A/n: Wishing a happy belated birthday to our Gryffindor princess. Enjoy!
November 21, 1998
A week passed since the Cabbotts' attack and the students and faculty gradually settled back into their normal routines as the days passed. Hermione herself was no exception to this, even when she remained true to her word and managed to visit Malfoy every single day. The caveat being that by the time she was finished with her day, it was usually well into the evening and Malfoy was already fast asleep.
The alternative was to leave his books and a copy of her notes at his bedside, taking extreme caution as to not disturb him. Upon leaving, she would head straight for the astronomy tower to monitor their potion for a few hours while taking the time to complete her own assignments. While solitude was something she typically preferred, she did notice a difference in the overall ambiance without him. Ginny joked that it was because she missed his constant brooding. Hermione responded in her usual manner of, 'it's Malfoy. How could you miss him?'
Now that she's had the week to ponder on it, she could now say with certainty that Ginny wasn't joking and Hermione, to an extent, did miss him. Not that she'd ever admit it to anyone.
Due to her unfortunate timing, she would never get to hear him chuckle at the helpful — and at times, snarky — annotations she left at random points within her notes or see the way his lips quirked when he found the extra book she placed underneath all the required readings with a note saying, 'for when you're bored.'
Little did she know he would come to read every single one of them.
Then one day, the book for leisure reading and the neatly stacked materials tumbled straight to the floor when she stumbled upon the sight of him writhing violently in his cot, completely drenched in sweat. At that point, instincts had taken over and without another thought, she ran up to his bedside.
"Malfoy?" She pleaded with urgency, shaking him by the shoulder to try and wake him but with no avail. Sweat stains and dampness now covered his bedsheets so she cautiously placed her hand on his forehead, retracting it almost immediately when she felt how overheated his skin was to touch.
Recalling the area the healer would often rush off to when there was a medical emergency, Hermione darted off to a nearby alcove where all of the healing potions were stored. Her eyes roamed the shelves and when they landed on what she'd been searching for, she quickly snatched it and hastily made her way back to his cot, simultaneously uncapping the bottle while extracting her wand from her robes.
With the beginning of an incantation, a small amount of liquid was withdrawn from the bottle and swirled above him, preparing to be administered. Once the incantation was finished, the liquid emitted a dim glow and was absorbed into the tip of her wand before shooting outwards in the form of a mist to envelope his entire body.
The effects were almost immediate.
He gradually became still again, the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest being the only proof of his livelihood. His face no longer contorted in agony. She pressed a delicate hand to his face again. His temperature returned to normal. Hermione exhaled a tense breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. Deciding his condition was stable, she cast a quick drying spell to his bed coverings and clothes before turning her attention to the mess she made out of dropping all of his study materials on the floor. Tidying up didn't take hardly any time as she managed to get the books and stacks of parchment into a single neat arrangement at his bedside with a flick of her wand. Satisfied, she pocketed her wand and did a quick once over of the room before finally settling on the occupied cot in front of her.
Despite having walked in on Malfoy sleeping every day this week, she'd never taken the time to examine him closely. Admittedly, there was something oddly tranquil about him when he slept. Without a sneer or a look of dread obstructing his features, he appeared to be at peace for once in what had to be months.
With a blush, Hermione tore her gaze away and decided it best to leave before she did something foolish like lose herself in admiring Malfoy's physical appearance. While he was asleep and completely unaware, no less. She was halfway to the door when something made her stop in her tracks.
Shocked, her head turned slightly, just enough to see he was still deeply embedded in slumber.
Her brows cinched, figuring she was probably still on high alert from the adrenaline. She laughed at the ridiculous concept, shaking her head and continued heading onward to the Astronomy Tower.
Then she heard it again.
"Granger..."
It was a ghost-like echo being carried along with the wind, only there was no breeze. Nor was there a single ghost in the castle that would call her that. Her breath hitched and she turned abruptly to face him. Her shoulders slumped slightly when she saw that he was still very much asleep with light snores rumbling through him. Did he sense she was here, somehow? Could he have been dreaming about her? The thought brought a stronger blush to her cheeks. Even if she were to approach him about it, it wasn't like he'd believe her. Hell, she could hardly believe it herself. The last person she heard say her name while unconscious wrote it off as 'being boggled.'
With that, she ended up deciding it was best to leave it be.
When Saturday arrived, she made it her mission to see him first thing that morning before breakfast. Though once she arrived at the hospital wing, she was greeted by an empty cot and Madam Pomfrey was occupied with tidying the surrounding area. Once her presence was made known, the healer informed Hermione of his discharge earlier that morning.
"Mister Malfoy left as soon as I gave him clearance," Madame Pomfrey offered kindly, sweeping up between the cots.
"Did he say where he would be heading?" The healer shook her head, frowning.
"Not to me, dear. Though I wouldn't be surprised if he went straight to his dormitory to rest. The cots here aren't the most comfortable as I'm sure you know."
The last thing she wanted to do was stop by the Slytherin common room and run into Astoria. Or anyone else as equally unwelcoming for that matter. If he did go straight to his room first thing, then maybe Blaise or Theo would have seen him. Taking a glance at her time piece, she would assume they would be in the Great Hall getting breakfast right now. That would be her next destination.
The tables were abundant when she stepped through the entryway to the Great Hall, proving her search to be adequately difficult. She searched for any sign of Blaise and Theo as she walked further into the room, her eyes drifting over the Slytherin table. Only they were nowhere to be found—
"Oi! Princess!"
She halted mid-step and turned her head to the Gryffindor table on the other side of the room, a wave of confusion passed when she saw Blaise sitting at her usual seat next to Ginny.
"For once, you're just the person I was looking for." She approached them, her voice trailing off with the hint of a question in her tone as she looked around the table. "Where's Theo?"
"Spending the day with Slughorn. He's making up for the project since his became an assassination attempt," Blaise explained while separating the eggs and fruit on his plate, "McGonagall wanted to give him time after the match," he finished lamely, grimacing as he did so. It seemed it was a rather sore subject for them. Ginny had given her a brief summary of what happened while she was gone, including Theo's meltdown and Blaise lashing out in a rather lustful manner. Though no one else besides Harry knew of her whereabouts when she left campus. It wasn't a conversation she wanted to have with anyone just yet.
"How is Blondie holding up, by the way?" Ginny asked, as if she saw the question displayed clearly on Hermione's face.
"Oh, you know how he is," Blaise drew out like he were a parent preparing to vent about their child. "Already back to his usual self. Mere seconds after Pomfrey gives him clearance and he's already off causing trouble for himself."
"You've seen him, then? This morning, I mean," Hermione asked, with a glimmer of hope in eyes. Any and all hope was shot down when Blaise scoffed.
"Course I haven't. Fucking git's probably hiding away in an alcove somewhere to brood alone."
"You don't think he'd come down to breakfast?" Ginny implored, genuinely curious of his whereabouts.
"Getting breakfast after spending an entire week in the hospital?" Blaise echoed, mockery riddling his tone. "Doesn't sound like the self-destructive Draco I know and at times, despise."
"You mean you're letting him wander around the castle after being in the hospital all week?" Hermione acknowledged, unimpressed.
Blaise rolled his eyes at her, like he were talking to his second child who was equally as irksome as the first. "If I knew where he was, then I obviously wouldn't. But I don't know where he is because clearly, he doesn't want to be found." Then he eyed Hermione curiously, mischief flashing in his eye. "Not by me, at least."
Hermione's eyes narrowed, "What are you playing at?"
"Merlin's balls, you're just as bad as Draco," he snickered, grinning at her displeasure, then softening at her evident distress. "I don't know where he is, Princess. But intuition tells me you do."
"If I knew where he was, I wouldn't be here," she remarked smartly. "What sort of crummy intuition is that?"
He shrugged, eyes glinting playfully and not at all settling the unease in her belly.
"Snake's intuition."
The witch found herself standing in front of a large door moments later, hesitant to step inside. Not like it was a room she was unfamiliar with. Quite the opposite in fact, as it was a place she'd been in many times alone this year. Truthfully, she was embarrassed to say it took Blaise helping her figure out where he'd gone when he was right in the end; she should have known he'd gone here. Her hand hovered over the doorknob as her mind wandered.
Now that they were on more civil terms, what would conversations be like with him? Would they find that they had more in common than they initially thought? Or would they continue to argue on every single count, refusing to let the other win?
Taking a deep breath, she turned the knob and pushed, poking her head in.
She never took into account how differently the room would appear in the daylight after spending only evenings here. A soft bubbling from a potion brewing was the only sound to be heard and some of her belongings were still on the table where she left them. All in all, nothing seemed out of the ordinary from the way she left the room last night.
Aside from the blond currently seated at their workstation with his back turned to her, minding his own and taking notes from a reading assignment. He had been doing so for a while if the growing stack of parchment on the floor was any indication. Despite the incredulity at the lack of precautions he was taking, she couldn't help but be impressed by his study habits, being the perfect student she was.
She knocked softly prior to fully entering in the event she caught him at a bad time. Or in a bad mood. Neither were preferred.
"I'm busy, Astoria."
Immediately, she suppressed the feeling that hearing his voice after a week gave her. It only reminded her of the not-yet-welcomed realization that interacting with him somehow brought her a sense of comfort and normalcy she'd never experienced anywhere else. Her still empty stomach didn't help things.
"You know, usually people eat first thing in the morning," Hermione joked, stepping further into the room.
If she couldn't see the slight dip in his cheeks from this angle, she could practically hear the smirk in his response. "Are you trying to call me 'unusual', Granger?" his voice low and crisp and effortlessly neutral.
"Should I ask how long you've been here?" She prompted, stepping up next to him.
"Not long," he supplied, deeply embedded in his note-taking.
Hermione arched a brow. "Why do I find that hard to believe?" She glanced pointedly to the piles of parchment between them.
"I write fast. What of it?" he sniffed, whipping the book closed and crossing his arms when he realized he wouldn't be getting any further and finally sparing her a glance. Which was the moment when she decided to look away to the parchment on the table, paying particular attention to the loops of his L's and elegant slants within his penmanship.
"Don't you want a break?" She asked him, with a strangely pensive expression of concern. "Aren't you the least bit peckish?" Stop it. You're crowding him. And why do you care so much?
He simply shook his head, "I've been bedridden for an entire week."
"You're only going to overwork yourself, you know," the curly haired witch said with a hint of incredulity.
"Sure," he grumbled, "blame me, not the professors."
"You're also all caught up." Malfoy stiffened suddenly. "I know because I turned in all your assignments as you completed them so I don't know how you could possibly—" Something else caught her attention. "Hang on," leaning in, she took a closer look at the book beside him and her eyes widened at the title. "'A Potionmaker's Tale?' That reading is supposed to be assigned two weeks from now." He quickly snatched the book away from her eyesight as she gradually narrowed her eyes at him. "You're trying to get ahead, aren't you?"
"Granger," Malfoy warned.
Naturally, she ignored him. Really, she couldn't stop her train of thought once it took off, "You're overcompensating. But why would you when you have no need to?" She murmured, mostly thinking aloud to herself.
"Granger."
"Malfoy," she shot back, adopting a tone similar to his.
"You're going to end up stressing your and body—"
"I knew I should have gone to my room," Malfoy sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"I'll stop when you tell me why you're taking on all this extra work, "she informed him.
"My decisions don't concern you, Granger."
"I thought we were friends now?"
"Ah, ah. Acquaintances," he corrected seamlessly. "Those were your words as I recall, and they are two very different things."
"The way I see it, both give me reason to care," she retorted smartly, and he let out a mirthless laugh.
"Merlin, you're infuriating sometimes."
"Only sometimes?" She echoed, eyes wide in mock surprise. "Look at that, we're practically warming up to each other, already."
He fixed her with a hard look, unconvinced. "You won't like it."
She raised a brow, "Because that wasn't evident at all." He stared at her, jaw clenched, and she sighed loudly. "Look, I won't tell anyone if that's what you want but I feel that someone should know in case something happens to you. Or someone tries to pin your spontaneous death on me."
He pursed his lip, considering.
"Oh come on," she said, on the verge of begging and his eyes widened. "Please? Won't you tell me, Malfoy?" She pressed lightly, the tail end of his name having turned sweet as she utilized the tone she typically saved for Ron or Harry to guilt trip them. She never quite worked out the logistics in her head on whether or not this method would work on Malfoy. Signs were looking to be in her favor when he made his first mistake. He looked at her, slightly softening at her genuine expression and earnest concern for him. The rest followed shortly after.
"Alright, alright. Just stop looking at me like that. It's unbecoming of you." She fought the urge to smile now that she knew he was no exception to her methods and watched him expectantly when a defeated sigh escaped him.
"I planned private sessions with a professional seeker for the next two weeks."
Hermione blinked at him, disbelief arising and expressing outward in the form of fury.
"You what—?"
"Calm yourself, Granger—"
"You can't be serious—!"
"Could you be any louder—?"
"I mean honestly, of all the careless things you could have done, that's easily the worst you could mmph—" He launched himself forward, pressing a hand directly over her mouth to silence her.
"One day, that mouth of yours is going to get you in trouble." Stunned by his words, she was silenced as Astoria had said something similar to her only a week ago. He pulled his hand away when she stopped putting up a front. "Do keep in mind we currently have an unstable potion in the vicinity."
"Right." She grimaced when he turned away, effectively shutting himself away from her. "I'm sorry," she trailed slowly. "I'm just trying to understand—"
"No, it was my mistake," he supplied dully, voice devoid of emotion. "I shouldn't have said anything."
This was not at all how she intended for this to go. "But Malfoy—"
"We're done talking about this," he said sternly.
"You're going to put yourself through too much exertion," she continued to press, "your body won't be able to take it—"
All of a sudden, he stood up straight from his seat, his eyes darkening with subdued anger. Standing while he sat down somewhat leveled the playing field but now with him at his full height, he easily had the advantage.
"How presumptuous of you. It's not like you were there to see me after every fucking healing session," he spat distastefully.
Hermione withheld a surprised gasp. Was he upset because she didn't see him during the day when he was conscious? Of all the concerns she had, she never anticipated this. For him to react so negatively due to her absence. Either way, she didn't need to see him every day to know his body was still recovering from the injuries he sustained. She had to fight a grimace when the sight of him writing in his cot flashed across her mind.
"I didn't plan for that to happen, Malfoy. Between classes and trying to spend time with my friends who are busy with their own extracurriculars and helping your friends with their assignments," as if it were possible, his eyes narrowed further. "Look, I wasn't purposefully trying to avoid you. Honestly," she explained earnestly, "I didn't realize it made that much of a difference to you," she stated, refusing to cave under the intensity of his hardened gaze.
"Don't flatter yourself," he said with a sneer. She could see his jaw unhinge and he sat back down, turning himself away from her again, placing a wall in between them. If she didn't already take that as a cue to leave, his next words did.
"Seeing as you were burdened with watching the potion all of last week," his tone was anything but considerate. It wasn't difficult to see where he was going with this.
"Malfoy," she tried but he wasn't interested in hearing it.
"I will be with it every day this week—"
"Malfoy, I don't think—"
"—I highly encourage you to stay out of my way," he concluded, the tone of finality hitting her like a slap to the face. "Now if you don't mind, I'd very much like to be alone."
Hermione stared at him as he resumed his tasks like she was never there. But there was nothing more she could say or do. He said his piece and clearly, he needed time alone. All she could do was hope putting the distance between them would allow them to move forward.
Until they would inevitably go backwards again.
"If that's what you want," she admitted quietly as she turned away from him, unable to will away the insistent tugging in her chest.
November 24, 1998
"You're awfully quiet."
Hermione's head jerked up from where it was propped on her arm, her other hand stilling its hold on her quill. "What was that, sorry?"
"I said you're awfully quiet," Ginny repeated.
The brunette glanced at her, bemused. "We are in study hall—"
"I meant you've been quiet all week. Even just now, you seemed distracted. You've hardly gone through the first assignment," she nodded to her unopened book and blank parchment. "You know you can always talk to me about it? About anything," she insisted, looking concerned.
"I'm fine, Gin. I have a lot on my mind, that's all." Hermione knew she would never hear the end of it if she admitted there was one thing on her mind. Or one person, rather. The thoughts which plagued her never left and the hours in between the days grew shorter as mid terms and holidays encroached.
Ginny's attention was drawn away when Hermione felt a presence approaching from behind. Or rather, two presences.
"Princess."
Internally, she sighed.
"What is it, Blaise?"
"Do you have a minute?" Theo asked with a sense of hesitation. "We need to tell you something."
"Can you make it quick? I'm not in a particularly good mood today."
"More like all week," Ginny mumbled under her breath. Hermione could only manage a glare before Blaise cleared his throat.
"It may please you to know Draco wanted us to tell you he would be watching your little potion child tomorrow."
Potion child? She scrunched her nose. Such odd phrasing. But that part wasn't what stood out to her the most. "Why would that please me? He's the one who made this arrangement," Hermione snapped. Finally fed up with his evasion and passive methods the past few days, she turned to face the pair who looked like they were having second thoughts about approaching her. "Any reason he couldn't bother telling me that himself? He sees me in class every day," the curly haired witch challenged, raising a brow and crossing her arms at them.
"Don't curse the owls, Princess. We're just passing the message along," Blaise retaliated.
Hermione exhaled her pent up frustration, considering his request.
"How is he?" She eventually asked, her tone taking on one she often used when Harry or Ron were injured or not feeling well.
They looked at each other, uneasy. "We're not sure," Theo replied.
"What do you mean?" This time, Ginny spoke up.
"He hasn't really been talking," Blaise clarified.
"To you two, specifically?"
"To anyone, us included. He'll go to class and disappear to Salazar knows where until nightfall. And when he does come back, he collapses into bed without saying a word. Last night was the first time he's spoken to us all week and even then, he looked like shit. We're worried about him. Hell, Astoria's worried about him," Theo insisted, looking concerned, "and she can't get through to him so we were just hoping you might—"
He trailed off, and Hermione frowned.
"Me? What do you expect me to do? Last time I tried to show an ounce of concern over his wellbeing, he told me to leave him alone."
"You have to remember who we're talking about, Granger," Theo offered. "Draco is as resourceful as they come—"
"Not to mention exceedingly proud—" Blaise supplied.
"And extremely stubborn," Ginny offered, to which she received various gestures of agreement from the other three.
"He hates to be coddled or told he isn't capable of something," Blaise continued. "Not without sound reason, at least. He can't argue with logic."
"Which is why we think you should try and talk to him," Theo finished, trailing off pointedly, and Hermione had to refrain from releasing an obnoxious scoff of a laugh in the middle of the library. Why did everyone have this strange idea that Malfoy would listen to anything she had to say? It wasn't that she didn't want to try. But transitioning from helping Harry and Ron throughout the years proved to be exceptionally difficult as Malfoy was on an entirely different level. Especially since he would be putting himself at a greater risk by jumping right back into Quidditch. As predicted, he was coming back exhausted after being gone for the day. She wondered if they knew about his private sessions. Her expression turned ablaze.
"His absences during the day," Hermione spoke slowly as she felt her anger begin to surface again, "it has to be those stupid private sessions of his." She didn't bother looking at Theo or Blaise for confirmation. Nor did she see the way Ginny's eyebrows jump up at her statement.
"Not only is he defiant and a prat, he's also an idiot. He just got out of the hospital—" she began to rant until she was cut off by Blaise snorting loudly.
"Not like he's never been there before." Hermione glared hexes at him, unimpressed. To which he responded by throwing his hands up in defense.
"Hold on Granger, hear us out," Theo pleaded lightly, putting himself between the two. "It's his decision, isn't it? There isn't any pressure on him to do this, Draco wants to come back."
"But why so soon?" She blurted. "What does he have to prove?"
"He doesn't have to prove anything, Granger," Theo responded calmly, "He loves the sport. Always has. It helps him keep focus."
And that gave him enough reason to put himself at risk again?
"He nearly died," she exhaled softly, feeling oddly vulnerable for being so affected by him.
At her signs of distress and bitterness, Blaise's expression morphed into one of understanding. He took a moment to ponder on his next words before fluidly squatting beside her and holding onto the back of her chair. "Granger, you know that feeling you get when you get acknowledged for a triumph in school? That feeling of accomplishing something so great and knowing that no one could ever take it away from you?"
She nodded slowly, gnawing at the inside of her cheek. It was a feeling she knew all too well. It would be hypocritical of her to pretend she didn't know what that was like.
"Quidditch is that for Draco," he explained. "Did he ever tell you he learned how to fly before he could walk?" Her lips twitched upwards. The thought of a toddler version of Draco Malfoy stumbling around on wobbly legs, yet being proficient on a broomstick was at once astonishing and plausible — and admittedly adorable. "That's why he's practically a natural on the pitch. Your friend Potter is good but he gets by mostly with sheer luck. No offense, Weasley." She shrugged her shoulders as if to say, none taken. "Without Potter in the way, it finally gives him the chance to feel that triumph without any obstacles in the way. A chance that lets him feel like he's in control," he spoke softly.
With those facts to consider, Hermione was finally able to relax a smidge. "I understand. Truly, I do. I still think it's a risky decision to make so soon. He can't behave this selfishly and make reckless choices when there are others who care about his wellbeing—"
"He's not doing the private sessions, Hermione," Theo cut her off quietly, staring at her with an unrecognizable gleam.
Hermione halted at his words and at the unexpected familiarity.
"Come again?" She exhaled in shock.
"The private sessions? With the professional seeker?" He elaborated slowly so she was able to process the information. "He's not doing them. He called it off."
"You...he's not doing the sessions?" She managed to reply dumbly.
"It's like we said, you should try and talk to him." Theo repeated, more sure of himself this time. As if they knew she had some part in why that was the case.
With that, she sighed, fully aware they all just watched her openly display and act on her concern for him. Certain they exploited the situation as such so she would show what was truly bothering her, she still couldn't find it in herself to be upset. They were all worried about her behavior this week. Just like they were worried about their companion. Who, as it turns out, seemed to hold her opinion in higher regards than she initially thought. How could she turn down anyone, especially her friends, in need of her help?
"I'll see what I can do."
November 28, 1998
The next morning, Hermione sat at her usual spot at the Gryffindor table, reading to pass the time while the rest of them ate. Though the Gryffindor table was looking less and less like a Gryffindor table. At least in their particular section and only on the weekends. Amongst Ginny and herself, Blaise and Elena decided to place themselves here as well. Theo was absent again as he was spending the day finishing up the last of his potion assignment. The group discussed going to Hogsmeade for the day after breakfast but Hermione had other plans.
Plans they weren't fully aware of.
"Aren't you going to eat something?" Ginny asked Hermione who had a distinct lack of food in front of her as she peeled the wrapper off of her chocolate muffin. Her second one, to be exact.
"I will later. There's somewhere I need to b—Ginevra!" Hermione exclaimed. The redhead paused with her eyes and mouth wide open, the muffin only moments away from being devoured. "What did we say about reducing your chocolate intake?!"
"They're smaller today," Ginny pouted in defiance. "Come one? One more little nibble?" She pleaded with her eyes.
Realizing what she was doing, she averted her gaze away to be greeted by an amused Blaise.
"You know, Weasley, I would say yes but I thought you were trying to learn that evasion technique Draco showed you? Weren't you trying to increase your velocity by decreasing body mass?" He asked, raising a brow at her.
"Screw you, Zabini," she scoffed, dropping the muffin and pushing the plate away.
"Huh," Hermione announced with approval, eyeing the disgruntled redhead. "Not bad."
"Ah ah, don't think you're off the hook, Princess. We all made plans to go to Hogsmeade afterwards and you suddenly have somewhere else to be?"
She rolled her eyes at his prodding. "Sod off, Zabini."
Blaise merely beamed at the pair, growing more proud of himself.
"Come on, Blaise. Leave them alone," Elena's elegant voice carried out as she decided to intervene with her head down in a book.
"Ask me nicely and there might even be dinner involved," Blaise said in a suggestive drawl but Elena wasn't remotely taken by his attempt to be flirtatious.
"If I have to tell you again, there won't be anything nice about it," she replied neutrally, continuing to read.
The Gryffindor witches shared a laugh at Blaise's sulky expression while Luna approached the group with her hands full.
"Good morning, everyone," Luna spoke up in her light, soft voice. Their laughing trailed off as they turned to greet her though a select few were surprised to find that she wasn't alone. Hermione was the only one who wasn't fazed by her company.
"Here is your bag, as you requested," Luna extended her arms with the item, "I should warn you to be cautious. Rolf did his best with the stasis charm to keep the heat in but Charms was never his best subject." The Hufflepuff student merely shrugged sheepishly, a light brush branding his features.
"Thank you. Both of you," Hermione acknowledged as she grabbed her belongings from them, grateful for their ample timing.
Ginny could only manage to stare at the pair in awe and distractedly tugged on Luna's robe, "Luna, I think you're forgetting something."
"Oh yes, that's right!" Recognition dawning, the blonde reached into her robe pocket and pulled out a bottle of hair potion. "Thank you for letting me borrow it. It worked wonders!" She handed it off to Hermione and beamed at Ginny. "Thanks for reminding me. I nearly forgot."
"Well, that wasn't what I—" Ginny struggled to express but it was too late. Their visitors were already preparing to leave.
"I think we should be going now. Ready, Rolf?" Luna asked, smiling fondly at her companion.
Patience worn out, Ginny stood up abruptly and spoke up, "hold on just one minute, both of you," her eyes flickered between the unsuspecting pair. "Luna, is there something you'd like to tell us?"
Luna tilted her head at her, "there's nothing to tell," she said, confused. But none of them were convinced.
"Really?" Ginny pressed. "There's nothing you'd like to share with the group?"
The blonde witch pondered for a few moments, "I do have an extensive shoe collection. Fair warning, they do get taken from me often but I'm sure I have plenty to share with you all."
Blaise and Elena only watched in amusement as Ginny's eye twitched.
"I meant this," Ginny gestured between the two of them. It didn't seem to click. "You and him?"
"Oh, Rolf and I?" Luna clarified innocently. "I'm not sure how we could possibly share—" Rolf cleared his throat and their gazes met briefly. Suddenly, Luna's demeanor changed.
"I do apologize everyone, but we are on a bit of a tight schedule," they turned to leave. "Have a good time at Hogsmeade!" She called back as they rushed off, ignoring the bewildered, confused expressions plastered on everyone's faces.
"Well that was...odd," Elena said, uncertain of what just transpired.
"You're telling me," Ginny exhaled, sitting back down. "What'd you make of that, Hermio—?" She faltered, noticing a distinct absence of her friend at her right-hand side. "Wha-where did she go?"
"She was just sitting right there," Elena offered.
"Did anyone see her leave?"
Blaise shrugged, "wasn't paying attention."
"Morning everyone," Theo greeted cheerfully as he approached them.
Blaise looked at him quizzically, "thought you were with Slughorn for the day?"
"Completed the potion early. On top of that, he let me use the essay I originally submitted and gave me high marks so I'm all done," Theo supplied, "now who's ready for Hogsmeade?" He added excitably.
"Did you happen to pass Hermione, by chance?" Ginny asked.
Theo blinked blankly, "yeah, saw her on my way in. I had to give her something for her potion," Ginny's eyes widened slightly with his words. "Looked like she was in a hurry, though," he continued to say, unaware of what just transpired. "Why do you ask?"
A few moments passed as recognition dawned on her face.
"Why, that little—!"
A victorious grin was plastered on Hermione's face as she climbed the stairs to the top of the astronomy tower.
Soon after Blaise and Theo approached her yesterday, she decided to come up with a plan in reaching out to Malfoy. Knowing they would flood her with questions once word got out as to what her intentions were, she toyed with the idea of creating a diversion. That's where Luna and Rolf came into play. They, namely Ginny, would be preoccupied with questioning their combined presence and it would give her the perfect opportunity to break away from the group without being interrogated. When she brought the request up to Luna yesterday after study hall, she said she was more than happy to assist her seeing as she was one of the few who hadn't pried for details about her and Rolf. As a result, she did end up mentioning that they were good friends, who may or may not have been gradually developing feelings for one another, but wished to wait and see where life after Hogwarts took them before acting on said feelings.
Hermione completely understood and agreed to keep the newly acquired knowledge to herself. Unfortunately, the conversation with Luna brought up a question regarding her own future...
What was she to do once her time at Hogwarts was up?
When she arrived at the tower, she didn't bother knocking before entering. Instead, she walked straight in and right up to their shared workstation next to Malfoy who hardly batted an eye when she set her bag down. When she placed her books on the table, he finally looked over at her and she looked back, as if she were challenging him in getting her to leave like before.
Despite her confident front, she was shaking with nerves on the inside. She had seen him in class throughout the week but never managed to get a good look at him, even when they sat next to each other. Now that he was right here in front of her, she could see the fatigue and unrest in his eyes. Sleep wasn't in the cards for him this week, it would seem. Eventually, he broke the gaze first and resumed looking over his notes.
No wait.
She took a closer look.
Correction; he was looking over her notes, riddled with the annotations she neglected to eradicate from his copy. The annotations, while beneficial to her studying, were more often than not peculiar in wording and could be viewed by others as distracting. Yet, he left them there. So either he didn't mind their presence or, the rarer of the two options, he found them useful.
Suppressing a flush, she carefully reached into her bag to take out two, piping hot cups and placed them on the counter. He made no motion to acknowledge them while she dove back into her bag, this time pulling out a ripe, green apple and a few freshly baked pastries. Then he turned his head to the side, staring at the newly placed items and flickered his eyes to her. She continued to unpack her study materials as she felt his eyes on her.
"I take it you're not dieting, then?" His tone was effortlessly dry, yet somehow provided a strangely comforting relief.
"I had hoped to share, actually," she stated pointedly, glancing at him through her peripheral.
"Trying to plump me up, are you?" He implored, a lighthearted tone underlining his inquiry. Much like the way he spoke with her at random points throughout the year. The few times when they were starting to get along.
She gave him a quick look-over, a teasing grin bestowing her features, "You could do with a little weight," she joked, "though it's mostly because I rather not be disrupted by your stomach gru—" As if on cue, a low rumble emitted from the pit of his belly, cutting her off.
Flushing lightly, he reached for the apple, mumbling a quick thanks before taking a bite and continuing to read over his, or her, notes.
She smiled, pleased that her slow approach was working so far. Walking over to the cauldron, she read over his notes for the week, taking a mental note of their repetitiveness. It was a good sign for their potion.
"It was an uneventful week, I take it?"
"I told you, you didn't have to come," he said flatly, staring down at the parchment like it held the answers to the world's problems.
"I wanted to," she admitted, a sense of vulnerability overcoming her, "a week is a long time to be away, you know?" Hermione felt herself bristle unwillingly at the implication of her words as they lingered in the air.
Sighing, he placed the apple on the workbench. "There is a slight problem," he cleared his throat, turning in his chair to face her, "we're in need of lacewings for final addition and Slughorn's stores are completely empty. The Menagerie in Diagon is out as well. I've been trying to check with other shops but haven't had any—" he trailed off when she reached into her bag again, dangling a small bottle in front of him. The very same bottle Theo handed off to her on the way here.
"That's not—"
"It is," she confirmed.
"How...how did you—"
"I have my ways," she shrugged. One of her after class activities was helping Theo with his make up potion throughout the week. Which was how she knew Slughorn's stores were used up. And how she knew the last of the stock at the Menagerie was bought up by one Theodore Nott. Luckily, he overcompensated and had extras which he was more than happy to give to her.
He huffed a laugh out of astonishment. "I'm starting to find you slightly more tolerable."
She merely smirked when he took the bottle from her hands, setting it next to their other ingredients and finally taking the cup closest to him.
"It only took you eight years," she supplied wryly, refraining from mentioning she wasn't even aware of the level of his disdain prior to the conversation she had with his father. Her smile faded as she recalled the conversation she had yet to tell him about. To be fair, she wasn't sure how he would take that information. And it wasn't like he needed to be aware of it. Right?
She brushed off the impending thoughts, refusing to let it distract her when everything was going so well.
"Wait."
Tension rose within her as he paused midway in taking a sip, tilting his head at her curiously. Did she speak too soon?
"Shouldn't you be on the way to Hogsmeade?"
Instantly, she deflated. A breath escaping sharply from her lips.
"Oh," Hermione said, blinking, pointedly avoiding eye contact with him. "I didn't want to go."
He eyed her for a moment longer, pondering momentarily before he simply hummed and raised the cup to his lips.
Now that she thought about it, she couldn't remember which drink she set down next to him. It didn't take long to figure out when he made a noise of utmost disgust, doing everything short of spitting out the beverage. "What the fuck—" he grumbled incoherently with disgust. "Are you trying to poison me, witch?"
"Firstly, it's far too soon to joke about that. Secondly, that poison you're referring to is my coffee," she laughed softly when he scrunched up his nose.
"Ugh," he hastily wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, "that tastes worse than Skele-Gro," he grimaced, holding out the cup for her to take away. Far away.
"It's not for everyone," she chuckled, quickly swapping it with the other cup on the table, "Here. This might better suit your fancy." Hesitantly, he took a sip, eyebrows shooting up when he realized what it was.
"Hmm, not bad. Could be stronger," he admitted, seeming pleasantly surprised. "Nonetheless, I'm impressed you knew my tea preference."
"Thought I should return the favor since you knew English Breakfast wasn't 'my style'," she replied, taking pleasure in his horrified expression when she referenced the spat they had in front of his mother. "I do take better notice of things when you're not pouting, for future reference," she joked.
"I—I don't pout," he resisted in clipped tones, ironically enough, while pouting.
With a knowing grin, she briskly walked over to the lounge, settling down with several texts to occupy herself with. The moment she sat down, she felt this urge to finally say what had been on her mind all week long. So glanced up at him but he was already looking at her. The dam broke, so she spoke aloud;
"I'm sorry."
"I want to apologize."
They said at once.
The pair stared at each other, then broke eye contact as they looked away sheepishly.
"I shouldn't have reacted like that," he admitted guiltily.
"I shouldn't have pried when it wasn't my business," she added to the growing pile of apologies.
"It's alright," Malfoy supplied lamely, grimacing. "It's not that I don't care about my health. It's just that," he began, and paused, clearly struggling to find the words. "Quidditch, it's, um— "
"Malfoy."
He looked at her, hesitating.
"I get it," she said in a hush, still turned away when he lifted his head to look at her. "I would have done the same. Doing whatever it took to feel in control of myself again."
Then deep, brown eyes looked up to meet shimmering silver.
He sighed dejectedly, "Your Gryffindor is showing and it nauseates me."
"You haven't been attending your sessions," she added briskly.
He hesitated, inhaling deeply and exhaling sharply. "I don't know what you're talking about."
At his feeble attempt to lie, she couldn't help but giggle. "Thought I was supposed to be the shoddy liar between the two of us." She smiled wryly at him.
Silence enveloped them as they returned to their studying.
The hours passed them like a breeze. They exchanged a few words in between tasks, mostly composed of minor banter and trading questions regarding upcoming exams. Even though they hadn't worked alongside each other in weeks, they managed to settle into a comfortable routine. Before they knew it, the sun was setting over the horizon and it was time for supper.
Without prying for him to come along with her, Hermione began packing her items in preparation to head to the Great Hall. Before she headed out the door, Malfoy stopped her.
"Granger, hang on."
Hermione heard shuffling behind her then the next moment he was standing next to her, stuffing the last of his items into his bag. She glanced up at him with hopeful eyes.
"Shall we?"
Her lips twitched upwards into a smile.
November 30, 1998
"You're really good at potions," Hermione admitted after Malfoy spent over an hour explaining the benefits in crushing rather than cutting certain ingredients.
He simply shrugged. "I can't take all the credit. Snape helped me a great deal."
"Originally, I've considered pursuing a career in potions but after this ordeal, I very well may change my mind." Hermione stared into the cauldron, watching their potion simmer away.
His lips quirked. "Too much of a challenge for the Golden Girl?"
She scoffed at him. "I like the challenge. I just don't know if it's something I could do for the rest of my life."
"No one's forcing you to stick with it if you don't want to," he said. "And it's not like you'd have any trouble switching fields."
"But it's different from school," she argued. "This is the real world we're talking about."
"Yes," he drew slowly, "and you've fought in an actual war. You'll have to do better than that."
"I just...I don't know that I'm not good enough beyond the books."
His eyes narrowed. "Are you not the same witch who held her wand to my throat to defend a teacher while on school grounds?"
"I," she started meekly, "I was angry with you."
"Well you won't have any issues being angry in the real world," he smirked, a handsome gleam of an ugly truth flashing in his eyes. "It's full of disappointments."
Hermione frowned at his response.
"Have you considered it?" She asked curiously. "Doing potions as a career?"
Malfoy paused, pursing his lips in displeasure.
"Considering isn't the issue I face," he answered stiffly.
Hermione furrowed her brow. "I thought you were pardoned by the Ministry."
"A pardon means nothing if I'm dead before even making it into the office," Malfoy deadpanned. "There are still a great many who think I'm better off that way, as you've seen," he hissed dangerously low.
She could only watch him, a man acknowledging his harsh reality, struggling to right the wrongs of his family's choices, as well as his own.
They spent the rest of the evening in silence.
December 1, 1998
"Do you ever wonder what it would have been like if we were friends in our younger age?"
Malfoy looked up from his book.
"You and I?" He asked, seeming astonished that the prospect even crossed her mind.
She nodded from her seat on the lounge, her feet tucked beneath her. "Yes," she confirmed. "I guess you could also include Blaise and Theo. Then by law of association, that includes Harry and Ron— "
He huffed a sarcastic laugh. "You may get on with my two but even you can't deny how insufferable your two are. Need I remind you that Potter is the main reason why your lot and I aren't friends."
"Maybe if you approached the situation differently, I think things would have turned out otherwise," Hermione supplied. "I know you don't like to hear it but you two are more alike than you think."
His tongue clicked in disapproval.
"Even then, there's still Weasley who I know for a fact hated me before we met."
"Because you hated him. And his entire family," she retaliated swiftly.
Malfoy arched a brow.
"Your point being?"
"I'm just trying to entertain the possibility of you all being civil without any animosity—"
"But consider this; if there weren't any animosity, I would have assumed he was replaced by a polyjuiced version of Weasley. Or an evil twin," he paused, pondering. "Does it count if I find them both evil?"
She rolled her eyes.
"You're being dramatic again."
"I'm merely stating a fact," he amended, clearing his throat. "I still don't understand why you continue to defend him when he's hiding who he's fucking from you."
"Who Ron decides to shag is none of my business," she retorted tartly. "Does Astoria know who you've been with?" She countered.
"That's entirely different," he said defensively. Hermione crossed her arms in response.
"So she doesn't know, then."
"Why do you care what she knows or doesn't?"
"Because you're trying to provoke an argument"
"I'm not trying to provoke anything."
Hermione shook her head, exasperated. "Forget I said anything."
"All I'm saying is, I don't think we were truly meant to be friends, Granger," Malfoy admitted calmly.
"You honestly have such little hope in us?" Hermione asked in disbelief. After everything they've been through, was it truly all for naught?
"I meant before," he clarified. "I never said anything about now."
Hermione stared at him with a newfound clarity. Somehow, he was standing close to her. Closer than what should have been socially acceptable for friends.
"Malfoy," she exhaled quietly, looking up at him.
"What?" he asked simply, lips pursed.
She shook her head, saying nothing.
Instead, she smiled at him.
December 2, 1998
"Y-you're kidding! I-I can't—" Malfoy was bend over at the waist, holding his mouth while laughing.
Hermione herself wasn't in much better condition.
She sat on the floor in front of the lounge with tears streaming down her face, unable to breathe from constantly laughing.
"No, I swear it's true," Hermione cried, struggling to talk around the bouts of laughter forcing themselves out, "I talked to Fleur afterwards to confirm it and," —laughter— "she said he, he literally screamed at her and," —giggle— "he ran away from her, still screaming and she said," —more laughter— "everyone in the courtyard was staring at him like a lunatic!"
"Oh fuck, I was there!" Malfoy ended up falling over from the lounge in a renewed fit of laughter, landing next to her on the floor and clutching his side, "his face was redder than his bloody hair—shit, my insides hurt."
"Then he," Hermione sniffed as her breathing slowly caught up to her, "h-he couldn't even look at her at the ball. He tried to say that was partly why he was scared to ask me."
Malfoy sat up, covering his aching face.
"For once, can't say I blame him. Merlin, that's so embarrassing," he exhaled, still catching his breath as Hermione wiped away the tears that escaped.
"Not a word of this to anyone else, understood?" Hermione warned when Malfoy sat next to her on the floor.
He only smirked, glistening eyes riddled with mischief.
"Oh, don't worry, Granger. In fact, I'll do you one better. Did you ever hear about the incident that happened to Theo and Blaise fifth year?"
Their laughs continued to fill out the silence of the room as they shared stories.
They didn't even notice their potion happily bubbling along to their jovial exchange.
December 3, 1998
In preparation for the full moon tonight, Hermione had gathered an early dinner for the both of them and two highly caffeinated drinks for the night ahead of them. On her way, she stopped by study hall to spare a few moments with Ginny and the rest who were present.
"Oh thanks Granger—" Blaise remarked, regarding the drinks in her hand, stopping mid sentence when Hermione took it out of his reach.
"Hands off, Zabini. This isn't for you," she scolded. Unfortunately, she ended up maneuvering the cup closer to Ginny who took a whiff and her eyes widened at the scent.
"Hermione, that doesn't smell like your usual."
"Oh?" Blaise perked up, as if his suspicions had been confirmed. "Smells like," he drawled as he leaned closer, dramatically wafting the scent, "Ooh, that's one hell of an English Breakfast. Nicely done, Granger."
"English Breakfast? Like the tea?" Ginny inquired, raising a brow. "You don't drink tea."
"Funny you mentioned that," Blaise drawled, "I know someone who absolutely loves it—"
"Where's Elena?" Hermione blurted in hopes of diverting the conversation. With success, she might add when Blaise grinned. A purely lovesick grin.
Ginny snickered at him. "She left to go dress shopping right after classes."
"Women sure love to splurge on social gatherings," Theo noted without looking up from his Herbology assignment.
Hermione tilted her head, "what social gathering?"
They all blinked at her. And Ginny was purely flabbergasted. "Slughorn's party, Hermione? The social event everyone's been talking about for weeks now?"
"Ah," Hermione acknowledged, "I wasn't planning on going."
"You're joking. You have to go!" Ginny exclaimed, "Especially since you're one of his top students."
Blaise hummed in agreement, placing his chin between his thumb and forefinger, "now all we need to do is find you a date—"
"I'm leaving now," she said matter-of-factly, walking away from them as quickly as her legs could carry her.
"We are not finished discussing this, Hermione Granger!"
"Have fun, Princess!" Blaise hollered. "Tell Draco that I said to use protection!" He added, causing a few confused glances to be cast in their direction.
Thankfully in a school full of wizards, the majority of them didn't know the implications of his exclamation. But the few muggleborns present, including her, did.
She gaped at him, horrified.
"In case the potion decides to blow up in his face, I mean," he amended quietly, winking at her.
Hermione quickly walked off but not far enough to miss hearing Ginny burst out laughing.
"Did I do it? I say that right?"
"That was positively brilliant."
"Granger, you're turning the potion purple."
Huh. That's a new one. She supposed these sort of feelings she was harboring were new as well.
"What's the matter?"
She remained silent.
"Come on, out with it."
"I just, it's stupid—" she tried to shake it off.
"Stupid or not, I am not about to let you ruin three months' worth of work because you aren't able to pull yourself together," Malfoy said sternly.
She pursed her lips together, knowing he was right.
"Slughorn's Party." For the first time tonight, his eyes left the cauldron and fell on her.
"What of it?"
"I'm sort of being pressured to go when I really don't want to."
"Then don't go," he stated plainly.
"I'm one of his top students, Malfoy. I have to go."
"Then go," he amended with a twinge of impatience.
"But we have to bring a date and with everything that's happened with Ron...I don't have any viable options." She could have sworn she saw a flash of sympathy. Or maybe it was pity. With him, she still had difficulty telling the two apart.
"No one said you had to bring him." Then, he smirked. "Then again, you could always bring McLaggen," he snickered.
"That's not funny," she stated plainly, glaring at him.
"Just trying to lighten the mood. What about Longbottom?"
"He's sort of a professor now. I feel like that would be sort of...odd."
"Krum?"
"Engaged."
His head jerked to her. "He is?"
"He's keeping it private. Don't tell anyone."
"I see," he blinked blankly. "What about one of those two Gryffindors in our year that always hung out together?"
"Seamus and Dean?" She questioned. "They're in a relationship now."
Malfoy stared at her.
"What?"
He shook his head and grinned, "Blaise owes me fifty galleons."
"Malfoy!"
"What? I'm doing my best here," he expressed, suppressing his agitation as he stirred the pot. With the days passing by, she noticed the color changes were not as frequent with their mood changes, rendering it to be more stable as its completion was nearing. Still, it wasn't worth taking any chances. "Look, I'm sure there's a bloke who would go with you."
"Most of the ones I talk to are gone or are attending the event with someone."
"Then go by yourself, for fuck's sake," he relented.
"Are you going by yourself?" she asked sarcastically, fully aware he wouldn't be.
"I wish," he drawled, rolling his eyes. "I'd almost rather take Moaning Myrtle."
"Careful," an amused grin etching its way on her lips. "She'd find her way out of the lavatory if she heard you say that."
"Doubt it. She's far more interested in your friend Potter than me."
"Should I bother asking how Astoria is?" she asked after a few moments.
"She's good, actually. Been on her best behavior lately," he stated grimly.
"That's—" Unexpected. "Good," she decided. "What changed?" she implored, wondering why he wasn't more enthused by the prospect.
He sighed deeply.
"She knows tonight is the last night."
Hermione felt her heart clench. How could she have not factored that in? After tonight, there would be no reason for the two of them to be spending time together outside of classes. Especially if his soon-to-be betrothed was against it. Nothing could have foretold how much she came to enjoy his company. It only made her curious about what could trans if they had more time. All to face the brutal reality that they wouldn't get the chance after tonight.
"Well," she began, struggling to find the words, "I must say in a rather unexpected turn of events, it's been a pleasure—" she trailed off when he shook his head.
"You'll have to save the sentiment, Granger," he stated regretfully.
She turned back to him with a quizzical expression when he glanced up at the clock. It was nearing midnight. And the potion was nearing boiling.
"It's time."
Determination flooded her veins as she nodded in agreement, making a beeline for the counter to grab the last few ingredients to be added;
Lacewing flies.
Phoenix tears.
Wiggentree bark.
Horntail scale fragments.
She watched him drop the items into the cauldron one by one. With each addition, the potion settled little by little.
Then there was only one ingredient left;
Blood, willingly given.
Though they never discussed who would be providing it.
They found themselves staring at the cauldron with bated breath, refusing to look at one another.
"Get the vial ready, Granger," Malfoy said, reaching into his pocket to extract his wand until Hermione hovered her hand over his, halting him.
"Not so fast," Hermione demanded, stepping up to him. "We'll use my blood."
"Granger, this is not up for debate," he warned.
"Good, because we're not debating," she said definitively. "I'm telling you we are using my blood."
"The potion was my idea," Malfoy argued, taking a step forward to the cauldron.
"And I agreed to it, didn't I?" she countered fluidly, also taking a step forward, turning slightly towards him in the process. "This is just as much my potion as it is yours."
"You shouldn't have to suffer for my decision," he scowled, jaw clenching tightly. Though she scoffed, she never thought she'd live to see a day where Draco Malfoy wanted to avoid her getting hurt. It would seem she had a lot to learn about him, still.
"I'd hardly call it suffering, Malfoy. It's like getting a paper cut."
"It requires a full vial of blood," he growled at her, facing her fully, and she crossed her arms.
"Fine. A very large paper cut, then. Makes no difference to me," she amended, unfazed as they stared each other down.
"Granger, don't make me body-bind you," he threatened lowly, sending shivers down her spine. Except not out of fear by his threat. Shameful as it was, fear was the furthest thing from her mind.
"I'll knock you out with my bare hands before you even get the chance, Malfoy," she threatened. "You know I can."
"Aren't you worried about me concussing?" He prompted with a hint of a tease. Hermione's lips twitched slightly.
"I know enough healing spells," she retorted smartly.
"How convenient," he began in that posh tone she used to unequivocally detest. "So you'll be able to heal me after—"
"Not a bloody chance," she cut him off firmly despite her chest tightening at the implication of trust in letting her use her magic on him.
"I can't believe we're actually arguing about this," he muttered, smirking slightly.
Hermione chuckled lightly, voice soft as he stood close enough for his breath to brush her lips.
"Who said we're arguing?"
"That's what we've always done," he exhaled in the form of a whisper, his voice deliciously low and deep as they stood eye to eye, inches apart.
"It doesn't have to be that way," Hermione offered, suddenly breathless.
The longer they stood in such proximity, the more she felt that sensation again. A welcoming warmth. A natural, gradual pull that beckoned her to him, daring her to let them touch. But she couldn't let herself get distracted. There was still room to get closer. She needed them to get closer. And the space between them decreased, gradually.
Little by little.
Her eyes had a faintest flutter as if they dared to close.
He nearly followed suit.
Until a wince of pain flashed across Hermione's face.
Dazed, silver eyes jolted wide open.
The trance was broken.
Instantly, Malfoy's eyes fell between them. Where Hermione's wand was clenched tightly in one hand, her other hand wrapped around the end of it as it began to drip blood.
He gaped at her in shock.
"Granger, what the fuck—" he snarled.
"Shut up, and get the damn vial, Malfoy," Hermione demanded, grimacing as her hand began to throb.
Without any delay, he snatched the empty vial from the counter, holding her hand steady and catching the drops of blood as they fell from her hand.
When the vial was full, he retracted, letting go of her hand. Then he wanded a clean cloth from the far end of the counter to wrap around her wound.
Hermione took a seat on the lounge, holding pressure and watching Malfoy as he poured the vial of fresh blood into the cauldron. When the vial was empty, he cast an incantation provided from the notes. The final one that would mark the completion of their potion's primary phase. He stood still for a moment before walking towards her, taking a seat next to her on the lounge in silence. His face was completely devoid of emotion.
"Malfoy?"
No reaction.
"I'm really sorry," she said quietly, "I wasn't hoping to, that is, I didn't mean to—" she bit her lip.
"It's fine," he expressed, shockingly calm. "I just didn't expect it, is all."
"I couldn't just let you cut yourself!" She explained desperately. "Not after everything," she trailed off when he spoke up.
"I get it, Granger."
She tilted her head at him. "You do?"
"You could have just told me you wanted a snog," he grinned at her like the cat who got the cream.
"You're such a prat! " Hermione shrieked, playfully shoving his shoulder when he started chuckling. She couldn't help but smile back.
He held his hand out and she stared at him, confused.
"Your hand, Granger."
In slight movements, she laid her hand in his where he effortlessly healed her wound using a simple healing spell. Then with a quick 'scourgify' to clean the mess, her hand was as good as new.
"Thank you," Hermione mused, observing her unmarked skin.
He offered a curt nod.
At that, the quiet overtook them. Their potion was no longer simmering or bubbling to fill the gaps. Just silence.
The potion had completed its primary phase.
"So, that's it then?"
Malfoy nodded.
"We need to keep it going for another three months. We should probably check it every few weeks or so but until then, yeah. That's it."
His words left a void within her. She knew she was thrilled they finished. It was one less obligation they needed to focus on and they both knew Slughorn would be most pleased with the results of their efforts and persistence.
But why did she feel like everything was ending?
Maybe because, in a way it was.
Their partnership — or whatever this was — was ending before it really had a chance to begin.
She couldn't help but wonder what it would have been like if they worked together in different circumstances. If she just let herself cave earlier and just let their lips touch, even just for a moment.
"Granger?"
Hermione jerked back into reality, glancing up to find that he had already gathered his items and was standing by the door.
"It's late," he noted evenly. "You should get going as well. We have class in the morning."
"I will. Just taking a moment to recover," she explained weakly. She knew come morning, they couldn't act on their newfound amity for one another. Not in front of others, anyway.
Giving a quick once-over, he nodded.
"Very well. See you in class."
A weak smile spread across her face. Hermione opened her mouth to return the sentiment but he had left the room.
The lone witch exhaled loudly into the quiet room when the door closed, exhaustion beginning to creep in. Despite the efforts they made and him having just left, she could already feel the dynamic begin to shift once more.
They were strangers again.
It was silent.
Eerily so.
The cautious brunette stepped into the dark room, a warm, comforting sensation enveloping her. It was a feeling she never wanted to let go of.
Her eyes scanned the room for anything to tell her where she was. A painting. A window. A structure.
Nothing stuck out to her.
Then, a sharp rap snatched her attention.
Ah yes.
There was the question of that strange presence she felt earlier.
That sensation told her she wasn't alone.
She knew that could only mean that person was in the room with her.
Her eyes trailed along the walls, searching and searching until they landed on what they were looking for.
A dark, shadowy figure in the corner of the room.
When she caught sight of it, all she could do was stand still. Helpless as it turned its head towards her.
Watching it as she felt it watching her.
Another sharp rap sounded. The figure's shadow enlarged slightly. It appeared to be human...almost certainly a wizard.
Her eyes glanced down only briefly.
A shoe. Made of dragon leather.
Another sharp rap. Then the other shoe came into view.
Footsteps.
It was taking steps.
Towards her.
The shadow only continued to enlarge as it drew closer to her. Not once in its approach did she feel its gaze leave her own.
Like a predator drawn to prey, preparing to strike.
Anticipation rose within her. Along with a longing — an ache — that showed no signs of dwindling. A heat flickered inside her, warming from the inside out. She knew it wouldn't be much longer before she caved.
She drew a breath.
Then the figure moved, diving straight for her.
.
.
.
Hermione stared up at the top of her bed after tossing and tumbling around in her rumpled sheets, preparing herself for another sleepless night.