As eighth-year students, they had considerably fewer rules than the rest of Hogwarts' students. They didn't have to adhere to curfews or lights out, could visit Hogsmeade whenever they liked (outside of school hours), and could eat their meals in their common room.
Draco took full advantage of these rules. He split his time between his classes, the library and their common room, avoiding the Great Hall and Hogsmeade as much as possible.
Hermione took her mother's words to heart. Even though she spends most of her time outside her classes in the library, she also makes sure she spends time with her friends by eating at least one meal daily in the Great Hall and joining them on a Friday night in Hogsmeade.
After the Christmas Holiday, all professors jumped back into their curriculum without pausing for students to settle back into their timetables. Most students tiredly dawdled from class to class, with only their next free period keeping them going.
Hermione prefers it this way, knowing exactly how many days there are left until the NEWTs exams, how many lessons remain before their study break in May and how many hours in the library she'll need to achieve the best grades possible in each exam. In the library, Hermione focuses on consolidating all six years of previously learnt material, which is easy considering she still has her meticulously written notes. Her friends aren't so organised or don't care as much, so she rarely saw any of them studying in the library. She knows some of her friends are waiting to ask her for her notes closer to the exams. Hermione isn't a pushover these days, but she's more than happy to point them in the right direction of the library to conduct their research.
Draco and his friends came up with a productive study system at the beginning of the year, in which they share the notes of their favourite subjects around the group, ensuring the four of them have accurate, well-written notes to study from. However, Draco is usually alone in the library after dinner, peer-reviewing his friends' notes and researching for his exams, while they enjoy meals in the Great Hall or hang out in the common room. For Draco, there would be time for fun and hanging out after their NEWTs exams.
The weekend before the last week of February, Headmistress McGonagall announced that all seventh and eighth-year students were being granted a study break, where all their lessons were cancelled so they could catch up with the large amount of homework, practice questions and study that was expected from them.
Hermione follows her study schedule strictly and doesn't understand why her friends don't use their time more wisely. She loves her friends dearly, but they've already got their careers figured out. Harry and Ron have already proved themselves to the Ministry. They would probably be offered a place in the Auror Training Program, whatever their grades. Also, Ginny constantly reminded them that she would rather spend her time practising Quidditch than practising for her NEWTs, as she planned to try out for every Quidditch team that would let her after graduation. Neville is the only one of her friends who seems to be taking their NEWTs seriously. Still, all he cared about was Herbology, and Hermione had dropped that subject after her OWLs.
Draco is the only one of his friends taking NEWT-level potions. Since this was the one area of magic that he needed to excel in for the sake of his hopeful future career as a potions master, he found himself prioritising this subject above the rest. Potions is the only class where he feels comfortable despite being alone. Draco had purposefully arrived late on the first day of class in September, hoping the other students would have partnered up already. Luck had been on his side as Professor Slughorn had told Draco that he had no concerns with him working independently. Slughorn is the only professor who treats him the same way he did before the war, with preferential treatment. It didn't matter to Professor Slughorn what Draco had done; it only mattered what he believed his students were capable of going on to do, and Slughorn had great expectations for him. That's not to say his other professors have given up on him or treated him poorly; if anything, they go out of their way to include him in class discussions and call on him for answers (as if proving to themselves that they're good professors for treating their students equally).
On the Friday of their study break, Hermione finishes her scheduled stint in the library early since no classes occupy her day (or week) and joins her friends in the Great Hall for dinner. Ron suggests they take a break (from all the studying he hasn't been doing) and head down to The Three Broomsticks for a few drinks to commiserate the end of their week of freedom. Her friends don't bother to hide their surprise when she agrees, and after finishing their meal, they leave through the Grand Doors and make their way down the winding paths into the village of Hogsmeade.
Unfortunately, upon entering the pub, they find Malfoy and his friends sitting at their usual table. This forces them to sit at the only spare table near the door, where they can feel a draft creeping beneath the threshold.
"Hermione, go say something," Ron huffs, slouching in his chair. His jacket collar was turned up to fend off the cold. "Your friends with Zabini and Nott."
Hermione laughs, "I sometimes speak to them in Alchemy class and the library." Glancing over at the four Slytherins, seemingly enjoying themselves as they share a bowl of chips, she watches Blaise's head fall back against the booth. He laughs at something Malfoy had just said. "They got here first, get over it!" Hermione stands to buy their first round of drinks and maybe a few snacks to soothe Ron's grouchiness.
When she returns, the conversation turns to catching up on the happenings in each other's lives. Hermione hadn't realised how much she missed by keeping herself busy in the library. She is thoroughly enthralled by some of the stories her friends tell her about midnight walks back from Hogsmeade on a Wednesday night. However, it explains many of her friends' actions on Thursdays. As Luna describes how Professor Flitwick almost caught her wandering the halls after curfew a few weekends ago, Ginny taps Hermione's knee and then passes a note beneath the table. Careful not to let anyone else see, she unfurls the note and struggles to read her friend's chicken scratch handwriting.
Talk to the Slytherins about Ron's surprise party. Now!
Hermione locks eyes with her friend, who nods towards the bar. When Blaise orders another round for his friends, she pockets the note and excuses herself to speak with him.
"Hi, Blaise. Could I have a word?" Hermione asks, leaning against the bar to seem casual.
Blaise stares at her curiously. "In my experience, nothing good ever follows those words. Are you breaking up with me?" He jokes.
Hermione rolls her eyes. "Next Tuesday is Ron's birthday, and we're throwing him a little surprise party in the common room after dinner..." She leads off, feeling awkward and hoping he'll understand without her needing to say the words.
"Oh, are we invited?"
Hermione's mouth gapes as she tries to let him down, but she realises he's joking and understands her predicament. "I don't want to ban you and your friends from the common room; it's your space, too, but you must know how Ron feels about all of you," she explains.
Blaise looks at her table and eyes Ron, who glares at them. "I think I'm aware," he laughs, placing a hand on Hermione's shoulder. As he leans in, Blaise whispers, "How about I buy the birthday boy a bottle of firewhiskey as a peace offering, and we stay in our corner of the room?"
"Thank you, Blaise." Hermione genuinely smiles. "That's more than I was going to ask.
"No problem. I'm looking forward to seeing if the rumours are true." Blaise winks at her and turns to pay for his drinks.
"What rumours?"
"That Gryffindors know how to party." He grins, collects his drinks, and walks over to the other three Slytherins, who she now realises have been watching their interaction.
For the rest of the night, Hermione brushes off Ron's pestering questions about what she and Blaise had been cosily talking about. Ultimately, she distracts them by suggesting they head back early and visit Hagrid on their way back to the castle, which goes well.
Throughout January and February, Draco and Hermione could frequently be found in the same place at the same time, but neither acknowledged the other, and they didn't speak. In fact, until the first of March, their last conversation had been on the Hogwarts Express, two months prior. As far as the two of them were concerned, their chance meetings over New Year's Day were behind them and no longer needed discussing.
Ron's birthday is on the first of March. Draco would have preferred to be anywhere else but the common room for Ron's surprise party, but Blaise had arranged their presence with Granger. Now, they had to show their face, or it would look like they were hiding from the rest of the eighth-year students.
Draco is determined to make the first of March like any other day, and he mostly achieves this. He usually eats in their common room, but since Weasley and his friends overtook the space with presents in the morning and then set up for the party at dinner time, Draco is forced to eat in the Great Hall with his friends.
After dinner, the Slytherins gather on their couches, shoved in the corner of the common room, where they like to look down at the Great Lake. In the Slytherin common room, the court of mermaids would communicate with the students through their large underwater windows, which Draco misses now, as he has to live so high up in the new Hogwarts tower.
By seven o'clock, all those invited gathered around the common room entrance, waiting for the birthday boy. Potter, Thomas, and Finnegan have distracted him on the Quidditch field since dinner. A few minutes pass before the portrait guarding their common room opens, and Weasley steps through to a loud cheer of 'Happy birthday' from his friends. The man is completely shocked but clearly overjoyed by all the attention as he walks through the crowd, high-fiving and clapping his friends' shoulders.
"And action!" Blaise whispers, grabbing one of their bottles of firewhiskey with a red and gold bow tied around the neck. "Happy birthday, Ronald!" Blaise cheers, high-fiving Weasley's already raised hand. "Here."
Weasley accepts the gift, inspecting the bottle suspiciously until Granger elbows him. "Oh, thanks."
"You are most welcome, Ronald," Blaise says, laying the charm on thick. "Now, we're going to sit in our corner," he gestures to Draco, Theo, and Pansy, who are watching the interaction. "We aren't going to bother your party, and your party isn't going to bother us, okay?" he states with no room for objection.
"Sure," Weasley agrees, unsure.
Blaise smiles, pats Weasley's cheek in appreciation, and then returns to their couches. "Done, we're free to drink ourselves stupid."
"Shouldn't take you long," Pansy smirks, pouring everyone's first shot and handing one to Blaise.
Over the years, Blaise has developed a reputation for being a lightweight. After a few shots, the Slytherins usually found him sleeping across a couch, rug or desk, where he would remain until morning. As expected, Blaise is hugging his empty glass by nine o'clock and muttering about how he wishes his girlfriend was with him. Pansy has long since stopped listening to the Slytherin boys, focusing on a book she pulled from beneath the couch. Theo and Draco are sat facing each other on the other couch, catching up on their prospective careers while nursing their drinks.
Over the past two months, Draco has heard back from most of the apothecaries in Great Britain, who had all rejected him. His only hope of pursuing his dream career is to send out good letters of recommendation from the headmistress of Hogwarts and Professor Slughorn. However, not only does he need to achieve O's in all his subjects, but he also needs the top grades in his classes, which wasn't easy when he had Granger to compete against.
Theo is swirling the remaining of his firewhiskey in his glass. "I've had a few offers from some smaller law firms, but the pay is shite. I'm holding out on an offer from Moore's or Goldman's," he admits.
Since getting to know him in September, all Theo has talked about is becoming a lawyer to help send Death Eaters to Azkaban. He didn't want to be an auror who simply caught them. He wanted to be part of the trial, putting forward the arguments leading to their sentences. His hunger for justice stems from his hatred of his father, a Death Eater who abandoned his family for the Dark Lord and has been on the run since the Battle of Hogwarts. His mother raised him his whole life, but he still has his father's name holding him back.
Draco stares at his own glass, draining the remaining gold liquid. "Goldman's sentenced Lucius," he comments. "They managed to get him fifteen years with only me testifying against him and very little evidence. They're really good."
Theo nods in agreement. "They only take on two student lawyers a year. I need top grades even to be considered."
Draco sighs. It seems everyone needs the best grades to achieve their dreams. "You study more than most," he says.
"Nowhere near as much as you," Theo comments. "I don't know how you do it."
Draco doesn't admit that he regularly forgoes sleep and meals to continue studying. He knows it isn't healthy, but it's not for the long term, just until graduation.
"Well, you should get used to the long hours," Draco suggests.
"Too right." Theo nods. "Law isn't an easy career, but I want to make the name 'Nott' mean something good. When people hear 'Nott', I want them to think of me and how many people I've helped by putting the scum of our world in Azkaban. Hopefully, starting with my father."
Understanding the need to move away from one's father, Draco raises his drink to Theo's statement.
"So, Draco, I know you're set on becoming a potions master because you want to help people after all the hurt you've caused, but have you ever considered training to be a healer?" Theo suggests.
Draco coughs as the firewhiskey goes down the wrong way. "Who in their right mind would want to be healed by me?"
"Don't put yourself down, Draco," Theo tells him, tone serious despite the firewhiskey. "It's only been eight months since the war; of course, people will still be wary of you. Give it a few years, when time has healed their worries, and you've proved that this new you is real, they won't care who you are," he assures him. "And don't forget there are many ways to help people," his friend reminds him. "Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes helped many people find joy during the war." Theo places his empty glass on the coffee table. "Just something to think about." He shrugs as he stands. "Right, I'm heading to bed."
Pansy waves goodnight without looking up from her book, proving she had been listening to their entire conversation despite appearing to be reading.
Draco lies across the couch, his head resting on the arm as his alcohol-clouded mind tries to take in everything Theo has said. Sure, his dream was to become a potions master, to honour his god-father who had cared for him when his father had turned his back on him. However, that didn't seem like a realistic option at the moment, so maybe he could find another way to help people.
By eleven o'clock, the music had been turned down, and the hours of dancing and singing had turned into games of spin the bottle. A few groups had split off to lounge across couches, engaging in intimate and deep conversations they wouldn't remember in the morning.
Pansy finally closes her book, having finished it throughout the evening. She stares at Draco until his attention is drawn to her. "We should've gone to Hogsmeade tonight," she says.
"No, it would have been obvious we were trying to avoid them, and neither of us wants to give them that satisfaction," he reminds her.
"I suppose," she sighs. "But I would've had fun instead of wasting my night pretending not to care that we have a history of magic tests tomorrow."
"If Binns remembers," Blaise adds.
Neither realised their friend had come back into the land of consciousness.
"Go to bed, Blaise," Draco tells him.
"Why?" He complains. "I'm fine."
"Do you really want to fall asleep on the couch, away from your silk sheets?" Draco asks, knowing exactly what to say to convince his best friend.
Blaise sighs dramatically, "Fine, I'm going to bed." He rolls off the couch and promptly falls asleep on the soft rug.
Draco sighs, "Go to bed, Pans. I'll keep an eye on him."
"Are you sure?" Pansy asks, eyeing the party in the middle of the room.
"Yeah, there's plenty of time for you to study in the morning if you head up now," he suggests.
Once Pansy has left, Draco lies down again. He knows his friends' concerns come from a place of love, but it's annoying. He doesn't need them hovering around him all the time to stop other students from attacking him. He might not be able to retaliate, but he knows more protection spells than most students know defensive ones.
As the clock tower strikes midnight, Draco finally sits up and starts tidying their mess, not wanting to leave everything for the house-elves. He knows not many purebloods act this way, but after growing up with a house-elf as special as Mitty, he's started treating every house-elf as if they were her.
He quickly realises that the only people in the common room are the Golden Trio and Ginny Weasley. Everyone else must have left while he was musing on the couch. Since he's wasted a perfectly good study night, Draco contemplates going to bed himself to sleep off the impending hangover. However, he doesn't want to leave Blaise, dead to the world, alone on the common room rug. He might trust Granger not to attack Blaise, but he doesn't trust her friends. Well, he trusts Potter to some extent, but he certainly doesn't trust either of the Weasleys.
After a few quiet attempts to wake Blaise, he awkwardly stands beside his unconscious friend, staring at the Gryffindors and wondering if it's appropriate to ask Granger to keep an eye on him since she and Blaise are somewhat friendly. However, he doesn't need to worry as Potter and his girlfriend stand. Draco watches them leave together. He's probably walking her back to the Gryffindor Tower; what a gentleman!
With the party ending, Draco perches on the arm of the couch Blaise had rolled off, waiting for Granger and Weasley to retire to bed. He wants to make more of an effort to wake his best friend without attention or judgement from the Golden Gryffindors.
Neither seem to notice Draco sitting across the common room, pretending not to watch them. They're facing each other on the couch, deep in conversation, when Weasley springs forward, capturing Granger's face in his hands and kissing her. Draco stands, turning away as he doesn't know where to look and feels awkward about witnessing Weasley's birthday kiss. He hadn't realised they'd gotten back together, not that he paid any attention to them in the first place. Kneeling in front of Blaise, he points his wand at his friend's face with shaking hands, deciding to cast an awaken charm over him.
"What the fuck, Ron?" Granger shrieks.
Draco freezes with discomfort and disgust as realisation dawns on him. Turning to face the couple, he finds Granger standing, staring at Weasley in shock as he tries to catch her breath.
"What was that?" She asks, her voice smaller and more unsure than Draco's ever heard.
"A birthday kiss," Weasley says, having the audacity to shrug.
"What makes you think that would be appropriate? We broke up two months ago," Granger reminds Weasley, her hands brushing away frustrated tears.
Draco wonders if he should intervene. Granger is clearly uncomfortable, but it's not his place, and it would probably put him on Weasley's firing line. He sits back down on the couch's arm, paying close attention because something's not right here.
"Yeah, but I thought-" Weasley pauses to gather his drunken thoughts. "The questionnaire. Why would they ask for a current relationship if they don't count it?"
"We're not currently in a relationship!" Granger shouts at him.
"But I wrote your name," he admits.
Granger takes a step back as his confession dawns on her. "I didn't."
"What?"
"We'd just broken up the day before, Ron."
"Did you even try?"
"No, we were over, and I was still angry."
Draco's amused as pain spreads across Weasley's face.
"I thought we were getting back together," Weasley shouts, his hands running through his hair with exasperation.
"What gave you that idea?"
"You!" He screams, and Draco's back on his feet but doesn't move. "You said you had too much going on with NEWTs and your future that you couldn't deal with us right then. I thought we would deal with it and get back together after graduation," he explains.
"No, Ron," she sighs, lacking patience. "I broke up with you because I never knew where I stood with you. We never acted like a real couple. Whenever I asked for a date or privacy, you'd invite Harry and Ginny. Our whole relationship felt like we were friends who sometimes held hands and kissed," she argues.
Draco awkwardly looks at his wand momentarily before deciding to pocket it in case Weasley catches him. Not that the man would need an excuse to attack him.
"There she goes again." Weasley swings his arms in the air. "Telling everyone how it's going to be, not asking what anyone else wants," he says, his eyes dark. "Because Mione knows best," he practically spits at her.
"Fuck off, Ron," Granger snaps, and Draco can hear Weasley's hit a nerve.
"You'd like that, wouldn't you? So you can go off and marry some random man instead of me," Weasley retorts, turning away from Granger.
"It's not like I have a choice who I marry," Granger states.
"You could have if you'd written my name," he argues, eerily quiet.
"If I were meant to write your name, then my response would have disappeared, and I could have written it," Granger shouts, pointing out Weasley's plan's obvious flaw.
Weasley punches the wall with a raging yell, leaving a fist-sized hole behind. Granger's eyes widen as she backs away from him and nearly falls over the coffee table.
Instinctively, Draco walks forward, needing Weasley to know he's there before he does something even more stupid.
"You didn't even try," Weasley growls, turning around to confront Granger only for his wild eyes to meet Draco's first. "What the fuck are you doing?" He spits at him.
Granger glances over her shoulder, surprised and embarrassed to find him inching closer.
"Just keeping an eye on the situation," Draco admits.
"This has nothing to do with you," he tells him. "Leave us alone."
"I can't, in good conscience, do that," Draco mentions softly, not wanting to anger him further.
Weasley scoffs, walking closer towards him. "Since when did you have a good conscience?"
"Since I've taken the time to think about how my actions affect others," Draco states. "You've had too much to drink, and your emotions have gotten the better of you. Can't you see you've frightened her?"
Weasley looks at Granger, seeing her wide, scared eyes and arms wrapped around herself in a protective stance.
"I'd never hurt Hermione," Weasley tells him, jabbing a finger in Draco's chest for suggesting such a thing.
"You already have," Draco points out.
Beside them, Granger lets out a quiet sob. Weasley's anger subsides as he realises what he's done.
"I'm sorry, 'Mione," he apologises, reaching out for her as he steps forward.
"Don't!" Granger steps back. "Just go!"
Weasley glances back at Draco before huffing, "Whatever." The birthday boy grabs a half-empty bottle of firewhiskey and disappears upstairs.
As the moment settles, Draco remains silent, waiting for Granger to say something or head off to her dormitory. He suddenly realises that the room isn't as steady as it should be.
"You didn't have to do that," Granger tells him, wiping her face with the palms over her hands.
"I clearly did. Are you okay?" Draco asks, keeping his distance.
"I'm fine, just frustrated with him," she sighs, stumbling over to the nearest couch. "It seems to be a common occurrence with him."
Draco perches on the arm of her couch, keeping his eyes trained on her. "Does he always get that angry?"
"Hardly ever," she tells him. "He's just angry because of the Marriage Decree."
"No, he's angry because he realised your breakup was serious, and he's lost you."
Granger unexpectedly laughs. "Why is Draco Malfoy giving me relationship advice?" She asks. "This is weird." She frowns at him.
Draco stands as an uneasy feeling overwhelms him. This was weird. He had stepped in, stopped Weasley from getting out of hand, and ensured she was alright. Now was the time for him to leave her alone and get Blaise to bed.
"I just wanted to make sure you were okay after your ex-boyfriend punched a hole in the wall."
"He really did, didn't he?" Granger stands and manages not to trip over the rug as she inspects the damage to the wall. "Well, this was a little over the top."
"It was a little aggressive," Draco mutters, removing his wand and tapping the hole to fix it.
"Hey, that was sweet of you," she smiles at him and laughs when he frowns in discomfort.
"I've never been called sweet before," he admits.
"You've never given anyone a reason to," she tells him, then frowns at herself. "What am I doing? I am quite drunk. I should go to bed."
"You should; we have a history of the magic test tomorrow," he reminds her.
"Shit," she sighs. "I forgot." Granger looks down at her hands, then rubs her face tiredly as she yawns.
"I'd offer to help you to your dorm, but..." He doesn't need to comment on how inappropriate that would be.
Granger smiles. "Harry will be back soon; he'll help me."
In her attempt to return to the couch, Granger missteps and trips over the rug. She would have landed flat on her face if Draco hadn't grabbed her arm to steady her.
"This is the third time you've touched me," Granger states.
Draco lets go immediately, rubbing his hand on his trouser legs.
Granger drops onto the couch, tucking her feet beneath her. "I remember thinking that the second time we touched in Fortescue's Parlour, your hand was very cold, and I would have remembered that if we'd touched before."
"I apologise for my cold hands." Draco smirks, amused by her drunken thoughts and spurred on by his assumption that neither of them will remember much of their conversation in the morning.
"Your hands are still cold," she tells him.
"My hands are always cold," he informs her.
"Do you own a pair of gloves?" She asks.
Draco laughs, not expecting her to be this concerned about his cold hands. "Besides my dragonhide pair for potions, I do not own gloves."
"That is outrageous, Malfoy," she informs him.
Draco slides down the arm to sit on the couch, facing her. "You know, I recall one time when you touched me."
"Never!" She shakes her head.
"You don't remember punching me in third year?" Draco asks. "It left quite the impression on me."
Granger gasps, turning to face him. "I did do that, didn't I? I saw it happen."
"Well, yes, you were there," Draco laughs.
"No, when I time travelled and watched myself do it," she tries to explain, but Draco is confused and assumes it's her current state.
"Well, I deserved it. I was being a dick," he admits.
"You were," she sighs, resting her head against the back of the couch. "Not now, though. You probably think you still are, but I don't think you are," she tells him.
Draco's heart starts thundering. "Look, Granger—" he begins, but the door to their common room opens, and Harry Potter steps in. As his eyes fall on Draco and Granger, facing each other on the couch, he stops mid-step.
"What's going on here?" He asks, his expression confused but not accusatory.
"Ron was being a dick, but Draco wasn't," Granger explains, trying to stand, and Draco's hand instinctively reaches out to steady her.
"That's a change," Potter remarks, but Draco can't tell if he's joking. So he quickly stands and removes his hand from Granger's arm.
"It is a change, but I told you he's grown up," Granger hugs Potter as he wraps his arms around her, holding her up.
"Hermione, I'd be quiet if I were you; you're embarrassing yourself," Potter tries to warn her.
"I'm not embarrassed; Draco should be embarrassed that his hands are so cold," she points out.
"Right, off to bed, Hermione," Potter guides her towards the staircase.
Draco tries not to laugh as Granger turns to wave at him. "Good luck on the test tomorrow," she calls.
"You too, Granger."
"Thanks, I'm going to need it," she replies as they're out of sight.
Draco took a moment to review what had happened over the past fifteen minutes, realising that she had called him Draco and complimented him. Remembering Blaise is still fast asleep on the floor; he turns to cast the waken charm on his friend and get him to their shared dormitory.
The next morning, Hermione wakes up late (which means she doesn't have time to study before her first class), but enough time to grab something from the Great Hall for breakfast. Throwing her hair up in a ponytail and dragging a clean uniform out of her wardrobe, Hermione quickly dresses, grabs her backpack and races down the stairs from the dormitories. As she runs across the common room, she hears a chuckle. Turning, she finds Malfoy sitting on the couch with a cup of tea and a pile of notes, watching her with a knowing smile.
"Not a word." She points at him, blushing with embarrassment as she remembers the end of the night before.
Malfoy holds his hand up in surrender. "I didn't say anything."
Hermione doesn't have time to argue with him, so she leaves him and his smirk behind. She has a full day of classes ahead, and even though her stomach was flipping with nerves, knowing she would have to see Ron for most of the day, she needed something to eat.
With her history of magic notes in her hands, Hermione walks down the centre aisle of the Great Hall towards the eighth-year's table, needing to remind herself of today's test topic. Pretending not to notice how her classmates' conversations abruptly stop as she sits down, Hermione assumes they heard her and Ron's argument the previous night. All eyes are on her as she picks up a pair of tongs and grabs a croissant. Further down the table, she hears someone mutter, "Can you believe it?"
Scanning the faces of her apparent friends, she finds them staring at her with mixed emotions.
"What's going on?" She asks, knowing she looks unkempt today, but surely that doesn't warrant this reaction.
Ron's only reply is a scoff, as he starts whispering something into Dean Thomas' ear. They're obviously talking about her, as Dean can't take his eyes off her, his frown deepening as he listens.
"If you've got something to say, Ron, share it with the table," she snaps, having enough of his bullshit already today.
"See, she's so quick to anger these days," Ron tells their friends.
The silence is palpable. Hermione stares gobsmacked at Ron. Why was he purposely trying to hurt her? Noticing how none of her friends are jumping to her defence, Hermione stands, wrapping her croissant and an apple in a napkin to enjoy later.
"You're a bastard," she tells Ron before leaving.
As she storms down the aisle, she bumps into Harry, who tries to stop her with a concerned call of her name, but she ignores him and continues out of the Hall towards the alchemy classroom.
As soon as she sits beside an exhausted-looking Blaise, he knows something is wrong.
"Hermione, are you okay? You look upset?" He immediately asks.
"Yeah, just got a terrible headache," Hermione lies.
Blaise chuckles softly, "I can relate. You Gryffindors certainly know how to party."
"You were dead after three shots," Theo states.
Blaise elbows him in the ribs. "Shh, the cool girl doesn't need to know that." He sends her a wink.
As class begins, Hermione feels herself relaxing beside Blaise's calming presence. She assumes Malfoy told Blaise and Theo what happened last night, but their silence is comforting. Unlike her supposed friends, the Slytherins don't care if she has drunkenly embarrassed herself.
Draco and Pansy enter their history of magic class early, having spent their free first period studying together. They want to set up their desks before the test begins. Once the last student arrives, Professor Binns floats through the chalkboard and explains his test conditions monotonously before waving his transparent hand over the board to reveal the questions.
"You have forty minutes."
The only sound inside the classroom is the scratching of quills on parchment as the students complete their tests.
About halfway through, a chair scrapes across the ground as Weasley walks to the front of the classroom to hand in his test. He then grabs his bag and leaves as instructed by Binns.
Pansy chuckles beside Draco, shaking her head. She disapproves of anyone who doesn't use the full amount of time allotted for a test.
When the forty minutes are up, the four Slytherins hand in their parchments before leaving.
"There's no way Weasley answered everything thoroughly," Pansy laughs.
"Let's be honest, it's Weasley. He won't have answered everything," Blaise jokes.
"Not in twenty minutes." Pansy shakes her head. "Why do people not use the whole allotted time? The professor assigns that much because they know how long it should take."
Theo interrupts before she can go on a tirade, "Library anyone?"
"We've got a fifteen-minute break, and you want to spend it in the library," Blaise complains.
"We've got a free period next," Draco points out.
"What do we have next?" Blaise asks Pansy.
"Herbology."
Blaise groans, "We might as well set off now."
The friends go their separate ways, with Draco and Theo heading to the library for the next hour.
Hermione keeps to herself for the next few days, not wanting to see Ron or her friends, who seem to have taken his side in whatever is happening. Harry, Ginny, Neville and Luna were the only ones who checked in on her during class or in the library since she refused to enter the Great Hall or their common room until midnight when most people were asleep in their dormitory. They repeatedly try to remind her that Ron is an idiot and will soon come to his senses and apologise. However, by Friday, he is still senseless, and Hermione dreads potions class, as it's the only class where she sits next to Ron, and the only spare seat is beside Malfoy.
Draco arrives early to his double potions lesson on Friday, wanting to set up his apparatus and ingredients beforehand. For their NEWT exam, Professor Slughorn gave them free rein to choose their potion from the Advanced Potion Making textbook. Draco had flipped through his textbook countless times and still couldn't settle on a complex potion to gain him the highest grades and a positive recommendation from Professor Slughorn. He's reviewing his notes on a prospective potion to prepare himself before the lesson starts. However, what he isn't prepared for is Granger waltzing up to him.
"Can I sit here?" She asks.
Draco glances at his table; his equipment and ingredients take up every inch of the surface. "This is my table," he pathetically tells her.
"Everyone else has to share," she points out.
"You have a table," he reminds her, then glances over to find Weasley glaring at them. "Is he still being a dick?" He asks quietly, making her smile.
"Worse, and until he apologises, I'm ignoring him," she explains. "So, can I sit here? It's the only spare seat."
"Make yourself at home," Draco sighs, reluctantly rearranging his workspace.
As Granger sets up her equipment, Draco watches curiously. He worked hard to be top of potions, knowing that if he ever slacks, Granger would be right there to take his place.
Professor Slughorn enters his classroom five minutes late, holding a bowl of pasta, which he places on his desk. Upon turning to greet the class, Draco feels his professor's eyes fall on him, Granger, and then Weasley. Thankfully, he doesn't draw attention to the seating change.
"I've given you five minutes to set up," he announces, pretending his lateness was all part of his lesson plan. "You have an hour and forty-five minutes to complete a potion of your choice from your textbook." Professor Slughorn sets a timer at the front of the classroom and then sits at his desk to finish his lunch.
Draco needs the full time to brew his potion, so he begins as soon as Slughorn finishes talking. His horseradish is cut to perfection (which he adds at the correct time), and his occamy shells are the exact size recommended in the textbook. However, with Granger working so close, his focus is pulled to her potion. It doesn't take him long to realise she's making a memory potion.
"Are you going to spike Weasley's drink with that?" Draco quietly asks, returning to grinding up an occamy shell in preparation for the fifth step.
Granger breathes a laugh. "Purely coincidental."
As he vigorously stirs the juice of a squill bulb into his cauldron, he feels her eyes scanning his workstation.
"What do you need Felix Felicis for? You're next history of magic test?" She's teasing him.
"I'll have you know I'm very confident in my history ability," he continues to stir his potion, waiting for it to change to a pale blue.
She chuckles, "I'm sure, no thanks to Parkinson."
Draco turns to her, his hand movement stumbling a little as he loses focus.
"I've noticed her sharing her notes with your group after class," she whispers. "Is that what Blaise does in Charms class and Theo in transfiguration?" Granger asks curiously. "It's quite a good system you've got going on. What notes do you share?"
"Astronomy," he answers, turning back to his potion. Thankfully, the interruption hasn't caused too much damage.
Granger hums, "I could use those," she admits. "It's my worst subject."
"Well, if you have something to offer, perhaps we can talk about trading," he tells her, adding his finely chopped Murtlap anemone growth to the cauldron.
"Are you serious?" She asks, unsure.
"Yes, why not?" He asks,
"I don't know." She frowns and returns to her potion. A few minutes later, she asks him, "This is weird, right?"
"What is weird?" He asks, concentrating on counting his stirs.
"Us talking, without the snarky comments and jabs at each other."
"Well, you said yourself that I've grown," he smirks.
"I said not a word about last night."
"Okay, you also said you're trying not to hate anymore, right?"
"Who told you that?"
Draco thinks back to when he heard that. "Ah, I overheard you on the Hogwarts Express."
"So you were eavesdropping?" She smirks.
"Some old habits die hard," he mutters. "Sorry about the eavesdropping."
Granger sighs, "Defence or Arithmancy."
Draco takes a moment to understand, then immediately says, "Defence!" When she laughs, he adds. "It's my worst subject."
"Deal." Granger looks over. "I would shake your hand, but I don't want to."
Draco rolls his eyes. "It's not my fault my hands are cold."
"No," she blushes with embarrassment from Tuesday night. "I meant because there's squill bulb all over them."
"Oh, right." Draco wipes his dirty hands across his apron.
"One moment. I need to concentrate."
It shouldn't surprise Draco so much that he and Granger can work well beside each other. They're both at the top of every class and care about their studies. Out of the corner of his eye, he watches her focus on perfectly cutting four mistletoe berries into eighth segments. It won't last, though. As soon as Weasley apologises, she will move back to their table, where she will no doubt waste her time correcting his mistakes. Draco might be able to admit to enjoying her company, but he knows it's because he was her only option.
Ten minutes later, Granger asks him, "What are you planning on making for your final exam?"
"I don't know yet," he mutters, leaning down to inspect his powdered common rue.
"I'm thinking about making the Draught of Living Death," she admits.
That certainly catches his attention. "Quite the risk. Slughorn said only one student has successfully brewed it in the NEWT exams."
"If I succeed, though..." she raises her eyebrow, smirking at him.
Draco narrows his eyes. "Are you testing me?"
"A little healthy competition won't hurt either of us. It might boost our grades."
Great. Now, Draco would have to research a potion that would impress Slughorn as much, if not more, than the Draught of Living Death. He knew Granger would be able to pull it off. She wouldn't commit to the decision unless she was confident.
By the end of class, Draco and Granger had handed in their perfect potions and had begun packing their desks away.
"I'll see you Monday for our results." Granger pulls her backpack on.
"I'm sure Weasley will have apologised by then," Draco says, collecting his notebooks and walking out of the classroom with her.
"You don't know him as well as I do." She shakes her head.
"Mione!" Weasley calls behind them.
"You've been summoned," Draco snickers.
Granger rolls her eyes, turning to face Weasley and their friends.
Draco continues on his own to the library, needing to research the perfect potion for his final exam.
"What do you think you're doing?" Ron snaps when she meets up with him and Harry.
Hermione's eyes narrow. She knew he wouldn't apologise, but now he's throwing further accusations at her. Behind him, Neville, Dean and Seamus gather, waiting to head to lunch.
"What do you mean?" She asks calmly.
"You chose to sit with him instead of me," Ron states, his voice deep with anger.
Hermione glances at the other boys. "You see, he's so quick to anger. I'm surprised Tuesday night was the first time he's punched a hole in the wall."
"I never-"
"Don't lie. You scared me so much that fucking Malfoy had to step in. By the way, I thanked him for fixing the hole for you. I was waiting for you to apologise, but you're too stubborn and childish to admit you're in the wrong, so I'm done," she informs him. "And so you don't misinterpret my words again. I no longer have the energy to be your friend. Don't talk to me. Don't talk about me. It's all over, and you have no one to blame but yourself."
Hermione turns and walks away before embarrassing herself by crying over the loss of one of her oldest friends.
Monday comes around quicker than Draco would have liked. He had prioritised his potions research and fallen behind on an essay he needed to write for Defence Against the Dark Arts. Their new professor, Darius Cain, was a former auror who wanted to take life at a slower pace after the war. He expected a lot from his students, especially those with a lot to prove, which is why Draco had to work harder than most to achieve the same grades. He had considered asking Granger for those notes she had promised, but whenever he saw her in the library over the weekend, she looked ready to pounce at anyone who interrupted her. He assumes her talk with Weasley hasn't gone well, and his assumptions are confirmed when he walks into potion class first thing Monday morning to find her already sitting at his table.
"Morning," he greets her politely.
"Hope you don't mind," she says, fidgeting on her stool.
"Not at all." He doesn't pry on her and Weasley's conversation, instead leaving her to the book she had been reading when he arrived.
It's obvious when the man in question enters the classroom because the class falls into whispers as Weasley glares at Granger, who is sitting beside him again. Draco thinks Weasley might try something, but thankfully, Professor Slughorn arrives and orders Weasley to sit so he can hand out their potion results from Friday.
Draco spins the ring on his finger as he awaits his result. Since the grades are handed out alphabetically, Granger receives hers first and seems thoroughly pleased with her grade. He dares not glance over until he's seen his own.
As expected, he receives an Outstanding, but what he wants to see is his percentage. A 98.5% is good but below his average. He quickly scribbles down the maths and realises this grade brings his overall grade down to 99.1%. He scans the notes Professor Slughorn has provided and ignores the lines of positivity for the two lines of criticism. He had stirred the potion too many times and added the Squill bulb a few seconds too early. Simple mistakes, but not ones he usually makes. He could blame Granger for distracting him, but he only blames himself for not being focused enough.
"How did you do?" Granger asks.
"Not great," he mumbles.
She leans over his arm to read his results and notices his scribbles in the margin. "You're still at the top of the class. Don't worry."
Draco shakes his head. She doesn't understand his need to be better. Granger could drop out of Hogwarts today and still get any job she wanted just because she's a war hero. Whereas Draco needs to achieve the best grades just to be reconsidered. He only has himself to blame that he has to work harder than everyone else and he can't help worrying about his future. Realising his thoughts are becoming bitter, he folds up his results, sliding them into his pocket.
"How about you?" He asks in return.
"I got a 98.8%, which, if you care to know, is exactly my average," she says. Her voice is soft, as though she's reassuring him.
Draco nods. "If you pull off your final, your average will shoot right up."
"Thanks. Have you decided on your final potion yet?"
"Not yet," he lies. He's not in the mood to share his ideas yet.
Professor Slughorn calls the class' attention as he begins reviewing common mistakes. This is irrelevant to Draco, so he sits in silence, staring off into space as he debates his idea for his final potion. If he succeeds, he will score a higher grade than Granger with her Draught of Living Death. It is a large risk, but if he doesn't attempt it, he will fall second in class, which isn't good enough for him or any apothecary out there.
The last class of the day on Monday is Defence Against the Dark Arts, where Hermione sits beside Harry. She feels guilty that Harry has been caught between her and Ron, but he's doing a great job ensuring he's not taking sides. Professor Cain sets them off on a research task with their partner while he marks the essays they've just handed in. Hermione and Harry complete their research halfway through the lesson, so they sit quietly chatting, hoping not to get caught by their professor.
"Do you think you'll ever forgive him?" Harry asks.
Hermione shrugs. "He's gone too far this time. He's hurt me in ways he never has before, and he doesn't seem to care or realise. If he somehow figures out he's being a dick and apologises sincerely, maybe we can start to build a friendship again, but I don't see that happening anytime soon." She admits.
"I'm sorry that he's being an idiot," Harry sighs.
"It's not your fault." She smiles, glad that Harry is still there for her. "Anyway, how are you and Ginny?"
When Ginny is mentioned, Harry blushes and glances down at their notes. All eighth-year students were required to take Defence Against the Dark Arts, so they had their own class, separate from the seventh years. Otherwise, Hermione might have considered teasing him by drawing Ginny's attention to her blushing boyfriend.
"We're doing well, considering," Harry mumbles. "Just trying to make the most of the time we've got left since no one knows what will happen at the Marriage Ceremony."
"It's so infuriating." Hermione frowns. "I've been trying not to think about it because when I do, it distracts me from my studies or sleep."
"You don't get enough sleep as it is," Harry reminds her.
"Oh shush," Hermione ignores his concern.
"So, Ginny and I have been talking, and we don't mind splitting up in potions so that you can sit with Gin, and I'll sit with Ron," Harry states.
"Why?"
"Well, you can't enjoy sitting next to Malfoy," Harry chuckles.
"I do, actually. It's nice to sit with someone I can talk with and who doesn't constantly ask for my help," she explains.
"Okay."
"I don't mean you or Ginny; I mean him." She nods to Ron and Neville, who are scribbling away with deep frowns as they try to comprehend the textbook.
"I know, no offence taken," Harry says, glancing at Malfoy, who's sat beside Theo Nott. Malfoy's hair is ruffled from having pulled his fingers through it countless times as he frustrates himself working through the assignment. "Are you—" Harry begins, then sighs. "Are you friends with him?"
Hermione laughs sharply, drawing the attention of the other students and Professor Cain.
"Sorry, Harry said something quite stupid," Hermione apologises to their professor, then frowns at Harry.
"Nothing new there," Parkinson mutters from across the aisle.
Hermione rolls her eyes at the girl, letting Parkinson know her words don't affect them.
"Carry on, class," Professor Cain orders.
"Sorry, Harry," Hermione whispers, pretending to be working on her already completed notes. "But that was stupid. I wouldn't even say Malfoy and I were acquaintances. The only time we talk is in potions."
Harry is using his finger to pretend to read from the textbook. "Or when you're are exceedingly drunk."
"I told you never to bring that up," Hermione hisses, but Harry laughs.
As Hermione pretends to proofread her work, she spots an error, so they spend the last ten minutes of class correcting it before handing it in to be graded.
Exiting the classroom, Hermione starts heading towards the library. She has far too much work to finish and even more to begin. It seems like tonight will be another late dinner, which she'll grab from the kitchen on the way back to the common room.
In the library, Hermione sits at her usual desk behind most of the bookshelves by the windows overlooking the Forbidden Forest. Sometimes, when taking a break and staring out the window, she'll see Hagrid working in the forest or one of the younger centaurs curiously venturing out of the tree line. On her walk through the library, she had seen the four Slytherins setting up at their table a few rows away. On Friday, she had promised Malfoy her Defence notes in return for his Astronomy notes, and now seemed as good a time as any to trade. It had taken her a few hours over the weekend to duplicate months' worth of notes four times and paperclip them together in organised piles.
Leaving her belongings at her desk, Hermione walks back to where she knows the Slytherins are sitting around a large table, studying from different textbooks. She stops between Blaise and Parkinson, clearing her throat to gain their attention.
Parkinson glances between her and Malfoy, then asks, "Can we help you?"
"Yes, I was speaking with Malfoy in potions," she begins, surprised when three heads turn to stare at him. She had assumed he told his friends everything, especially after he admitted to telling them about their Diagon Alley meetings on New Year's Day.
"Did you invite her here?" Parkinson asks with disbelief.
"No, he didn't," she answers, drawing their attention. "I've noticed the system you've developed for note-taking. I offered to provide Malfoy with my Defence notes in exchange for his Astronomy notes." Hermione places the large pile of parchment on the table, and the four occupants' eyes widen. With a flick of her wand, they slide across to each of the four Slytherins.
"Why do I need these?" Parkinson asks, glaring at the notes.
"Blaise and Theo have been quite friendly to me in alchemy, so I was going to give them copies too, and I didn't want to exclude you, even if you hate me."
Parkinson stares at her in confusion. "And you don't hate me?"
Hermione shakes her head. "I'm trying not to hate people anymore."
"Well, I know I'm thankful," Theo says, scanning through the pile to break the tension. "I would offer you my transfiguration notes, but I think you've got that covered that."
Smiling, she says, "Thanks for the offer."
"What's this?" Malfoy points at one of the paper clips.
"Oh wow," Hermione laughs. "It's a paperclip. Muggles use them to keep piles of paper together."
"Cool!" Blaise removes one of them to inspect it closely. "Can we keep them?"
"Sure, I've got a jar full of them." She shrugs, rocking slightly on her feet. "Anyway, I'll leave you to study."
Back at her desk, Hermione forgets about the awkward interaction as she finishes one of her assignments.
"Why are you talking to her in potions?" Pansy immediately asks as soon as Granger walks away from their table.
"She sits next to me now. We sometimes strike up a conversation about potions," Draco admits.
"Why is she sitting next to you?" Pansy hisses.
"After Weasley was a dick to her at his party, she doesn't want to sit next to him, and my table had the only spare seat," Draco explains.
"Wow, it must be some serious argument if Hermione would rather sit with you than Ronald," Blaise states.
"It's not all bad. She told me what she's making for our final exam, and it's good. I now know what I need to do to get the top grades," Draco mentions.
"Are you always scheming?" Theo asks.
"It was unintentional," Draco assures him.
"Well, I can forgive you because we got something out of it," Pansy says, using her fingers to push the Defence notes away from her textbook.
"Stop being so judgemental and just accept the help like you would from any of us three," Draco warns her.
Pansy rolls her eyes, grabbing the pile of notes and shoving them into her bag.
The four of them go back to studying until it's time for dinner. Pansy, Theo and Blaise tend to eat in the Great Hall together, but Draco prefers eating in the common room to avoid the crowds.
After finishing his dinner, Draco magics the plates back to the kitchen, then heads up to his dormitory, where he keeps all his notes. He duplicates all his Astronomy notes, wanting to repay Granger sooner rather than later. He doesn't know what she does for dinner but returns to the library in order to stick to his studying schedule. He finds Granger hasn't moved from her usual desk at the back of the library and by the window. He sits at his usual desk by the opposite window overlooking the Great Lake. Deciding to get this over with before he begins to study, Draco walks over to her desk.
Granger glances up as soon as his shadow darkens her desk. There are awkward moments when they both wait for the other to speak. Instead, Draco places his pile of parchments down on her desk.
"Sorry, I don't have any clippy things."
Granger chuckles, turning to rummage in her bag before pulling out a jar full of silver clippy things.
"They're paperclips. Muggles don't write on parchment; they write on paper. Do you want some?" she asks him, opening the jar and offering to pour some into his hand. "They're really useful. They stop your notes from getting all muddled up."
"Okay." Draco holds his hand out, and she pours about twenty paper clips into his hand. "Thank you." He's about to leave when he sees her working on her Astronomy homework. "Which question did you choose?" He asks, nodding at her work.
"Oh, the third one, about medieval muggles' perceptions of the stars and their influence on nature," she tells him.
Draco pockets the paperclips and begins flicking through the Astronomy notes he had just given her. "If I were you, I'd use these notes," he says, pulling out a few classes' worth of notes. "At the bottom, I've noted the authors I know specialise in that topic. I'd use Ricardo Johannes. He's medieval and muggleborn, so he's writing from experience."
Hermione scans the notes and then nods. "Thank you, that's actually really helpful."
Draco takes a step back, realising he might have overstepped. "No problem; I'll leave you to it." He quickly leaves for his desk, busying himself with his homework for potion.