vices | D.M. + H.G.

five: i'm so drunk

"Do you?" Hermione retorted.

"That– is beside the point," Ginny said, flushing just a touch.

"That's what I thought," she laughed at her friend, pushing her shoulder playfully. Her laughter was contagious, and before they knew it, they were both cracking up.

"Seriously though," Hermione said, calming down. "That's not a bad idea. I think it might actually work." She eyed her friend up and down. "You're not bad at this stuff, you know?"

Ginny snorted. "Of course I know. I'm a Weasley. Fred would be pissed if I didn't live up to the legacy."

A sad smile took over both of their features. "Well," Hermione said, clearing her throat, "I'll have to put it to the test, won't I?"

-

A splotch of ink dripped onto the parchment, and Hermione swore under her breath. She'd been staring at the same piece of paper for what felt like eons – but really it had only been a few minutes.

What was good about Draco Malfoy?

Realistically, she knew there had to be something – logically, she knew it to be true. But Ginny was right – she hadn't seen it for herself.

Except... except she had. Since they'd been back to school, they'd had more soul-baring conversations than she'd ever expected. He'd been open with her, more than she could have asked for, and maybe there was more where that came from.

Did that count? Oh, bollocks. This was impossible.

Slamming her forehead hard against the table in hopes of jogging a thought or two, she groaned loudly. This was hard.

Crookshanks jumped up, smearing the ink that had dripped from her quill. "Crooks! Oh–" she tried to salvage it, but there was no use. Not like there was much worth salvaging anyway. Sighing, she conjured another piece of parchment.

Jumping into her lap, the kneazle purred contentedly, and her hand automatically lowered to scratch the space between his ears.

Growing more determined now at her own stubbornness to see beyond old rivalries, she furrowed her brow and thought hard. Her gaze flickered to a book on the table and willed something to come to her.

Then, a thought popped into her brain. The book she was staring at was the color of slate, the same cool grey as Malfoy's eyes. Blushing slightly at the prospect, she realized that she did quite like his eyes. They were so expressive, more so than she'd ever noticed on anyone else.

When she wanted to know how he really felt about something, she looked straight into his eyes. That, paired with the set of his mouth, gave her an easy read on him every damn time.

The instance that jumped into her head was immediate: their last conversation they'd had in front of her Veritas research. She'd watched as his eyes moved from curious, to apprehensive, before alighting with something bright and exciting. Hermione had known that he would accept her proposal and was more shocked than anything when he'd proposed the little fake dating scheme.

Truly, it was genius. She would have proposed the idea herself if she'd have thought that Malfoy would ever go along with it. Imagine her surprise when he'd given the idea himself – and seemed almost happy that she'd agreed.

She coughed, snapping herself out of her slight trance. Yes, she thought. His eyes would go on the list, as embarrassing as it was for her. She wrote it down.

Embarrassingly enough, she also had noticed how protective he was. Not necessarily of her – but of the people he cared about. The way he'd spoken to her about how he cared so deeply for his family that he sacrificed himself to Voldemort's cause to keep them safe. He protected his friends in the battle – she'd seen it.