Draco Malfoy and the Last Year

Level 2.10: The Date

"I don't know that he's attacking the school," Persephone told Draco. They had come early to the room where the Friday evening study group met. "I just think it's a possibility."

He had put off asking her about this supposed attack by Voldemort, hoping she would volunteer the information. But she had not yet found it worthy of mention, and his patience had come to an end. "Hermione said you had a vision."

"It wasn't a vision, more of an image, and I think that's just my mind's way of putting the pieces together," Persephone said. "It doesn't mean it's a glimpse of the future or anything."

Draco narrowed his eyes slightly as he studied her. "Do you get glimpses of the future?"

"No!" Persephone was starting to look cross. "How many times have I said that Divination is a complete crock? We can make guesses at the future, and some people guess better than others. But that doesn't mean anyone can really see into it. Certainly not me!" She dropped into her chair heavily and flung her History of Magic book open on the table.

Draco rubbed his temples. "So when is this supposed attack that you're guessing at supposed to happen?"

Persephone shrugged. "How would I know? It's just an idea. It's not like Voldewart consults me on his schedules."

Draco slid into the seat across from her. It had never been outside his realm of possibility that Voldemort could find a way to get to him at Hogwarts, but he had felt safer here than he could have anywhere else. He should have known that nowhere was truly safe. Still, no sense in getting into a panic over a guess. If the Dark Lord showed up, he would stick to his original plan and run, and if he did not come, well Draco had other plans.

"I think I'm going to ask her," he said.

Persephone raised her eyebrows.

Draco folded and unfolded his hands. "I know it's early, but I don't want to risk anyone else asking her before I do. We've been working together well enough." Persephone did not look encouraging. "Look, I have to ask her," Draco defended himself. "If I don't I'm going to spend the rest of my life wondering what she would have said."

Persephone just gave him a humoring half-smile and shook her head.

"You think it's impossible, don't you?" Draco said. He indulged in a bit of melodrama and dropped his head towards the desk to hide it in his arms.

"No, I don't think it's impossible," Persephone said. "Just--whatever you do, don't get angry when she says 'no'."

"When?" Draco echoed, lifting his head enough to give Persephone a betrayed look.

"If," Persephone amended, rolling her eyes. "I think she'd be willing, but she needs a little more time to get to know you. Your better qualities."

The door opened at that point, cutting short any further conversation on the subject. Draco moved to his own table and waited for his group to arrive. When Weasley entered, Draco dared to hope that Granger would follow, but all he got from looking at Weasley was a dark glare in return.

****************

On Saturday, he made his way once again to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. Hermione was sitting at a small table. She looked up briefly to see who was entering then went back to her work. Draco shut the door behind him gingerly. The bathroom was giving him the same feeling he normally got from the library. He felt oddly hesitant to cross the room, but unlike the library there was nothing in the bathroom with which to distract himself.

He put his bag down on the floor and sat down in the chair across from Hermione. "Where'd the table come from?" he asked.

"Conjured it," Hermione said. "I was tired of sitting on the floor."

"It's nice work," Draco said admiringly.

"It's simple," Hermione said dismissively, though Draco thought there was an undertone of pride in her voice.

"Here, you like to mash things," Hermione said, sliding a bowl of pomegranate seeds towards him. Draco picked up Most Potente Potions which was lying open on the table to double check whether the seeds were to be mashed, chopped, sliced or peeled, before getting started.

"Wonder where Persephone is," he said to fill the quiet.

"Probably talking to someone," Hermione said with a sigh.

"How did we end up doing this for her rather than with her again?" Draco asked.

To his delight, this earned him an amused smirk from Hermione. "Well, Dumbledore did call her the most naturally manipulative person he'd ever met."

Draco laughed. "Did he?" A sudden weight of realization settled in his stomach. This potion was very important to Persephone. If she was late, it was very likely that she was intentionally giving him time alone with Hermione. He also realized why the bathroom seemed so quiet. "So-uh, where's Myrtle?" he asked. His mouth had gone quite dry.

Hermione shrugged. "She was gone when I got here."

Draco worked steadily on the pomegranate seeds for a few minutes, feeling his pulse grow steadily faster. "So d'you, do you have a date for the Leaving Dance yet?" he asked, trying to sound casual.

"Not yet, bit early though," Hermione said, not bothering to look up from her work. If being alone with him made her nervous, she was hiding it well. Draco felt his insides give a small leap. That was something. "You?"

She wants to know if you're going with someone. She's just being polite. Or she really wants to know. Ask her already. She's looking at you. She's wondering why you're taking so long to answer the question. "No, I'm not going with anyone," Draco said, amazed by how calm his own voice sounded. Hermione turned her sharp eyes back to her work, and Draco took the opportunity to swallow down the lump forming in his throat.

Now, if he could only get through the next sentence without tripping over himself. He took a calming breath. Be cool, you're a Malfoy. "Do you want to go to the dance with me?" Yes, every word clear and in sequence. Well done.

Hermione laughed, not the sort of laugh brought about by nerves or even a giggle but a short, derisive laugh void of humor. "You must be joking."

Draco felt the blood rise to his cheeks. Stupid. "Right," he said, anger born of embarrassment giving heat to his voice. "Right, I was joking." Draco got to his feet. Hermione was looking at him again out of the corner of her eye. There was no compassion in her eyes. It was though she was looking at a new and slightly disgusting insect that was doing something mildly interesting. Draco felt the anger build in his chest. The evil witch knew very well he had not been joking, but if she wanted to play that way. "No points for timing or delivery, wasn't nearly as funny this time around. Sorry," he added in an acid tone and walked quickly towards the door.

He put his hand on the handle and stopped short. Idiot. Hermione was sure to have a good laugh with her friends over the whole thing. She could care less that he was setting aside generations worth of tradition and the respect of everyone he knew for her. It made him so...don't get angry...whatever you do, don't get angry. Draco sighed and rested his forehead against the doorframe.

You did joke about it before, idiot. She might truly think your joking now. Turn around and ask her properly. Draco pushed off his anger, swallowed his embarrassment, turned back around, and walked calmly back to the table.

Hermione was giving him a very peculiar look now, as though whatever he had might be catching.

Draco put his hands on his table. He was not able to look her in the eyes just yet. "I'm not joking." He looked at her now, his voice not nearly as confident. "Will you go to the dance with me?"

"NO," Hermione said, as though that was such an obvious answer she should not have to say it.

Draco felt the anger rise again but very deliberately channeled it into determination. He dropped to his knees beside the table and looked up at her. "Please?"

"No!" Hermione repeated.

Draco let his hands slide off the table and onto his lap. "Why not?"

Hermione just gaped at him with her mouth hanging open.

He tried presenting his case. "I'm a really good dancer, and I'm not a bad conversationalist if you give me chance. You can order me around and make me fetch punch and stuff. It will be fun."

Hermione looked as though she wanted to say something but seemed unable to form words.

"If you don't say anything, I'll take that as a 'yes'," Draco said, trying a disarming grin on her.

"I said 'no' twice!" Hermione yelped. "Malfoy, you are the biggest ass I've ever met. What on earth makes you think I'd want to go to a dance with you?"

"Well..." Draco had to stop and think for a moment. "I've decided to stop being an ass."

Hermione rubbed her temples as though fighting off a headache.

"Hermione, I've been a big jerk, and I want to make it up you," he said earnestly. "Please, let me take you the dance?"

"You do understand that I'm not even mildly interested in you?" Hermione said.

"That's okay," Draco said with a shrug. He got up and returned to the chair he had abandoned. "Look, Granger, I'm not asking you go steady or anything. But I would be very grateful if you'd give me a chance."

Hermione had her arms folded. She was looking at him through narrowed eyes, but Draco hoped that meant she was at least thinking it over. "How about this?" he said. "Next Hogsmeade weekend, I'll take you to the Three Broomsticks and buy you whatever you want. We can spend a little time together, and if that goes well, we can go to the dance together?"

"You want me to go on a date with you so I can decided whether or not I want to go on a date with you?" Hermione said dryly.

"Well, it's not a date exactly," Draco said. "It's more of pre-date...date."

Hermione rolled her eyes. The realization hit her then too. "Persephone set me up for this, didn't she? She's late on purpose! You two had this worked out!"

"No, we didn't," Draco said, and that was mostly true. "I swear. Hermione, please, I'll do anything. You can set the terms. What would it take to get you to go out with me?"

Hermione did not look entirely convinced. Her brows knitted together. She stared for a long time at the cauldron between them, and Draco tried hard not to betray his nervousness. He may have gone too far saying that he would do anything. A wicked grin spread over Hermione's face, and Draco knew he had gone too far.

"Here's the deal," Hermione said, a bit too sweetly. "I'll go to the Three Broomsticks with you, provided you buy an S.P.E.W badge and wear it proudly for at least a week."

"I'm not wearing a badge that says spew," Draco said flatly.

"Then you're definitely not going to the dance with me," Hermione said in the same happily airy tone.

She clearly thought he was defeated, but if she thought he was going down that easily, she did not know him very well at all. Draco tucked away the small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth and replaced it with a superior sort of grimace. "Hermione, no one is ever going to take a society called 'spew' seriously."

"It's not spew," she retorted hotly. "It's S.P.E.W., the Society for the Promotion of Elvish Welfare."

"Well then that's another problem. 'Society for the Promotion of' sound very weak. It's too wordy. And 'Elfish Welfare' makes it sound like the Elves are victims..."

"But they are victims!" Hermione said indignantly.

Draco shook his head. "That may be what you think they are, but this society is not promoting what they 'are' is it? It's supposed to promote what they want to be. Not what you or I think they want to be, but what they want. Which means they are going to have to take this into their own hands if they want anything to actually change. You, witches and wizards, can only do so much. The House Elves themselves have to take things over if they want to change them, like the Goblins did."

"What would you call it then?"

"See, S.E.E., Society for Elvin Empowerment."

Hermione looked stunned. "That way you have a useful acronym," Draco explained. "Most wizards don't run into House Elves on a daily basis and those that do tend to ignore them. You have to get them to recognize the House Elves plight, to see them, before they will want to do anything about it. And it's really all about empowering the Elves to be able to deal with their problems, address their grievances and so on."

"You've been thinking about this," said Hermione. Her expression had gone from stunned to purely incredulous. "When did you come up with that name?"

Draco looked down to admire the wood grain on the table. "Fourth year."

"Fourth year. And you've been having a good laugh at me for three years?"

"It's not like you would have listened to a suggestion from me, anyway, is it?" Draco pointed out.

Hermione's eyes softened a bit. They were almost sad. They made Draco feel a little sad at any rate. "I might have."

He swallowed, wondering for a moment what life might have been like if he had been less of a coward in fourth year. More complicated, certainly, but he wondered if it would have been worth it. Would his father had disowned him or his friends forsaken him then? Would Hermione have softened towards him simply for renaming an organization he did not believe in? Would she soften now? "So what do you think of it?" he asked.

"It's brilliant," she said grumpily. Draco smiled. There was no point in worrying about fourth year. All he had was this year or the next few months. What he wanted now was very simple.

"So how about this deal?" he said. "You change the name from 'spew' to Society for Elvin Empowerment. I'll wear an S.E.E. badge for a week. I'll even help you change over the old badges, and we'll celebrate the renaming by you letting me buy you a drink at the Three Broomsticks come this next Hogsmeade weekend?"

"You have to tell anyone who asks exactly what it stands for," Hermione said shrewdly. "AND you have to wear it where everyone can see, right under your prefect badge."

"Fine," Draco said. "But if things go well in Hogsmeade, you'll go to the leaving dance with me?"

"If they go well," Hermione said. Yes, victory! You have been out Slytherin-ed, Gryffindor. "And if someone I actually like doesn't ask me before then."

Draco frowned. His victory crumbled with this new and unwelcome factor. "Who do you actually like?"

"That is none of your business," Hermione said smugly. "If I see you even once without that badge during the week or if I get wind that you have been anything less than complete in your answer to anyone who asks you about it, the deal is off."

Draco sighed. She could be bluffing. There was no guarantee that some dashing unwelcome factor would snatch her up before Hogsmeade. "You drive a hard bargain," he said and extended his hand for Hermione to shake.

Hermione just looked at his hand contemptuously. "No one said I had to touch you," she said and snatched up Most Potente Potions to act as a barrier.

Crestfallen, Draco pulled his hand back. "How are we going to dance, if you won't let me touch you?"

"Well, that's something else for you to figure out," Hermione said breezily.

Draco rolled his eyes this time. "Fine, I'll bring gloves."

Hermione was saved from reacting by the bathroom door opening. "Sorry I'm late," Persephone said as she slipped inside. "Did I miss anything?"

Hermione was a little cooler to Persephone after that, but Draco doubted that Persephone noticed. She was delighted by the suggested name change. The announcement was followed by a long debate where Persephone tried to get Hermione to modify the manifesto as well. Draco did his best to stay out of the argument and made an obvious pretense of performing delicate tasks involving the potion. One of them was so obvious both girls stopped arguing long enough glare at him a bit. When he simply exaggerated his performance, both of them had to fight off laughter.

Myrtle returned, distracting Persephone, and Draco snuck Hermione a wink, which had the opposite effect of any reaction for which he might have hoped.

He was having trouble reading Hermione. He was able to drag her into long discussions about their experiments in Potions class, but she kept everything purely academic. She refused to look more than mildly amused at any jokes he tried to make. She had started speaking to him in Astronomy but only enough to give him a very formal greeting and business like smile before taking her seat.

Draco had trouble figuring out how Persephone stood on his uncertain success with Hermione. She was a little distracted in general. Any mention of Hermione on his part was followed by a suggestion that he should join the D.A. on hers. "I've gotten some other Slytherins to join. There's--"

"Don't tell me," Draco shushed her. "And stop changing the subject. Tell me what to do about Hermione."

"I bet joining the D.A. would impress her."

"Persephone."

"You have to be honest with her," Persephone said, not looking very encouraging.

"About what?" Draco asked.

"About things," Persephone said. "Everything. Relationships need trust, and to get Hermione to trust you, you'll have to give her a reason."

"I don't want a relationship," Draco said.

"What do you want then?" asked Persephone.

"I just want to dance with her," Draco drawled.

"Why?"

"So I can..." work out this mess in my head and decide whether or not I want a relationship with her. Draco groaned and worked his fingers through his hair. "Do you think it will work? Will she go to the dance with me?"

"How should I know?" Persephone bit at him. "I can't see the future!" She had crossed her arms grumpily and refused to be cheered up. Still she had given him chances to work beside and even be alone with Hermione.

****************

Their time together on the potion was running out. In mid-March they left it to set. The potion needed to be checked daily, just in case it changed color, but Persephone volunteered to do that. Draco and Hermione were more than happy to let her do it. Persephone stayed behind to talk to Myrtle and let Draco and Hermione leave together.

Trouble was that though Hermione was walking with him (and it had to be significant that she was walking with him towards the Great Hall and not running away) he was having trouble thinking of anything to say to her. If it had been Pansy or some other girl, he may have made the attempt to take her hand, but Hermione had made it pretty clear that she did not want to be touched. He wondered if this was a general issue with her or something particular to him. Probably him.

The feeling of hopelessness washed over him again. Determined to say something, anything to abate this terrible silence she was assaulting him with, Draco's mind cast on the topic of house-elves. "So when are we going to work on the badges?" he asked.

"Oh," Hermione said. "I thought you'd forgotten."

Evil. Evil, evil, witch, you know I haven't. Draco bit his tongue, letting the sharp but mild pain clear his head. She may be teasing. Tease back. "I was starting to think you had," he said, giving her a slightly indignant look.

"Of course, I haven't," Hermione said. Her tone was exasperated, but Draco thought that might have been a bit put on.

"So when are we working on them?" Draco tried again.

Hermione worked her jaw a minute before answering. "I've got a lot studying to do this week. So Friday after next."

"Friday after next?" Draco said, rather disappointed that he would have to go a weekend without a project with Hermione.

"I have a test."

Draco put on a mock-forlorn expression. "But, Hermione, think of the poor house-elves."

Hermione snorted. "Like you really care about the house-elves."

She did have a point. The girl savvy thing to say in response would have been something along the lines of I care about you, but Draco had the added handicap of needing to be honest. Honestly, he was not sure if he cared about Hermione. The dance thing was rather selfish on some level. If Draco was really honest, it was something he needed to do to sort out his own head more than it was something for Hermione.

She would probably be happier if he crawled under a rock somewhere and left her to pursue whomever it was she really liked. Assuming of course that unwelcome factor existed. Draco thought some bitter thoughts towards this unwelcome factor complicating his life. He wondered if it was a prince or a dragon trying to carry off his princess.

"What test are you studying for?" The worse thought came creeping up on him that he might be the unwelcome factor.

"Arithmancy," Hermione said, killing Draco's plans of offering to be a study partner. Why hadn't he taken Arithmancy? Why would Hermione even let him negotiate with her if she had some beau waiting? He would have backed off if she was dating someone. Either her intolerable cruelty knew no limits, or she was uncertain of her prince charming.

Six and a half years of watching Hermione from afar, when reviewed honestly, did not incline Draco to think she was intolerably cruel by nature. This lead him to believe she was uncertain of this other, assuming of course her "someone I actually like" was a specific someone rather than general optimism.

The Great Hall was looming closer with all its eyes and ears. Draco decided if this other was not willing to put forward some effort with Hermione that was his loss. "So badges, Friday after next," he agreed at last, deciding not to ask for details now, because that would give him an excuse to talk to her in Astronomy later.

"Sure," Hermione said in a business like manner. She added, "Excuse me." when they reached the entry to the Great Hall and quickened her pace.

Draco followed her in more slowly and watched her brightly greet her friends at the Gryffindor table before taking his seat with the Slytherins.

Crabbe, Goyle, and Millicent greeted him, and Draco attempted to look just as bright in case Hermione was watching. Not that she was watching, at least he did not think so. His back was towards the Gryffindor table. He resisted the urge to twist around and check. He faced his friends, knowing he would have to tell them eventually. Maybe after the badges were ready.

"You know there've been rumors going around about you and Granger," Crabbe said.

Draco lifted his eyebrows. "What sort of rumors?"

"That you've been sneaking off together," Millicent said. "Least that's what Josephine Bogland was saying. She thinks you've been snogging in the broom shed." Draco raised his eyebrows further. Now, that was an idea. Crabbe was not enjoying the mental image as much as Draco was, however. His face was contorted into a look of pure disgust.

"What did you tell her?" Draco asked Millicent.

Millicent shrugged. "Persephone told me you were both tutoring her. I told her that. She looked disappointed."

Not half as disappointed as I am, Draco thought.

"Josephine needs to learn to keep her big mouth shut," Crabbe said loyally. "Should we teach her a lesson?"

Draco shook his head. "No," Draco said. "I think that would just help lend credence to Josephine's little theory."

"Yeah, no one in their right mind would believe you and Granger anyway," Goyle said helpfully. Millicent nodded encouragingly. Crabbe nodded more reluctantly, obviously preferring to right this wrong than let it slide.

Draco knew he was letting an opportunity slide, but he decided he might as well dedicate the next two weeks to his friends. They were likely to desert him when the two weeks were up anyway.

****************

Draco kept up with his classes at this point mainly out of habit, and because he thought Hermione would think even less of him if he let his grades slip. More and more he felt his time at Hogwarts was slipping away. It was time to say goodbye and wrap up any unfinished business. Death Eater attack or no, he would be gone by the end of the year. Gone from school, gone from England. It was a sobering thought, but a liberating one as well.

What was the point in worrying about social standing, if you were not planning to stay in the society? He had no interest in making himself more of a target. Still the more internally detached he became from keeping face at Hogwarts, the sillier his friends and teammates conversations seemed. Particularly since Crabbe and Goyle seemed to think it was their mission in life to agree with him. He wondered how far they would go in that regard. If he thumbed his nose at all their fathers had taught them, would his friends follow suit?

His two weeks without Hermione were not entirely without Hermione. She took all his classes but staring at her from across the room while Potter shot him annoyed looks was hardly as gratifying as talking to her.

They were more or less alone in Astronomy, but if he had hoped for deep and meaningful conversation under the stars he was sorely disappointed. Hermione was distracted and short tempered. Draco believed for once this had nothing to do with him, so he did not press her too far.

He filled any spare time with extra Quidditch practices. The air was beginning to turn warm again, and it was a pleasant time to be outside with his friends.

The good weather had little effect on Hermione's mood. She met him in the library on the Friday after next, looking every bit as serious as she had in their last two Astronomy classes.

"Is there something bothering you?" Draco dared to ask.

"No, why?" Hermione asked shortly.

Draco shrugged. "You just seem a bit tense."

"Well, we have N.E.W.T.s coming up, and Voldemort may come crashing through the window at any moment," Hermione said in a forcibly casual tone. "But I don't see why that should be of any concern."

Draco could not tell her that either of those things was untrue or no reason to be tense. He tried a slightly different subject. "How did your Arthimancy test go?"

"Fine," Hermione said snappily and placed a bucket of badges on the table. "Let's get this done quickly. I have a lot of studying to do."

"What for this time?" Draco asked.

"The N.E.W.T.s," Hermione said as though this was painfully obvious to anyone with a brain.

"You're studying for those already?" Draco asked. "I was planning to wait 'til after Easter Holidays."

"That's your decision," Hermione said. "I actually want to do well."

"Naturally, you're going to do well," Draco said. He felt the smallest hint of bitterness that Hermione was letting her studying get in the way of their time together. He picked up the one of the badges and realized that was a very selfish thing to think. "Then again you have more classes than I do right?"

"Yes," Hermione said impatiently. She took a badge, tapped her wand to it. The letters changed from S.P.E.W. to S.E.E. She tossed it back into the bucket, then scowled and fished it out again.

"Tell, you what," Draco said. "I'll do this and bring them back to you on Monday. You can go study."

Hermione looked at him suspiciously.

"I promise I won't steal them," Draco said. He held up the badge Hermione had modified. "Just make them look like this right?"

"Yes," Hermione said. "But--"

"If I don't get them to you on Monday, I won't hold you to having a drink with me in Hogsmeade," Draco said. He gave her a soft smile. "I'm glad it's not too far away though. You seem like you could use a day off."

Draco stood and picked up the bucket before she could form an argument. Hermione took a breath and picked up her book bag. She gave Draco an odd look. "Monday," she repeated. Draco was very glad to hear some of the snappishness had gone out of her voice. She took a step them paused. "Malfoy, why are you doing this? You don't even like me."

"Course, I like you," Draco said. "I wouldn't ask you to the dance if I didn't like you." The words dropped out his mouth before he really had a chance to think them over. He reviewed them after they were out and decided to leave them unamended.

Hermione's mouth opened slightly, but she said nothing, just creased her brow a bit and walked off.

Draco looked at the bucket, then up at the ceiling of the library. He was distracted by the height for a moment. Staring at the library ceiling was possibly something he had never done before. It was formed with crossed arches, looked light and immobile. It seemed so high that even if it fell Draco thought gravity would lose interest before it reached the bookcases. In truth the library ceiling was not much higher than the ceiling in the Great Hall, but the room was narrower, which gave it the illusion of added height.

Having wasted enough time on the ceiling, Draco looked down at the bucket again. "I've gone mad," he said quietly and smiled to himself as he made his way back to the Slytherin dungeons.

****************

He spent the evening sitting on his bed, transfiguring the badges, and thinking about Hermione and N.E.W.T.s. He spent the weekend trying to get other Slytherins to buy a badge. If he was going to wear one, there was no reason why he had to do it alone. He had more luck with the younger students, though Bardolf told him he was off his broom.

The older students were more resistant. He got many, many stunned looks of disbelief, and several people flat out laughed at him. He tried to look at it as a game and a challenge. If he was going to go out of favor among the Slytherins he figured he might as well go out with a bit of a bang. He charmed, argued, and otherwise persuaded a fair number of Slytherins to buy badges. His energy was spent by Sunday afternoon. He simply tossed badges for Crabbe and Goyle at them and demanded two sickles apiece.

"What for?" Goyle asked.

"The badges," Draco said. "I'm going to be wearing one next week, and I don't want to be the only one."

"But why?" Crabbe asked. "What's S.E.E. stand for anyway?"

"Society for Elvin Empowerment," Draco said.

Crabbe and Goyle scrunched up their faces in confused. "Sounds like that spew stuff the Mudblood started a few years back," Crabbe said.

"Yes, I renamed the group," Draco said. "Much less silly now. And don't call her a Mudblood."

"Why not?" Crabbe asked, looking at Draco strangely.

"It's been done," Draco said with a shrug. "Besides it's rude."

"But you-"

"Crabbe, Goyle, I am surprised at you," Draco interrupted. "You can't donate two sickles to support the creatures that cook, clean, and do your laundry. You didn't spend all your money at Honeydukes last Hogsmeade visit did you?"

Even Draco was not sure entirely how he did it, but eventually he got a very confused Crabbe and Goyle to cough up two sickles apiece.

****************

On Monday, he presented the bucket with a few less badges to Hermione before Charms. Hermione's eyes flicked to his robes first, checking to see if he was wearing his own badge in the right place. "What's this?" she asked, taking notice of the small bag sitting atop the shiny badges.

"Those are the sickles for the badges I sold," Draco said.

"You sold badges?" Hermione repeated, looking incredulous.

Draco managed to keep a straight face. "That was okay, wasn't it? Two sickles a piece right?"

Hermione nodded and poked the bag experimentally. "How many did you sell?" she asked.

"About fifteen," Draco said. He continued on as though unaware of the shock in her expression. "Oh, and I think we ought to swap out with anyone you've already sold a badge to. Would be rather unfair to charge them twice."

"Of course I'll swap them," Hermione bit at him. She looked past Draco's shoulder and caught sight Crabbe and Goyle on the other side of the room also wearing S.E.E. badges. Hermione's hand flew to her mouth. It was hard to say whether she was trying not to laugh or not to be sick. Draco just continued to smile benignly, ignoring all the blatant stares of other students who had noticed him and Granger talking.

Hermione seemed unable to take anymore. She turned sharply and walked to her seat where Weasley and Potter began interrogating her. Draco had a seat and got a fresh set of questions from Crabbe and Goyle. "All part of the larger plan," he assured them vaguely. He could tell neither of them was thrilled at being left out of this larger plan, but he was still hoping they would last out the week with him and did not want to explain further.

Flitwick tried to call the class to order, and Hermione finally lost her battle. She let out a loud, short laugh. "Sorry, Professor," she apologized, turning slightly pink.

"Quite all right, Ms. Granger," Flitwick said amiably. "A little laughter never hurt anyone."

As the week wore on however, Draco became less sure of that. He had expected some of the Slytherins to laugh, but it was more grating to hear it from the other houses. A few people figured out that he would always give a full pitch on the badges when asked and started asking just to annoy him. Justin Finch-Fletchley was among the worst of the offenders. By Thursday he was explaining the badges through gritted teeth. Crabbe and Goyle were cracking their knuckles at the irritants, but Draco, worried Hermione would take his friends interference as a breach of their agreement, held them back from pummeling the other students. Hermione seemed to find the whole thing extremely amusing. Draco was glad to see her smile and hoped he eased some of the tension that had been settling around her. Still by Saturday, he was questioning whether a date with Hermione was worth the humiliation. It was very hard not to spend the rest of the weekend hiding in his dorm room so that no one could ask him to explain what S.E.E. stood for.

The Slytherin girls seemed to have concluded that Draco had simply lost his mind. The looks they gave him now were almost pitying. Draco dropped the badge back into the depths of his trunk when the next Monday rolled around. A few people were disappointed, but no one seemed terribly surprised when he gave up on it. Several Slytherin came up to him asking him to explain what the joke was with the badges. Draco dodged the question by telling them that explaining it would make it not funny.

Persephone had been oddly absent during this stretch. She claimed the forum and the D.A. were keeping her busy. She was finally starting to buckle down on her studies. Their tutoring sessions seemed to be the only times Draco saw her.

Hermione Draco saw again in Astronomy. "I noticed you stopped wearing the badge the moment the week was up," she said when he sat down. They were still in the habit of speaking to each other in undertones and facing their own telescopes in the dark classroom.

"But I did wear it the whole week," Draco pointed out.

"Suppose it would be a bit hypocritical for you to continue on after that?"

"A bit," Draco said.

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Don't be so high and mighty, Granger," Draco said. "You didn't wear yours at all last year."

"Yes," Hermione said. "But who wants to wear a badge that says spew on it?" She gave Draco a wry smile, and his insides became a lot lighter. He smiled too. He wanted to look wry as well, but he was fairly certain his smile was more of the dopey variety.

"At least you bought a badge," Hermione continued. "Persephone says she believes in house-elf rights, but apparently not enough to put down two sickles."

"I don't think it's a matter of beliefs," Draco said softly. "It's the two sickles. When Persephone's parents died, all their money went to James, and all of James' money went to Harry. Snape's been buying all her school things for her. Persephone doesn't have two knuts to rub together."

Hermione looked stricken. "Oh, I didn't know. She must think I'm awful. I'll give her one later."

"You can charge Harry for it," Draco suggested.

"I'll give her one," Hermione repeated, and Draco decided to back off. Not worth losing what ground he had gained over two sickles.

"Easter holidays are coming up," he said, giving her a hopeful glance. "Do you want to do some study sessions? About time I start preparing for my N.E.W.T.s."

Hermione tossed her head to the side just enough to make the moon light shift over the strands. "I only agreed to one predate, Malfoy."

Draco had not really expected her to accept, but he felt oddly encouraged that she was toying with him. That was a normal thing girls did with boys. Normal for Slytherin girls at least.

"Besides," Hermione continued in a more practical tone. "I have to get Harry and Ron started."

Potter. Once again getting what Draco wanted. Potter. But Draco could not drudge up any jealousy at the moment. It was not like Hermione was going to be alone with another boy. Besides Potter could use the support. Draco wanted him well prepared.

Easter holidays were dedicated once again to Crabbe and Goyle. Draco forced them to start studying for the N.E.W.T.s. They went through subject-by-subject, starting with what they had learned first year and working their way up. Draco put most of his energy into Defense Against the Dark Arts since he had missed a year. Keeping up in class had not been too hard, but Draco was sure he had missed a few significant things from the sixth year course material. He still was not having any luck casting a patronus.

The studying continued on after the holidays had passed. Draco found himself absorbed in schoolwork once again, which gave him less time for moping. The weather had improved enough to make Quidditch practices extremely pleasant. Hufflepuff shocked everyone and beat Ravenclaw. It had been a wet match. Rain and fog hid the snitch, while Hufflepuff's Chasers made goal after goal. Ekin caught the snitch in the end, but too late, Ravenclaw lost by a mere ten points. Draco could not help giving Ekin a smug smile. Gryffindor was the current favorite for the Quidditch Cup, but Slytherin stood a chance if they beat them by a substantial margin in the last game. Draco was not optimistic, but Jonathan's enthusiastic determination kept him training hard. It would be nice to go out on a win.

****************

He hardly saw Hermione except for classes and prefect meetings. Potter seemed to be taking Persephone's prediction seriously. He and Padma had the prefects performing drills for their new "emergency plans". These mainly consisted of holing the students up in the dormitories and seeing that everyone was accounted for. Pansy and some of the others scoffed, but Draco took the drills seriously. He also worked on his own emergency plans. If the Death Eaters attacked, the last place he wanted to be during an attack was trapped in the Slytherin dungeons.

Time passed quickly. There was a building tension similar to what Draco remembered from the months before the O.W.L.s, but this seemed more pressing and more intense. He had fewer subjects to study for this time, but there was the added pressure of needing to decide what to do after school. For most students this was a matter of applying for one career or another. For Draco it was more a matter of which country. Persephone made it very clear that she intended to stay in England with Harry and Snape, and only in his daydreams would Draco dare ask Hermione to go with him. His future was looking very lonely. Still that was better than death, wasn't it?

Everyone in the school, Draco included, was glad when the last Hogsmeade weekend arrived. He picked out a blue shirt that brought out what color he had in his eyes and took extra care with his appearance. Hermione had agreed to meet him at eleven in the Three Broomsticks, so Draco walked into the village with Crabbe, Goyle, and Millicent. He spent the morning following them from Honeydukes to the Quidditch supply shop to Scrivenshaft's. They even stopped at Gladrags so Millicent could look at dress robes.

"I'm not taking that long," Millicent said when she noticed Draco checking his watch.

"No," Draco said. "I just promised to meet someone. I don't want to be late."

"Who are you meeting?" Crabbe asked.

"Um." Draco decided he might as well tell them. The Three Broomsticks was hardly a private place. Everyone would know he had met with Hermione before the day was out. He fingered the fabric of a red robe on display. "Granger."

Goyle blinked. "Why?"

"Told her I'd buy her a drink," Draco said, trying very hard to look cool and not turn pink.

"What for?" Millicent asked, looking highly disturbed by the idea.

"Trying to talk her into going to the Leaving Dance with me," Draco said with shrug. He reminded himself of a turtle trying to hide his head between his shoulders and forced himself to straighten. No one should ever be able to fault a Malfoy on their posture.

"You're joking," Crabbe said, with a very similar expression to Millicent's.

"No, I'm not joking," Draco said, sticking his hands in his pockets. Now all three of them were staring blankly at him. It was fun in a strange way.

"Why?" Crabbe managed at length.

"All the obvious reasons," Draco said.

Millicent crossed her arms. "What are you up to, Draco?"

"Up to?"

"You're obviously up to something," Millicent said. "It's not fair to leave us out."

"Life's unfair," Draco said flippantly and glanced at his watch again. "And I don't want to be late. So, I'll see you three later." Draco turned smartly and walked away.

"Hey, Malfoy!" he heard Crabbe call after him but feigned otherwise. He was vaguely aware that they were following him but chose to ignore that as well. While it was true that he did not want to be late, there had been no real danger of it. Draco arrived at the Three Broomsticks a quarter of an hour early. Pansy and her group were already there. They gave him cool, mildly surprised looks. This was the first time he had left the castle grounds since school began. Draco took a seat in a small booth between two occupied ones.

Crabbe, Goyle, and Millicent entered a few moments later. Draco fiddled with his cuffs, so he did not have to think about how silly he looked sitting in the booth by himself. His friends took the hint and did not approach him. Instead Crabbe led Goyle and Millicent towards Pansy's table and started speaking quickly to them. Draco could guess at the subject. Pansy's eyes went as round as saucers as she glanced over at Draco. Draco tried very hard not to meet her gaze. He was peripherally aware that Crabbe, Goyle, and Millicent joined Pansy's table. He was starting to wish he had not been in such a rush to get away. Sitting alone was making him nervous. He did not want to watch the door since he knew he was being watched. He let his eyes roam around the room, trying to give off a nonchalant air.

The Weasley twins entered. They were hard to miss. They stopped to flirt with Madam Rosmerta, who led them to a large table on the far side of the room. Rosmerta stopped at Draco's table on her way back to the bar. "Do you want something to drink, dear?"

"I'm waiting for someone," Draco said, not knowing why that simple question had managed to increase his heart rate. Nerves. He was more nervous than he had thought. "But I will." Rosmerta simply smiled and walked on. Rosmerta's passing had directed Draco's eye back to the door. He saw Hermione enter, followed by Potter and Weasley. She glanced at Draco, but Ron directed her attention towards Fred and George who were waving animatedly from their table. The trio walked passed Draco and the other Slytherins, who were watching Hermione intently. Harry and Ron sat down across from Fred and George and looked at Hermione expectantly. She stood with her hands propped on the back of the chair at the end of the table. Draco could not see her face or hear her voice, but from her body language and the Weasley brother's reaction, he believed they were chatting pleasantly.

His increased heart rate was beginning to turn into a full-blown panic. When he told Hermione that he would buy her a drink, had he specified that it would involve them sitting together and talking? Draco put his hands on the brown sugar bowl in the center of the table and stared at it as though the bowl was his last grip on reality. Surely she was not cruel enough to sit with her friends and simply tell Rosmerta to put her drink on his tab. With horror, he realized that would technically fit their agreement. He tried to tell himself that if she had fun laughing at him with her friends that would technically mean she should accept his dance offer. In that case however, he was not so sure he wanted to dance with her.

"Hey," Hermione said, slipping into the opposite side of the booth. Draco looked up and felt his anxieties drop off like a heavy cloak. "Hello," he said, managing a relieved smile. She did not seem to have taken any special care with her appearance, no eye shadow, maybe some lip gloss. Her brown striped cardigan was not particularly flattering but not unflattering. Draco thought she looked fine. She also looked bored. The awkward silence was hanging heavy between them.

"I really didn't expect us to have an audience," he said apologetically.

Hermione glanced at the table of Slytherins who were sneaking frequent looks at them and vacillating between shock and amusement. "Not too subtle are they?" she commented dryly.

"No," Draco agreed. "But then, neither are your friends." Hermione had to look over her shoulder to see. Potter and the Weasleys were glaring steadily in Draco's direction. "They act like they think I'm going to attack you."

Hermione just smiled fondly in her friends' direction, before turning her head back. "They're just worried about me."

"I'm not going to attack you, you know."

"I know," Hermione said. "They'd hex you into a thousand pieces if you tried."

Draco felt cut. That was not what he had meant at all. "I wouldn't hurt you." Hermione just gave him a look. Draco could not describe it, but it made him feel helpless. "We've been alone before and nothing happened."

"Well, they don't know that," Hermione said quietly.

"Oh," Draco said. Naturally anything to do with the Younging Potion needed to be kept secret. "I guess not. I suppose they were a bit surprised, when you said you were going to meet me."

"A bit," Hermione said. "They didn't like it." Draco glanced at the Gryffindors again. That was clearly understatement.

"Are you ready for drinks now?" Rosmerta asked, stepping up to their table.

"Could I see a menu?" Hermione asked primly. Rosmerta summoned a couple of menus. Hermione disappeared behind hers, and Rosmerta winked at Draco. He gave her a grateful smile in return.

"You're paying right?" Hermione asked in a casual tone that was more of a reminder than a question.

Draco decided to take it in stride and smiled. "That was the idea, yes."

"I'll try the Wizard Blizzard," Hermione said, handing the menu back to Rosmerta. "Never had one of those before."

Draco's eyes found the drink's price. She would have ordered the most expensive thing on the menu. Last year he would have been thrilled to show off his ability to casually buy the finer things, but he was painfully aware now how quickly his galleons could run out if he did not watch his spending. "I'll just have a water, please." Rosmerta gave him another knowing smile and patted his shoulder as she walked back to the bar.

Hermione gave him a surprised and somewhat amused look. "Are you being frugal?" she said, sounding genuinely shocked by the concept.

"Well, I can't ask my parents for money anymore," Draco admitted.

"They cut you off?"

"If they haven't, they will," Draco said. "Even if they didn't, I'm not sure I could take money from them right now."

Hermione looked a little ashamed of herself. "I could order something cheaper," she offered quietly.

Draco shook his head. "It's okay. I can cover it."

"But if-"

"I told you I'd get you anything you wanted," Draco said. "I'm not going back on my word. Don't worry about it."

Hermione studied him for a long moment. Rosmerta reemerged with their drinks. She set a large elaborate glass with multicolored liquid before Hermione and a simple water glass before Draco. "Do you want me to bring two straws?" she asked helpfully.

Hermione looked like she was trying not to make a face. "No, thank you," Draco said, trying to mix a little gratitude into his smile for Rosmerta's sake and a little embarrassment for Hermione's. Hermione seemed to be struggling with her desire to be fair and her repulsion at the idea of sharing drinks, so Draco added, "That sounds unsanitary anyway." after Rosmerta left.

"Ah," Hermione said, stirring her drink experimentally. "Because I'm Muggle-born."

"No," Draco said slowly, feeling rather at a loss. "Because...it's unsanitary."

Hermione gave him a look that somehow managed to be bored and slightly amused, pitying and resentful all at once. "Oh yes, I forgot. You've fallen deeply in love with me, and suddenly gotten over your aversion to all things Muggle related."

"No, I-" Draco floundered, not sure which part to object to since she was clearly being sarcastic. "That's not...I stayed at a Muggle hotel this summer."

"With another girl," Hermione continued in the same tone. "I should be jealous."

If Draco actually thought she was jealous, he might have been encouraged, but Hermione knew the entire story by now. "You shouldn't be jealous," Draco tried to echo her tone. "After all I'm deeply in love with you."

Hermione snorted. "I'm clever, Malfoy, not gullible. You can cut the act."

Draco opened his mouth but was having trouble finding words. He thought he had been cutting out the act. "I'm not acting."

"So you're deeply in love with me?"

"Well, no, not exactly," Draco squirmed. "I just...I like you."

Hermione snorted again, more softly this time. "What exactly is it you want from me?"

"I just..." Draco started to say want a dance but doubted that would be enough of an answer for Hermione. And Persephone had given him that whole honesty lecture. "I don't know exactly. That's what I'm trying to work out. I know that I want you to not hate me anymore."

"I don't hate you," Hermione sighed and took a sip from her Wizard Blizzard.

"You don't trust me either," Draco said.

"No, I don't," Hermione admitted. "But you haven't given me much reason to."

"What sort of reasons do you need?" Draco asked.

"A little honesty wouldn't hurt."

"I can be honest," Draco said earnestly. Hermione raised her eyebrow. "Go ahead, ask me anything."

"All right. Why don't you start by telling me what happened this last summer?"

"Anything except that."

"Malfoy, how do expect anyone to trust you if insist on keeping secrets like that?"

"Have I asked you one thing about what Potter or the D.A. was planning?"

"No," Hermione said, brushing some hair away from her face. "But I'm sure Persephone tells you everything."

"She doesn't actually," Draco said. "I hardly see her anymore."

"She has been busy," Hermione conceded. Maybe she was remembering that Draco had been surprised by the news of the predicted attack on the school, or maybe that she had been unfairly paranoid about Persephone before. "Fine. If you're so determined to stay neutral, why the sudden interest in me?"

"It's not sudden," Draco said, wondering how to explain. "I've just decided to stop pretending I wasn't interested."

Hermione gave his an icy look over the top of her Wizard Blizzard. "If you tell me you've been such an ass all these years cause you've been repressing feelings for me, I think I might hurl the rest of this drink at you."

Draco glanced at the Gryffindors who were still glaring. He was sure they would like nothing better than to see Hermione hurl her drink at him. "No, I hated you too for a while," he said quietly. "Made it all very complicated."

Hermione shook her head as though she was trying to see things from his point of view and found it headache inducing. "Just because I'm Muggle-born."

"It wasn't just that," Draco said. "Part of it, but it was a lot more complicated." Draco met Hermione's sharp eyes. "You were the first thing my father was wrong about."

Hermione's brows knitted together.

Draco dropped his gaze, focusing on his water glass. "You have to understand how I was raised."

"Is the part where you tell me about your troubled childhood?" Hermione quipped.

Draco frowned. "What are you talking about? I had a great childhood."

"You mean you were spoiled?"

"Maybe a bit," Draco said. "Not as much as you'd think though. It wasn't just toys and trips. My parents were really attentive. Father was strict about some things, but he was always there. He included me in everything. I could talk to him about everything." Draco swallowed. "At least I used to be able to. I thought he could do no wrong. Everything he said had to be right, just because he said it. I didn't have any reason to question it.

"Mudbloods...Muggle-borns were supposed to be inferior. They weren't supposed to do as well at school. They didn't have any background. They shouldn't be able to. My father was a school governor. He should know. He was always telling me what a waste of resources it was to let them into the school in the first place." Draco took a drink to moisten his lips. "And then there was you. Raised like a Muggle and outdoing everyone at school."

"You wanted me dead cause I was out doing you in classes?"

"You weren't just out doing me in classes. You were doing something that I'd been raised to think couldn't be possible. You were proving my father could be wrong about something. You were showing the cracks in my view of reality." Draco frowned. "But I never said I wanted you dead."

Hermione gave a bitter laugh. "Liar. You did so."

"When?"

"Christmas, second year. Harry and Ron told me."

"I didn't..." Draco's brows knitted together. Christmas of second year was a long time ago. It had been the first Christmas he had spent at Hogwarts. His father had wanted him to, making some excuse about business that Draco did not believe. He had been rather upset about it and bullied Crabbe and Goyle into staying with him. "I didn't even talk to them that Christmas. Maybe I did say something to Crabbe and Goyle about it, but that was in the Slytherin common room. I certainly never said anything to you lot so I don't see..." Crabbe and Goyle had disappeared for a while and claimed to wake up in a broom closet. Draco had accused them of getting drunk on cordials, since neither of them had been acting like themselves. "You checked out Most Potente Potions in second year...and you made Polyjuice? And Harry and Ron disguised themselves as Crabbe and Goyle?" He could tell from Hermione's face he was right. "Why?"

Hermione grimaced. She seemed to have an internal debate over whether to say more and shrugged as though she did not see what harm it could do now. "We thought you were the heir of Slytherin."

Draco raised his eyebrows. "Really? I'm flattered." Hermione gave him an exasperated look. "Look, I didn't mean it. I was twelve. Twelve-year-old boys say a lot of things they don't mean. I was pretty horrified when you got petrified, actually. I was just talking big. Didn't think anything would come of it. I thought I was alone with my mates." Hermione gave him a flat look as though to say she did not see how that made things any better. "You're gonna tell me that none of the Weasleys or Potter over there has ever expressed a desire to see me dead."

Hermione's mouth twitched. "Maybe once or twice." She successfully fought down her smile and gave him her cold, business like look again. "That's hardly the only thing you ever said about me. You must have called me a Mudblood a hundred times."

"It never seemed to bother you," Draco said, shifting uncomfortably. "Did it?

"I'm not ashamed of having Muggle parents," Hermione said. "I chose not to let anything that you or your friends said bother me. But the attitude behind it bothers me, yes."

"I stopped," Draco said. It was the only defense he had.

"I noticed," Hermione said. There was a subtle shift in her tone that said this might be a small point in Draco's favor. "The question is whether the attitude behind it has changed."

Draco went back to staring at his water glass. He had given the matter very little thought over the past few months. Yes, he had thought about Hermione a good bit and started working past his aversion to her parentage, but she was special. He had considered hiding among the Muggles, but that was more in the interest of survival than having taken any sort of liking to them.

Hermione made an impatient sound.

"I'm thinking," Draco said, trying to curb the irritation in his voice. He was not sure he had ever given serious thought to how he felt about Muggles. His father's feelings on them had been clear, and Draco had regurgitated everything his father had fed him with enthusiasm. His friends had nodded and applauded, so he had not seen much reason to re-evaluate any of it. But obviously he had been doing just that on some level. Otherwise he would be sitting and laughing with Pansy and the others right now instead of alone in a booth with Hermione.

"Don't strain yourself," Hermione said.

It was Draco's turn to give Hermione an exasperated look. "I don't have it all worked out yet, all right? I think the killing may go too far, but there are some very practical reasons for keeping the magical world separate. We're different. They don't exactly like us either."

Hermione tapped her fingers on the table. Draco was worried she might still be irritated with him, but she looked thoughtful. "You know I never really fit in growing up in the Muggle world. My family loved me. I had some playmates when I was really little, but I never made any real friends at school. I was starting to think there was something wrong with me. I was different somehow. My parents said I was special, but that's just the sort of thing parents say.

"I was so excited when I got my Hogwarts letter, because it meant there wasn't anything wrong with me. I wasn't imagining it. I really was different. Special. There was this whole new world opened up to me, and it was wonderful and magical. And I knew I'd finally found the place where I belonged. I was so certain that Hogwarts would be different. I was going to fit in and have no trouble making friends. But it's not really that different. The lessons were grand, but I was still didn't fit it. I still couldn't make any friends on my own. You and your friends made it pretty clear I wasn't wanted here either. If it hadn't been for Harry and Ron and that troll, I don't know if anything ever would have changed." She smiled softly, ironically, but there was a glisten of moisture in her eyes. "They saved me."

Draco felt like a gaping hole had opened in his chest. He had honestly come to think of Hermione as invulnerable. He realized he had been rude, but he had never thought he had actually managed to hurt her. It had frustrated him, forced him to see her as something untouchable and unattainable. He could see now, for all her connections and accomplishments, Hermione was a girl, and he had hurt her very badly. "I'm sorry."

"Forget it," Hermione said, taking a quick swipe at her eyes before any of the moisture could spill over and resuming her superior manner as though she was embarrassed to have mentioned it.

Draco put his hand over hers and stared straight into her eyes until she met them. "Please, Granger, I don't do the sincere apology thing very often. I'm sorry I hurt you. I'm truly and genuinely sorry. I want to fix it. I just don't know how."

Hermione looked at Draco's hand clasped over hers on the table. Her expression was unreadable. Draco remembered her wish not to be touched and withdrew his hand. "Sorry," he murmured.

"You can't fix the past, Malfoy," Hermione said. "But if you can change, I can forgive you."

Draco nodded. The gaping in his chest had eased a bit. "You can call me Draco, you know." Hermione nodded as though to say she would consider the matter. He wanted to take her hand again or move closer, but he knew he had not earned that right yet. The audience had not taken kindly to that first light touch. The Slytherins had gone quiet, and Gryffindors were clutching the table as though resisting the impulse to rise. Draco resisted the urge to sneer at the lot of them and attempted to ignore them. "You know it's not like your entirely innocent," he said. "You've said some rather nasty things yourself."

"Like what?" Hermione asked, but not with as much bite as before.

"At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in₁," Draco found his voice going high and squeaky, imitating how Hermione's had sounded five years ago. He did a fair job capturing her speech pattern even if he could not fully imitate Hermione's voice. He really had not intended to imitate her at all. It had bubbled up from somewhere along with memory. He was not particularly surprised that he could remember those words so well. They had echoed over his head a thousand times.

Hermione eyes brows shot up, though. A smirk played on her lips. "Well, you did buy your way in, didn't you?"

And you really are a Mudblood, aren't you? Draco grimaced and bit his tongue. "I spent every day that summer training for Quidditch, and I did really well during the tryouts," he said sulkily.

Hermione's smile now was almost fond. Draco was not sure whether or not he liked it. "What was I supposed to think?" she said. "You were showing off your new brooms and going on about how much money your father had. I'm sorry if I jumped to the wrong conclusion."

"Forget it," Draco said airily. "You weren't entirely wrong. Father promised to buy the brooms for us if I made it on the team. I just didn't really think about it as buying my way in until you said something. I just saw it as an incentive." Hermione smirked. "It's not funny. After we lost that first match, I started thinking you were right, drove me mad. I almost wished he hadn't done it."

"Almost?"

"Well, they were really good brooms."

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"And you hit me," Draco reminded her.

Hermione suffocated a chuckle. "I'm not apologizing for that. You deserved it."

"Did not," Draco said, playing up his sulking a bit. "You called me 'evil'. That was completely uncalled for."

"You were trying to get Hagrid fired!" Hermione said indignantly. "And you nearly got Buckbeak killed!"

"He should have been fired," Draco protested. "He was endangering students."

"Oh, please. That scratch you got from Buckbeak was entirely your fault. Hagrid told you not to insult the Hippogriffs!"

"He never told us they could understand English! And it wasn't a scratch," Draco kept his voice down, because he had no interest in helping the Slytherins eavesdrop. "He nearly tore my arm off."

"Oh, please," Hermione said. "You were milking that injury. Madam Pomfrey was able to regrow the bones in Harry's arm overnight. You weren't nearly as bad."

"Harry, didn't have any damaged nerves," Draco shot back. "Those take a lot longer mend. Buckbeak cut straight through the main one in my arm. It hurt."

"I still think you were milking it," Hermione said.

"Maybe a little," Draco conceded. "You want to blame me for the Blast-Ended Skrewts too?"

Hermione had started to take a drink and blew a few bubbles when she snorted a laugh. "No," she said, chuckling and shaking her head. "I think Hagrid can take full blame for those."

"Thank you!" Draco said as though he had just made some major point.

Hermione laughed. Draco could tell she was laughing at him, but his lips twitched as well. "Hagrid's improved a lot," Hermione said in a let's be fair tone. "You might not mind the class so much if you had stuck with it."

"No thank you, had enough near brushes with death for one life time."

Hermione shrugged. Her laughing had not improved the Gryffindors' disposition any. They had finally tired of keeping up the constant glare but were taking turns now. Daphne was reenacting the taking of Hermione's hand at the Slytherin table. Pansy was not looking amused, but she said something derisive that made the others chuckle. Draco was glad the level of noise at the Three Broomstick kept him from hearing them. Harry was staring at them now. His green eyes narrowed.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Go ahead," Hermione said. She was still business like, but Draco felt like some of the hostility had gone.

"The rumors were pretty fuzzy. Were you and Potter ever actually dating?"

"No," Hermione said irritably. "I love Harry, but we're just friends, never dated. Can't believe everything you read in the Daily Prophet."

"I think that one was Witch Weekly," Draco said.

"No, the article with Viktor was Witch Weekly."

"Oh, right, Pansy's interview." Draco shrugged. "Well, Witch Weekly's worse rubbish than the Prophet. But you were dating Viktor weren't you?"

"If you want to call it that," Hermione said. "We went to the Yule Ball. Spent some time in the library together. He showed me around the Durmstrang ship."

"I remember," Draco said. "He got me to help him write a couple of his love letters."

Hermione gave Draco a horrified look. "He did not."

"Did so," Draco said. "To be fair, they were mostly his thoughts. He just got me to help with the English and some of the phrasing. He didn't tell me who they were for either. Just said there was some pretty girl he had seen in the library. Imagine my shock. Let's see. How'd that one go?" He found himself imitating Viktor's thick accent. " 'I saw you by the bookshelves, and I think of you now every time I turn a page. I hope you will do me the honor of giving me your name, for I do not think I could find even the song of the Veela more entrancing.' "

Hermione dropped her forehead onto her hand, dark curtains of hair hiding the blush spreading across her cheeks.

Draco chuckled. "Don't worry he never showed me your replies."

"My replies weren't that bad," Hermione said, looking at Draco through slits in her fingers. "I did notice his letters were less...elegant after he left Hogwarts. I figured his English was just getting rusty. I can't believe Viktor. Why'd he ask you for help anyway?"

"My English is good. I got him to give me some Quidditch pointers. He must of thought it was a fair trade. We had a bit of a fight about it after the Yule Ball."

"Blind with jealousy, were you?"

"Something like that," Draco admitted. "I called you a Mudblood, and he stopped talking to me. I'm sorry about that one too, but I lost a friend in the process so I think I was punished. I believe there might have been some threats to do me bodily harm in there as well."

"I guess I can forgive Viktor then," Hermione said, emerging from her hair curtain. She glanced at the Slytherins. "Please tell me you never told them."

"That I helped set the pureblooded International Quidditch Champion Viktor Krum up with Harry Potter's Muggle-born friend? No, I had planned to take that one to my grave." Draco glanced at the Gryffindors. "You wouldn't tell your friends would you?"

Hermione looked disturbed by the very idea. "Ron's bad enough about Viktor already."

"Good," Draco said. He doubted he would mind that much if Hermione did tell them, but he liked having secrets with her. He smiled at her. "I can't really blame Viktor. I'm sure it was more fun kissing you than trying to teach me Quidditch."

"Oh," Hermione said, not quite blushing this time, but looking as though she might. "We never really..."

"He didn't kiss you?" Draco asked. His insides were unfairly happy at the idea.

"Just my hand," Hermione said. "I'm sure he might have liked to do more, but I didn't really feel that attracted to him."

"So if you weren't dating Potter, and you didn't kiss Krum, have you ever been kissed?" Draco asked. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. Cause I'd be more than happy to volunteer...

"Not on the lips, if that's what you mean," Hermione said primly.

"Pity."

"It's not a pity. It's a decision," Hermione said, sounding a little flustered.

"Well, it's not the end of world, but it's a little surprising."

"Cause you're such an expert."

"I'm not an expert, but I think it's a bit unusual to be seventeen-"

"I'm eighteen."

"Eighteen? And never have had your first kiss." He grinned at her. "It's kind of cute."

Hermione crossed her arms. "How old were you, then. When you had your first kiss?"

"On the lips? Nine."

Hermione looked disgusted. "Nine?"

Draco laughed. "It was just a quick peck. Parvati spent a whole week telling everyone I was her boyfriend. The adults thought it was adorable."

"Parvati Patil?"

"We used to play together when we were little. Pansy, Daphne, and the Patil twins were inseparable before Hogwarts and the great divide." Draco glanced over at the Slytherin table. He felt a twinge of nostalgia wondering what Crabbe and Goyle were thinking. "Everyone started sticking to their own houses."

"It happens," Hermione said. "I think our year was particularly bad."

Draco sensed they were getting back to things that were his fault again. "We should change that," he said with hopeful smile. "I think it would set a wonderful example for inter-house relations if you went to the Leaving Dance with me."

"Well, you're persistent," Hermione said. She glanced over at the Slytherins too. "It would be fun to watch Pansy's head explode. Then again, there's still the sticking point that I'm not even remotely interested in you. If you're having fantasies about snogging in the broom shed, you can put those out of your head right now."

"You heard that rumor, huh?"

"Hm, I'm not particularly looking forward to the new ones that are going to crop up," Hermione said grimly. "Malfoy, why don't you make things easier on yourself and take Pansy? She'd obviously like to go with you. Probably wouldn't mind the broom shed either."

"Probably," Draco said. "But then we get to the sticking point that I don't want to go with her."

Hermione smirked. "I can't say I blame you. She's as thick as a brick."

"No, she's not," Draco said. Hermione raised an eyebrow, and Draco sighed. "I don't know why she acts that way. She was always the top of the class at day school. Still makes pretty good marks in the subjects she applies herself to. It's like somewhere along the way someone told her that boys didn't like smart girls, and she took it to heart."

"You seemed pretty taken with her back in fourth year."

Draco felt his lips twitch, glad to know Hermione had paid that much attention to him. "Third year, I thought she had hung the moon. I think I knew by fourth year something was off, but I also knew she wouldn't turn me down. It was easier to ask her than risk rejection. Besides she was pretty and she liked me and my parents liked her and so on..."

"So what happened?"

"Nothing really," Draco said. "I think that was the problem. She never changed. The rest of us grew up, and Pansy's just like she was during third year. She got taller, but everything else is the same. She still has the same hair cut." Draco gave Hermione a resigned smile. "Besides it's boring, isn't it, the two Slytherin prefects? When everyone expects you to do something, part of you wants to avoid it just to prove them wrong. Does that make any sense?"

Hermione looked down at the table. "Yes, that makes sense."

"I guess it would be stupid if that was the only reason I wasn't interested in her," Draco admitted. "I'd still be letting other people decide things for me. I'm tired of doing what I think everyone else expects from me."

"So you picked the girl your friends would most disapprove of to ask to Leaving Dance?"

"No, I picked the girl I most wanted to dance with to ask to the Leave Dance, regardless of what my friends say."

Hermione shifted in her seat and brushed back some of her hair. "So why doesn't your new found ability to think for yourself extend to standing up to Lord Voldemort?"

"Well, my friends may reject and ridicule me for showing interest in a Muggle-born girl, but they're not likely to kill me over it."

"That's right, I forgot," Hermione said. "You're a coward."

Draco leaned back in the booth and scowled at her. It was one thing to admit that he was not particularly brave, quite another to hear her say it. "Look at it this way, Granger. You're parents are Muggles. So you're a target for the Death Eaters anyway. Weasley's parents are already in the Order, so his standing against You-Know-Who doesn't put them in any further danger than they already put themselves. And Potter's are already dead, so he has the whole revenge motive. You all have vested interests in fighting this war and not much to lose from declaring the side you have. I on the other hand stand to lose everything simply by not taking the Dark Mark. If I openly oppose the Dark Lord, then I have to face the very real possibility that he would kill my parents in revenge."

"He might not," Hermione said softly. The derision at least had left her features.

"No, I'm sure if they agreed to kill me to prove their loyalty, he would be more than happy to spare them," Draco muttered.

There was pity in her eyes now. "Would they do that?"

Draco shrugged. "I'd rather not put them in the position where they have to choose."

Hermione took another sip of her drink and was quiet for a long minute.

"Do you still think I'm a coward?"

"Yes," Hermione said. "But I think you're a coward with a point." She tapped the side of her glass.

"Do you think you could stand dancing with a coward with a point?"

"I don't see why you're trying to start something with me if you're planning to run away," Hermione said stirring her drink.

"Well..." Draco paused. He had not so much been thinking of starting something as finishing something, but coming at it from that angle, the concept did seem pretty reprehensible. "Look, Granger, I'm not asking you to make an emotional investment in me. We can keep it platonic. Just a dance, nothing more. You're right. It would be unfair to ask for more if I'm going to leave."

"You can call me Hermione."

It was the presence of the audience this time that kept him from launching across the table to hug her. "So are we on?"

"I don't know." The urge to hug her died safely away. "I want you to stay." And back it came. "Not for me, for Harry." And now it was simply confused. "I know you don't think you're important, Draco, but you are." That was definitely on the list of things he never thought she would say. That might be on the list of things Draco never thought anyone would say. "The Slytherins in particular look up to you." That was doubtful. "You're a really competent wizard." Who still can't conjure a patronus. "And this is going to sound a little strange, and I doubt he'd ever admit it, but Harry respects you." Now, that was a pure attempt at empty flattery. "And we could keep your part in things quiet for as long as possible." When had he gotten so insecure?

"It's not that easy," Draco said in a whisper. "There's someone watching me and reporting back. I don't know who. It's too risky for me to do anything at this point. I'm likely to let something leak accidentally, and I don't think you'd thank me for it."

"You won't reconsider?" Hermione said.

I might if you were a bit nicer to me, Draco thought but decided that was an uncouth thing to say. Leave it to Hermione Granger to ignore a place where her feminine charms might be more persuasive and stick to making logical arguments. Not that he was going to tell her how to change his mind. "I can't."

Hermione sighed in a resigned sort of way. "Can you at least tell me what happened to Persephone?"

"Hermione, I can't," Draco said piteously. "Persephone's willing to let it go. Why can't you?"

"Persephone's not always the best judge of things," Hermione said. "Besides it's important to Harry."

"It won't affect Harry that much," Draco said. "I promise it has nothing to do with the war."

"Then why can't you tell me?"

"I just can't. I can't tell you anything."

Hermione was no longer looking at Draco. "Maybe you can tell me something," a new voice interrupted. The voice had a harsh quality that was kept soft and low but with an undertone that said it would be unwise to ignore. The man attached to the voice was not more encouraging. He was thickly built with starting of a dark beard. "It's good to see you out of school, Mr. Malfoy." He dropped a piece of folded parchment on the table, gave Hermione a dark look, and flashed something that was more a baring of teeth than a smile before walking out of the pub.

Draco searched his memory, trying to decide whether he had seen the man before or not. He waited until the pub door had closed behind the man before reaching for the parchment with trembling hands. Hermione was sitting very stiffly, taking regular breaths. He sensed she understood. Though Draco had seen no mark, he was sure the man was a Death Eater.

He opened the parchment.

Shrieking Shack. Now. Alone.