Hermione's POV

The manor was unnervingly quiet, save for the faint crackle of the fire in the library. I had been sitting in my small, cold room all morning, trying to ignore the oppressive silence of the house. Lucius had left for a conference the day before, and Narcissa had been gone since sunrise, attending yet another one of her endless meetings.

That left Draco and me.

I didn't know whether that was better or worse than the alternative. At least when his parents were here, I knew what to expect. With Draco, I couldn't tell what his angle was, what game he was playing. He had been different lately, almost… kind. But I couldn't trust it.

When he appeared at my door that afternoon, two books tucked under his arm, I immediately tensed.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" I asked, my tone clipped.

"Relax, Granger," he said, leaning casually against the doorframe. "I come bearing gifts."

I arched an eyebrow, crossing my arms. "Gifts? Why?"

"Because you look like you're on the verge of losing what little sanity you have left," he said, smirking slightly. "And because I'd rather not be stuck in this house with you sulking all the time."

I glared at him, but he stepped inside and held out the books.

I hesitated, eyeing the covers. One was a worn, leather-bound volume of magical theory, something advanced and obscure that I doubted even Draco's parents had read. The other was a Muggle novel, its colorful cover standing out like a sore thumb against the manor's dark decor.

"Where did you get these?" I asked suspiciously.

"The magical one is from the library," he said, setting them on the small table in the corner of my room. "The Muggle one I… borrowed. Don't ask where."

I frowned, picking up the novel and turning it over in my hands. "You stole this?"

He shrugged, an infuriatingly casual gesture. "Let's call it a long-term loan."

I stared at him, trying to figure out what his angle was. "Why are you doing this?"

His smirk faltered, and for a moment, something unguarded flickered in his eyes. "Maybe I'm trying to make up for the fact that my family has been utterly horrible to you," he said quietly. "Or maybe I just thought you could use a distraction."

I didn't know how to respond to that.

"You don't have to take them," he added, turning to leave. "But I'll warn you—if you don't, they'll go straight back to the library, and good luck convincing anyone else to let you read them."

I stared at the books as he walked away, the sound of his footsteps fading into the distance.

The rest of the day passed slowly, and despite my initial suspicion, I found myself drawn to the books. The magical theory volume was fascinating, filled with intricate diagrams and spells I'd never seen before. The Muggle novel, on the other hand, was comforting in a way I hadn't expected—a piece of the world I'd lost.

But I couldn't stop wondering why Draco had given them to me.

Was this some kind of trap? Was he trying to win my trust, only to turn around and betray me? Or was he genuinely trying to help?

I didn't know. And that uncertainty made it impossible to relax.

Draco's POV

I watched her from the shadows of the hallway, her head bent over the books I'd given her. She didn't look quite so broken now, her focus entirely on the pages in front of her.

I wasn't sure why I'd done it. The idea had come to me in the middle of the night, and before I could talk myself out of it, I'd already taken the books.

Maybe it was guilt. Maybe it was something else.

I hated how quiet she'd become, how the fire in her eyes had dimmed since my mother's talk with her. I hated that my father had pushed her to this point, that my mother had told her to tolerate it. And I hated that I hadn't done more to stop it.

But watching her now, even if she didn't trust me, I felt a flicker of hope.

At least she was reading. At least she was still fighting, in her own way.

And for now, that was enough.