Hermione doesn't know why it's getting to her so much. She should've expected as much from the beginning, right? It's not exactly like he's a dimensional person. He didn't have layers; all that was true about him was what was on the surface. He was nothing but cold.
'Chocolate, really?' She giggled a little too loudly for her liking. 'Out of all things, your mother banned chocolate from you?'
He rolled his borrowed-eyes, fingering the corner of a page from his Charms textbook. 'Malfoys aren't fat,' he scolded her to her, the way they'd done to him she figured. 'And they don't lapse into a sugar-coma after twenty-eight Chocolate Frogs and faint during their etiquette lesson.'
She laughed some more, picturing a little toddler Draco Malfoy collapsed on an armchair, face covered in melted chocolate and his belly sticking out from his expensive robes. 'That's honestly priceless. But I suppose I can relate. Mum and Dad forbade me from eating sweets. They're bad for your teeth and all that.'
'And you had plenty of teeth, Granger,' it was his turn to laugh.
She nudged him with her borrowed-elbow, rolling his silver eyes at him. As she did so, even as she muttered a 'whatever, Ferret' underneath her breath, the situation had not turned hostile. It was like two friends picking on each other. It was harmless.
He was always going to be the same, wasn't he? He was always going to be that narcissistic, ignorant, and prejudiced boy that she met when she was eleven. He was full of lies. He was a master of them, capable of cocooning himself into a giant bubble of them; telling the world it wasn't there and they were seeing things.
He hadn't changed at all.
'Do you ever have nightmares about it?' he mumbled to her, refusing to meet her eyes like he'd been doing since he confessed something he'd been ashamed to admit. 'About that night with Bellatrix?'
'Bit of a rubbish question, isn't it?' She smiled, her borrowed-head still resting on her own shoulder. She could feel her curls acting like a fluffy pillow, the smell of strawberries in the brown strands.
'Yeah, I suppose it is.'
After a moment of silence, as she let that smile on Malfoy's face die, she sighed through his lips. 'It affects me more than I let on,' she finally spoke, admitting to something she didn't want to or hadn't told anyone. 'It makes me physically ill sometimes. I go into this panic...like there's not enough air in the room or the walls are closing in on me. It overwhelms me. It's like my body shuts off...Like it remembers the torture and it's still tired from it.'
She swallowed a knot that had begun to form in Malfoy's throat from her own memories. 'I'm exhausted,' she confessed, feeling the truth press into her mind, 'but there's no time to be. I'm not the only one, but I've got to keep going.'
Releasing her lips from the tight line he'd pressed them into, Draco let out a sigh of his own. 'Why do this, Granger? Why fight for Potter? You could've stayed in the Muggle world. You could've been safer there than you could ever be here.'
'Because I love him,' she said immediately, not oblivious to the way Malfoy made her shoulders tense. 'He's my best friend. I'd go to the end of the world for him,' and she hadn't hesitated one bit to say that. She pushed herself off of Malfoy, looking straight at him as he hesitantly looked up,too. 'And I'm not afraid, Malfoy. I'm not going to hide.'
'That's foolish of you,' he told her, creasing her forehead. 'They wouldn't be hunting you down if you just left the Wizarding World.'
She made his face frown. 'I'm not afraid,' she repeated. 'I'm a witch, Malfoy, and I belong here. I don't care that there's masses of wizards and witches trying to kill me. I'm still a witch. Mudblood or not, I have as much magic in my blood as all of them.'
He pressed her lips into a tight line again, making her brown eyes zero in on the silver ones she was controlling. He watched her carefully, looking deep in his eyes to find her there. 'Yeah, Granger, you're right. You have as much magic as they do and you use it better.'
She released the air she didn't realize she was holding. She had been waiting for him to retaliate, to tell her once again, like all those years ago, that she was not rightfully a witch, but it never came. There was this light in his borrowed-eyes that almost looked like acceptance; like he believed what he said.
He was changing, she could see it. Little by little he was seeing the fight for her side; he was seeing that there was no difference in a Muggle-Born and in a Pureblood. Magic was magic.
'So, did I tell you Pansy Parkinson snogged me?'she muttered to him casually, trying to ease the tension. She leaned against his borrowed-shoulder again. 'She's going to have a fit when she knows it's been me all along.'
He laughed at that.
Maybe it's the fact that she was taken as a fool that's bothered her. Maybe it honestly has nothing to do with the Malfoy of it all. She is Hermione Granger, Brightest Witch of the Age—how was it possible to be okay with being stupid and naive? She believed him; believed in that part of her heart that always told her there was light in every single soul.
So he was going to fight for his side, fine. Who cared, anyway? Certainly not her, that's for sure. He was just another Death Eater; one of the many she'd been fighting for years now. This was going to be nothing new. She had known for ages that Draco Malfoy was on Voldemort's side, that wasn't going to change because he was stuck in her body, was it? She'd been prepared to fight him ever since he first called her a Mudblood their Second Year.
Nothing had changed.
"For fuck sakes, mate, are you still moping?" Without realizing that someone had opened the door to the lonely dormitory she was hiding in, Hermione blinked her borrowed-eyes at the entrance and found a pair of emerald ones narrowing at her.
"You've been this way for two days now," Blaise continued disapprovingly. "I'm the one who's a bloody orphan, stop being dramatic."
Hermione inhaled through Malfoy's nostrils, telling herself she needed to muster all of Malfoy's rubbish characteristics and use them. But after a moment, after trying to come up with something foul or angry to retort back at Blaise, she exhaled with resignation. She had no fight left.
Blaise raised an eyebrow at his blonde friend. "All right," he said dismissively, sounding a little confused. "If I didn't know any better, Drake, I'd say you were having witch problems."
Hermione let out another frustrated sigh.
"It can't be Pansy, you've been brushing her off since the term began," Zabini commented mainly to himself as the blonde Slytherin slouched on his four-poster and refused to meet his eyes. "The only girl I've seen you with is—Oi! Don't tell me you fancy Daphne?"
Captured inside Malfoy's pale body, Hermione snorted loudly at that.
"Yeah, I didn't think so," Blaise continued. "Daphne is my ex-girlfriend. You wouldn't cross that line. Well, you would, but certainly not with everything that's going on this year."
To herself, Hermione rolled her borrowed-eyes. Not only was Malfoy an arrogant prat who was determined to be a foul Death Eater, but he was also a horrible friend and a slag.
"It's Granger, isn't it?" As soon as Blaise let it slip from his mouth, he watched as his friend shot back up into a sitting-position on his bed. His eyes were wild, confused, and scared—all flashes of emotions that the Slytherin Prince would never let the world see.
Clearing her borrowed-throat as Zabini knitted his brows in a quizzical manner, Hermione asked, "what does Granger have anything to do with this?"
The Gryffindor Princess had everything to do with it, Blaise knew that perfectly well. But how was he supposed to sum it all up and bring it out into points? He didn't want Draco to know he'd lately been carefully watching both of them.
"Nothing," he shrugged, choosing to brush off the Granger-subject. "Just wanted to see how you'd react.Anyway, mate, tell me what the hell's wrong."
Releasing Malfoy's lungs from their puffs of oxygen, Hermione hesitantly gathered her words. She couldn't really pass anything over these damn observant Slytherins, could she? It was honestly a surprise none of them had marched up to who possessed their darling ferret's body, pointed a finger and identified her as the Mudblood.
"I was told there was a breech in the castle's security," she whispered, looking up at him with blank eyes. "The Dark Lord's minions in the Ministry managed to break certain charms that kept Hogwarts impenetrable without the teachers and Aurors' help. The war's coming to us any day now."
Zabini forgot all about his dark curiosity, his body tensing. "When?"
"I don't know," she told him. "You-Know-Who's not allow the professors to prepare or to let Harry escape. They're coming, and they're coming soon."
With his broad shoulders squared off , Blaise hesitantly moved his right hand to clutch his left forearm, right where his dark mark was located.
Noticing this, Hermione felt sympathy pool inside Malfoy's chest. "You're afraid to fight?" she asked him with a low tone.
"They're going to use us as pawns, aren't they?" Zabini ignored his friend's question. "It's the reason why they've been training most of us since last summer. They intend to make us the distraction, to take the first blows."
"Yes," Hermione responded. She wouldn't doubt the older Death Eaters would use the younger recruits to distract the professors and students. They would let them receive the first attacks from the Light Side; let them be captured as they planned a way to get in and skillfully kill anyone in their path.
Clearing her borrowed-throat again, Malfoy's last words to her reappearing in her mind, she proceeded to ask Blaise something that she should've kept to herself before risking getting caught in the scheme of things. "Are you ready to fight our classmates?" She looked at him, no trace of a Malfoy-mask on the face she wore. "Are you ready to fight Parvati?"
Blaise dropped his right hand from his dark mark, expression bewildered. "What—Patil? What does the Gryffindor have anything to do with this?"
Hermione smiled dimly. "I know, Blaise," she said sincerely to him. "You can see it in Parvati's face. She stares at you like you're this incredible person, like she can't believe you're there. Granted, it's not always that she stares, but I've caught her."
"I don't—"
"It explains why Nott has been a complete git to her all year," she continued, ignoring the fact that Blaise wanted to pull one over her. She'd been lied to by one Slytherin; she wasn't going to let another one get away with it. "It took me a while to connect the dots, but I did. You're in love."
He frowned, hiding his surprise in that mask of blankness he was so fond of. "Are you going to give me shit too? Are you going to be like Theo and tell me how I'm wasting my time on a Blood Traitor?"
The girl possessing Malfoy's body scoffed in a very boyish manner. "Theodore doesn't hate her, you know?" And, oh, how everything was connecting itself now. "He just wants you to stay away because being with Parvati isn't safe. And, honestly, Blaise, I thought the same way. Nott just wants his friends to survive this war."
"By killing others," Blaise retorted. "Yes, Malfoy, I'm aware how Nott wants to scrape by this bloody war."
"And you don't intend to?" Hermione asked quickly. "What are you prepared to do once the Death Eaters penetrate the walls of Hogwarts, Zabini? Are you going to trample through everything that Parvati stands for just to please the Dark Lord? Are you going to kill all those she loves if it comes down to it?"
Malfoy's eyes were filling with tears without her noticing it. She could feel all her emotions bubble in his chest, pulling on his heartstrings and making it hurt. She was angry, hurt, and betrayed.
"I'm going to fight," Blaise said, "but for and with her. I've got nothing left on the Dark Lord's side anymore. They killed my only reason for staying loyal to them."
There was a knot caught in Malfoy's throat; a knot filled with Hermione's emotions. "You would've fought with him if your mother was still alive? You'd leave Parvati behind?"
Blaise stayed silent for a few moments, contemplating his answer. It was more than the obvious. His instincts were to turn right, but his emotions would tell him to go left. "I wouldn't want to. I'd hate myself forever if I'd let Parvati behind, but family is family. We were taught family duty from the beginning, Draco. You know that."
There was another moment of silence but Blaise quickly killed it before Hermione's incredulous anger could flare out. "I'd find a way to get back to her, to Parvati," he continued with a pensive tone. "Maybe I'd be too late then, but I would've come back."
"What would you do now?" Hermione asked, swallowing her emotions.
"My mother's gone," Blaise was clutching on to his mask, not wanting his grief to come back out. "Parvati is all I have left, Draco...I'm going to fight with her."
Hermione couldn't control the flare up of her emotions from crossing Malfoy's facial expression or entire body. Her borrowed-hands shook, her borrowed-chest tightened, and her borrowed-eyes leaked two single teardrops.
It bothered her that Malfoy had chosen to fight with the Death Eaters because he was leaving her behind. She'd wanted him to fight with her. Her heart was broken because she'd wanted him to stay.
X
He was staring into the flames. He watched them crackle red, yellow, orange, and then repeat the cycle all over again. He watched the flames intently, seeing shapes and patterns in the burning wood like one would see in clouds on a sunny day.
'Honestly, Malfoy, you'd be my parents' fantasy come to life,' Granger had chortled, making his cheeks red as she did, pulling back the Licorice Wand she'd offered him and he'd refused politely.
He raised one of her brows at her, bemused. 'Is that so?'
'Oh, get your head out of the gutter,' she elbowed him in his borrowed-ribs, making sure to be gentle because she was aware how easily bruised her body was. 'I meant, you're dedication on not eating any type of sweets is outstanding. I swore Parkinson almost tackled the Sugar Quill out of my hand as soon as I was going to eat it.'
Draco smirked. 'Yes, Granger. I'm sure your parents would be completely enthralled with me simply because I floss more than normal people.'
'You'd be surprised, Malfoy,' she smiled at him, looking up from the revision she was giving the Potions homework he was going to submit as hers the next day. 'But, actually, I think they'd like you in general. Sure, you wouldn't have much to talk about, but you're alike my dad. You're both made up of a hard shell, but inside...you're all marshmallow.'
Looking away from an essay the Bookworm was making him double-check, Malfoy stared at her skeptically. 'You'd let me meet your parents?'
'Technically you already met them, remember?' She was referring to the time she stormed his body into her home when she Obliviated them; he could see the sparkle of sadness in her borrowed-eyes. 'But, yes. Why not? You deserve a proper meeting.'
He watched her blink back down to her Potions homework, letting her comment ring in the air like it was casual and she was talking to another friend. Draco couldn't possibly comprehend why she would suggest something like that, but he couldn't also understand that shot of contentment he felt when she said it.
Her parents were her all, he knew that. She went the mile to make sure they were protected from the war, and she trusted him enough to let him close to them. It was like she was offering on olive-branch; like she wanted him to cross the prejudice-bridge and she'd be helping, waiting on the other side of it with a smile.
The fire was crackling yellow, orange, red, and he let out a frustrated sigh. He thought he'd left the Know-It-All's dormitory because that infuriating Brown girl was blubbering about Thomas again, but now he knew he was lying to himself.
He'd marched straight out of the dormitory, tossing and stomping on the ruby-red sheets and the pillows that smelled like something sweet and floral because he couldn't escape Granger. He had wanted to gather his thoughts, to lie in that bloody bed and just think, but of course the Bookworm snuck up on him.
Blinking, growing angry, he glared at the flames once more.
'Why did you do it?' Finding that he couldn't concentrate on the book the Gryffindor had given him to uselessly check for anything that could help with their body-swap, Draco narrowed her brown eyes at his own face.
She didn't look up from her scan of information. 'Why did I do what?' she asked nonchalantly, turning another page as her eyes took in all the words printed there.
'Why did you ask the werewolf and Dora to help protect Zabini and the Greengrasses?' He told her, quite impatiently too. 'They're on the opposite side. Why would you ask to keep them safe? Shouldn't you be using those resources to help protect innocent people?'
'Did you just call Tonks Dora?'
Malfoy frowned, sending vibes of anger at the girl possessing his body. He hadn't known he'd referred to his cousin as something else than the Blood Traitor or the Werewolf's Bride, but he didn't find it amusing that Granger had picked it up and decided to throw it back at him.
'Right,' Granger had cleared her borrowed-throat, trying to dodge his sudden annoyance. 'Well, to answer your question, Malfoy, I'm trying to protect them because they are innocent. Daphne and her family have gone neutral after the brutal murder of Mrs. Greengrass. They're as much as walking-targets for Death Eaters as the people on my side.'
Draco snorted. When the Greengrass family had defected from the Dark Lord's side he hadn't thought of them as Blood Traitors at all. He'd kept silent because he knew at any given chance, were any of the three Malfoys attacked, they'd go neutral and go into hiding, too. Still, that didn't erase the fact that they'd done wrong, did it? If Daphne's mother hadn't been murdered she and Astoria would've ended up right in the spot the rest of the Death Eater Juniors were in. And Mister Greengrass was much a Death Eater as the Malfoy men; he'd committed despicable acts too.
'And Blaise, well, he didn't have a choice over his induction as a Death Eater, did he? He accepted out of force. He didn't want to be a part of this, and you know it, Malfoy. Why else would you have asked me to keep an eye out for him?'
'To make sure that he didn't pick fights with the bloody Gryffindors and he did his homework,' he retaliated, not exactly sure why he'd felt more anger. 'I didn't ask you to protect him from the war, Granger, but your noble heart went ahead and did that anyway.'
Finally looking away from the blasted book she'd been reading, Granger stared at Draco with soft, silver eyes. There was no cruel expression tugging on the skin of his face, there was just that understanding, gentle look that always annoyed him that the Bookworm would sport. It was like she was evaluating him, trying to find something that was hidden.
'Everyone deserves a second chance, Malfoy,' she whispered after a minute of silence. 'We're at war. Death is roaming outside that bubble of protection around the castle. If there's a single chance that someone can turn from fighting for death, destruction, and dominance....well, I'd say they deserve the chance to take it.'
A smile tugged at the corner of her borrowed-mouth, and once again she did something that made the assumption that Draco Malfoy was her friend. She reached for his borrowed-hand, taking it and squeezing. 'Not everyone is completely bad, Malfoy. They have a good side to them, too. Some people just don't have any chance to act on it.'
The way that she caringly held on to him, the way she made his grey eyes illuminate with warmth, Draco had the sudden nudge of an idea that she was mostly talking about him. It was like she was letting him know as indirectly as possible that she believed in him; that she believed strongly in his dire conquest for redemption.
Leaning against the back of the couch he and the Gryffindor were seated on in the Room of Requirement, Draco slowly pulled the hand back as the skin he was wearing started tingling with electricity. 'So, Granger,' he cleared his borrowed-throat, 'got any sweets?'
Letting out a single frustrated sigh, letting it echo throughout the Gryffindor Common Room, Draco didn't become aware of the two pairs of eyes looking at him intently from the entrance of the room as he wallowed in his frustration.
To assume the two Gryffindors observing 'Hermione Granger' were completely clueless, like they were easily fooled, was something most people would agree on, but it was completely wrong. They had these built-in sensors that allowed them to know when there was more than what let on. And Hermione Granger had a lot more going on than her I'm-alright-just-tired excuse she'd been using for ages now, and they knew it.
Her personality had been lacking for weeks, something that was not hard to be missed by those who knew her, but for the last two days it was like a hurricane was thundering inside her chest. There were dark emotions in her eyes, venom in her words, and coldness on her skin.
"I'll handle this," putting a soft hand on her companion's arm, Ginny Weasley whispered lightly. "You go ahead and talk to McGonagall."
Clutching his Invisibility Cloak tighter between his fingers, Harry narrowed a suspicious glance at the back of the unruly brown curls that belonged to his best friend. And without saying anything, the Chosen One turned on his heels and headed for the portrait-hole as his redheaded ex-girlfriend walked towards the fireplace of the common room.
Slowly, sneakily, like how'd she practiced when she snuck up on her mother to playfully scare her, or how she'd sneak out of her brothers' rooms after she'd gone in to steal something after they'd refused to play with her, Ginny took small steps towards the only other person in the common room.
She had known that Hermione had been unapproachable for the past two days, like You-Know-Who had possessed that brilliant head of hers, but Ginny could see all the defenses down. The walls that the older girl had been fighting with tooth, nail, and blood to keep up were broken down as she thought she was alone with her thoughts.
"If all the Weasleys wouldn't come after me in a stampede," immediately as he'd sensed the presence of someone else, Draco turned with a glower on Granger's face towards the intruder, "I'd murder you in an instant. Never sneak up on anyone when there's a war going on, Weasley. It'll be the last thing you do."
In all her playful persona, Ginny rolled her eyes at the brunette. "As fun as the conversation of my would-be murder would be, I rather go into your foul attitude lately, 'Mione."
Draco continued to glower at the She-Weasel. "Care to piss off?" He retaliated; not bothering to sweet-talk anything for the redheaded weasel. He didn't have time, or the bloody patience, to act as the perfectly perfect Granger. "I don't need you nosing about my business."
"No, I will not," Ginny said stubbornly, taking a seat on the armchair beside Hermione's. "Look, Hermione, we're worried about you, okay? I know there's a lot of pressure on your shoulders—for Merlin's sake, there's been a lot of pressure on your shoulders since you were eleven, but keeping that all bottled up inside is going to make you explode.
"I know that you think you're supposed to keep Harry and Ron sane, Hermione, but you need to be doing that for yourself." She continued, all in one fiery breath. "Ever since you were tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange you've—"
"Don't!" Malfoy used Granger's mouth to snarl threateningly at the redheaded girl. He didn't need the reminder. He didn't want the flashback to come as a nightmare when he went to bed later. He didn't want to know how Granger's loved ones felt or thought about the torture. If he heard it, if he knew, it was going to cut him up more inside. "Just shut up and go away."
Bringing her legs to tuck them underneath her as she adjusted herself on the armchair, Ginny stared nonchalantly at who she thought was Hermione. She was unmoved; not feeling worried or scared by the flashes of unstableness the other girl had written on her face.
"There's a lot that you do for everyone else," Ginny continued. "What about doing something for yourself, Hermione? I know that we're at war and everything, but there has to be something that could bring you great happiness. Perhaps not something at this very moment, but after the war's over. You can't just carry everyone else's worries."
"And what would you do, Weasley?" Draco snapped back, long forgetting his role as the Friend-of-all-Creatures Granger. "Instead of sticking your nose where it doesn't belong, why don't you find something bloody productive to do instead? Go on the hunt for a goblin's gold, or pull Potter's wand out of his ass and fight to get him back!"
Carefully placing her hands on her lap, Ginny kept her face as neutral as she could as Hermione huffed for air.
Ginny was often thrown to the side for the Golden Trio, not so visible when those three were around, but she didn't complain. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were who they were—and that was a shining force to be reckon with when they were together. Individually they were flawed and smooth, but Ginny was a lot shiner on her own. She had her fiery attitude, her brains, her charm, her beauty. She was a true Gryffindor to the extent of the word. And she also was one hell of a friend, and a girl with acute feminine senses.
She saw a lot of things that people overlooked: a prolong stare, a perfect disguise of a blush, a secret smile, and even the gestures that tried to be passed as indifferent. She knew her share of secrets from watching things others overlooked. And what's been going on with Hermione Granger for the past month was on that list.
"I am," Ginny was the first one to speak. "I am fighting to get him back. I've been fighting for Harry since the day of Dumbledore's funeral."
Draco tensed, making Granger's shoulders stiff and her small palms clutch. He didn't say anything; he just continued to feel the anger and frustration take over Granger's body.
"Everything is against us being together, even Harry himself. There are masses of people coming after him, a price on his head to be handed to You-Know-Who. He has the pressure of another massive group to take down the opposite side; all while having his own demons to battle. There's so much guilt in him, Hermione. He sees blood on his hands for the people that have died since the war began, like if he was the one who did them in."
As the older girl continued to sit there, frown on her face, heaving in and out, Ginny continued. "He thinks he's protecting me from all of this bloodshed, but I'm equally marked for death like everyone else. I'm a Blood Traitor. I can die the very second that I step onto a public street, but Harry thinks that by holding my hand is what will cause my death."
Draco continued to keep his mouth shut as he narrowed Granger's eyes at the She-Weasel. It wasn't like she was that far off. The attack on Diagon Alley could've caused her death if Blaise hadn't chickened out from his commands and fled.
"But one thing's for certain," the redhead pulled on a smile, "I'll keep fighting for and with Harry until I'm no longer alive. I'll be right there, right beside him, fighting the world who wants him dead."
Without exactly knowing how to stop it, Draco let slip, "what if he's not worth it?" His borrowed-face was still in a scowl, but Granger's voice had come out with full curiosity.
Ginny continued to keep her smile, her brown eyes flashing with an all-knowing emotion for a second. "If you love someone, they're always worth it."
"But how do you know?" He asked more agitated. "How do you fight for someone?"
"It takes bravery to follow someone to the end of the world without knowing what lies at the edge," Ginny said. "But it'll be one hell of an adventure, that's for sure." The frown on her friend's softened a few centimeters, and the redhead went in for the plunge. "And you know, Hermione. You know what love is."
Draco crossed his borrowed-arms over Granger's chest. "I don't."
Ginny rolled her eyes again. "You do," she insisted. "I've seen it in your eyes for the past month. I've seen it eating you up inside, driving you crazy. All you need is the push, Hermione, but love is there."
At the finger that the Weaslette pointed at his borrowed-heart, Malfoy didn't know why he felt a combination of tingles, warmth, possessiveness, and anger. "It's not your brother," he spat disgustingly, not caring to be polite about it.
Standing up from the armchair, stretching a little, Ginny glanced back at her friend with gentleness on her face. "I know."
Malfoy's walls almost crumbled in shock.
"Find your bravery, you silly girl," she added in, "and let love in." And with another casual smile, Ginny waved a tiny goodbye and headed for the girls' dormitories; leaving the girl alone with her thoughts again.
She knew there was struggle, that's why Hermione had been miserable and so angered. It wasn't easy, this love business during war and bloodshed. But everyone needed a moment of light; everyone needed somebody else. It was going to be difficult, but when had Hermione not accepted a problem without solving it? She'd seen her eyes linger, her confusion and tension bubbling in higher degrees inside of her—and Draco Malfoy had returned them all.
It wasn't the ideal match that one would want for someone as compassionate and noble as Hermione, but maybe she'd already solved most of the problem. Maybe she had already seen Malfoy deprived of his arrogance, blood prejudice, and defense mechanism and she liked what she found. (After all, they'd been working too closely for the last couple of months on that Potions project. And when had Hermione not been able to entice someone with her brilliance and heart when given the chance?)
Once he was completely alone in the Gryffindor Common Room, Draco stared back into the flames of the fireplace; trying to find patterns in them as his thoughts drifted away again.
He understood why he was so infuriated now—a great part of him wanted to go to the end of the world with Granger; fighting with and for her.