tw: harassment and mention of age gap (I'm not sure how to phrase it), end of Draco's last POV

note: I think it's the first time, there's a reversal of two scenes chronologically at the end of the chapter, normally it's not too confusing but I prefer to warn!

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Draco

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Hermione spent the next week assuring Draco that her hand was better, that the matter was forgotten, that the episode with Umbridge was behind them, but none of it calmed Draco. His anger at Umbridge was as intense as ever. It did not diminish with time, nor with Hermione's attempts at appeasement; it continued to bubble under his skin all day long, from the moment he woke up until he went to bed. When he passed her in the corridors or when she sat at her desk in class, Draco had to force himself not to take out his wand and hurt her. Theo had to reason with him several times to keep him from throwing a Crucio at their professor in the middle of Defense Against the Dark Arts class.

At night, just before falling asleep, he could hear her honeyed voice repeating, "I'll take care of the vermin" and he had to force himself to take deep breaths to calm down. The gentle tone in which Umbridge had spoken those words, as if Granger was nothing but a piece of trash, shocked him deeply.

He could still hear Hermione's screams of horror when she had realized that Umbridge was taking her to her office where she knew her hand would be slashed, and the anger doubled until it choked him.

Draco spent many nights tossing and turning in bed, unable to sleep. Strangely, the only times he did manage to sleep were when Eris joined him. He would curl up into a ball on his chest, right over his heart, and for some reason, the feeling of that tiny ball of fur breathing against him lulled him to sleep enough to forget his troubles. Draco suspected that Pansy was sending her dog to help him fall asleep. The next morning he pretended to be outraged, but in reality, he loved it.

On Saturday, Theo and Draco took turns watching Blaise. In truth, neither of them really fell asleep, they were far too alert to allow themselves to do so. Draco was on duty when Blaise's vision began: he knew as soon as he saw his eyelids twitch. Before it even had time to hurt, Draco woke him with an effective Rennervate. The night passed without any more visions.

Draco spent most of his evenings in Granger's company, the only time he could relax completely. When he was with her, the whirlwind of emotions that kept him awake at night calmed down a bit, just enough for him to breathe properly. She helped him study her latest lessons, and he trained her in Occlumency. She was making progress, but she was far too stubborn to realize it. Occlumency was a slow, progressive, introspective science, and Granger was far too impatient to perfect it as she wished. She couldn't meditate properly, and that prevented her from having complete control of her mind, much to her annoyance. She asked him several times if she could try Legilimancy again, but Draco categorically refused. He wasn't ready to relive that moment.

In order to calm his growing thirst for revenge, Draco had to control himself, which he found very difficult. He kept telling himself that it was for her, that he would appreciate Umbridge's pain even more if he took his time, but as the days passed, he found it harder and harder to remain patient.

"If I beat you at chess tonight, will you do my Transfiguration essay for me?" Pansy asked Theo.

Theo grunted and pinched the page of his book with his index finger. It had been two weeks since Potter's article had been published, and Draco could still feel the fingers pointing at them and hear the whispers of the other students in the Great Hall.

The four of them were eating, with Crabbe and Goyle beside them, but as usual, excluded from the conversation.

"It doesn't work like that and you know it." Theo muttered in reply.

"Why? Are you afraid of losing?" asked Pansy.

She picked up two chicken wings and put them on her plate.

"How are you going to get your O.W.L.s if you don't do your homework?" asked Theo.

Crabbe and Goyle gave him a sideways glance, probably sensing that Theo was talking about them, but Theo paid them no attention at all.

"I don't care about O.W.L.s." Pansy said with a dismissive wave of her hand. Draco saw Theo's lips curl. "I'll take the ones that matter most to me, which are Astronomy and Divination."

Theo's eyes rested on the pages of his book, but they were clouded by thought.

"If I beat you, you have to study with me for a week." he offered after a few seconds.

Pansy shrugged:

"All right."

They shook hands and Blaise and Draco rolled their eyes at the same time. They both knew who would win, Theo just still had trouble accepting the fact that Pansy was better than him at chess, even though she knew nothing about it a few months ago.

"How's your meditation going?" asked Draco, cutting into his meat.

"I'm getting better at it." Blaise says. "But I'm still having trouble visualizing where to store my memories."

"Me too. I found the place, but I can't seem to transfer my memories into it." Pansy admitted.

"I'll help you." Draco promised. "What about you Theo?"

Blaise, Pansy and Draco turned to the boy in question, who was resting his cheek against the palm of his hand and had a sullen expression on his face.

"What's wrong with you tonight?" he grumbled, limply poking a potato with the tip of his fork with the hand that wasn't holding his book. "Why do you only talk to me about the areas where I suck? What's next? Arithmancy? Do you want me to cry?"

"Just answer the question." Draco said.

"What do you think?" asked Theo grumpily. "I can't, and I probably never will, because meditating is..."

"Guys?" Blaise cut in, confused. "Don't you think the Great Hall is a little... too quiet?"

Draco raised an eyebrow and looked around. The Great Hall was indeed uncharacteristically empty. Yet it was dinner time, usually packed to the rafters, and they had to raise their voices to be heard. No professor was eating, and the few students who were there had gotten up and were running toward the Hall.

"What's going on?" asked Theo, looking around in confusion.

Draco noticed Granger's absence, as well as that of most of the Gryffindors. It was strange, because she always ate at this time on Mondays. Just then, a commotion broke out through the doors of the Great Hall and Blaise, Theo, Pansy and Draco jumped to their feet and headed towards the roar of voices. Crabbe and Goyle remained seated, too busy enjoying their chicken to notice that they were alone.

As Draco pushed open the large door, he was greeted by a strange sight: a hundred students crowded around the small rectangular courtyard at the entrance to the Castle. Some had climbed onto the ledges, others were sneaking around trying to catch a glimpse of something, but Draco couldn't see beyond the low wall because of the crowd.

"What's going on?" repeated Theo. "Blaise, can you see anything?"

Blaise, who towered over everyone by at least two heads, had a perfect view of the courtyard. He watched the scene and his mouth twisted in sadness or concern, it was hard to tell. He looked down at Pansy:

"Oh, Pans... I'm so sorry."

Pansy frowned.

"What's going on?!" Theo repeated a third time, annoyed that no one was giving him an answer.

Blaise used his height to push the people in front of them and open a passage. In less than a minute, they were standing at the very front of the alcove, with a perfect view of the courtyard.

And Draco understood immediately why Blaise had told Pansy that.

Professor Trelawney stood by the well, her hand clutching a soaked handkerchief to her mouth. She was crying, the sound of her sobs echoing off the stone walls. Someone had thrown three trunks at her feet, and one was overturned, as if it had been thrown down the stairs. Trelawney was a mess: her glasses were crooked, giving the impression that one eye was bigger than the other, and her nose was red from crying so much. She looked like she was drowning in her shawls, as if she'd had to get dressed in a hurry and carried her entire wardrobe on her shoulders.

"No, it can't be, no, please..." she muttered incessantly.

Draco wondered if she had noticed the crowd around her, so focused was her attention straight ahead, on something he couldn't see. Pansy crept up beside him, letting out a small cry of horror when a student moved, enough for them to finally see what Trelawney was crying about: Umbridge was standing in front of her, draped in a dark pink cloak, a cruel little smile on her lips. Seeing her, a wave of hatred swept over Draco and he mechanically reached into his pocket for his wand.

"No, you can't..." Trelawney whimpered in a desperate tone. "You can't!"

"And yet, I can." Umbridge reiterated, waving a rolled-up piece of parchment in front of the poor Divination Professor.

"What?" asked Pansy, her eyes glued to the scene before her. "What is she trying to say? Blaise, why are there suitcases on the floor?"

"Are you going to tell me you didn't see this coming?" Umbridge asked Trelawney in that velvety voice of hers that made Draco's hair stand on end. "Although you can't even predict tomorrow's weather, you should have realised that your abysmal performance during my inspections and your complete lack of progress thereafter made your dismissal inevitable."

Pansy let out a hiccup of astonishment:

"Dismissed?" she repeated in a choked voice, her face losing colour at the sight. "Is that what she said? Dismissal?"

"I'm sorry, Pans." Blaise whispered from behind her.

"No, no, no." she said in shock. "No, that's not possible... She can't do that, can she?"

"You... you can't do this!" cried Professor Trelawney, tears streaming from behind his huge glasses. "You can't... you can't send me back! I... I've been here sixteen years! Hog-Hogwarts is my ho-home!"

"It was your home." Professor Umbridge corrected.

Trelawney collapsed against her trunks, crying harder. Pansy took a step forward, furious, but Blaise must have seen her coming, because he put his arms around her waist to hold her back, pinning her to his chest to prevent her from running towards her favourite professor:

"NO!" cried Pansy in revolt. "No, Blaise, let me go! NO! You can't do this!"

The sound of her screams was too muffled by the noise of the crowd for Trelawney to hear. Pansy struggled against Blaise, but he kept a tight grip on her. Draco could hear him murmuring a stream of words against her hair, "I'm sorry" or "It'll get better", and after a while, Pansy stopped struggling and surprised Draco by bursting into tears.

Blaise put her back down but kept his arms around her, hugging her from behind. Trelawney was still staring at Umbridge with a pleading look that made his heart ache.

As he had done since first year, Draco looked around for Hermione. He found her next to Weasley and Potter, leaning against a wall. She was sobbing silently as she watched the scene unfold, and Draco couldn't understand how this girl's empathy could make her cry for a professor she didn't even like.

McGonagall then broke away from the crowd and ran towards Trelawney. She crossed the courtyard in a panic, holding her hat over her head to keep it from flying off. Without so much as turning her head to face Umbridge, who had no trouble putting on the most triumphant expression Draco had ever seen on her face, McGonagall helped Trelawney to her feet and took her in her arms.

"Hush, hush, come on..." she said, hugging Trelawney in the same way Blaise had done with Pansy. "Calm down, Sibylle..."

She patted her gently on the back and Trelawney sobbed pitifully against her cloak. Draco turned his head to Pansy, who was still crying loudly.

"Pans..." he murmured, completely taken aback. He ran his hand down her back, trying to calm her. "Don't cry..."

"She's leaving..." she moaned. She had big black streaks of make-up on her cheeks and leaned against Blaise to keep from falling. "Why? Why is everyone leaving me?"

Draco's throat tightened painfully. She'd asked him the same question last summer when her cousin had returned to the States without warning. He hated hearing so much pain behind that question, hated hearing her voice break like that. Blaise and Theo must have felt the same, because they both had the same pitiful look in their eyes. Draco reached for her hand to squeeze it gently.

"Don't say that..." he murmured.

"She won't leave you, Pans, you'll see her again." Theo promised.

"Anything to say, dear?" asked Umbridge to McGonagall, who continued to comfort Trelawney by rocking her gently against her.

"Oh, there are several things I'd like to say." McGonagall replied curtly.

The two women challenged each other with a piercing, icy stare, and Draco privately begged Merlin that his Transfiguration professor would never look at him like that. He was pretty sure he'd be petrified on the spot if she did.

"I'm going to kill her." Pansy declared through clenched teeth.

When Draco turned to her, he immediately understood who she was referring to. Her eyes were fixed on Umbridge, so intensely that Draco was almost afraid she would curse her without even using her wand. The tears running down her cheeks were no longer tears of sadness, but of rage.

"We'll do it, I promise." he said, brushing a lock of inky hair away from her tear-stained cheek. "She'll pay."

The massive double doors of the Castle opened with a bang. The students in front of them hurried to let Dumbledore through, who, Draco had to admit, knew how to take care of his entrances. It was as if he towered over everyone in the courtyard, posture straight, head held high. He had an aura about him, a presence that made it difficult to look away. He gave Umbridge a serious look and approached her slowly, ignoring the murmurs of the students around him. His purple robes stood out against the misty night.

"Professor McGonagall, would you be so kind as to escort Professor Trelawney to her chambers?" the Headmaster asked in a polite tone.

Trelawney let out a sigh of relief and ran over to Dumbledore:

"Oh, thank you Dumbledore, thank you..." she cried pitifully, squeezing his arm as she passed.

He patted the back of her hand and McGonagall escorted Trelawney inside. Then Dumbledore and Umbridge faced each other, and for a precious second, everyone was silent. Breathless. Despite their calm expressions, every student could sense the animosity between them. The atmosphere changed, the air grew heavy.

"Dumbledore..." said Umbridge, without losing her unbearably sweet tone that reminded one of a little girl. "Need I remind you that under Education Decree Number Twenty-Three, I, as High Inquisitor of Hogwarts, have the right..."

"...to dismiss my professors." Dumbledore finished, the sound of his voice unnaturally borrowed from hostility. "You do not, however, have the right to ban them from this Castle."

Umbridge drew her ugly face an inch or two closer to the Headmaster, far from impressed by his size or grim countenance, and added with a smile:

"Yet."

Dumbledore took a deep breath and looked away from Umbridge to observe the students gathered everywhere.

"Don't you have some studying to do?" he asked coldly.

He turned on his heel and walked back into the Castle. For the first time since he'd met him, Draco found him older than usual: the weight of war was clearly on his shoulders.

"Did you hear that, Pans'?" asked Theo, moving to face her. Blaise was still holding her, but she'd stopped fighting, her body hanging miserably in his arms. "She hasn't been dismissed, she's still in the Castle. Dumbledore came to the rescue, for once!"

Pansy didn't laugh at his sarcastic remark. Her eyes were blank, fixed on the cobblestones of the courtyard. Tears had dried on her cheeks. Her voice was hushed as she murmured:

"I am not hungry anymore. Take me back. Please."

Blaise didn't need to be told twice. He lifted Pansy without the slightest effort and turned back, heading straight for the dungeons. Theo followed with difficulty, but the crowd prevented him from moving as fast as Blaise:

"Draco?" he called. "Are you coming?"

"I'll be there in five minutes, go without me." Draco replied, his attention focused on a spot in front of him.

At last. Finally, an opportunity presented itself.

Theo nodded and disappeared among the students. Just then, Potter came out of nowhere and half ran towards Dumbledore:

"Professor Dumbledore?" he called from behind him. "Professor Dumbledore!"

Draco crossed the courtyard in long strides towards where Potter had just left. The crowd of students quickly dispersed, each heading back to the Great Hall for dinner and to discuss what they'd just seen. Draco, on the other hand, kept his eyes on the person he was targeting, pushing the students out of his way.

He didn't stop because he was afraid he would hesitate if he did. He couldn't miss the chance. He aligned the too fast beats of his heart with the phrase he repeated over and over again: "It's for her, it's for her, it's for her, it's for her..."

When he finally arrived, the person he'd spotted was still there. He was leaning against the wall next to the Transfiguration class, his oversized body strangely propped up, his legs crossed at the ankles.

"Which twin are you?" asked Draco without any preamble.

The redhead lowered his eyes, not hiding his surprise:

"Hello to you too, Malfoy." he replied cynically. "How nice to see you."

Draco mumbled something intelligible and he looked around to make sure no students were paying attention to their exchange: he couldn't afford to be seen talking to a Weasley twin.

"Are you Fred, yes or no?" he pressed.

Weasley frowned and crossed his arms over his chest:

"Yes, I am."

He couldn't explain it, but Draco knew it. He'd never spoken to the twins for more than five minutes, and each time they'd been on the verge of a fight, but he felt he could tell Fred and George Weasley apart.

But he also knew their tricks, and Hermione had told him too many stories about them for him to be completely at ease.

"How do I know you're not lying to me?" hissed Draco.

Weasley formed the beginnings of a smile:

"You want proof that I'm really Fred?" he said with a chuckle. "I know you've got the hots for Hermione Granger, is that proof enough for you?"

Just hearing her name made his palms sweat.

"Fuck." Draco looked around once more, although there was hardly anyone in the courtyard and their voices weren't raised high enough to be heard. "All right, I believe you."

"To what do I owe this honour?" asked Weasley.

"I need you to do something for me."

Weasley laughed out loud:

"Me? Do something for you?"

Draco clenched his jaw to stop himself from shouting at him.

"She didn't tell you, did she?" he breathed.

When he realised who he was referring to, Weasley's face suddenly turned serious.

"Tell me what?"

Draco swore silently. Of course Granger hadn't told anyone. She must have been afraid of being judged. She kept everything to herself to protect her friends. And as much as it annoyed him, he couldn't really blame her: he did the same. But Draco wasn't going to let it go; he knew he wouldn't feel any better until he got his revenge on Umbridge.

"For someone who calls himself observant, Weasley, you didn't see anything." he sneered bitterly. "You must not have seen her hand."

Fred's complexion went from a natural white to an alarming pallor. He lifted himself from the wall, his arms falling at his sides in surprise:

"No... Umbridge?" he murmured, confused. "To Hermione? When?"

"Two weeks ago." Draco replied. "And I need your help to get my revenge."

Weasley's face, usually animated by a constant smile, was marbled. His blue eyes were cold and calculating, almost frightening.

"Follow me." he ordered Draco before striding off down the next corridor.

Draco did so, looking behind him to make sure no one saw them. Weasley had the intelligence to hide behind a pillar to continue their conversation, much to Draco's relief as he felt less exposed. All traces of amusement had vanished from the twin's features.

"What happened?" asked Weasley, a barely disguised note of concern in his voice.

"Umbridge took her when she caught her after curfew." Draco explained briefly, not wanting to relive the events of that terrible evening. "She made her write a phrase, a long one, and it became embedded in her skin..."

Weasley lifted the sleeve of his jumper and, without a word, showed him his hand: it was covered in small white lines that ran up to his forearm. Draco could read several finely connected words: 'I mustn't', 'illegal products', 'disrespect', 'breaking the rules'...

"I'm familiar with her methods." Weasley growled. He pulled down his sleeve. "What was Hermione doing out after curfew?"

"She was with me." Draco said. Fred opened his mouth but he continued before he could say anything: "It's my fault. I shouldn't have let her stay so late, I... I didn't know what that viper was capable of." he spat. "I tried to take her place, but Umbridge wasn't fooled, it was as if I was invisible... She jumped at the chance to question Hermione about Potter and tortured her when she didn't say anything."

Undefined emotions, far worse than anger, surfaced. Guilt. Helplessness. Draco hated them more than anything, and try as he might to suppress them, they remained with him even after Occluding.

Weasley raised his eyebrows:

"Oh. Wow."

"What?"

"I didn't think you'd admit your mistakes so easily." he remarked. "Well done, Malfoy, looks like you've grown up after all."

"Yes, I suppose I have." Draco said with an exasperated sigh. "Anyway, I want revenge. If it were up to me, I'd kill the old hag, but Hermione won't have it, so I've decided to put my ego aside and ask you directly. Apparently you and your twin are the masters of stratagems, so I need you to live up to your reputation and make Umbridge pay for what she's done."

"I'm not doing anything for you." Weasley warned dryly.

"I know, but you'll do it for her." Draco countered. "I know you care about her, you won't let this go unpunished. You have the same marks on your hands, you know how much it hurts, don't tell me you don't want to make Umbridge pay for what she did to Hermione?"

Weasley ran his tongue over his cheek as he studied Draco's suggestion.

"Hmm. Luckily for you, tormenting Umbridge is one of my favourite activities." he finally said.

"Perfect. So, what did you have in mind?"

Weasley rubbed his chin absently:

"Nothing much for the time being, as we're still working on our grand finale bouquet... George had an idea, brilliant but impractical... Although... With what she just did to Mione, we'll probably get our motivation back..."

Draco winced at the nickname.

"What's that?"

The corner of Weasley's lip curled into a mischievous smile:

"Come on, Malfoy, you know you're the last person I'd reveal a surprise like that to, right?"

Draco ran a hand through his hair in frustration:

"Okay... so tell me, what can I do? To help you achieve this 'grand finale bouquet'?"

Weasley looked at him silently for a few seconds, then sighed:

"I'm not sure... We have contacts, but... the resources..."

"What resources?"

Weasley gave a mirthless chuckle:

"Well, as you like to say all day long, Malfoy, we're not all born with a silver spoon in our mouths, you see."

"Well, you'll be glad to know that I was." Draco replied. "I have gold. Too much, in fact. I'll give you some, if that's the problem."

Weasley leaned against the pillar behind him, his eyes fixed on Draco as if trying to determine if he was playing a joke on him.

"And what do you want in return?" he asked cautiously. "We all know that no one is supposed to do business with the Slytherins until they've heard all the terms."

"I told you, I just want revenge. For her." Draco grumbled. "We may hate each other, Weasley, but for Granger, I'll do anything. Even if it means joining forces with you."

The look on Weasley's face was unsettling. Draco had the impression he was studying his every facial expression and could deduce all his secrets. He let him, without hiding anything.

"You really love her." Weasley suddenly realised. "This isn't just some weird obsession, you really love Hermione?"

"Yes." Draco replied frankly. "Yes, I love her."

Weasley's eyebrows jumped to the roots of his red hair. He looked genuinely surprised at this admission. Yet Draco had thought it was obvious ever since he'd confronted him after the Gryffindors match. Maybe he'd thought it was just a phase, a whim, a trap? Or perhaps he could see the honesty in his face as well as his words?

"In that case... It's a deal." he murmured. "We'll do it. For Hermione."

"This final bouquet, will it be... worthy of what Umbridge has done?" asked Draco.

He wanted to know if Umbridge would pay. If Weasley's plan would succeed in extinguishing the blazing fire of anger that hadn't stopped burning Draco for two weeks. Fortunately, Weasley's pale blue eyes sparkled with mischief and he nodded briskly:

"Oh yes, it will. Believe me, it'll be tasty."

"Very well, I'll send you the gold tomorrow. Wait for my owl." Draco said. "And let me know if you need anything else to... 'torment' Umbridge." he added in a drawl.

He turned, but Weasley's voice sounded behind him:

"Actually, you can be of some use to me."

Draco looked over his shoulder:

"What's that?"

Weasley was still leaning against the pillar, in a very relaxed position, and Draco wondered if this was a technique to appear more threatening. If so, he'd succeeded. Draco was more aware than ever of the power the Weasley twins held over the Castle. When they had an idea in mind, they would do anything to see it through.

"Our biggest weakness against Umbridge is our lack of visibility." the twin explained earnestly. "She's as unpredictable as she is petty, and our detention times are proof of that. She's a tough, fierce opponent, just the way we like them."

"I don't quite see how I can help you there..." began Draco.

"... Get closer to her." Weasley offered, his eyes gleaming with greed. "Use your status as the little favourite to get into her inner circle and bring me back whatever you deem necessary to nail her down."

Draco hadn't expected this at all. He frowned as he tried to decipher what Weasley was really suggesting:

"You want me to be your spy?" he asked incredulously.

"Exactly." A broad smile spread across Weasley's freckled cheeks. "You'll be my eyes and ears. If you can get into her circle, we'll be one step ahead of her, and that will give us a considerable advantage. Besides, she'll never suspect that you're the leak. You said it yourself, you were invisible when Hermione was caught."

Draco could hardly imagine getting close to this woman after what she'd done. He couldn't stand near her without breaking a feather or shaking with rage. But he nodded anyway.

For her, for her, for her.

"I look forward to doing business with you, Malfoy." Weasley said.

"I hope I don't regret it." he replied, not liking that sly smile very much. "Oh, and..."

"Ah! I knew it!" the redhead sang. "A condition."

"Not a condition, a request." Draco clarified. He stopped himself from running a hand through his hair, a sign of his anxiety. "I'd appreciate it if... you didn't tell Hermione about our little... deal."

Weasley raised his eyebrows, probably not expecting the request, but nodded without asking Draco for further explanation.

"Believe me, I won't tell anyone about our 'deal'." Weasley assured him. "Can you imagine the damage to my reputation if it became known that I was in alliance with a Slytherin? Lucius Malfoy's son, no less?"

He did his best not to show that the name made him cringe.

"No one? And won't your brother think it strange that you're getting Galleons out of nowhere?" asked Draco.

"He won't know who it's from, if that's what you're asking."

"You're not going to tell him? To your own twin?"

Blaise, Theo and Pansy were the closest thing he had to siblings, and he had trouble keeping secrets from them, so from his twin? Draco couldn't imagine how that was possible. Against all odds, Weasley burst out laughing:

"It's funny you should say that, because I just had a similar conversation with Hermione about it. Let's just say I promised her I wouldn't tell George, and I'm keeping my word. For her."

"For her." Draco said, the mantra he'd been repeating incessantly since fourth year.

And he left without looking back.

He'd just made a deal with a Weasley.

He wouldn't have believed it a few years ago.

He sincerely hoped he hadn't just made a monumental mistake.

.

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Hermione

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Hermione had been sitting at the table in the centre of the Library for about ten minutes when Theo joined her. He slipped behind the table and put his too-heavy bag on the floor.

"Have you seen it?" he asked before even saying hello.

Hermione didn't answer, but she couldn't quite control her eyes as they narrowed in irritation. She lifted her Transfiguration textbook to her face to hide behind it.

"Hmm?"

"You saw it." It wasn't a question this time. If Hermione looked up from her book, she was sure to see an amused smile on his face, so she forced herself not to look away from her lesson.

"Saw what?" she asked in a tone that was far too casual to be.

"You know what." Theo replied. "You saw it."

"Saw what?"

"The rankings!" he clarified. "You've seen them, haven't you?"

Of course she'd seen it. She'd been looking at the student rankings every Monday morning at eight sharp since the first week of her first year. It was posted in the Transfiguration corridor and Hermione made a point of consulting it every week. She'd always been first, she'd never lost her place, not even when she'd been petrified for a whole month, not even when she'd used a Time Turner that had smashed her head. She'd always been first, always followed closely by Theo.

But this week, to her horror, he'd overtaken her.

"I must have walked past it, yes." she replied evasively, as if the two lines of the overall rankings hadn't been imprinted on her eyelids that morning:

1- Theodore Nott Jr, Slytherin.

2- Hermione Granger, Gryffindor.

"You're seething inside, aren't you?" asked Theo, at the height of his ecstasy. "You feel like throwing a squirting pus curse at me, don't you?"

"Not at all." she said between clenched teeth. "I'm happy for you. Well done."

She'd never congratulated anyone so coldly before. He burst out laughing:

"You're a terrible liar, Hermione. I know you, I know you're upset."

"I'm not upset, I'm happy for you." Hermione repeated, still not looking at him.

"Is that why you're studying your Transfiguration?" asked Theo in a falsely innocent tone.

Hermione tinkled slightly. Theo saw it immediately.

"Let's just say I find it just... odd, that you got a better mark than me in the Transfiguration mock exams, when you didn't quite manage to make the duck on your table Disappear..."

"...I succeeded perfectly..." Theo contradicts in a low voice.

"No! There were still feathers on your desk!" protests Hermione, abruptly putting the textbook back on the table.

"Oh, so this is it..." Theo said in a theatrical voice. "You're going to use the excuse of unfairness to justify the fact that I was better than you in this subject?"

"No, I'm just saying that it was very convenient that McGonagall didn't have her glasses on her nose when you did it in front of her."

"What grade did you get?" asked Theo.

He was gloating. Hermione gritted her teeth even harder to keep from howling in protest.

"Exceeds Expectations." she muttered. "I lost points when I turned my cockroach into a duck and its beak stayed black."

"To avoid that, you can just cast a..."

"I know how to change the colour of a beak, thank you." she replied curtly.

Theo burst out laughing and unrolled a long piece of parchment with lines of notes on it, probably a study sheet.

"Right, my mistake..."

Hermione rested her eyes on the paragraph she'd been trying to read for the last fifteen minutes, but looked up after a few seconds. Theo was looking at her with a mixture of sympathy, amusement and tenderness.

"I'm glad to see that, even though we've grown closer, the competition remains." he confessed.

"There is no competition." Hermione lied, a little too quickly. "I'm happy for you."

"I didn't just beat you in Transfiguration, you know. I'm first in Potions, Astronomy and Runes." Theo listed.

"I know." Hermione muttered, unable to pretend that it wasn't driving her mad with jealousy.

Theo's smile was beaming.

"And I got an Outstanding in Spells, what did Flitwick say again? Oh yes, that I was "a most exceptional boy."" he added proudly.

"Stop talking."

"Do you want me to explain Transfiguration to you, since you're struggling?" asked Theo mockingly.

"I'm not listening to you anymore."

He sighed happily:

"Good to have you back, Miss Granger."

.

Hermione studied with Theo until dinner. Since the beginning of March, Hermione had doubled her personal workload in preparation for the O.W.L.. Her study schedule was so full of homework that she'd had to put a new Enlargement Charm on it. But now that Theo had overtaken her in the rankings, she had become even more relentless, determined to close the gap and regain her rightful place at the top of the school.

Hermione and Theo entered the Great Hall at the same time and separated to go to their respective tables. Draco wasn't seated, which was odd as he often ate his dinner early enough to join her afterwards. Hermione ate with Harry, Ron and Neville and then pretended to go back to her studies in the Library. The fact that Harry and Ron hadn't noticed that it was about to close showed how little work they were doing. Hermione was sure they were glad she wasn't going back upstairs with them, so they could enjoy a game of chess in peace.

She went to the bench. Ever since the incident with Umbridge, Draco had refused to stay after curfew, which amused Hermione as much as it annoyed her: since when had their roles reversed? It used to be Draco who begged her to stay out late, and now she hated Umbridge for taking away her precious minutes with him.

Hermione was frankly beginning to worry when Draco finally came out of the large doors. He was wearing a black jumper over a white shirt and navy blue trousers. His blond hair was a little longer than usual, and a few strands fell to his forehead with every step he took: he looked absolutely gorgeous. She still found it hard to believe that this boy could be attracted to her. He was perfect, from his face to his voice, from his posture to his smile.

Draco made his way down the small path towards the bench, but he was unnaturally slow, as if he was dragging something behind him, its weight preventing him from going as fast as he wanted. When he reached her, he grinned at her and Hermione's breath caught as she realised it was addressed to her. To her, Hermione Granger. When had she been so lucky?

"Sorry I couldn't get here sooner." he said when he was close enough.

"That's all right, what's..." Hermione started, trying to see what was behind him that was bothering him so much.

Draco turned around and Hermione realised that what he was holding was actually a leash with a tiny white long haired dog hanging from the end of it.

"Oh my God!" she cried.

"I'm on Eris duty." Draco said by way of explanation.

He put one hand under the dog's belly, lifted it up and sat down next to Hermione. As soon as he placed the animal on his lap, Hermione quickly stroked its head:

"Ohhh, hello, aren't you cute..."

"Thank you, Granger. You're not bad yourself." Draco said with his usual smirk.

Hermione felt her cheeks burning.

"What do you mean, duty?" she asked, all her attention on the dog.

"It's my turn to take him for a walk." explained Draco, who didn't look too thrilled at the idea.

"Whose is it?" asked Hermione, continuing to scratch behind Eris's ears as he wagged his tail in all directions.

Draco looked at her in surprise. That evening, his eyes were a perfect blend of grey and blue.

"Didn't I ever tell you about Eris?" he asked. Hermione shook her head no. "Oh. That's Pansy's dog. She got him for her birthday last November."

"It's forbidden to have a dog at Hogwarts." she reminded him in a more or less stern voice.

She was still petting Eris, who had laid on his back to expose his belly, which made her words rather incoherent.

"He's not really a dog." Draco commented, lowering his eyes to Eris in both disgust and tenderness. "He looks more like a Puffskein. And anyway, I think Dumbledore has better things to do than deal with an illegal dog in school."

"Fair enough." Hermione said.

Eris curled up into a ball and buried his snout in Draco's stomach, then let out a tired sigh.

"He likes you." Hermione remarked.

"I sure hope he does, I've been looking after him all evening." Draco replied grumpily. But when he looked at Eris, he smiled.

"Why isn't Pansy looking after him if he's her dog?" asked Hermione, genuinely curious.

Draco ran his hand through Eris's fur, brushing against Hermione's, who immediately got goosebumps at the touch.

"Blaise decided to set up a schedule to prevent Pansy from staying out late at night." Draco explained. "We take turns and tonight it's mine." He turned his head slightly towards Hermione, suddenly worried: "I hope you don't mind?"

"No, not at all." she replied. "I love dogs."

She stroked Eris's collar and he shivered with happiness. He had fallen asleep. When she raised her head, Draco's eyes had turned icy grey and his jaw was clenched.

"What? What's wrong?" she asked anxiously.

"Your hand." he breathed, with enough anger in his voice to make the hairs on the back of Hermione's neck stand up.

She inspected the tiny white lines that had formed letters a fortnight earlier. Theo's potion had made them barely visible, the scars blending into her skin, but Draco could see them. His eyes followed them, as if trying to reread the sentence Umbridge had ordered her to mark.

"I can't feel anything." Hermione reassured him gently. "It doesn't hurt anymore, it's gone."

"Perhaps, but she won't go away without suffering in return." he replied in a dangerously quiet voice.

He took her hand in his and brought it to his mouth to kiss the scars on the back of her hand. It was as if every bit of her skin lit up whenever he touched it.

"Please don't do anything you'll regret." Hermione pleaded in a small voice.

She knew Draco. She knew that his fits of rage were destructive, that he always rushed headlong into revenge, regardless of the consequences. She didn't remember much about the moment she had left the office, but Hermione remembered Draco's face when he had seen her bloodied hand: he had been enraged. Even worse than after the Gryffindor match. Had she been in control of her own body, Hermione would have been almost afraid of him at that moment. She knew Draco well enough to know that his anger wouldn't be satisfied until he returned to Umbridge, blow for blow, what she had done to her.

"I promised you I'd kill her, and I will." Draco announced calmly. Hermione shuddered to hear such a promise, but he kissed her hand so gently that it was hard to hear the threat in his words. "It will take time and I will have to learn to control my desire to make her suffer before I can take my revenge, but that's fine, la vengeance est un plat qui se mange froid."

Hermione froze. This time, what Draco had just said was far from frightening. Quite the opposite, in fact. Hermione's entire body was gripped by a long shudder from head to toe. The combination of his French accent and the sweetness of his kisses was all-consuming; Hermione had never felt anything like it.

Draco pulled his lips away for a few seconds, long enough to look at her, probably surprised by her lack of response.

"What?" he asked, clearly taken aback by her reaction.

Hermione's mouth was half open, her eyes wide. She studied the boy next to her as if he'd just told her he was the new Minister of Magic.

"What... what did you just say?" she stammered.

"I said... that revenge is a dish best served cold?" he said without understanding. "It's a French expression..."

"You speak French?" Hermione cut in, her voice rising to uncontrolled high notes.

"Yes, of course." Draco replied, as if it was common knowledge.

"Since... when?"

"Since always." he replied, the wrinkle between his eyebrows deepening as Hermione's questions continued. "My mother enrolled me in preparatory classes when I was three, and I studied the language until I got to Hogwarts... why are you looking at me like that?"

"Like what?" asked Hermione.

"Like you want to..." Suddenly, a flash of understanding came into his eyes and he grinned his typical smirk. "Oh... I see. Do you like it when I speak French, Granger?"

Hermione tried to close her mouth with all her might, but it was as if she'd taken a Stupefy in the face. Draco burst out laughing:

"Merlin, if I'd known my boring French class was going to make you like this, I'd have paid a lot more attention."

"I'm not doing anything." Hermione lied.

"I've never seen you blush like that since we've known each other, and that's saying something." Draco scoffed. "You're gawking."

"No," she replied, gawking.

"I should have spoken to you in French sooner." he said. His eyes had returned to the blue colour Hermione loved. "It would have saved us months of chasing each other, don't you think?"

"Say something." Hermione asked, sounding more like a plea. The wood of the bench creaked under her legs as she moved closer to him. "In French, say something."

Draco slid his eyes over Hermione's lips before locking them in hers. She was close enough now to smell his apple cologne. He was still smiling as he complied:

"Tu es la plus belle fille sur laquelle j'ai posé mes yeux."

Hermione had no idea what he'd just said, but her stomach tightened at the sound of his deep voice. She'd always loved his accent, but the way he rolled the letters in French, with his deep voice... it was like a melody, or apparently a secret password to her hormones. Suddenly, Hermione was dying to kiss him.

"You know, I really hate Blaise right now." Draco whispered.

"Why?" asked Hermione, confused.

"Because that bloody dog in my lap is preventing you from jumping on me like you clearly want to." he said amusedly.

If she was being honest, Hermione had completely forgotten about Eris' presence. She bit her lip reflexively and Draco watched the movement without embarrassment, his eyes burning.

"At least I'll know what to say next time you're mad at me." he remarked. They were less than three centimetres apart and Hermione was completely absorbed in his mouth. "Tu rougis, mon amour."

She crushed her lips against his before she even realised she was doing it. He responded to her kiss with the same fervour she felt, grabbing her hair and pulling her even closer to him, his other hand roaming along her cheek, her jaw, while Hermione's ventured to his chest. They couldn't melt into each other as much as they would have liked because of Eris, and Hermione hated Pansy Parkinson for having a dog at that moment.

She opened her mouth for Draco to slide his tongue in, and every one of her nerves lit up when he did. His minty-tasting tongue caressed hers slowly, in rhythm with his hands brushing her neck. He savoured her, taking his time, pushing her further and further to the edge of a precipice she didn't even know existed. When Hermione kissed Draco, it was as if her brain shut down and it was the most addictive sensation she knew. Only he could do that to her. She stopped thinking, she just felt: his hands, his lips, his smell, his taste. She clung to him with all her strength, almost trembling in his arms, and Draco held her tightly, as if he was afraid she would disappear at any moment.

When they pulled away, they were both panting and Draco's pupils had darkened to almost black.

"Fuck, Hermione." he breathed in shock. "Does it affect you that much?"

"I guess so." she replied. She was so out of breath that she had to take deep breaths to calm her heart, but she was far too electrified by the intensity of the kiss to feel any discomfort. She added French to the growing list of Draco Malfoy's qualities. "You know, I told Danny I was going to boarding school in France."

He took a small breath through his nose:

"Well, if you're looking for a way to cool me off right away, telling me about your Hufflepuff works like a charm."

Hermione ignored him and went on:

"To justify moving away to go to Hogwarts, I made up that I was going to this boarding school in the south of France, and now he thinks I'm bilingual in French. I never know what to say when he asks me to speak to him. Could you teach me a few phrases?"

Draco leaned back against the back of the bench and pretended to think as he looked at the Castle's facade:

"Hmm... You could tell him: "Ne m'approche plus, je ne veux plus jamais te parler.""

"What does that mean?" she asked cautiously.

"It means you're having a really good time with him." he replied with a smile that was far too bright.

"You're lying, aren't you?"

"Yes, I am." he replied without hesitation.

Hermione rolled her eyes and went back to petting Eris. He was fast asleep, his ears set back adorably and his snout quivering with every breath he took. He was so furry he looked like a cotton ball.

The huge bell tower above their heads rang once, signalling the start of curfew. The sound echoed throughout the valley and Hermione knew what Draco's next words would be before he opened his mouth:

"We should go back. I don't want another excuse to kill our dear professor."

Irony pierced his voice. Hermione obeyed reluctantly. She had a feeling her time with Draco was numbered and she hated having to quantify it, it reminded her that it wasn't unlimited. She had to make the most of every second she had with him.

Draco tucked his forearm under Eris's, tucking it against his jumper so he wouldn't get cold. Hermione started up the path, but Draco stopped her before she could take a step:

"Granger?"

"Hmm?"

He kissed her as soon as she turned her head towards him, a fiery but brief kiss, the kind you'd do to say goodbye when you knew you'd see each other again soon. It warmed Hermione's chest for a very different reason than before. An everyday kiss. It wasn't stolen or secret.

"Je t'aime." he said, and Hermione didn't need a private lesson to understand those words.

Her cheeks warmed and Draco smiled to see her blush.

"I love you too." she replied in English.

He smiled at her and then turned back towards the Castle, Eris's leash dangling from his hand and tossed behind his shoulder:

"Oh, and remind me to thank my mother in my next letter."

Hermione rolled her eyes again.

By the time they reached the Castle, the last of the straggling students were hurrying home. This was another drawback of Draco's new enforced curfew: he could no longer walk her to her Common Room without risking being seen. So they gave each other a final look, and Draco disappeared down the stairs to the dungeons.

"Mione!" a voice called from behind her.

Ginny had just entered the Castle behind her, dressed in her tattered, mud-stained Quidditch kit. The red was faded and her Seeker badge was crooked, probably from the gusts of wind she'd caught on the pitch. She slipped her arm through Hermione's and pulled her forward.

"I didn't know the team was training tonight." Hermione said.

Ginny shook her head, wiping her forehead with her sleeve:

"No, just me, I wanted to perfect my sloth roll."

Hermione had no idea what that technique was, but the name was enough to give her the gist. She preferred not to ask.

"What about you? Where did you come from... oh." said Ginny, stopping abruptly. She had just looked at Hermione and her face twisted into an almost disgusted grimace. "Oh no, you've been making out with Malfoy, haven't you?"

"No!" cried Hermione, outraged at her insinuation. "... How do you know?"

Ginny sneered, pointing her hand at Hermione's face:

"You're tomato red, your hair is matted and you've got a blissful look on your face."

"I haven't... it's... I'll be... I'll be right back." Hermione decided, thinking it best that Harry and Ron didn't see her in this state.

Ginny laughed behind her back as she walked down the corridor to Transfiguration class and opened the bathroom door on the fly. She approached the sink to splash water on her face, trying to bring down the temperature of her fevered cheeks, but stopped short when she saw that the spot was already taken.

By Pansy Parkinson.

Who was crying.

Pansy Parkinson was crying over the sink in the bathroom of the Transfiguration Room.

Hermione froze. She had no idea what to do. Leave? Pretend nothing had happened? Ask if she needed help? This was Pansy Parkinson, the most emotionless girl she knew. She'd never seen her show the slightest emotion, apart from disgust and disdain. What could have brought her to such a state?

As the door closed behind her, Parkinson raised her head and stared at Hermione. Her dark eyes were bathed in tears and her make-up had run down her cheeks to her chin.

"What the hell are you doing here?" she asked in a sobbing hiccup. "Fuck! Can't we cry in peace in this fucking Castle?!"

Hermione opened her mouth, but couldn't think of anything to say, so she closed it. She must have looked completely stupid, standing there like a peg without moving, her eyes riveted on Parkinson. She took a towel and held it over her mouth to muffle her screams.

"Do you need help? Is there someone I can call?" stammered Hermione in a vain attempt to comfort her.

Parkinson lifted her head, and Hermione wondered how it was possible to project so much hatred onto a face soaked with tears. Her throat tightened and she remained silent, not wanting to make an already awkward situation any worse.

"I don't need any help and I certainly don't need yours, Granger." she replied coldly.

She took a sharp breath and ran the towel under the water, then wiped her cheeks. She smeared the make-up more than she removed it, but Hermione would never have dared to point that out, then threw it in the bin and looked at herself in the mirror.

Hermione was shocked to find Parkinson looking at her reflection with as much disgust as when she looked at Hermione. She ran a manicured hand through her perfect hair, as if combing it when it was already smooth, then straightened her shoulders and returned to her usual icy, unreadable expression.

She then walked past Hermione to the exit, but just before the door opened, she turned and pressed her wand against Hermione's throat.

Her breathing stopped. She could feel the tip of Parkinson's wand sinking into her windpipe. She hadn't even realized she was holding her wand in her palm. She remained motionless, completely at the mercy of the girl in front of her, whose dislike for her was palpable in the air around them.

"Not a word to anyone." warned Parkinson, her voice like a hiss against Hermione's eardrums. "And especially not to Draco. Is that clear?"

"Yes." yelped Hermione."I want your word, Granger." spat the Slytherin, adding a little more pressure to her neck.

"You have my word, I won't say anything." said Hermione in a strangled voice.

And in the blink of an eye, she was gone.

Hermione swallowed hard and rushed to the mirror to inspect her neck: where Parkinson had pressed her wand, a small red circle was visible on her skin. Hermione's eyes widened and she contemplated the trace as if to check she hadn't been dreaming, then splashed cold water on her face. It dripped into her hair and down her neck, but Hermione was still as flushed as ever. No longer because of Draco, but because of the adrenalin his best friend had just given her. It took Hermione a long time to calm the frantic rhythm of her heart and stop the trembling in her legs.

When she emerged from the bathroom, Ginny was waiting for her out front. She was contemplating her nails, leaning against the wall, like her twin brothers who always took this position when they were waiting for something.

"What took you so long!" complained Ginny. "I'm freezing to death, I think I'll take a bath, I'm aching all over." She looped her arm through Hermione's again and started walking. "By the way, I saw Parkinson was inside, did she say anything to you?"

"No, no." replied Hermione immediately. "No, nothing at all."

As Ginny launched into the tale of her latest successful roll in the air, Hermione's head was still in that bathroom.

Who on earth had made Pansy Parkinson cry like that tonight?

.

.

Draco

.

.

"Concentrate, Draco."

"I'm trying." he hissed.

He was inside Snape's mind. Everything around him was plunged into darkness. He tried to walk, to reach the threads of thought that swirled around him, but his body was suspended. He could not lift his arm. He could feel the panic going to his head. He couldn't move forward. If he reached out to grab a floating thought, it would evaporate between his fingers. He was going to return to Snape's office and face his disappointment. Why couldn't he do it? Why was he stuck?

"The greatest quality of an Occlumens is to not be one." Snape's guttural voice echoed off the walls of his own mind.

And suddenly, Draco understood.

He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. He meditated, just as he did before going to sleep. He let the calmness wash over his muscles, gradually regaining control of his body. He relaxed, almost forgetting where he was. The library, the smell of cinnamon...

He didn't open his eyes until he was ready.

He turned around.

He wasn't meant to see what Snape wanted to show him, he had to find out for himself. Still with his eyes closed, Draco ventured into Snape's mind. It was extremely cold, the trickle of sweat down his neck was icy and made his teeth chatter. It was as if he was being attacked by hailstones that hit him with every step he took. But Draco continued, blindly.

Everything was perfectly still, silent. Snape no longer spoke. Draco concentrated on putting one step in front of the other. He Occluded to filter out the emotions that bothered him, like pain or cold, to keep only the sensations he encountered. He walked straight ahead, and the further he went, the more he felt a warm energy warming his face. He let it guide him, still without opening his eyes. A kind of floating ribbon wrapped around him, his fingers, his neck, pulling him forward, and Draco had no idea if it was Snape helping him or if he was hallucinating, but he let himself be led.

When he opened his eyes, he was standing in front of a large, old wooden door. It was closed, but when Draco reached for the handle, the latch snapped and the door creaked open.

In front of him were shelves lined with hundreds of potions. They varied in colour and size, but Draco was sure they had been carefully sorted in meticulous order. He didn't recognise any of them. All the potions were dusty and dark, but they all contained the same liquid, the silver mist of the Patronus. His memories.

Draco stood in front of Snape's tidy memories.

"You found it."

Draco turned to face Snape. He was dressed in a long black cloak, his hands folded in front of him. He wasn't looking at Draco, he was watching the potions behind him with a hint of pride on his features.

"You told me yourself." Draco realised. His voice was distant, as if he heard it from another room. "A good Occlumens must not be one. He has to present harmless memories so that the Legilimens don't suspect that his true, compromising memories are hidden somewhere else in his mind."

Snape nodded gravely.

"You are gifted, Draco." he complimented. "No one has managed to find my restricted section yet."

He gestured to the shelves with a vague wave of his hand.

"You helped me." Draco remarked.

Snape tilted his head slightly forward, his dark hair brushing his hollowed cheeks.

"I did nothing of the sort." he said. "I didn't stop you from accessing it, but I didn't tell you how to find it either. You did it on your own. You have an aptitude for the mental sciences that has amazed me since the first day we began these sessions, Draco. You have a gift, that's undeniable, but it's your willpower that impresses me most."

It's for her, he wanted to reply. Everything he'd done with Snape since the year before had been to protect her. He didn't say it out loud, but it must have shown on his face, because Snape's took on a more sinister expression.

"You agreed to train in Legilimency in order to train her. Didn't you?"

As always when someone mentioned her, Draco Occluded, which was ironic, considering they were having a discussion in the middle of Snape's brain.

"How can you tell?" asked Draco, worried that he'd been seen by his professor on the fateful night Granger had entered his mind.

Snape made a faint sound that sounded like laughter.

"I knew it the day I refused to help Miss. Granger perfect her Occlumency, of course. The night you were in the Hospital Wing after an overwork on my part, you begged me to help protect her, but I refused. I told you she had already chosen her beliefs and I couldn't help her."

Draco remembered vaguely. He'd never been sure if Snape's presence in the Hospital Wing had been real, or if it had been a drug-induced hallucination.

"I knew at that moment that you would do everything in your power to teach her to close her mind, just as I do with you."

"You read it into my head?" accused Draco.

"No." Snape replied in a low voice. "I saw it in your eyes."

Draco said nothing. It was getting harder and harder for him to control the pain coursing through his limbs as his magic drained from him.

"I gave you the keys to protect her." Snape said. "Now it's in your hands."

He heard a clatter behind his back and when Draco turned, he was surprised to see a vial of potions float up to him. It fell into his open palm and he stared at it uncomprehendingly. There was no label, no indication of what it contained. Draco glanced at his professor, as if to ask his permission to read one of his memories, but Snape didn't move. His hands were still clasped in front of him and there was no expression on his face. So, Draco opened the cork and the memory appeared before his misty eyes.

He smiled as he realised.

"Haggis." he whispered. "Your favourite dish is haggis."

They exchanged a long look and it took Draco a while to realise they were back in Snape's study. There was no more potion in his hand and a slight ringing in his ears.

"I'm proud of you, Draco." Snape said calmly.

He felt a wave of warmth wash over him at the words. He hadn't realised how much he needed his validation until then.

"Thank you, Professor." he replied with some emotion.

Draco could have sworn he saw a smile curl Snape's upper lip before he sat back down at his desk:

"You are dismissed."

Draco returned to his Common Room aching, exhausted, drained of his magic, but most of all, with a satisfaction that made him smile and prevented him from taking the damage of Legilimency with as much force as before. He had succeeded.

Now he had to teach Granger to do the same.

He had no idea what time it was and was surprised not to run into a large Pansy party when he entered the Common Room. It was as if the Slytherins were reluctant to get into the spirit of things, the gramophone music just a little too off-key to dance to. Bottles of alcohol were scattered about, but no one had poured a glass, and everyone was waiting, half-sitting on the chairs, casting indecisive glances at each other.

"Where's Pansy?" asked Draco, taking a seat next to Blaise and Theo, who were playing chess.

Unexpectedly, it was Crabbe who replied:

"Prefect round."

He had his cheek resting against the palm of his hand, his small, deep-set eyes scanning the Common Room around him. Goyle, next to him, was squeezed between Crabbe and the armrest and sighed in exasperation every ten seconds.

Draco understood immediately why the party hadn't started. If Pansy wasn't there, there wouldn't be a party.

"With Granger." Blaise added, his attention focused on the game.

Draco's eyes widened slightly. Granger and Pansy, together? In a round? He'd thought one of them would swap with someone else; it was what Gryffindors and Slytherins had been doing since the beginning of the year to avoid sharing night patrols. Draco had always swapped with Pansy so he could do his rounds with Granger, but his Occlumency session tonight had prevented him from doing so.

He didn't really know what to expect, but he had a hunch that a round between the two girls would mean trouble.

"Rook to A3." Theo announced.

The piece slid down the board, clearly at odds with his game master's decision.

"Knight to A3." Blaise said immediately afterwards.

Theo watched his piece being blown up by Blaise's knight's hoof with a look close to a nervous breakdown.

"You may have overtaken me in the overall rankings since the first year, Theo, but I'll always be better at chess than you." Blaise announced, resting his chin on his intertwined fingers. He represented pure wisdom, and it was as impressive as it was infuriating.

"You and Pansy, apparently." Theo grumbled. "Queen in F8."

Blaise sighed impatiently:

"Stop being so aggressive, we both know that's not your style. Bishop in G1. How was your training, Dray?"

Draco stretched, trying to relax his tense muscles. There was a pain in his neck that he couldn't quite shake.

"I know Snape's favourite dish." he announced triumphantly.

Both boys looked up at him:

"Really? What is it?" they asked in unison.

"Haggis."

"Oh." Theo replied in disappointment.

"That's incredible!" exclaimed Blaise with a big smile. "Well done, Dray! What did Snape say?"

"That he was proud of me." he replied, a little embarrassed at the thought of the effect of that compliment being reflected on his face.

"What's haggis?" asked Goyle from the couch.

"Do you know anything, Goyle, or are you stupid in every possible way?" replied Theo in a jaded voice. "Are you aware that you've spent every day of the last five years in Scotland?"

"What's that got to do with it?" asked Crabbe, his mouth ajar with incomprehension.

No one answered him.

Pansy entered the Common Room while Theo had his Queen taken. She pointed her wand at the gramophone to make it play much more rhythmic music, while pouring herself a glass of vanilla whisky with her other hand. By the time she sat down on the sofa next to Theo, three-quarters of the House was dancing. She flicked the lights with her wand, creating green spots that moved along the walls and over the bodies of the dancers already in the centre of the floor. Pansy Parkinson certainly had a gift for party planning.

"So?" asked Draco with a hint of nervousness. "How did the round go?"

Pansy shrugged weakly:

"Fine." she replied.

Draco must have misheard, because no scenario in which Hermione and Pansy spent more than two consecutive hours together could go well.

"Tell me more?" he pressed.

Pansy took a sip of her whisky with an annoyed grumble:

"What do you want to know, Draco? Did I throw your precious Granger over the railing of the Astronomy Tower? She's safe in her snobbish tower, relax."

She made a move to get up, but Draco caught her forearm before she could escape:

"All right, all right, I'm sorry," he said. "I was just curious."

"Let me go dancing." Pansy demanded, pointing at his hand that was holding her arm.

Draco let go and she ran to the centre of the room where several dancers had gathered. She soon faded into the background and Draco lost sight of her.

After their game of chess, Theo went to work (and sulk) at a study table a little further away, and Blaise served Draco a glass of green apple liqueur. It had been a long time since he'd had one, and he enjoyed the taste even more: the tang on his tongue was exquisite.

Blaise was sitting in his favourite chair to his left, but he wasn't talking. His attention was on the centre of the room, and Draco suspected it was mostly on Daphne, who was dancing limply with her friends, her eyes half closed. He didn't know if she was already too drunk or if she was too tired to stand on her own two feet.

Draco was hesitating between pouring himself another drink or going back to his dormitory when someone asked him in a low voice:

"Can I sit here?"

Astoria Greengrass stood beside him. Her long blonde hair had lost its usual clarity, probably due to the sweat on her cheeks, and her silver sequined top looked like it was suffocating her from how tight it was. Looking down, Draco wasn't surprised to see that she was wearing heels that were far too high for her. He would have wanted to sit down too if he had such uncomfortable shoes on his feet.

He was about to open his mouth to point out that this sofa was reserved, but Blaise replied before he could:

"Of course you can."

Astoria didn't hesitate: she rocked back and sank into the cushions with a groan of relief.

"Thanks, I needed that."

"Why are you wearing shoes like that?" grunted Draco, pointing at her heels. "It's not appropriate for your age, aren't you supposed to be in second year?"

"Third year." Astoria corrected, as if there was a big difference. "And I will have you know that I've been wearing high heels ever since my parents forced me to go to their crappy galas."

"And that's supposed to be a point of pride?" asked Draco.

"Excuse me, at what age did you start getting drunk?" asked Astoria in a polite tone.

Blaise burst out laughing. When Draco looked at him, he put his hands in front of him as if to protect himself:

"What? You have to admit, she's got you good, Dray."

"If you like dancing so much, what exactly are you doing here?" he asked Astoria, not bothering to filter his rudeness.

"Well, you're so charming, it would have been unfortunate to deprive me of such a friendly exchange." she replied on the spot.

He didn't like her, but he had to admit that she had a way with words.

Astoria took off her shoes, tucked her legs under her and lay back as if it were her sofa and not a loan for a few minutes.

"I don't like you very much, let me remind you." Draco grumbled. He'd already told her that during their detention together.

Astoria didn't flinch, her perfectly symmetrical face broaching no expression that might have shown this truth hurt her.

"It's a shame, I'm so lovable."

Suddenly her gaze was drawn to something in the crowd and she shrank imperceptibly against the sofa cushions. All her aplomb vanished in an instant, and Draco was even surprised to see a flash of something crossing her oh-so-confident features... fear? He tried to make out who she might have caught a glimpse of that could cause such a reaction, but the green lights weren't helping to make out anything.

"What's going on, Tori?" asked Blaise, who must have seen the same thing as Draco.

"Nothing." Astoria lied.

"Stop lying. What's wrong with you?" Draco asked.

The girl turned her large hazel eyes towards Draco. They were pleading and devoid of the malice that had inhabited them seconds before.

"If I tell you, you'll laugh." she said. She looked suddenly afraid of the prospect.

"Depends on what it is." Draco replied honestly.

"Tell us, Astoria." ordered Blaise, who had straightened up in his chair.

"Will you believe me?" she asked.

"Yes." Blaise replied without hesitation.

She glanced at Draco who nodded. Astoria then pointed at someone, towards the liquor table:

"It's that boy over there... He keeps hitting on me, even after I've told him I'm not interested."

"Warrington?" asked Draco.

Cassius Warrington was a seventh year Slytherin. He'd been on the Slytherin team for two years, but they'd never exchanged more than two words other than 'well done', and Draco had rarely seen him off the pitch.

"He did? Tonight?" asked Blaise, staring at the boy with his lip curled in disgust.

"Not just tonight, since last year!" complained Astoria. "He always finds an excuse to talk to me, even between classes or during dinner. And just now I was dancing quietly with my friend Evie when he just... pressed himself against me."

"That's disgusting." Draco commented.

"He's an asshole." Blaise added, cracking his knuckles menacingly. "Have you told your sister about this?"

"Yes." Astoria replied. "She told me to cast a Stinging Jinx on him the next time he gets too close to me."

"You should." agreed Draco, agreeing with an idea of Daphne Greengrass's for the first time.

"But I can't."

"Why not?"

Astoria turned to him as if he was particularly stupid:

"Because he's a seventh year? He's far more experienced than I am, not to mention the fact that he towers over me by a good four inches and has told me several times that he won't take no for an answer from me."

"We'll see if he'll settle for mine, then." Blaise said, his voice vibrating with anger.

Probably feeling watched, Warrington looked up from where he was pouring himself a drink and spotted Astoria on the sofa. Even from where he stood, Draco saw the spark of lust in his eyes and felt Astoria tremble beside him. Warrington filled another cup and approached them, completely ignoring Draco and Blaise:

"I've been looking for you." he said with a wicked grin when he'd reached their level. "Here, this is for you."

He handed her the goblet, but Astoria didn't take it.

"Come on, you said you'd dance with me." the boy continued in a sheepish voice that showed the amount of alcohol he must have ingested in such a short time.

"I didn't tell you anything, Warrington." Astoria countered, a far cry from the brazenness she had shown with Draco.

"Oh, I remember very well you promised me a dance, Greengrass." Warrington continued, running his tongue over his lower lip.

His lustful, alcohol-fogged gaze slid down Astoria's legs and she curled up further with a grimace. He put down the goblet he'd offered her and reached for her, but Draco yanked his arm away roughly before he could touch her.

"Aouch!" cried Warrington, shifting his gaze from the girl to Draco for the first time all night. "What the hell is wrong with you, Malfoy?"

"Leave her alone Cassius." Draco warned.

"Stay out of my business." he spat, massaging his arm.

"Your business become mine when it takes refuge with me to get away from you." Draco said. "Let her go, she doesn't want you."

"You have no idea what she wants." he replied, pointing at Astoria.

"She's a second year, man." replied Draco, with heavy emphasis on the "second". "A bit young for you, don't you think?"

"Third." Astoria whispered stubbornly next to him.

"Love has no age." Warrington commented with a mocking smile that repelled Draco. "Come on."

He reached for her again, but Blaise had risen, too quickly for Draco to see, and pushed Warrington back, who was thrown sideways with the force of a splintered marionette. Considering his advanced state of drunkenness, Draco was almost impressed that he managed to keep his balance.

"She told you to piss off, asshole." Blaise said in a terribly calm voice that made him sound even more terrifying.

Warrington was two years older than Blaise, but it seemed the other way around when they stood face to face like this. Blaise towered over him and looked at him with a mixture of pity and disgust that would have frightened anyone in his position.

"What's the matter with you two?" asked Warrington angrily, looking at Blaise and Draco, who was still sitting on the sofa as if this conversation didn't concern him. "You want her too, don't you?"

"She's thirteen, you disgusting piece of shit." Blaise replied in disgust. "And when a girl says no to me, I'm not the type to insist. This is the last time I warn you, Warrington: leave her alone. Is that clear?"

He showed his fist and Warrington went pale. He probably remembered when Blaise had punched Leo Hills in the face and dislocated his jaw in front of everyone. Warrington turned his head to Astoria one last time, as if hoping she'd change her mind, then capitulated and returned to the drinks table, shoulders slumped in disappointment.

Of course, all heads had turned towards Blaise, but he didn't seem to notice them and sat back in his chair as calmly as if he hadn't just threatened a seventh year.

"Thank you, Blaise." Astoria said warmly. She turned to Draco, one blond eyebrow arched in surprise: "And thank you, Malfoy. I didn't think you were such a gentleman."

Draco chuckled into his apple liqueur:

"I'm not a gentleman, I'm just not a great admirer of perverts who hit on twelve-year-old girls in front of me."

"Thirteen." Astoria corrected.

She leaned forward to pick up the goblet Warrington had left on the coffee table. Draco thought she was going to take a sip, but she just sniffed the drink, her nose wrinkled in concentration:

"I should have known." she said. "A delicious blackcurrant rum, topped with a Drowsiness Draught."

Draco felt his own eyes widen at this. Blaise, on the other hand, had already risen before Astoria had even finished her sentence:

"I'm going to smash his face in." he informed her.

"No, Blaise, wait." Astoria said.

Surprisingly, Blaise listened to her and stopped, the sleeves of his uniform rolled up to his elbows.

"You've cleaned enough trophies this year." she continued. "No, we need to outsmart him... What do you think about adding a few drops of Hair Loss Potion to our friend Warrington's morning pumpkin juice?"

Draco choked on his sip of liqueur. She wasn't serious, was she?

"Astoria?"

Daphne came running, at least as fast as her ridiculous heels would allow, and rushed towards her sister, completely terrified:

"Tori? Are you all right? I saw Warrington coming to talk to you again... You didn't drink from his glass, did you?"

"No, I'm fine, Blaise saved me."

Daphne gasped at the mention of the name, but didn't turn her head in the direction of the boy, who was only a few feet away.

"Oh... I see." she stammered, at a loss for words.

"And Draco too." Astoria continued with a smile. It was the first time she'd ever called him by his first name. "I've been telling them that Warrington is quite clingy since last year, and I don't think he'll be bothering me any time soon, thanks to them."

Astoria bent down to pick up her shoes and stood up. When she yawned, Daphne's gaze softened considerably and the rebuke she was about to deliver died on the tip of her tongue. Draco thought that he'd never seen Daphne with such a peaceful expression on her face.

"Come on, let's get you back to your dormitory." she offered gently.

Astoria nodded and let herself be led by her sister, who tucked her arm under hers to hold her close. Astoria rested her head on her shoulder and closed her eyes.

"Thank you, Draco." Daphne said with a sincerity that shocked him.

"Uh... you're welcome." he replied, taken aback.

She rounded the sofa and headed for the dormitories, holding Astoria close to her as if she were a particularly fragile doll. As she passed Blaise, Daphne looked up at him:

"And thank you, Blaise."

He probably hadn't expected her to speak to him; he looked like he'd just seen a ghost. He quickly pulled himself together:

"That's normal."

"It was nice of you to do it anyway."

She gave him a small smile and walked away. Blaise sat back heavily in the chair, stunned. He'd been so shocked that he'd forgotten about going to Warrington to beat him up. Draco had never understood what had happened between them to make Daphne so hostile towards him, but apparently, protecting Astoria was the key to making amends.

Pansy arrived a few minutes later, dragging behind her a Theo who looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here. They had cups in their arms and handed them to Blaise and Draco to toast the four of them.

"Can we ask what we're supposed to be celebrating?" asked Theo sarcastically, raising the glass to his mouth.

"Blaise almost got into a fight." Pansy replied with a drunken chuckle.

"That happens every night." Theo remarked.

"He did it to protect a girl." Pansy added proudly.

"That's what I said." remarked Theo. "Every night."

"I would have done it for anyone. The guy's sick." Blaise muttered as he sipped his mead, his eyes fixed on the boy in question who was sitting a little further away.

Draco was suddenly struck with a terrible realisation:

"Hey, Pans, don't tell me you've been subjected to the same kind of approach?"

She gave him a blasé look:

"I was hit on by Wallace Highmore ten minutes ago."

"What?!" exclaimed Theo, almost spilling his drink. "Are you kidding?"

"I wish." Pansy replied distantly. The rest of her sentence was barely audible as she spoke into her cup: "Like I'd agree to go out with a guy called Wallace."

"What did he want with you?" asked Blaise.

Pansy swallowed her sip of whisky and spoke slowly:

"He wanted to know if I would accept his marriage proposal."

This time the three boys let out a gasp of astonishment that startled all the students around them. Pansy stared at them one by one in surprise:

"What? I told you that Pureblood girls receive wedding invitations from an early age."

"From their parents!" exclaimed Draco indignantly.

"Well, not only. You can't imagine how many Slytherins are desperately looking for a girl to continue their bloodline, it's frightening."

She took another sip, ignoring the indignant looks on the faces of the boys next to her.

"A war is coming, but that's what they're worried about?" asked Theo disapprovingly.

"It's because war is coming that they're worried." Pansy explained. "They want to secure their inheritance before everything is turned upside down. You're lucky you don't have to worry about that."

"No risk, I'm practically an orphan." Theo said with a big smile.

"And I think my parents are a little too involved in the war to give a damn who I marry." Draco grumbled.

"And my mother is more interested in my Third Eye than my future fiancée." Blaise said. "Why didn't you tell us about the guys hovering around you, Pans?"

"Because you can't kick the shit out of every guy who hovers around me, Blaise."

"Yes, I can." he replied immediately. "In fact, it's what I'm best at. Theo's good in class, Draco excels at Potions and Occlumency, and I know how to throw punches at those who deserve it."

Pansy rolled her eyes, but she was smiling.

"Thank you, Blaise. Good thing you're here." She rose from the couch and raised her arms above her head to stretch. "I think I'll leave you there, I'm tired and the party's not that great. I'll check on Daphne and Tori. Good night, boys."

"Good night Pans'!" they replied in chorus.

"Pansy, wait!"

Crabbe had emerged from the crowd of dancers and trotted over to her. His face was bright red and shiny, and he almost caught his feet in the carpet.

"I wanted to tell you something." he said, panting.

"Hurry up, I'm going to bed." Pansy replied brusquely.

Draco thought Crabbe was going to be sick any minute and prayed it wouldn't be on Pansy.

"So, here goes... I've wanted to talk to you about this for five years now..."

Theo's hand shot out and squeezed Draco's knee with all its might:

"Oh fuck." he breathed, his eyes fixed on the scene. "The long awaited moment has arrived."

"I... I've been in love with you since the first day I saw you." Crabbe stammered. His cheeks took on an increasingly purple hue. "You're... the most... beautiful, intelligent girl I've ever met," he croaked. "And I wanted to know if... if you'd like to go out, with me."

He ended his request with a swallowing sound that resembled a burp and waited for Pansy's reply with a pleading air. Blaise and Draco held back their giggles, but Theo had no such delicacy: he exploded with laughter.

"I don't even know if you're Crabbe or Goyle." Pansy said, in a voice as cold as the ice cubes in Draco's glass. "That's how little I care about you."

Crabbe didn't seem to understand her irony.

"That's a no." she summed up, annoyed. "Plain and simple. No."

She turned on her heels and headed for the dormitories, paying no attention to Theo and Blaise, who were rolling around on the couch laughing so hard. Draco might have felt sorry for Crabbe, standing there miserably in the middle of the Common Room, but he remembered all too well how he'd hurt Granger the year before and laughed shamelessly with his friends.

The next day, Blaise and Draco had a hard time explaining to Pansy why they were smiling when they saw Cassius Warrington, who had gone completely bald.

.

.

Hermione

.

.

Hermione had been waiting for her round partner near the Great Hall for ten minutes. When Pansy Parkinson arrived and stood opposite her, they exchanged the same exasperated sigh.

"So you couldn't get swapped, I take it?" asked the Slytherin, who could hardly have made it clearer that she didn't want to be there.

"No, no one was available." Hermione replied.

She hated Thursdays.

"Great." Parkinson replied with a haughty click of her tongue. "Perfect. Then... let's go."

She turned on her heels and headed for the Transfiguration corridor. Hermione followed reluctantly.

Throughout the tour of the first floor, Hermione remained tense. She compulsively clutched her wand in her uniform pocket and glanced at the girl next to her.

Parkinson was frightening and unpredictable. Hermione had been afraid of her since first year. But she couldn't help but notice that she was also one of the most beautiful girls she'd ever seen in her life. She wore her usual perfectly applied matte black lipstick, and her eyes were painted with a thin line of eyeliner that accentuated their dark colour. She had changed her uniform, slightly enough not to be noticed at first glance, but enough for Hermione to note that it was shorter and tighter than hers. She stood straight, proud and confident, and walked with an energetic stride. She was small in stature, but her poise was enough to turn every head around her. Next to her, Hermione looked like Errol.

But the most captivating thing about Pansy Parkinson was her hair. Hermione could have written sixty inches of parchment on this girl's hair. It was smooth, straight, cut in a perfect straight line just below her jawline. When she turned her head, her hair followed the movement like a curtain, falling delicately against her cheek, and it was exactly the same colour as her eyes, a deep, bewitching black that contrasted beautifully with the whiteness of her skin.

"No need to be so nervous, Granger." Parkinson whispered in her melodious voice. "I'm not going to eat you."

She hadn't even turned her head to look at her, just kept walking, scanning her surroundings. Hermione tore her eyes away from the Slytherin and concentrated on the round, gripping her wand even tighter.

"You pinned me against the wall with your wand under my chin just four days ago." she reminded half aloud.

"Oh, come on, Granger..." Parkinson replied with a mocking chuckle. "You fight at Potter's side every day, facing who knows what wild beast, and you dare tell me that my little threat frightened you?"

Hermione didn't dare reply that she frightened her far more than any beast she had encountered with Harry, including Fluffy.

They reached the second floor and entered every open classroom, cupboard and bathroom to make sure that no student was in violation of the curfew. When Hermione returned from inspecting an empty broom cupboard, Parkinson folded her arms over her chest and whimpered:

"Merlin, I hate being a prefect."

Hermione's eyebrows shot up. Was Pansy Parkinson chatting to her?

"If you hate the role so much, why did you take it?" asked Hermione, trying to be as friendly as possible.

"I had no choice." she grumbled in reply. Not very elaborate, but Hermione considered it progress. "Believe me, if it had been up to me, I would have given Theo my badge in a heartbeat."

"I would have preferred that." Hermione admitted, who would certainly have enjoyed Theo's company more than hers.

Parkinson chuckled:

"I'll take your word for it."

It was the first time Pansy had ever laughed with her without it being mocking. She much preferred this natural laugh to the one she used with her horrible friends.

The two girls then climbed the stairs to continue their rounds on the third floor, passing no one. The only things that moved were the figures that passed through the frames at will.

"It's safe to say you share Draco's brutal mood swings." Hermione remarked after a few minutes.

"We grew up together." Parkinson replied matter-of-factly. "We're the same."

Hermione loosened her grip on her wand, but still kept her hands in her pockets to pull it out if needed. Parkinson walked with breathtaking grace. She resembled the models Hermione's mother had seen on television. Watching her walk, Hermione wondered for the hundredth time how on earth Draco could have fallen for her, when he spent his days with this girl.

As if reading her thoughts, Parkinson turned and scanned Hermione's body with a disdainful look:

"Although... I still don't know what he sees in you."

The comment made Hermione's blood boil immediately.

"Maybe the answer isn't there." she replied, pointing her body with a wave of her hand. "But there."

She tapped her finger against her temple and Parkinson cocked her head to the side in surprise:

"Perhaps." she conceded. "But I confess I understand a little better why he fell for you when you're like this."

"How?" asked Hermione aggressively.

"When you snap back." Parkinson replied with a small smile.

That answer confused her.

"I thought you didn't like me?"

Parkinson went into the bathroom to make sure no one was there and came out about ten seconds later.

"You don't like me very much either, am I wrong?" she asked.

She had the same habit as Draco of asking more questions to avoid answering them.

"No, but you've been making fun of my looks since first year." Hermione replied. "I, on the other hand, have never done anything wrong to you."

"I don't like your social circle." Parkinson explained briefly.

"I didn't like your social circle either, and yet..."

"Oh, I think you like it a little too much now, don't you?" the Slytherin chuckled.

Hermione let out an exasperated breath. She felt like she was talking to the Malfoy from the beginning, the one who was always on edge or defensive. It was awful. It wasn't until they reached the sixth floor that Hermione realised that Parkinson had probably stayed that way because she hadn't met anyone to show her another side of herself. She had never known love, the kind that had soothed Draco.

So the irritation Hermione felt for the girl turned to deep pity.

It took all of her Gryffindor courage to ask the next question:

"Do you think, in another context... we could have become friends?"

Parkinson paused and arched an eyebrow in Hermione's direction.

"Merlin, Draco warned me that you were curious, but you never stop talking, do you?"

"Never." Hermione admitted.

Parkinson sighed.

"What other context?"

"I don't know, like if I'd been sorted into Slytherin?"

She laughed at that:

"You would never have been sorted into Slytherin, Granger, you're far too... pure."

Hermione had never been described with that adjective before and she didn't know if it was positive or not.

"Just imagine."

"If you had been sent to the snakes, you would have had a different personality." Parkinson pointed out. "In which case, I might have been friends with you."

"I think you're kidding yourself." Hermione snorted, quickening her pace to keep up with Parkinson, who not only walked like a goddess, but walked far too fast for her size. "If I've managed to bond with Theo and Draco, it must be because my current personality matches theirs. Yours."

"Why do you suddenly want to be my friend, Granger?" asked Parkinson in a voice laced with indifference.

Hermione grimaced. Put like that, it sounded clingy. They climbed the steps to the Astronomy Tower and inspected the platform under the dark sky.

"I wouldn't go that far, but... I don't know, find some common ground?" offered Hermione. "You're best friends with my... with... with Draco, and I thought it would be nice to get over the unwarranted tensions that have always bound us together, but if you're still stuck in your positions, I don't see why I bother."

She finished her angry tirade and was about to start back up the stairs when Parkinson's voice echoed behind her:

"I like Astronomy. What about you?"

Hermione turned, not sure if she'd heard what she'd just said. Parkinson was looking up at the sky through an abandoned telescope.

"Er... yeah, I like it." she replied.

"And dogs?"

Hermione had the shadow of a smile.

"Yes, I love dogs. I like the name you gave yours, by the way. Eris, the Planet of Chaos?"

Parkinson sat up and looked at Hermione with a surprise that almost bordered on admiration.

"Yes. Exactly." she breathed out in amazement. "It's a..."

"... Dwarf Spitz, or Pomeranian." Hermione finished. "I know. I told you I like dogs."

"Well spotted, Granger." said Parkinson, now interested. "What else do we have in common?"

Hermione dug into her memory, but found nothing. Parkinson was the kind of girl who read fashion magazines, partied hard and attracted the attention of all the boys. Hermione was none of those things.

"How about we find our differences instead?" she offered. "I hate fashion."

"That's easy to see." Parkinson replied, analysing Hermione's outfit with a scornful air. Her grimace, however, seemed far less genuine than before. "I hate Transfiguration."

"Aouch." Hermione said. "Hmm... I hate Quidditch."

They descended the stairs and continued their rounds side by side.

"Me too." Parkinson confessed. "I always hated it, even when I played it."

"See? Maybe we can agree on what we don't like."

"I hate reading." Parkinson continued.

"No, you're going too far now." said Hermione, who was having a great time against all odds. "I hate Divination and Astrology."

"They have nothing to do with each other, you can't put them in the same sentence." Parkinson commented. "But I suppose you can't really know, since you dropped Divination in your third year."

"I'd be curious to know how you can consider Divination an exact science and not Transfiguration." Hermione said, trying at all costs to contain the smugness in her tone.

"I've had this conversation with Theo countless times, and I know well enough to know that there's no point in preaching Divination to someone who doesn't believe in it and is convinced they never will." Parkinson explained.

They passed the tapestry outside the Room of Requirement, the wizards' eyes following them as they passed.

"I wouldn't say I don't believe it." Hermione said.

"What are you talking about? You left by throwing a crystal ball at Trelawney's feet after she told you your Third Eye would never open." Parkinson pointed out, for whom refuting Trelawney's words was probably a crime.

"I left because I think Divination is a waste of time and would be useless for my end-of-year exams and future career." Hermione explained. "Not because I'm completely against it. Besides, if the little I've learnt about the subject is anything to go by, my Third Eye is quite open."

"Really? What do you mean?" asked Parkinson, a hint of interest in her voice.

Hermione poked her head through the opening in the classroom where Draco had offered her the camera earlier in the year. There were no students inside. She was beginning to think this was the most pointless round in the history of Hogwarts.

"Well... I saw something that day. In the crystal ball." Hermione said distractedly.

It was the first time she'd talked to anyone about it. Hermione wasn't sure if she could trust Parkinson, but either way, it wasn't like she was risking much. At worst, she'd be telling everyone she was a madwoman, and frankly, that wouldn't make much difference to her day-to-day life. Hermione was no stranger to being ridiculed by Parkinson.

But strangely, Parkinson didn't burst out laughing. She had no reaction at all. In fact, when she turned to face her, Hermione was surprised to see that Parkinson had stopped in the middle of the corridor, shock written all over her features.

"What did you see, Granger?"

Hermione didn't think she'd ever heard her sound so serious. It immediately gave her goose bumps.

"Draco." she whispered gravely. "I saw Draco."

Parkinson suddenly moved closer to her and grabbed her arm firmly. She'd never touched her before and that terrified Hermione. She hurried to reach into her pocket for her wand, but Pansy's gaze stopped her. Not because it frightened her, but because it was filled with such concern that it made her throat tighten.

"Tell me what you saw." she demanded in one breath.

.

.

french translations:

"la vengeance est un plat qui se mange froid" : "vengeance is a dish best served cold" (french expression)

"Tu es la plus belle fille sur laquelle j'ai posé mes yeux." : "you are the most beautiful girl I've ever laid my eyes on."

"Tu rougis, mon amour." : "you're blushing, love."

"Ne m'approche plus, je ne veux plus jamais te parler." : "Don't come near me, I never want to talk to you again." (typical draco)

"Je t'aime" : "I love you" 33

(not me hyping up my own language)

This chapter is just Hermione drooling over Pansy hahahaha, I think I made a good point about her finding her beautiful didn't I? By the way, for my Fourth Wing saga readers (3 on you), Pansy is Cat in my head... know what I mean?
Just a reminder that I'm active on my new instagram virgulesonao3 if you want to chat or just subscribe to get news about the fic! See you all in two weeks!

last note: the vision Hermione's talking about in the end is the one from the end of chapter 29/beginning of chapter 30 if some of you need a memory jogger!