Hermione woke Friday morning to near darkness and scrambled to her knees to look at her watch. 6:28. Excellent. Two minutes early. She flopped back onto her pillow, dressed only in knickers and a tank top, indifferent to the morning chill. She had a full day today, with three exams and double Herbology, but she made no move for her textbooks. She didn't even want her LOOP. She just lay in bed, rubbing her left foot over her right calf, thinking about ... nothing.
Her eyes closed. The Charms classroom. Finally, a scene there with Draco that she could remember without cringing or growling. His hand up her thigh, up to her ... Ron had never done that, never moved his hands over her with such sure confidence, focusing on giving, not taking. Who would have thought Draco Malfoy of all people would touch her in such a way? No wonder he had such a reputation. Just thinking about it made her warm; she tried to remember exactly what he did and said, but it was difficult, she'd been so overwhelmed ...
Hermione blinked and sat up. 7:15. Had she fallen asleep again? No, she certainly hadn't, but there was no more time to waste. She rushed through her morning routine, hoping to win an extra 20 minutes to review her Transfiguration flashcards again, then wasted that time staring out the window. Honestly, she scolded herself as she pounded down the stairs to breakfast, you're worse than Lavender.
Draco gave her a wink when she entered the Great Hall, and she couldn't help smiling back before tripping and falling into a bench full of Ravenclaws. Smooth, Hermione. She limped over to the Gryffindor table and pulled out her Transfiguration notes.
"Here, Neville." She shoved the parchment at him. "You'll quiz me, won't you?"
Neville looked appalled. "Oh no. Never again."
"Maybe Malfoy will quiz you," Ginny said slyly as she joined them.
Hermione started at the name. "N-no. He's a terrible quiz partner."
"But an excellent partner in other ways, perhaps?" Ginny asked.
"Seamus!" Hermione called out in desperation. "Didn't you have some questions about the Protean Charm?"
"Never mind," Seamus said glumly. Many Gryffindors went through distinct phases when confronted with major exams. Looking down the table, Hermione could see that her housemates had passed Denial and Panic and were now mired in Hopelessness. Soon they would be Bargaining.
Ginny followed her out of the Great Hall. "Well, look at that," she said, grinning. "Hermione Granger showing up to exams with a poorly cast glamour spell on her neck."
Hermione slapped a hand to her neck without thinking. "Aaagh!"
"This is the best school year ever," Ginny said.
Hermione blushed fiercely: The sight of her bare neck in the bathroom mirror that morning had shocked her and any attempts at healing had been fruitless. She had never allowed Ron to mark her so, and Theo had been too much the gentleman.
"Come now, Hermione," Ginny crooned, pulling at her collar. "Let me see the ferret bites."
"Keep your voice down!" Hermione snapped.
Ginny whined all the way to Ancient Runes, where Draco stood outside the door, looking pristine as always, reading a scroll with a green wax seal. Ginny peeled away with a saucy smile and Hermione walked up to the Slytherin.
"Draco," Hermione said, attempting a cool tone.
"Hermione," he parroted back, pocketing the scroll.
"Ready for your exams?"
"I'm a bit distracted today," he said, amused.
"Yes, Potions exams can be quite nerve-wracking," Hermione said.
"Not for me. I have an excellent partner." His eyes smiled at her. "You're staring."
She was. She couldn't help it. This relaxed, pleasant Malfoy was mesmerizing. Had he always been this way to family and friends, and just sneering to everyone else, or was this a new side to him, or was he only like this with women he was ...
"I wrote Mother last night," Draco said, drawing her out of her slightly hysterical reverie. "Here's a copy." He pulled out a small scroll and handed it to her.
"Dear Mother,
I hope this message finds you well. I am courting Hermione Granger. Console Father as well as you can.
Love,
Draco
The word "courting" raised Hermione's eyebrows, but she merely handed it back. "Pithy. Did you receive a response?"
"Almost immediately." Draco vanished the note and produced the heavy parchment with the broken Malfoy seal. This message was written in an elegant, feminine hand:
"My dear Son,
I am well, thank you. Pray inform me if you require any other priceless family treasures to be placed at Miss Granger's disposal.
Love,
Mother
Hermione handed the parchment back. "And here I thought you inherited your sharp tongue from your father."
"Mother is very amusing," Draco said, looking at the scroll fondly before tucking it away. Then he fixed her with a stern eye. "When are you telling your lot?"
"I'm having breakfast with Harry on Sunday." Harry was scheduled for a rare weekend off. "And I'll tell Ron after my flying lesson that morning." She was heading straight to the joke shop after Harry's breakfast. Best to do it all at once.
"Wish I could be there." Draco leaned toward her, then seemed to recollect where they were and stepped back. Just in time, too; McGonagall was arriving, trailed by the rest of the class.
She spent most of the next period mentally reviewing Arithmancy problems while Draco drew a large dragon in his textbook, using his wand to make it move. Interesting how he made all the runes on the page flee in terror like little stick-figure villagers ... Hermione leaned over to see better.
"So can anyone give an example of a carved rune with a horizontal slash?" McGonagall's voice rang out. "Anyone? No? Miss Granger ..." Hermione sat up. "Would you be so good as to give an example?"
"I can't," Hermione said.
Murmurs rippled through the class. Hermione Granger can't answer a question? Only Draco appeared unperturbed as he waved his wand and his dragon ate three fleeing runes. The others tried to escape to the next page, but were trapped in the center crease. She thought she could hear faint screams.
"And why is that, Miss Granger?" McGonagall asked.
"Because carved runes had no horizontal strokes," Hermione said, pulling her eyes from Draco's book. "Such runes were often carved into stone or wood, and a horizontal stroke would be along the grain, more difficult to see and likely to split the wood."
"Yes, carved runes had many distinctive properties ..." McGonagall continued, and Hermione sighed. Without Draco's rune stone, there was little to explore on this topic. She felt a tug on her robe and looked down to see a tiny scroll pulling on the cloth with the ends of its green bow. The message was in runes, of course:
Miss Granger,
Please lecture me about strokes. At length.
LDLM
Merlin help her. Draco was leaning back in his seat, oozing smug satisfaction. Hermione sent him her best McGonagall glare, which he countered with a heated look that made her shift in her seat. I am a frozen pond in Norway ... no, on Pluto ...
***
Theo was alone at the Potions table when Hermione arrived and didn't look up from his book as she took her seat. Seamus and Dean were two tables over, begging Slughorn to postpone the test until Monday.
"Now, boys," Slughorn said heartily. "Surely that isn't necessary! You will all have the opportunity for a little extra review before the exam today."
It was uncomfortable sitting so close to Theo, their arms were practically touching and she could smell that familiar, musky cologne. Her stomach twisted from nervousness, or maybe it was anger. Or shame. Maybe it was pity—Theo had been looking drawn and reserved, he hadn't been eating. No, she wouldn't feel pity. He won't let me help.
Her hands clenched tighter and tighter. Anger. Definitely anger. Anger at Theo for his words to her. Anger at him for refusing help. Anger at herself for continuing to worry about and protect him. She should go straight to Harry and ...
"Mr. Nott, Miss Granger!" Slughorn was standing by their table now. "Ready for my little exam, I hope?" He beamed at Theo. "You are fortunate in your seatmate, Mr. Nott."
"Yes, truly blessed," Theo said dryly.
"Well, you mustn't squander such good fortune!" Slughorn gave Theo a jovial slap, not as hard as Hagrid's, but still enough to push Theo forward. "Miss Granger, why don't you quiz Mr. Nott a bit?"
It took all of Hermione's self-control not to glare at the interfering Potions professor. "My pleasure, sir," she said icily. She picked up her textbook and Slughorn moved away, satisfied.
"Don't bother," Theo sneered, sparing her the tiniest of glances. "I'm sure you'd rather quiz Draco."
"Godric, no." She'd quizzed Draco exactly once and he'd challenged every question. Some people had no respect for the process. Hermione flipped a few pages. "What are three primary uses of lacewing in advanced potions?"
Theo clasped his hands on the table, looking straight ahead. "As a thinning agent, a heat catalyst and a coloring agent." His voice was toneless.
"That's not quite correct," Hermione said. "Stewed lacewing flies also have cooling properties in the Polyjuice Potion."
Another brief glance. "The question only asks for three uses," Theo said.
"Yes, but one could argue that lacewing's coloring agent is most suitable in the Boiling Cure, which is a First-Year potion."
"But isn't it a vital ingredient in the Shrinking Solution, which is not only advanced but bright green?"
"Yes, but I always add a codicil to answers on this topic, stating that the Shrinking Solution's green color is a result of—"
Draco slid onto his stool. "And what do we have here?" His vowels were pure Lucius.
"I'm quizzing Theo," Hermione said.
Draco snickered. "Better him than me."
Theo was silent, his mouth a thin line of irritation. Lavender took her seat, looking anxiously between Draco and Theo. Hermione wondered how the last Potions class had gone while she was fetching the hydras.
"Hello, Lavender," she said brightly, trying to cut the tension. "Would you like me to quiz you for the exam?"
Lavender looked horrified. "You? Never!"
An evil smile slid over Draco's face. "Would you like to quiz me, Brown?" he asked.
Her smile was pitifully eager. "Sure!" Lavender flipped pages. "Uh, why is flobberworm mucus superior to pond slime in thickening the Wiggenweld Potion?"
Draco frowned. "There's a problem with that question. Did you read it correctly?"
Lavender cringed. "Y-yes, it's right here." She held up the book, placing a hand over the answer.
"I'm not answering a flawed question," Draco said haughtily. Lavender looked crushed.
"Yes, it's definitely flawed," Hermione agreed.
"Thank you, Hermione," Draco's smile was smug. "It's nice to see someone understands the correct use of pond slime."
"Oh, no," Hermione said, "flobberworms are clearly superior."
Draco scoffed. "Pond slime offers twice the thickening qualities of flobberworms ..."
"But you have to use six ounces of slime versus only an ounce of mucus," Hermione sniffed. "Impractical."
"A tad inconvenient perhaps, but one shouldn't compromise quality ..."
"I'm confused," Lavender said. "What's wrong with the question again?"
"The question is flawed because neither flobberworms nor pond slime is required to complete the potion," Hermione said. "If you just monitor the fire carefully it will thicken ..."
Draco rolled his eyes. "Now that's just semantics—"
"Wacky Faint."
He held up a finger. "Don't start."
Slughorn gave the class twenty minutes to review for the exam, but it was a wasted effort at Hermione's table because she and Draco squabbled the entire time over the practice questions. Theo had his hands clamped over his ears as he tried to read, and Lavender just stared, baffled.
Finally, the exam began and quiet reigned. Hermione was writing out her answers and underlining phrases (for future explanation, if time allowed) when she felt a warm, firm leg against hers. She often stood in Potions class, the better to reach the cauldron, but today she was sitting, a circumstance, she suddenly realized, put her legs in close proximity to Draco's longer ones.
She looked up, and Draco was looking at her with a hint of that open expression. Her own expression didn't change but she leaned into his leg slightly. She could feel his body heat through his trousers and her tights and it calmed her somehow. The frantic yammering of her pulse she usually felt while taking exams faded; she felt only soft encouragement. She wondered what it would be like to study with him, leaning up against his body, his naked ... she blushed suddenly. Concentrate. She looked up and saw him watching her again, looking a bit smug. The properties of the Polyjuice Potion ...
Theo stalked out of the dungeon immediately after the bell, and Draco left with the rest of the class. Hermione stayed behind to dispute a few exam questions.
"Now, Miss Granger," Slughorn said in the same hearty tone he'd used with Dean and Seamus, "I'm sure you explained your reasoning quite well in your answers, no need to discuss it further!"
Hermione was leaving the dungeons, muttering about professors with no sense of nuance in their supposed fields of expertise, when an arm shot out of a half-open classroom door and pulled her inside. Draco locked the door, looking pleased with himself, as usual.
She huffed. Still Draco Malfoy, wanting what he wanted when he wanted it. "What are you playing at?"
He began stalking her around the desks, silver eyes on hers. "I want to know what you were thinking of, in Potions."
"I have Arithmancy in twenty minutes and I need to review ..." The back of her legs hit the teacher's desk.
Draco was in front of her now, pulling her bag to the floor. His arm snaked around her waist. "Tell me," he whispered, and promptly made telling him anything impossible by kissing her. She felt him lift her up and set her on the desk, his lips on her throat.
"You were driving me mad in there," he said against her skin. "I could barely take my exam. Tell me what you were thinking. When you blushed." He lifted his head and looked at her, a spoiled boy wanting his treat. "I'll kiss you if you tell me."
She knew the answer to that. "You'll kiss me if I don't."
Draco smiled but didn't move, just waited, arms around her.
"This is just rewarding bad behavior," she said.
He gave her a slow blink with long lashes.
"Fine," she huffed, "I was imagining us studying together."
"No, really ..." Draco stopped and considered. "Were we wearing anything?" He saw her suddenly heated face and his smile widened. "No? Intriguing."
Hermione could have wept. She imagined the rest of the school year with his notes and his whispers and random meetings and she shivered, either in pleasure or trepidation, or both. She expected Draco to demand another explanation, but he was busy kissing her aggressively and probably expected a fair amount of shivering.
Twenty minutes later she was dashing to Transfiguration, buttoning up her robe because she'd spent the last ten minutes getting her hair in order and didn't have time to fix her shirt or skirt. Obviously, they were going to have to establish boundaries; Draco might be used to sleazy bints dropping their knickers between classes, but that didn't mean Hermione had to live that way. She'd gotten some revenge, however, with a suckling bite on his jaw that she had refused to heal. Let him look less than perfect for once.
The Transfiguration practical exam went well, and the class included a Ravenclaw almost as obsessive as she. The two of them enjoyed a discussion of the stickiest portion: turning a classmate into a duck. Hermione was upset that her duck (a Transfigured Luna) was a bit too large, and the Ravenclaw was practically hysterical because the transformed Neville looked more like a goose.
Hermione left the room reassured that her duck's size differential was small enough for full credit and rather pleased that Luna still sported a few feathers (she still held a grudge over the Ernie fiasco). Then she snuck into a bathroom to repair the damage from her run-in with Draco. She wasn't Lavender—damned if she was walking around the school looking like she just rolled out of bed. Yes, ground rules were definitely needed.
***
Hermione put on her sniftiest expression when she entered the Great Hall for lunch. Draco was seated between Pansy and Blaise, and looking smug again.
"Trouble in paradise?" Neville asked in a low voice.
"Not at all," Hermione said. She couldn't expect it to be easy. In fact, she was curious to see what he would do next.
But he made no effort to approach her, even during her free hour in the library. By the time Double Herbology rolled around, she was frankly a little put out. The man had no concept of time management; they could have traded a rushed fifteen minutes after Potions for a leisurely forty-five minutes after lunch.
Hermione was headed for Sprout's small greenhouse, snogging schedules spinning in her head, when she heard a riot of flapping and squawking. A flock of pigeons was swooping close to the ground, chasing a single owl. The owl was big and strong but hampered by the heavy package it carried. The pigeons' squawks rose, sounding like screams, and Hermione drew her wand. Hagrid was right; This renegade flock of pigeons was getting out of hand.
"Bullarum pelta!" she shouted, and a bubble appeared around both owl and package. She had slightly modified the Bubble-Head Charm, and the pigeons' beaks couldn't pierce the clear barrier. The pigeons screamed again and wheeled away as the owl continued its flight. Hopefully, the recipient could dispell her charm.
The pigeons made her a bit late to Herbology, where Sprout was leading the last day of Winkweed lessons (thank Merlin). All the specimens had thrived: Draco and Neville's plant, Wendy, was the biggest of all, a 5-foot monster whose leaves shone a glossy black from the ink it had absorbed. Draco looked properly wary of it, but Neville crooned over the horrid thing and stroked its flower petals. Truly they were going to find her friend dead one day, strangled by homicidal vines.
Half of their Winkweed grade was determined by what Sprout called their Cultivation Compendium, a journal of "Adventures in Gardening." Hermione usually rolled her eyes at the phrase, but it was admittedly an accurate description of their recent activities. The final session was to be used to review, revise and organize their compendiums, time that Hermione heartily appreciated. Now that she had read the entire Winkweed textbook, she wanted to annotate some earlier entries that were not as precise as she would have liked.
Hermione was absorbed in this task, happily minding her own business, when Astoria started up another round of "Who Wants To Be Lady Malfoy?"
"You can't keep him, you know," she said in a low voice.
"Are we talking about a wizard or a library book?" Hermione asked at a regular volume. "How about a loan with the option to renew?"
Draco and Neville glanced over. Hermione gave them a bright smile that only made them frown. Some people were never happy.
"He will always return to me," Astoria said serenely.
"Maybe he will," Hermione said. "I don't pretend to understand the man. If that's the life he wants ..." she shrugged and resumed writing.
Astoria touched the diamonds peeping out of her shirt collar. "I am what he really wants."
"Very nice," Hermione murmured absently. She was trying to organize her Winkweed notes by subject and a few pages fit multiple categories. Did pruning guidelines go under "Care" or "Potential Disasters"?
"Our betrothal remains," Astoria said.
Hermione finally put down her quill and looked at Astoria. The woman was like a mechanical doll, spouting phrases like "He only needs me" and "I am his destiny" after you wound it up.
"Did you say something?" Hermione asked.
"I am his true betrothed."
"That dog collar you're wearing doesn't mean anything, Greengrass," Hermione snapped.
Her voice rang out in the small greenhouse. OK, maybe that was a little loud. Neville looked up, concerned, while Draco smirked in approval.
"So prim and proper," Astoria hissed. "But I saw you running through the halls today buttoning your robes. Sneaking around with him. You're a slut for him like the rest of us. He's had us all, you know ... Pansy, Daphne, Eleanor ... he'll never settle until it is time to continue his legacy. With me."
Astoria's voice had risen a little now, her eyes wild, and Draco was no longer smirking. His face darkened and he started to stand, but Neville spoke in a low undertone: "... can handle it ..."
Hermione looked at Astoria, head tilted, eyes narrowed as if the other woman was a particularly interesting object to Transfigure.
"I don't know what you want me to say, Greengrass," Hermione said. "If you're right, then Draco will most certainly hound around on me, leave me, pick up your betrothal again, and go live the noble pureblood dream."
She didn't bother to lower her voice, and Draco was standing, restrained only by Neville's—good, loyal Neville—death grip on his arm.
"So why not let it play out?" Hermione continued loudly. "I'm hoping that you're wrong, of course, that he has more integrity than that. But that's his choice. So, no, I'm not going to flaunt his diamonds and pour poison in his ear and scheme with his friends and follow you around with nasty little insinuations. It's his life—not yours, not mine, not his parents'—his. And if there's one thing I fought for in the war, it's for every wizard and witch's right to make his or her own decisions, regardless of background and blood."
"Hear, hear," called Neville. He released Draco, who strode over to their table.
"Astoria," Draco said sternly, "whatever arrangement you have with my mother, you need to stop."
"Draco," Astoria said, moving closer. She was trembling. "I cannot believe you'd settle for that."
"Are you joking?" he asked harshly. "If anybody is settling here, it's Hermione. She's better than all of us. We'd all be crushed under Voldemort's thumb somewhere if not for her." Hermione stared at him, dumbstruck.
"Now, Astoria," he went on more gently. "I'm saying this to you as a friend: If you keep wearing those jewels and chasing me, it will damage your reputation. Do you think my mother cares about that? If you hurt your chances for a good marriage, that won't matter to my mother. She'll only know that you failed."
"I won't fail," Astoria said. "I know you. I know you."
"Merlin, I hope not," Draco said. "Come along, Hermione. You've done enough defending for today. And you two ..." He waved a hand at the Slytherin boys. "Show's over. Get back to work and keep your mouths shut."
Hermione swept her things back into her bag and let Draco pull her over to his and Neville's table.
Draco grimaced. "If I were a better man, I'd break it off with you right now. You're in for worse than Astoria."
"Don't you dare," Hermione said. "Nobody tells me what to do. I'll see who I want, when I want and where ..."
"Fine, fine," Draco said. "If I break it off, it'll be to chase women and marry some Sacred Twenty-Eight bitch and not out of a displaced nobility. I promise. Are we good?"
"We're good," Hermione said, smiling at him.
Draco looked her up and down. "Hmmm. So. Let's talk about my note in Ancient Runes."
"No, no, no," Neville broke in. "Malfoy, there will be no use of that tone around me. Keep that up, and you can go sit with Greengrass."
Draco eyed him lazily. "Hermione would never allow it."
"I'd encourage it, actually," Hermione said, picking up her quill. "Then I could finish my Compendium."
"Perhaps Longbottom would like to sit with Astoria," Draco said.
"I think she'd like you better," Neville said with a grin.
The two men spent the rest of the class arguing loudly over who had to sit with Astoria while Hermione placidly finished her Compendium. She could only see Astoria's back, but her posture was rigid, her hands were clenched, and the two Slytherins facing her looked terrified. When the class ended, Astoria flounced off her stool and out the door. Neville looked at Hermione and Draco, shook his head, and left.
Draco edged closer. "So, what shall we do before dinner?"
"PORN in the dungeons," she said crisply, packing up her bag. "I know it's Friday, but we're behind schedule. You received my Owl this morning, I presume."
"And a very disappointing Owl it was, too," Draco said. "Just nonsense about NEWTs. You should pattern your notes after mine ..." He continued on this obnoxious vein all the way to the dungeons, suggesting increasingly risqué topics for future messages, while Hermione fought her blushes.
Draco obviously didn't expect anybody else to show up and began proposing alternative activities in the dungeon. But it turned out that some Eighth Years actually cared about their futures, even on Friday afternoons. Padma Patil, for example, was anxious to join the healing program at St. Mungo's and needed strong scores in Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts.
"So now he's glaring, and you look smug," Neville said to Hermione after the meeting as Draco stalked off. "Do I even want to know?"
"Never underestimate the power of education," Hermione said with a smile. She lowered her voice. "Neville, I need a favor. I'm having breakfast with Harry on Sunday and ..."
"Oh no," Neville said. "No, no, no ..."
"I haven't even asked you yet!" Hermione raised her wand to clear the blackboard. Her hand froze—someone had drawn a large number 8 to the right of her outline.
"Hermione, are you listening?" Neville was hissing. "I am not telling Harry about you and Malfoy."
"I'll tell him, you only have to be there," Hermione said, clearing the board. "I can't ask Ginny to do it, not with her history with Harry. You're the only other person who gets it."
"I sort of get it, although the whole Greengrass situation makes me nervous, but that doesn't mean I want to defend you two to Harry."
"Then just come for support."
"How about I write a reference letter?" Neville pretended to write on parchment: "'I have had the pleasure of watching Hermione and Malfoy quarrel relentlessly for months and crush anyone who gets between them, and am therefore convinced ...'"
"Please," Hermione begged as they left the dungeon and walked to the Great Hall. "Look how effective you were today with Draco. I think he likes you."
"Godric help me, Hermione," Neville breathed. "You are delusional. The bastard may have feelings for you, but if you think he sees me as anything other than a crybaby who happened to trip over a snake while holding a sword, then you have lost your grip on reality."
Hermione did not agree, however, and continued her efforts in an undertone as they joined the Gryffindor table for dinner. Neville obviously counted on Ginny's support, but her roommate thought bringing Neville along to see Harry was a great idea. Neville repeated his reference letter joke, and Ginny wrote one on the spot.
"Don't worry, Nev," she whispered, placing the sealed scroll in Hermione's hand. "Harry will go spare for a while, but my advice is to ignore everything but blood."
"Blood?" Neville turned pale.
"You're such a good friend," Hermione said, giving him a kiss.
"I haven't agreed to anything, Hermione, and now I've got Draco Malfoy glaring at me," Neville said, wiping his cheek. "When did you start wearing so much lipstick?"