"I've brought you toast and jam because I always see you eat that, but I also brought other things because I didn't know if you wanted something else."
Draco looks up to see Ron with a large silver platter in his arms. He smiles at him. "I appreciate that."
Ron rolls his eyes. "Would it kill you to say thank you?"
"To a Gryffindor," Draco sniffs. "Never."
"Well, you're welcome. And...wait."
Ron looks around and notices there's no lump in the bed.
"Where's Harry?"
"He is getting Evaluated."
Ron's eyes widen and then he furrows his eyebrows.
"I know," Draco sighs, sitting on the bed and picking up a slice of toast. "I told the Headmistress it was blasphemous but she agreed it needed to be done."
"For fuck's sake, he's not a megalomaniac. He went missing! Just because his magical signature is all over the place doesn't mean he's unstable," Ron shakes his head. "Idiots."
"He agreed to it," Draco says quietly, staring at the bread in his hand. "Surprisingly."
"Yeah, I'm not surprised. He's always believed there's something wrong with him."
The Slytherin hums and shakes his head before he goes off on a tandem. He nibbles on his toast again. "How is Blaise?"
"Fine," Ron sighs. "I'm giving him space."
A little laughter bubbles out of Draco. "And how is that working for you?"
"I'm alright. As long as he doesn't feel...pressured or whatnot. I know I can be a little too much."
"You are doing him well. I appreciate the time and effort you are putting into this, despite our...standing."
"I don't," Ron exhales. "I don't know how I'm going to do it. I don't understand what I'm feeling, I just..."
Draco smiles gently. "You have no idea what you are doing but you do."
"Yes!" Ron throws his hands up. "Exactly. And it's confusing? I know that I want to be around him but I know he doesn't understand that feeling. Or he does but doesn't want to. I don't know."
"There is still a lot to learn from each other. Do not fret, Weasley. He will come to you when he's ready."
The Gryffindor sighs, grins at him gratefully. "Thank you."
Draco opens his mouth to reply but the doors beside Madame Pomfrey's chamber are pushed open and a pair of officials are carrying Harry by the shoulders. He stands immediately.
Ron gasps and rushes forward, and Draco keeps his glare to the two burly men dangling Harry about.
The redhead takes Harry and lifts him, struggling backward until he reaches the bed, where Draco helps him lay Harry down.
"Draco," Harry mumbles. His eyes roll back and his hand fumbles up to swat at the Slytherin. "I know you."
"Yes, Potter. We are very much acquainted."
"What did you do to him?"
Ron takes Harry's face and turns it this side and that, and he growls. He stands to his full height, his hands clench by his sides. One of the officials grunts and turns to leave and the other clears his throat.
"Harry Potter is hereby released of any and all Dark Magic. He may continue to nurse his recovery in Hogwarts and may return to classes next term."
He turns and stomps out much as he stomped in, and Madame Pomfrey hurries out when the door swings open to allow passage to the sac of flour that goes through.
She harrumphs at him and slams the door, ignoring the grunt the official releases at it hitting his back, instead opting to rush to the bed with a loopy Harry Potter.
"What did they do," Ron asks hastily. "I've never seen someone come out this bad after being Evaluated."
Madame Pomfrey shakes her head. "Those buffoons mixed too many potions in one dosage and attempted thorough magic on him. For two hours. They wouldn't let me touch him until it was over."
The two boys shake their head while the Medi-Witch starts waving her hand over him, chanting spells.
*******
Hermione is sitting in the public section of the library, a huge tome in her lap and reading about the Magical Properties of Ambrosia.
It's fascinating, really.
She moves the book up, where it's resting on her leg, and lifts it with a huff. Her leg is falling asleep and she can feel fire ants crawling all over her thigh. When she looks up to see where she puts the book down, she finds a familiar lithe figure browsing over the Amare Verum section with a thoughtful finger tapping on his chin.
The Gryffindor's blood boils for some inexplicable reason and she stands, the book long forgotten as she marches over to Blaise.
"What are you doing," she hisses at him.
He turns slowly, regards her impassively and turns back to the shelves. "I am looking for a book, what does it look like I'm doing?"
"It looks," she pushes his shoulder to get him to look at her. "Like you're looking to poison someone. Which, with your history, I wouldn't put it past you."
Blaise feels hurt, he feels his chest cave in and his heart freeze, but all he does is narrow his eyes at her. "Do you know what classes I take on Tuesdays?"
"No, and I don't care. What I do care about is..."
"Arithmancy at eight. Double Advanced Potions at ten, and Advanced Muggle Studies at twelve. Do you know what that means?"
Hermione huffs and crosses her arms. "No, but I bet you'll tell me."
"That means that for Double Advanced Potions I have to look for the book that's assigned for me to read. In this case, for today's lesson, it's The Theory of Ancient Love Potions."
The way the bushy-haired girl tries to hide her blush behind her unruly curls makes Blaise's heart sing with confidence.
"Now, if you'll be so kind. I was doing what I am supposed to."
She looks away, embarrassed, and after a second she turns and walks back to her table and opens her book again.
Merlin, that was completely unnecessary, she thinks to herself. He clearly wasn't doing anything wrong.
There is just something about Blaise Zabini that raises a red flag in Hermione's head. Is it the fact that he's a Slytherin? Or because he's Draco Malfoy's best friend. Maybe Hermione sees him as dangerous.
The kind of spells Blaise is capable of is unbelievable. If Hermione thinks she takes too many advanced classes, Blaise is worse, and he does it without a Time Turner. He's been attending doubles and advanced classes since third year, that's two years before Hermione started. Which means that not only is Blaise smarter than her, he's also faster, wittier and a hell of a lot wiser.
Is she jealous? Because Blaise is also one of the most attractive people she's seen. So he's smart, powerful, and cute. And on top of that, he's a damned Slytherin, which makes him cunning and good with words, something Hermione never had.
But...in the back of her head, she knows exactly why Blaise Zabini ticks her off.
It's not because he's fit, or attractive. It's not because he's graduating with more Honoraries and achievements than she is. It's not because he knows how to talk and when to do it, especially in the presence of someone greater.
No, it's not any of that.
It's because of Ron Weasley.
Hermione's had her eye on that Weasley troll for years now. And yes, she has been more of a motherly friend than a crush, but in all honesty, there was no time for googley eyes and kissy faces during the war.
And at the end of it, when they successfully retracted the Basilisk fangs and she went for the snog, she felt wonderful. Incredible. And Ron looked as if he liked her as well.
However, when the reality came in of what had happened, with Fred passing, Ron withdrew into himself. So she thought it best to give him space and went to Australia to find her parents.
When she came back, she assumed he had missed her, and he did. He had missed her, but not in the way she wanted him to miss her. So Hermione kept quiet, because she knows if she brings it up she won't be able to handle what Ron says.
And enter this god damned Slytherin. With chocolate brown heart eyes and smooth talking and that damned smile. Hermione didn't even know Ron swung that way but that's not the point.
The point is that Blaise took what's hers and she wants it back. And if she has to fight tooth and nail to get it, well.
Blaise Zabini better watch himself.
*******
Draco decides he needs some time to himself. So he leaves the Infirmary, begrudgingly, which has an unconscious Harry Potter, and he walks back to his dorm.
Not the dungeons. It's dark down there.
No, he goes back to the Eighth Tower, where he knows there's people his age, that he can relate to with his past experiences even if he can't talk to them about them because he's still considered the enemy.
He sighs. Headless Nick gives him a nod as he passes, he only waves. Draco feels like he's been doing the same thing every day. He feels like he needs something...something.
Something new. Something extraordinary.
The staircase to the Tower looks long, but Draco trudges on. He knows that when he gets to the top, his bed will be waiting for him.
Should I sleep, he thinks to himself, while Blaise is out? Would that be smart?
He starts to hear voices echo down the hallway, and he pokes his head down the stairs to see students filing back and forth.
Must be time for lunch.
Draco sighs again. He should probably go eat before he retires back to his quarters.
"Malfoy? Hey!"
He turns to see a head of bright red hair bouncing down the stairs and groans. "Not another Weasley."
"Not just any Weasley," he grins widely. "Mum says I'm the favorite."
"Right. I doubt she does not get enough of every one of your jokes gone wrong."
George throws his head back and clutches his stomach. He looks good. Healthy. "Well, I've been lacking a test subject, mate. Seems they run thin these days."
Draco stares at him for a solid minute. And then his lips break into a smile. "Come here."
The graduate grins and opens his arms, and Draco falls into them easily. They pat each other's backs, like the good friends they are.
"How are you?"
George pulls away, the smile never faltering. "I'm good. Been great. Angelina finally had a break from all her designer shows so we brought Fred back to visit Ron before we have to go back to Italy."
"You brought the little bugger?"
"Yeah," he grins. "We went up to the tower to find Ron but he wasn't there. Left him with Neville so I could go looking for him."
"And how is Angelina? I have not spoken to her since Nice."
"She's been good," George nods. "She's huge, too. Can barely stand on her feet any longer. Blames me for it."
"Have you found out what the gender is?"
"A baby girl," his smile is unstoppably proud. "Roxanne Molly Weasley."
"She will be as beautiful as your mother," Draco pats his arm. "Congratulations."
"Thank you, thank you. And what about you, anything new?"
Draco is about to say something when there's an auditory gasp that echos on top of them and then there's a very prominent, "Draco!"
He pokes his head over the railing and grins at the little two year old that's waving at him enthusiastically. "Hello, Fred."
"Come here, bud," George motions at him.
"Here?" The little boy asks. "Yeah?"
"Yes," George makes a face. "Of course. You know I'll catch you."
The little boy giggles and his head disappears for a second before his little legs hang from the floor above them. Draco watches with a smile as George pulls his wand out and points it at him.
And then Fred jumps.
He's covering his mouth, giggling all the way until he just stops falling and he's floating in midair. He cheers. "Yay! Thank you, daddy!"
George chuckles as he twists his wand and Fred starts wobbling closer and closer until his dad takes him into his arms and blows a raspberry into his cheek. "I'll always catch you."
Fred makes grabby hands at Draco. "Missed you!"
The Slytherin gives him a kind smile and gathers the small boy into his arms. "I missed you as well. What kind of adventures have you been on?"
"We went to the bottom of the ocean!"
"Really? And what kind of monsters did you see?"
"Big, big monster, Draco! Lots of legs!"
"That must have been scary for you."
"I not scared. I tell it to go away and it went. I scared the monster away."
"Oh, my. Look at you."
Draco ruffles Fred's hair and pokes his freckles. "Do you want to go see your uncle fly?"
The way Fred's gray-brown eyes light up makes Draco's heart warm. "Can I?"
"Of course," he looks up to George, who has been regarding the entire encounter with a smile on his face. "You got passes for the entire campus, right?"
"Duh."
The blond rolls his eyes and sets Fred on his feet, takes his hand. "Come on."
Fred occupies himself by talking about all the old decor between his father and Draco, pointing to the suits of armor and the vivid paintings.
"Has everyone been civil?"
"Yes," Draco furrows his eyebrows as he turns to George. "Your brother seems to think I want to be his best friend."
George laughs. "You say that like it's a bad thing."
"I do not want to be part of your clan. Before I know it, I will be sprouting orange hair and freckles. Have you seen my complexion? I will look washed out."
The older Weasley rolls his eyes but chuckles nonetheless. "He's changed. He has this different mindset, now."
"I can tell."
"Has he told you what he did over the summer?"
"I assume it was exercise until he passed out."
"No. He, uh, he didn't talk to us much. At all, actually. He would go running every morning, do all the heavy lifting instead of using magic. Whenever we tried getting him to talk about it, he would just say he wanted a fresh start."
George looks down to Fred and then up at the high ceilings of the hallway.
"Seems he took Fred's passing harder than any of us. Harder than me. And that's saying something."
Draco nods. "He is not the same, that much I know. Did you know he was..."
"Gay?"