The Christmas holidays were quickly approaching, and Hermione was reaching a near-frantic state. There were exams to be aced, data to be analyzed, and plans for the break to be established. The former was rather simple, she supposed. Transfiguration would be relatively easy, as well as Charms. DADA was positively laughable. She had mastered those spells during her sixth year with Harry. Ancient Runes would require some stark memorization, which would probably be the most time-consuming. And Care of Magical Creatures...visiting Hagrid for a few hours would catch her up on anything she missed in the past few weeks.
The next element of her frazzled state, the laboratory data, was the primary source of concern. Theo's test turned up positive for tuberculosis. To be sure, she and Malfoy had run the assay no less than twenty times, and each time it came out positive. The hour following this revelation consisted of intense sulking on Hermione's part and successive kicking of the wall on Malfoy's end. When they both composed themselves, the look they shared was one of pure determination: they would find a cure.
First, Hermione offered up all the information she had on muggle antibiotics. They tested the usual ones, rifampicin and isoniazid, and even others not commonly known to cure TB such as penicillin and methicillin. Nothing seemed to work. Each night they laboriously inoculated plates and treated them with antibiotics, but nothing even made a dent in whatever this strain of tuberculosis was. Hermione was almost to the point of ripping out her own hair.
Finally, finally, they made a breakthrough. It was actually Malfoy who had the idea in the first place. She wasn't necessarily surprised it was him, he was obviously quite intelligent, she was just mildly irritated she hadn't thought of it first. His proposal was that the strain had indeed mutated, much as Hermione had said originally, but that it had mutated magically. Of course, muggle antibiotics weren't working. They needed a muggle-magical antibacterial hybrid. She had to admit the idea was rather brilliant. Now they simply had to develop a spell that worked.
While Malfoy's motivation was purely focused on curing his dying friend, Hermione's view was much broader. She quickly realized that if they could successfully create a spell to attack a blood curse such as Theodore's, St Mungo's and the Department of Magical Law Enforcement could apply it to those still suffering symptoms from the Death Eaters' curses. Perhaps it was a long shot, but she was excited nonetheless.
The third and final source of her fraying sanity was the dozens of letters stacking on her window. They were addressed by various Weasleys and Harry, all asking when she would be arriving for the winter holidays. She had yet to respond to any of them, so naturally, her friends sent even more.
Hermione sighed. It wasn't that she did not want to see her friends. She missed them. Terribly. But the fact remained that she had much to do at Hogwarts. Leaving her research for even a day sounded horrendous. Malfoy mentioned he would remain at school over the holidays; he didn't seem inclined to stay at the empty manor. She hurt terribly for him, just as she hurt for her own loss of her parents. At least she had someplace to go with the Weasleys. They were so generous, considering her as one of their own. She was being selfish for wanting to stay away from the Burrow. Resolved, she hastily scribbled a reply to Molly's letter and sent it off.
Hermione pivoted in place and shrieked at the grinning apparition not two inches from her nose.
"Ginny! Oh my god, what are you doing!"
Ginny howled in delight and slumped onto Hermione's bed. "I've been here for ten minutes. You were too busy pacing and scowling to notice."
"I was not scowling."
"Are you sure?" Hermione really couldn't be certain. She had a tendency to look a bit broodish when she was stressed. Instead of arguing, she joined Ginny on the covers and took a deep breath.
"Finally respond to Mum, did you?" She could hear the redhead's amusement without turning to see it on her face. Hermione slapped at Ginny playfully.
"Yes, I did. She's rather persistent." Ginny nodded in agreement. Suddenly, Ginny sat up with a jolt.
"Hey!"
Hermione flinched at the accusatory tone and jumped up into a sitting position to face Ginny. "Erm...what?"
Ginny waved a finger in Hermione's face. "I just remembered. This morning, I was having a lovely breakfast with Malfoy–"
"What!!?"
"-well you're right, it wasn't a proper breakfast, it was really more of an ambush on my part–"
"Ginny!"
"-but he does have just the nicest hair and I really wanted to know what charms he used on it to keep it so lovely, thought I could pass on the info to you–"
"Oh my god."
"-anyway, he cursed at me profusely, which was very hot so I told him so–"
Hermione collapsed onto her back and covered her eyes in embarrassment. This is why she never should have played nice with the Slytherins. It was mortifying.
Ginny began to chuckle. "Oh it wasn't too bad, 'Mione. I made sure to say you thought so too. That seemed to placate him."
"Oh. My. God."
"Yeah, well, we ended up having the most interesting conversation, and you know what he told me?"
Hermione really hadn't a clue. The fact that Malfoy spoke to Ginny at all was unnerving. She sighed. "No, Ginny, what did he say?"
Nostrils flaring, Ginny smacked Hermione's arm and hissed, "he said you recently attended the famous Slytherin Winter Formal! Without me, might I add!"
Honestly, Hermione thought she would get away with it. She'd wanted to bring Ginny, she really had, but Pansy hadn't extended the invitation to anyone but Hermione and she wasn't sure how these Slytherin events worked. She sheepishly rubbed her arms and winced at the murderous expression on her friend's face.
"Sorry, Gin, I didn't mean to lie to you–"
"Don't 'Sorry, Gin" me! We could have been fabulous! The Gryffindor Goddesses. Maybe I should tell Harry and Ron of your fraternizing with Slytherin."
Hermione paled. "You wouldn't!"
Ginny wagged her eyebrows indicatively before sighing dramatically. "No, darling friend, I wouldn't wish that interaction upon my worst enemy. Could you imagine how red Ronald would get if he knew you spent hours every day with Malfoy? I think he would die from shock."
At that, Hermione couldn't help but giggle, and Ginny quickly softened and joined her. This was one of the reasons she was so thankful for Ginevra Weasley. Even when Hermione was most stressed, the other girl had the ability to make her laugh. Ginny had such a warmth to her. True, that warmth could burn when provoked, but it could also comfort like no other. When the giggles subsided, Ginny turned to Hermione again and raised her eyebrows.
"So...we leave for the Burrow in three days. What are you going to tell them?"
"Honestly, Gin...I'm not sure. Maybe nothing. It's not that I think everyone would hate me for hanging out with Slytherin students, but then again, I'm not sure. The past few years have created a lot of prejudices for both sides, and Ron and Harry...well they've hated Malfoy for a long time. Maybe they would come around to Theo, but Malfoy? I don't see that happening."
Ginny frowned thoughtfully and nodded. "You might be right. But who better to change their minds than their best friend?"
The two friends remained in silence for a while until Hermione got up to head to the library. She had some research to do, and some studying to catch up on. Ginny split off to go to an evening quidditch practice and left Hermione alone in the halls.
Tugging her school bag, Hermione drifted through the corridors, not wanting to work on anything quite yet. Instead, she wandered to the secluded parts of the castle, enjoying the quiet. When she was in a rush, it was easy to forget how lovely the old fortress was. The repairs after the Battle of Hogwarts were going nicely, and it was only her memory now that painted the gory pictures of the battle. She ran her fingers lightly over the walls as she walked.
In a lonely corner, Hermione spied a pale head of hair leaning against the wall, book in hand. She kept her footsteps light as to not disturb his reading, and continued walking. She smiled when she squinted to make out the title. The Great Gatsby. Malfoy had certainly procured a liking for romantic muggle classics, something that sent a wave of warmth over her. Hermione tiptoed past him and meant to continue on when he called after her.
"Going so soon, Granger?"
She turned. "I only didn't want to bother you."
He didn't look up but patted the space next to him. "Sit with me. I know you love this book." Malfoy must have interpreted her confused silence because he elaborated. "I took this copy from your shelf."
She snatched the book out of his hand and examined it. "Hey! This is my copy!" He only chuckled.
"Well, I did say so, didn't I?"
"Malfoy," she started sternly, "you really cannot just go into my room and steal my things."
"I'm only borrowing it, Granger."
"Still!" She made to snatch her book back and continue on her way to the library, but he clamped a hand around her wrist. She winced in pain at the contact and he hastily dropped his hand. Hermione fixed her eyes on the floor. "Sorry, you didn't really hurt me too much. The burning is just a bit startling sometimes."
Malfoy gingerly flipped over her wrist and pushed up her sleeve. His forehead wrinkled; his eyes were aflame with blue. He examined every inch of her arm with care. She realized this was the first time he was seeing it clearly. That day in the infirmary, her recently injured forearm was wrapped in gauze, and before that, he probably couldn't see the exact lines due to all the blood in the owlery. Now, he seemed captivated, stuck somewhere between horror and pain. He finally looked up at her but did not release his hold. Instead, he pulled her closer.
"Granger."
Hermione swallowed hard. She didn't want him to tell her how ugly the scarring was, she already thought about that every day. Somehow hearing it from him would be exponentially worse. She didn't know when Malfoy's opinion had become so important to her, but she couldn't bear him saying the truth: that she was repulsive because of what had been done to her.
Icy panic coursed through her, and she tried to pull away from him, but he only tugged her closer once more. Now he appeared angry. Oh gods, here it was. He was going to say it.
"Granger." He practically growled this time. "What do you think I see?"
She shook her head violently and became more frantic in her attempts to disentangle herself and escape to the library. Don't say it. Don't say it. Don't say I am disgusting. Don't say I am marred. Don't say I am worthless now.
Malfoy lifted her chin with a finger. "Hermione."
Hermione. Her eyes snapped to his, brown to blue. It was the first time he had ever spoken her first name, and everything seemed to stop at the word. She wasn't even sure if she was breathing. The seconds ticked by; she was frozen in her fear. What would he do?
Malfoy held her gaze and slid to his knees before her. "I need you to know that this," he gestured to her arm, "is the greatest regret of my life. I did this to you. My family did this to you, and I just stood there because I was afraid. Instead of risking my own life, I stayed silent while you screamed. While I remained unscathed, I watched them carve into you like meat. I dream about you, every night. I dream about your terror, about your pain, about your bravery and defiance. Do you know what I see when I look at you, at this arm? I see a woman who is stronger than I will ever be. A woman better than I will ever be. And Hermione...I need you to know that I am so, so terribly sorry. I know it will never be enough, but please believe me when I say that I would do anything to erase that moment in your life. Anything."
Now she knew she wasn't breathing. These were not the words she was expecting at all; these were words she didn't even know she needed to hear. He sounded so incredibly sincere, and if she looked hard enough, she could see the tears pooling in his eyes. This was Malfoy when he was vulnerable, and she couldn't look away. Word by word, an old wound was knitting itself back together.
He took a shaky breath and continued. "I don't think you are weak because of this scar. I don't think you are filthy. To be honest, I never actually believed there was anything dirty about your blood, it was just the only insult my unimaginative bigoted mind could think of. I know that doesn't excuse it, and I am sorry for the things I've said to you in the past–"
"Malfoy–"
"-because I was just insecure, and you were always so clever and loved and I was jealous and acted ridiculously–"
"Oh yes, you were quite ridiculous. Especially as a ferret." She barely covered an escaping giggle with a hand.
"I'm trying to apologize!"
She laughed even harder now. "Yes, Malfoy, I can see that. I really think you've done a lovely job. And I do appreciate it, I can't tell you how much this means to me. Thank you." She gave him her sweetest smile, and his shoulders relaxed a bit. Malfoy raised himself back onto the bench and slumped against the wall.
"So you forgive me?"
"I forgive you, Malfoy." He sighed in relief. "Thank goodness," he whispered, "Theo was going to kill me if I still hadn't made it right with you."
"I had a feeling he had a hand in this."
Malfoy glanced at her sheepishly. "I did mean it. All of it. He's been encouraging me to 'explore the feeling of forgiveness' and rubbish like that."
She laughed again. These Slytherins were something else. She handed The Great Gatsby back to him. "Here. I've already read it five times. You can keep it."
He thanked her and tucked it into his trouser pocket and stood, holding out a hand to help her up.
"You're a good friend, Hermione."
She narrowed her eyes at him. "So we're on a first-name basis now?"
He shrugged. "I feel it's only fair after spending every moment of our free time in a lab together. Also," he scratched at his chin in thought, "I'm pretty sure you're dating my best mate."
They parted ways, and it was only hours later that Hermione realized the last part of his sentence had sounded a bit flat.