five minutes later, she had a cauldron filled with liquefied petroleum.
"It's ready," She said with as much confidence as she could muster and turned around to look at him. He had leaned his body against the nearby table and was propped on his elbows, eyes on the floor. Once he heard her, he pushed off without a moment's delay and walked back to his original place beside her to gather the ingredients into his hand. He hovered above the heated pot as she gave the last few stirs to keep the liquid in motion.
Extracting the ladle, she wiped the bead of sweat that collected at her forehead. "Moment of truth." Her eyes flickered to his. She nodded. And he let go.
They watched as the feather fibers and petals fell in, mesmerized as the solids began to leak their colors almost instantly. They witnessed the translucent base transform, emitting a light glow before settling into a silvery hue.
She felt light when the tension left her body, her shoulders slumped as she sighed in relief. Malfoy merely smirked at her and went to extract more items from his bag.
"What? No, 'not bad for a muggleborn' or even a snarky remark?" she prompted.
"Didn't think someone like you still needed people telling her what she already knows," he returned coolly.
She supposed that was as close to a compliment she would ever get from him.
"Besides," There was light clatter when he deposited the rest of its contents onto the counter. "That was only the beginning—"
She nodded, fully prepared to take on the rest of the evening. "Then let's get started."
For the next hour, they settled into a comfortable rhythm; she flipped between her notes and the concoction, reading the ingredients aloud as she maintained the potion and he prepped the recited ingredient before tossing it into the solution. In between additions, she would watch for any shifts in color or drastic changes to viscosity and he would adjust the independent variables accordingly.
After the final ingredient of the evening was added and incorporated, now came the dull part of the process; constant observation. The third entry mentioned the most changes would occur in the first couple of hours and would need to be watched constantly in that time frame. Pausing in her motions, wiped the sweat off her brow as she pulled out her wand and cast a motioning spell on the ladle. She stood up to flex her sore wrist, in dire need of fresh air.
She glanced around to locate her partner before pinpointing him at the balcony where he braced himself against the railing. His head was tilted upwards, gazing at the skies as the stars lit it up. She took note of the slight breeze in the air, noticing the directional movements his clothes and hair gave away as they shifted with it. Remembering why she initially desired his attention, Hermione willed herself to look away and cleared her throat.
"Are you ready?"
"For what?" His voice was oddly distant.
"It's your turn to watch the potion."
He slowly turned in place, eyes lit up in something unrecognizable. "Had I known you were going to be this needy, I would have begged Slughorn the first day."
She pursed her lips, already taking on her lecturing stance with her hands on her hips. "Mind you, I've been stirring for the past two hours since we started—"
He rolled his eyes at her. "Don't whine, Granger, it's unbecoming."
"Not to mention you're the one who showed up late—"
"You're hardly the one to be lecturing me about tardiness," he shot back when she turned around to tidy up their workspace.
"I was late to class once."
"And our first meeting?" He reminded her.
She turned, glaring at him. "You said 'after dinner'. Therefore, I arrived 'after dinner.'"
"That was my mistake," he sniffed, "I wasn't aware you ate like a sloth—"
"Watch yourself, Malfoy," She said, warningly.
He shrugged nonchalantly. "Can't help if the truth hurts, Granger."
Her jaw clenched.
"Alright, alright. I'm coming." With a satisfied smirk, he stepped away from the balcony to take her place while she fetched her book.
An hour passed since they switched places. Light bubbling from the potion and the random clinking were the only noises she made out while she read peacefully until a low grumble took her from her fantasy world. Hermione looked around curiously before her eyes landed on the only other occupant of the room. Mere seconds later, she found him staring back.
"What?" He snapped.
"Did you hear that?" As if on cue, the noise sounded again. This time, she was able to identify a specific point of origin; his stomach.
"You haven't eaten." She observed.
"Didn't have the time," he responded definitively as he stirred.
She eyed him precariously. "You can eat your apple. I won't judge you this time."
He made no movements to reach for his bag.
"You didn't bring any food, did you?" She asked, taken aback.
"Didn't have the time." He repeated with a tone of finality. Decided to drop the subject, she fought the urge to ask, recognizing that he had no interest in continuing the conversation. In the meantime, there was another topic she had thought to implore with him; the intangible ingredient. After having a week to dwell over her hypothesis, she questioned the accuracy of it. To be fair, she wouldn't have thought anything of it if it weren't only mentioned during the last round of additions. She quickly ran through the ingredients in her head: ground dragon scales...unicorn hairs...wildflower honey...fresh blood...last time she checked, all of those were very much tangible items.
"Do you remember when the eighth entry mentioned the 'intangible ingredient'?" She found herself asking aloud.
"What of it?" He replied dismissively.
"Have you any thoughts on what ingredient that might be?"
"Does it matter?" Malfoy retorted.
"Call it a natural curiosity for the unknown. Surely even you can understand that." Her brown eyes shined with a glint of delight, pleased when he ran a hand through his hair frustratingly. She had a feeling now matter how different he was now, he still wouldn't be able to back down from a challenge.
He sighed heavily. "Yes. I have thought about it."
How she loved to be right. "And?"
She could see an internal debate occurring in his head. "I suppose now's a good time to mention, there was an undocumented attempt at making the potion. More recent than the eighth."
Per usual, a million questions ran through her head. Though, she remembered who she was talking to and thought it best to restrict it to one question at a time. "By who?
She wondered if it was someone she knew...who did she know that was capable of doing such a potion? Someone who clearly had high aspirations and expectations.
He continued to speak like he hadn't heard her. "Typically, it was dark magic that captured his fancy. But there were many factors that kept him intrigued by such a potion; the secrecy, the missing pieces, the challenge. It excited him like nothing else. So he devoted time. Lots of it. All to try and uncover its secrets."
Uncover its secrets...
Of course.
"I was only a child when I found out. He was on the final phase when I stumbled upon him one evening right as he had cut himself. I called him a madman. He was only upset because it didn't work." His eerily calm persona contrasted with Hermione who was horrified as he recalled the memory of his childhood.
"You were close to him, then...was he your relative?" She asked, hesitantly. She never really knew what to make of their relationship. Only that the elder was rather...protective in his own way when it came to the youth.
"Godfather, actually." He corrected.
It all made sense now. "That's why...the unbreakable vow," she realized. His eyes narrowed.
"How do you know about that?" He asked sharply, but she hadn't heard him. All of her processing power prioritized connecting the dots.
"He helped you all along. That's why he supported you in your attempts to assassinate Dumbledore—"
"My failed attempts, mind you," he interrupted.
"That's why you want to make this potion, then. As homage to him?"
His lips twitched upwards. "You might say that. He never disclosed the details of brewing the potion to me so you could also call it a natural curiosity for the unknown," he echoed her words from earlier. "Magic by itself never really fascinated me. You can teach anyone with magic in their veins to say a few words, wave a wand around and hope for something to happen. That's all there is to it. But when you add factors like intention...and purpose...and a deranged mentality, that's when things get interesting."
He sounded so far away despite standing right in front of her. Hearing his words frightened her. Not because he was intimidating or threatening.
Malfoy was clearly someone who has thought about the intricacy of magic, much like herself. Except he had experienced the other side of magic...the darker side.
"If I've learned anything over the past few years, it's that witches and wizards alike are capable of turning the most beautiful things into something ugly. It's why everyone who has created it successfully so far has left bits and pieces of information behind. So that those with the right intentions are more likely to uncover its true ability. That's why he failed."
Intrigued, she sat straight up. Her book remained closed beside her, long forgotten. "Why is that?"
His lips pursed. "When you decoded the eighth entry, you mentioned one of the ingredients was 'intangible'."
She nodded. "I thought it was the effects of the moon."
"You, like everyone else," he quipped darkly. "Now put yourself into the head of one of the most demented people you've ever known to exist and think about the ingredient list again. Why would you want to keep a potion like this away from someone like that?" Hermione already felt the cold chills travel down her spine as she did as he instructed, her intuition acting alongside her altered cognitive mind.
"You don't think it's actually wizards' blood—?"
"Of course it's wizards' blood. What else would it be? Were you just going to slaughter a random creature when the time came?" She'd never seen him so comically confounded.
"I wasn't going to slaughter a creature. I would've found one already dead or stunned it beforehand or—" she sighed, exasperated. "It doesn't matter. Why do you think it's wizard's blood? You said Professor Snape failed when he used his own. We're obviously not taking anyone else's—"
"Tell me what this potion is used for," he prompted swiftly.
"—to heal deep and old wounds. Usually, ones that cause scarring which can't simply be magicked away or heal on their own," she recited with ease.
"Because one's body isn't capable of healing that sort of wound to such great extent. Not on its own, at least."
Instantly, her instincts were gratified...because they knew he was right.
"The blood has to be willingly given by someone else."
He nodded grimly. "That's the part he couldn't figure out. This potion is more than a healing salve—"
"—it's an act of selflessness," she finished. "Selflessness is the intangible ingredient."
At first, she was baffled by the fact that they managed to have such a profound conversation. He had answered her question, multiple, in fact that that she had often wondered about. For that, she was grateful. Now that she was left with the idea that he had been stringing her along, she felt dubious. He had known about the last phase all along and neglected to tell her. What exactly was he playing at?
"Did you think I would be willing to sacrifice my blood for the sake of a school assignment?"
"You were never supposed to be my partner, so in truth, I wasn't expecting anything from you," he answered steadily, his gaze fixed on her.
She scrutinized his eyes carefully. Free of any malice or deceit, his steely grays only displayed defeat and exhaustion. A common occurrence as of late. Hermione didn't know how to feel about the harsh reality in his words. He had prepared himself not to expect anything from her. Even admitted it to her. Then why did she feel...sympathy? And guilt?
We aren't our past.
No, they certainly weren't. Much had changed since then. Ginny had a point. He wasn't as she imagined he would be since they've returned. Sure, he'd been consistently neurotic in their encounters so far but perhaps she had pressed too hard. She knew she couldn't treat him like she did Harry and Ron. No...she needed a new approach...
We are all victims of the war and should not be judged for how things were before.
Decision made, she stood from her seat and walked over to him.
"I can take over if you'd like," she offered.
"You don't think I can handle stirring?" Judging by the way his shoulders tensed, she could tell he was on the verge of becoming defensive again.
"We're in the last hour for this phase and only one of us needs to be here. It's getting late."
"You realize we have the same class tomorrow morning," he argued.
"And one of us hasn't eaten for most of the day." He watched her with an inquisitive glare. As if he weren't sure whether this was real or not. "Go on," she urged. "I'll see you in class tomorrow."
A few minutes later, he had gathered his belongings while she continued to monitor the potion. As he buttoned his robes and slung his bag onto his shoulders, Hermione debated whether or not she should say 'goodnight' or bid some form of farewell. Ultimately, she decided against it.
"You don't have to pretend, Granger. I told you we don't have to act like anything is different." His voice came out evenly when he spoke, contrasting the turbulence Hermione could sense within him. Why did he have to keep bringing that up?
"I'm not. It's called being a decent person, Malfoy," she responded, her tone surprisingly gentle.
She kept her focus on the potion, stirring and subconsciously counting his steps until the door clicked closed.
A/N: Thank you everyone for your patience and kind words :)