A/N: Thank y'all for your patience. My little break was so much needed!
Beta work done by AlmondMilkTeaDoubleBoba, LeilahMoon, and lost_poetx.
xoxo, carm
-
"Alright," the fiery redhead said, sitting down next to Hermione and pulling out a quill and parchment, "time to plot."
Hermione pressed her fingers against her temples and rubbed them in slow circles. "I don't even think I want to know," she muttered.
"Oh yes," Ginny replied, "you do." A giggle escaped her lips. "You want to know how you're going to complete this bloody list, and you have no idea how to figure out all these things about Malfoy without help. Well, you're in luck. I am here to save the day," she finished dramatically.
A sigh escaped Hermione's lips. "I don't even know where to– why are you so invested anyway?" she cut herself off as the question popped into her head.
An innocent look plastered itself onto Ginny's face. "Can't I just be a good friend who's interested in your well-being and success?"
"No," Hermione fired back.
Ginny slumped in her chair. "Fine. I want you to win this stupid bet so you can rub it in Malfoy's face," she said. Perking up, she added, "Plus, I have a really good feeling about this, and that should tell you everything you need to know."
"I'm going to choose to pretend like you have no malicious intent behind this at all." Hermione cracked a smile at her tenacious friend.
"Of course I don't!" Ginny said with a wink.
"Speaking of malicious intent," Hermione started, taking the opportunity to pose the question, "what's your take on this whole 'Spill the Tea' thing?" She paused, taking in the way Ginny's jaw slightly clenched – if she hadn't been looking, she would have missed it.
"I don't like it," she replied. "I'd bet my last Galleon that it's a Slytherin." She bit the inside of her cheek and insisted, "It has to be. It's too conniving of a plot to be any– anyone else."
"Even if it's actually a good thing, as they're claiming?" Hermione pressed.
Ginny was already shaking her head. "I don't trust this for a second. Something about it sets me on edge," she said, pressing the matter further.
Pursing her lips, Hermione nodded. "Interesting," she said, crossing her arms. "Well, Malfoy and I are looking into it, so maybe we'll figure it out."
Ginny met her eyes. "You– you are?"
"Mhm. I figured it would be best to try to get ahead of it. Maybe we won't figure anything out, but at least I'll be able to say I tried," she said.
"Speaking of Malfoy," Ginny abruptly changed the subject, "I have some ideas."
"Of course you do."
"Oh, shut up," Ginny chided. "You couldn't do this without me."
Hermione grumbled her response, and added, "Continue."
"Right, so, I think it would be best to set up instances where you need help – nothing crazy, just perfectly structured incidents where he's coincidentally the only one around."
"What do you suggest?" Hermione pressed.
"Just little things – you need help cooking or reaching something that's on a high shelf. You lost your wand and 'Oh, Malfoy, can you help me look?' or you dropped your books. Everywhere," she shrugged. "Things like that. That way you can see how much he hesitates, if he does at all, and you can spend some time with him." Ginny smirked. "Like if you can convince him to cook dinner with you – I'd be impressed. I don't know if he has the ability to cook without magic."
"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.
Hermione vividly remembered the way that Yaxley had aimed some advanced form of the Killing Curse at Pansy, Blaise, and Theo, and how Draco had – from an alcove just out of sight to everyone but her – risked his life, and being revealed as a traitor, to throw Shield Charm after Shield Charm over them. If she hadn't seen it herself, she may not have believed it.
And the way that he so willingly joined forces with her once he'd seen her blatant panic about Veritas – that was sort of protective, wasn't it?
Alright, so Draco Malfoy was plenty protective. That could go on the list, for now at least.
This was going to feel very much like a cop-out, Hermione knew, but she also did enjoy how smart he was, and without even trying. He was just behind her in their rankings, and being Heads together gave them ample time to spar about academics.
She could remember how just days ago when he'd seen her reading a book about a possible new use for Dragon's Blood and immediately snorted, discrediting the theory completely. She'd watched in awe at how he'd not hesitated to launch into a well-thought-out speech on how the author was completely incorrect and how the tests had been flawed – something Hermione hadn't even picked up on yet.
Granted, he had spoiled the book for her, but that was beside the point.
His rant had subsequently launched her into one of her own, and before they knew it, they'd both missed dinner because of it. Neither of them had won that argument, but she knew that she hadn't had such a refreshing – or challenging – debate in years.
Begrudgingly adding his intelligence to the list, she admired her three points with pride. It wasn't the full seven, but she was nearly halfway there. Hermione had found some of the good in Draco Malfoy – that was something to be excited about.
And a part of her couldn't wait to compile the other four.
-
"Hey, Granger!" a feminine voice called from across the hallway. Hermione turned, searching for the person the voice belonged to.
"Parkinson?" she asked in confusion. "What's up?"
"I can't just ask you how your day's going?" she teased, clapping her on the back and slinging an arm around her shoulder. "I happen to enjoy your company, Granger. Is that so hard to believe?"
"I thought you only enjoyed it when we were drunk," Hermione muttered, her smirk breaking way to a full-blown smile.
"Well, of course, I do," Pansy snarked. "I happen to like you just the same anyway."
Hermione laughed. "You're really something, aren't you?" She shook her head. "It's a good thing I wasn't exposed to you sooner – you would have been bad for me."
"Oh Granger," Pansy cooed as they walked. "Who says I'm still not?"
"I'm sure you still are," Hermione said. "I don't doubt that. I just don't see how I can get any worse."
At that, Pansy let out a real, deep laugh. "You have no idea," she said. "With the company you keep, I wouldn't be surprised if you were done for and weren't even aware of it. Come on," she stressed, "Theo? Draco? Me?" She shook her head. "You're fucked, Granger," Pansy said, tilting her head and regarded her, before questioning, "but I don't think you care much, do you?"
Biting on her lower lip, Hermione thought about her question. "No," she admitted freely, "not really. I don't see how I can get much worse, if I'm being honest." Her smile was wry, but twinged with sadness.
Pansy stopped them at that, and softened only just, before her normal façade was back. "Granger, sweetie," she said affectionately. "You're only as fucked as the rest of us. We all have things we'd very much like to forget, things we wish we could undo," she said. "But without them, we wouldn't be where we are now. We wouldn't have the friendships we do, and we wouldn't know what camaraderie was."
Hermione thought of Theo and how they had only come together because of the war. Maybe they would have found each other without it, but was she willing to take that chance?
And Draco – sure, they weren't best friends, but they got along well, complimented each other well. And now they were working together on a voluntary basis, and that had to be significant enough, right?
And now Parkinson. She had been an unexpected friend, but one she knew she would cherish – as long as she kept up with how she was now as opposed to before. They had the potential to be dangerously close, maybe like her and Ginny.
"Damn it, Parkinson," she said, "when did you get so philosophical?"
"Ah, I'd wager it was the trauma," Pansy said. "What else could it have been?
Hermione smiled at how casually she'd accepted it all. "What else indeed," she murmured.
"So, what's your take on this whole 'Spill the Tea' thing?" Pansy prodded, abruptly changing the subject. This seemed to take the school by the storm – it was all anyone could talk about. Everyone was speculating about who among them – or maybe not even among them – was spreading all these rumors.
"I don't know," Hermione said, proceeding with caution. Pansy was on her list as a possible suspect, but she wasn't sure how she felt about it. Not wanting to give too much away, Hermione said, "I'm still trying to figure out if they're good or not. I know they said they were, but who knows?"
"I'm counting down the days until I wind up in there," Pansy said offhandedly. "I'm sure I will eventually, but I'm trying to guess about what I'll be in for."
"Hmm, scandalous threesome between Draco and Theo?" Hermione teased.
Pansy gave a very unladylike snort. "Don't I wish. That would be one fun night," she sighed. "Can you just imagine?" she said, staring into space with a slightly unfocused gaze.
"If you had to pick," Hermione asked casually, getting an inkling of something stirring in her chest, "who would it be?"
"Hmm," Pansy said. "Honestly, I'd say Theo – just because I already know what Draco's like," she rushed out the second half of her sentence. "I think I'd do it for curiosity's sake," she paused. "Okay, and because he's pretty easy on the eyes," she conceded.
The pair locked eyes, pursing their lips, before bursting into laughter.
"That," Hermione said, wiping at her eyes, "we can both admit."
-
He was staring at the fire again. This was becoming a bad habit – and maybe it wouldn't be if he weren't constantly drinking while he did so.
But it wasn't like he could help it.
He had gotten nowhere with this stupid list. He had too many things to put on it – why had he only limited it to seven? She was the most intimidating, terrifying, incredible witch he'd ever known – and those were not things that would make said list.
Swirling the liquid around in his glass, he shifted his gaze from the crackling embers of the fire to the deep amber of the alcohol. He'd always found Firewhisky to be a soothing, enrapturing myriad of colors – depending on what light it was viewed in.
Taking a long pull from the glass, he felt the liquor thoroughly seep into his brain, clouding his thought process. Draco pulled it back, staring at it again. The firelight backlit the drink nicely, and the liquid sparkled incandescently.
The dark color of the Firewhisky suddenly pulled to mind a flash of a memory of Granger's eyes. They were close enough in color to where he could justify it, but still – he shouldn't. It wasn't good for him – wasn't a good train of thought to follow.
Still, he couldn't help himself from letting his mind wander ever so briefly. Taking another sip, he kept her eyes in the forefront of his vision. Rolling the liquid around in his mouth to savour the taste, he found himself suddenly curious to see what she tasted like. If she would resemble his whisky and taste like cinnamon, or if she would taste refreshing – like the Muggle toothpaste he knew she still used. So many possibilities...
Jolting out of his reverie with a gasp, he refocused his eyes. What was that?
Fuck. He knew he was fucked, but didn't think it was that bad. Evidently, it was worse than he'd realized.
To distract himself from his impending doom, he conjured a piece of parchment and a Quick Quotes quill. Rattling off a handful of items that could be plausible for Granger's list, he blinked and suddenly had a completed list in front of him. Really, it was more than he needed, but at least it would be easy to narrow down.
If he had to pick a favorite, it would be her laugh. There was something dazzling about the sound, the way it sliced through the atmosphere of any room she occupied and lit up the place. It glittered and shone, and the way it touched everyone before dancing away was almost tangible.
Or maybe he was just whipped. Either way, it still took first place.
Second place had to be her willingness to help others, even when they may not deserve it. This was obviously a nod to her testimony at his trial, and letting him get off with probation and a mandatory eighth-year at Hogwarts.
Granger was too good. On her own, she could have made up for every ounce of his shit behavior, demeanor, thought processes, and everything else.
The realization bowled him over and nearly sobered him up with the force of it. He knew that he'd had a passing fancy for her, really that's all he would have expected, but the way he was thinking of her now proved that it was anything but.
And it mirrored the way he'd thought about her for years.
Fuck.
Immediately, he was thrown back to another memory: watching her descend the stairs at the Yule Ball. She'd looked damn near ethereal – at first, he couldn't believe it was her, refused to. The girl didn't have Granger's hair or her demeanor. No, she had her normally unruly curls slicked back into a clean updo, and she carried herself like she was a girl worth more than she – or anyone – knew. Everyone had stared at her, and he'd noticed because he wanted to know if it was just him she'd managed to bewitch.
It wasn't. And for some reason, that made him almost angrier. Because he wanted to be the only one who really saw her. That realization had fucked him up more than he'd cared to admit, so he pushed it back.
And it had been solidified when he realized how utterly tangible his fear had been when he'd found out she was the one stuck underwater in fourth year. He hadn't realized at first what it was – wasn't able to identify it properly.
What would happen to her if Krum failed?
Krum, he remembered thinking with such disdain. That idiot was all brawn and no brains – he wasn't evenly matched for Granger, let alone have the ability to save her life when she was trapped underwater.
If Krum failed, he swore up and down that he would find every conceivable way to make his life a nightmare – and would also find a way to give him no reprieve in his dreams, either.
But alas, the Bulgarian prevailed, Granger rose to the surface with a bright smile on her face, and Draco sulked.
He shot more death glares to the two of them than was usual that year, constantly wondering if she noticed. But of course, she didn't – she probably thought that it was normal, the way he looked at her. If he started throwing her puppy dog glances, she would have thought him mad.
Fuck it. Maybe he did want her.
Maybe he always had.