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Chapter Text

That was the summer of 1997, and everyone was full of hope. It was after the war was won and Voldemort was gone, when she couldn’t wait to finish school and get a job as a Healer, and she thought she’d never find a guy as great as Ron and Harry.

That was the summer she went back to Hogwarts.

It was a summer intensive program for students whose final year was disrupted by Voldemort and Horcuxes and Carrows. When Hermione arrived, she saw Professors McGonagall and Slughorn shepherding the students into the Great Hall. The mood was light and happy in a way that it had not been for quite some time.

Walking into the Great Hall, Hermione felt like she was exhaling properly for the first time in ages. She had come home. This was the first place she had ever felt she belonged. She couldn’t help the grin on her face as she looked up at the enchanted ceiling.

McGonagall caught sight of her and waved.

“Miss Granger!” she called, pushing her way through the crowd of students. “I’m so glad you’ve made it!”

“I wouldn’t miss it,” Hermione said with a grin.

McGonagall was craning her neck to look toward the Gryffindor table, where Harry and Ron were shaking hands with Neville.

“And Mister Potter and Mister Weasley are here,” she said, nodding approvingly. “I thought they might decide not to join us.”

“Yes, well, I suppose when the Auror corp offers you a job without a diploma, you don’t really see the need, but I managed to convince them,” she replied with a grin.

“Did you not get the same offer from the corp?”

“I did,” said Hermione, but she shrugged. “I don’t think it’s what I want to do. I want to help others. Muggleborns, House Elves. You know.”

McGonagall smiled, patting her on the shoulder.

“I’m not surprised,” she said.

There were so few students that the tables were sparsely populated, but Hermione noticed that everyone still gravitated toward their own houses. She was at the Gryffindor table with Dean, Neville, Seamus, and Parvati. Ravenclaw’s table was the fullest, with all ten students from their year present. It was strange to see the room so empty.

McGonagall stood before the room, holding her hands up to quiet them, though there were so few students that it was hardly loud in the room. Still, once everyone was silent, her voice carried in the room.

“We’re so glad to have you here for what amounts to your Seventh Year,” she said. “We’ll go through your coursework in eight weeks, so it will be an intensive term. Each of you will take Transfiguration, Potions, Herbology, Charms, and History of Magic.”

There was a murmur. So few classes available? Hermione was very disappointed.

“What about Defense Against the Dark Arts?” Dean whispered.

“I guess they figure we already know how to defend ourselves,” muttered Seamus. “We had to fight a war, after all.”

Ron snickered.

“You may notice that we are very low on staff,” continued McGonagall. “Of course, it must be acknowledged that we lost several noble and valuable members of our faculty to the war.”

There was a moment of somber silence. McGonagall had dropped her gaze to the floor.

“And some of our faculty have decided to take the summer off. This means we’ll have to rely on some students and recent graduates to help,” she said. “There will be study groups for the other subjects, if you’re interested. In fact, one student-led group will be meeting this very afternoon, and I encourage you all to attend, and to give the group the benefit of the doubt.”

Hermione did not know what to think of that. The benefit of the doubt? What did McGonagall mean?

After a few more announcements, McGonagall announced that it was time for the feast. Food appeared on the tables in front of them, and Hermione could not help but think of the House Elves who had cooked it. The very House Elves who had gone into battle for Harry.

She almost didn’t want to eat it.

Hunger won out, and she sat listening to Neville, Harry, and Seamus reminiscing while she ate. After a while, a few of the former Dumbledore’s Army members stopped by. Ernie MacMillan was among them, and he was standing behind Neville imperiously.

“It’s hard to believe that so few of my House decided to come back,” said Ernie. “Finishing our education is paramount.”

“Hm,” said Hermione absently.

Hermione noticed that at the Head Table was a disturbingly familiar face.

“Ernie, what’s Cormac McLaggen doing here?” asked Hermione. “He already finished school.”

“Ah, yes,” said Ernie, leaning down and lowering his voice. “He’s teaching History of Magic.”

“What happened to Professor Binns?”

“He was exorcised by the Carrows,” Ernie said seriously.

Hermione scowled. She was very skeptical of Cormac’s ability to teach much of anything.

“He’ll be leading the student study groups, too,” Ernie added. “I heard there are a couple other students in his year that have come back to help.”

As the students finished eating, they all began milling toward the huge doors that led out of the Great Hall. McGonagall’s voice rang out from behind them.

“Students, I would encourage you to please visit the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom for the study group that is arranged!” she said. “The benefit of the doubt, please!”

There was some muttering, but the gathered students all headed in that direction. Hermione tried to get a head count as they walked. There were perhaps twenty of them in total. She missed the roar of the crowd, the shuffling of hundreds of feet, the chaos of a new year at Hogwarts. Summer with only the Eighth years was going to be quite different.

The Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom was dim, and only a few candles were lit. She made her way to the first row, and Harry and Ron filed in behind her. Ron leaned forward to whisper in her ear.

“What’s the point of us doing this?” he said. “Harry fought Voldemort. You posed as Bellatrix Lestrange with Polyjuice Potion. We’ve had enough defending ourselves for a lifetime.”

But Hermione would never turn down the opportunity to learn.

“Harry, are you leading this?” asked one of the Ravenclaws.

Harry shook his head, frowning.

“No, I have no idea who’s-”

“Hello, class,” purred a smooth voice from the front of the room.

There were gasps. It was Pansy Parkinson.

The benefit of the doubt. That was going to be difficult. The class already looked mutinous. Pansy had draped herself on top of the desk at the front, staring out at them.

“That’s it,” snapped Ron. “I’m not doing this. Come on, Hermione.”

His chair groaned against the floor when he pushed it back, rising from his seat. Hermione turned around and fixed him with a glare.

“Are you here to learn or aren’t you?” she hissed quietly.

“I’m not here to learn from her! She tried to sell Harry out to Voldemort!” Ron roared.

There was a murmur of agreement from the class. Pansy looked neither surprised nor upset.

“You don’t have to stay,” said Pansy with a shrug, inspecting her fingernails.

“Why are you here? I didn’t see a single Slytherin in the Great Hall. I sort of assumed they weren’t letting you lot back in,” said Ernie.

Hermione took a moment to really look at Pansy. She looked pretty good, considering everything they’d all been through a month earlier. The trials after the battle had been swift, and most of the Death Eaters were now in Azkaban, but that couldn’t be said for the next generation. While Gregory Goyle was serving a prison sentence for his actions at the Battle of Hogwarts, Hermione knew that Pansy had escaped with probation.

Pansy hopped of the desk, running her wand tip along her palm absently.

“A few of us have been allowed back in provided we engage in services to the school,” said Pansy, pacing the front of the room. “Who better to teach you how to get away from Dark magic than those of us who had it used on us every day?”

Ron made a hissing sound of disbelief, and Pansy raised a dark eyebrow at him.

“Stay or go, I don’t care, but if you want to learn anything about defending yourself from Dark wizards like me,” she said, and here, she smirked, “then, this is the study group for you.”

Hermione was surprised to see that no one left. Not even Ron.

Pansy was good, she had to admit that. They did some dueling practice, some hexes, and some other spells. While Hermione’s precision with spells was always top-notch, dueling was something that had been difficult for her. She found herself struggling, glaring at Harry next to her, who was blocking Pansy’s example spells with ease.

“I don’t know how you make it look so easy,” she muttered.

The hour passed quickly, and they had all grown rather comfortable with Pansy Parkinson over the course of the study group.

“I’m available for private lessons,” Pansy called after them as they left.

“I could probably use them,” Hermione said.

“Don’t you dare,” Ron said warningly.

That evening after dinner, Harry and Ron wanted to go straight to the Common Room, but Hermione was feeling too nostalgic. She wanted to wander the corridors a bit before it was time for bed. She passed suits of armor, the portrait of Sir Cadogan, and the many tapestries that lined the walls of Hogwarts until she found herself outside the faculty lounge. She could hear Cormac MacLaggen’s booming voice from within it.

Trying not to be seen, Hermione ducked behind a tapestry and peered into the room. She could see Cormac with a piece of parchment in his hand, reading off study group notes like it was a Quidditch roster.

“Your study groups will all begin tomorrow. Clearwater, you’re on Astronomy. Johnson, you’ve got Arithmancy,” said Cormac. “Davies, you’ll be working with Care of Magical Creatures. The girls love that class, so treat them right, okay? Even the ugly ones.”

Hermione could hear Angelina Johnson and Penelope Clearwater protesting loudly. She was trying to listen in when there was a sudden bustle of activity in front of her. Three tall men were walking past the tapestry behind which she was hidden, pushing their way into the faculty lounge.

“Well, if it isn’t the Slytherins,” she could hear Cormac McLaggen’s voice sneer.

“Did you miss us?” came a reply. It was a familiar voice, nonchalant and playful. Theo Nott, she thought.

“Listen, wise ass, you’ve got your own rules,” snapped Cormac. “Teach your Defense Against the Dark Arts classes, give your dueling lessons, and keep your hands off.”

“Yeah, yeah,” grumbled another voice. Blaise Zabini.

“Your little friend Parkinson already taught your first group,” Cormac said. “We might not even need you.”

“McGonagall said we can stay and get our diploma as long as we help,” said Theo’s voice. “And here we are. Helping.”

Hermione peeked out from the tapestry to watch through the open doorway.

“I know where help like yours gets us,” said Cormac. “I mean it, Nott. Zabini. Hands off any of the girls at Hogwarts, got it?”

“Got it,” said Theo, rolling his eyes.

There was a third figure, and Cormac advanced on him menacingly.

“And you,” said Cormac, practically growling the words. “I don’t even want you looking at any of them. No thinking about them. To you, they don’t even exist. Got it?”

She could see him from the back, his white-blond hair a little shaggier than she’d ever seen it before.

“Got it,” he drawled.

He turned around, and they locked eyes.

Draco Malfoy.

Chapter Text

Cormac cornered her the next evening.

The lights in the Great Hall were dim, and the four long House tables had been condensed into one. McGonagall had said it would provide ample opportunity for them to comingle.  Hermione noticed that Pansy, Theo, Blaise, and Malfoy were all sitting together at one end of the table. Daphne Greengrass had returned, too, and Milicent Bulstrode. There was a long empty space between them and the next group of students.

House Elves had provided more than just Butterbeer and pumpkin juice for the Eighth years. There were pitchers full of beer and bottles of wine along the center of the table. Harry and Ron had pint glasses full of amber ale, and she was sipping a goblet of wine when Cormac stopped by.

“Hermione,” he said imperiously, his chest puffed out. “So good to see you again. It’s been too long.”

She tried to smile, but it probably came out more like a grimace.

“I wonder if you had a chance to follow my Quidditch career at all?” he asked.

“Oh, yeah, mate,” said Ron, rolling his eyes. “We listened to every match on the radio while we were on the hunt for pieces of Voldemort’s soul.”

“Did you?” asked Cormac, not reading Ron’s sarcasm at all, and he leaned in, placing one hand on either side of her so that she was trapped within the circle of his arms. “Hermione, I wonder if you might want to-”

There was the crack of a spell and a burst of laughter. Cormac straightened, and Hermione was relieved to be out of the claustrophobic place between his hands. She glanced in the direction of the sound and saw the Slytherins. Theo and Blaise were chortling with laughter, and Pansy had a teasing grin on her face as she stood on one side of the table. Draco Malfoy was on the other side, and he looked devilishly handsome with his blond, shaggy hair and a smirk on his lips.

They had begun dueling, and spells sparked in the air between them. It was playful, this duel, and jets of green and red bounced harmlessly off each other’s shields as they dueled. All the students in the Great Hall were watching now, forming a circle around them.

“Get her, Malfoy!” shouted Theo, lifting his beer into the air.

Pansy’s next hex turned his beer into water.

“Not fair!” cried Theo.

Cormac was watching the display with arms folded in front of his chest, scowling at them. Hermione was mesmerized by the duel. Pansy had her button-front school shirt tied under the bust so that there was a strip of her skin showing over the top of her skirt. Malfoy’s sleeves were unbuttoned and rolled up to the elbow, and the corded muscles of his forearms were flexing and bunching as he threw hexes across the table.

“They should be showing off like that,” he said. “They should be saving that nonsense for Dueling lessons.”

“He’s teaching lessons, too?” Hermione asked.

“They all are,” said Cormac. “They have to earn their keep if they want to stick around.”

“Hm,” she replied dreamily.

“Harry could teach lessons,” offered Ron.

Harry was shaking his head.

“No, thank you,” said Harry, taking a gulp of beer. “I’ve had enough of teaching other people how to survive.”

“I could teach them, then,” Ron said hopefully, and he was eyeing Hermione as though he wanted her to confirm this.

She was not really looking at Ron, consumed by the sight of Pansy and Malfoy dueling at the other end of the table. Cormac marched over to them, and she couldn’t make out his words, but from his expression, it was clear that they were being scolded. Malfoy and Pansy made a face at each other, a long-suffering look of annoyance, before sitting back down.

The entire thing gave Hermione a strange feeling in her stomach.

After dinner, Harry and Ron once again urged her to go to the Common Room with them, but she was feeling unsettled, drawn to elsewhere. She wasn’t even sure where until she found herself in the dungeons. There was no one there. The hallways were empty. Why wouldn’t they be? She huffed to herself and spun on her heel, ready to go back up to the Gryffindor dormitories, when she ran into Theo Nott.

“Oh, hey Granger!” he said brightly.

His arms were full of three massive watermelons, and he was stumbling as he tried to keep a hold of them. Hermione put her hands out.

“Let me help you,” said Hermione.

“Thanks,” he said with a bright smile, and she took one of the watermelons from his arms.

He was ambling down the corridor, and Hermione took the opportunity to look at him. She knew who he was, had seen and heard him before, but she’d never really looked. He was good looking, like all the Slytherins somehow managed to be. He was tall and thin with tousled dark hair and sparkling blue eyes. She hadn’t realized how long she’d been looking until he spoke.

“See something you like, Granger?” he said, sending a wink in her direction.

A heavy swoop rushed through her body, and she fixed her eyes straight ahead.

The entrance to the Slytherin dormitories stood behind a suit of armor, and Theo spoke the password casually.

“Fuck the Carrows!” he announced, and the suit of armor moved out of the way.

“Aren’t you worried I’ll come down and sneak into your Common Room?” asked Hermione.

“If it meant you’d walk your cute little arse down here more often, I’d happily leave the door wide open,” said Theo, and before she could make sense of what he’d said, they were in the Common Room and Theo was shouting, “We made it! Three vodka-soaked watermelons coming right up!”

The Slytherins paid them no mind. They were paired off, laughing and dueling with one another, but there was something different in the air with these duels. Hermione had seen real battle during the war, and she’d seen training classes with the D.A. This was something altogether different.

The magical energy that thrummed in the air prickled at her skin. She was watching Pansy and Malfoy duel, and as they leapt away from each other, clambering over the sofas, Malfoy sent a spell that landed square in the middle of Pansy’s chest. She let out a guttural moan, and Hermione almost yelped in terror.

“Ohhhhhh,” said Pansy. “Oh fuck, Draco that’s not fair!”

Malfoy was laughing as he ran from her. She sent a spell at his back, and it caught him between the shoulder blades. His hands dropped to his crotch.

“Fuck, did that just make me hard?!” he laughed. “How am I supposed to get away now?!”

Hermione’s eyes were wide. Blaise and Daphne were dueling, too, and whatever spell she had cast, it was pulling Blaise straight for her until he was hip-to-hip with her.

“All you had to do is ask,” said Blaise.

But her attention was back on Malfoy and Pansy. Malfoy had managed to keep the duel going, and his next spell vanished Pansy’s top. She was covering herself with her non-wand arm and giggling, trying to get her clothing back with magic.

“Wow,” said Hermione to Theo. “Do they do this a lot?”

“Oh, all the time,” said Theo cheerfully. “This is how we duel in Slytherin.”

Hermione watched as Pansy was hit by another hex and let out a very sensual sounding moan.

“You’d think they were a couple, wouldn’t you?” said Theo.

“Aren’t they?” she asked.

Theo shook his head.

“Nah,” he said. “Not since we were kids. Hey, we’re here with the watermelons!”

“Who’s we?” asked Pansy, and when stopped dueling long enough to look, her face dropped into a scowl.

“You brought Granger?!” asked Malfoy.

“Yeah, she came with me,” said Theo proudly.

“I carried a watermelon,” said Hermione, and immediately, she wanted to bite off her own tongue for saying something so stupid.

Malfoy looked Hermione up and down, and the assessment in his gaze made her cheeks flush. Pansy was dressed in a tight-fitting halter top that hugged her curves, and Hermione became very aware of her frumpy cardigan and slouched t-shirt. His eyes dragged all the way down her body, snagging on her wand, which was hanging halfway out of her pocket.

“Let’s see you duel, Granger,” said Malfoy.

Her fingers found the wood of her wand, but she didn’t draw it. She could feel her lip caught between her bottom teeth. Did he want her to duel like that?”

“Oh, come on, Draco,” said Theo. “Let her relax and have some watermelon.”

“Vodka watermelon!” clarified Blaise from across the room as he ran from Daphne.

Theo had taken out a slice with his wand and was handing it to her, but Malfoy had not stopped staring. She felt frozen to the spot. Hermione pulled her wand out of her pocket and held it in front of her, ready to duel.

“Show me,” he said.

Hermione send a Stinging Hex his way, but he blocked it effortlessly with a Shield Charm. She tried a Jelly Legs Jinx next, but that, too, was dodged with ease. Malfoy was smirking at her.

“Like this,” he said, and he moved so that he was behind her.

Harry had taught her how to cast spells and jinxes before, but he had never gotten this close to her to do it. Malfoy’s entire body was pressed flush up against her back, and his hand was around her arm, helping her aim her wand.

“Now,” he said, a husky whisper in her ear.

She cast. The spell hit Theo, who yelped in pain.

“Hey!” he said, rubbing at his ribs. “Thanks a lot, Granger!”

Malfoy had moved away already, back to dueling with Pansy, but Hermione was frozen where she was, unable to think about anything but the feeling of Malfoy’s body next to hers.

~

Hermione had left the Slytherin party almost immediately after that, her mind still racing with what she’d seen. It was so different from everything she was familiar with. The Slytherins had been dueling with spells that bubbled over with sensuality, so different from the way the D.A. had dueled. It was the difference between a club over the head and a soft whisper next to the ear. Both were effective, of course, but one was…

She blinked, trying to bring herself back to Professor McGonagall’s Transfiguration lesson.

She, Harry, and Ron were standing at a table together trying to switch a pitcher into a penguin. Hermione was the only one who was managing it, and while Ron and Harry bickered over what they were doing wrong, she stole a furtive glance at Pansy.

Pansy, Malfoy, and Blaise were at the next table over, and Pansy had a look of fury on her face. Hermione could not figure out why, so she followed Pansy’s gaze to the front of the room. Cormac McLaggen had arrived in the class, and he was standing at the front conversing with McGonagall. Hermione watched him toss his head back and laugh, though McGonagall didn’t appear to find anything funny.

When Hermione looked back at Pansy, she had noticed Hermione staring, and the scowl was now directed at her. Hermione jumped and returned to the problem in front of her: pitchers and penguins, and Harry and Ron’s ineptitude. They were lucky the Auror department wasn’t requiring any NEWTs.

Still, she couldn’t help but wonder what was wrong with Pansy, and what Cormac McLaggen had to do with it.

Chapter Text

Hermione had taken classes with every professor, and with three student-led groups, too. Angelina’s Arithmancy group had been fascinating, and Roger Davies had been roguishly charming throughout Care of Magical Creatures. Parvati had been giggling throughout. But more than anything, it made Hermione miss Hagrid. He had left the Hogwarts grounds to make a home with his younger half-brother, and Care of Magical Creatures was not the same without him.

When they arrived for the Defense Against the Dark Arts class again, Hermione was pleasantly surprised to see that almost everyone had decided to give it another go. She was unpleasantly surprised, however, to see that Pansy was not at the front of the class.

It was Draco Malfoy instead. Harry and Ron were grumbling under their breath.

It had been her testimony that had kept him from Azkaban. Harry, too, had given a statement on Malfoy’s behalf. Though he’d swapped sides more times than she could count during the Battle of Hogwarts, it had been his reluctance to identify them at Malfoy Manor that kept them alive.

And now, he was in front of the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom ready to teach them how to defend themselves from Dark wizards. Like his father. Like him, perhaps.

“Hello, class,” said Malfoy with a smirk.

Hermione half expected Ron to stand up and leave at once, but they didn’t. Malfoy was standing in front of them, weight balanced evenly between both feet. He cut a striking figure. He was half a head taller even than Ron, and his shoulders had broadened in manhood. Malfoy had a strong jaw, a straight nose, and full lips that still smirking at them.

He was criminally good looking.

“I didn’t know it was going to be him,” said Ernie, and though he was pretending to be talking to the person next to him, it was obvious that he was trying to make sure Malfoy heard.

“How can we trust him?” said Dean.

“Probably should have gone to Azkaban,” said Seamus in agreement.

Malfoy didn’t seem bothered by any of it.

“What makes you qualified to teach this?” snarled Ron.

“How many times have you been Crucioed, Weasley?” drawled Malfoy.

Ron scowled. None.

“In fact, how many of you in this room have ever experienced the curse?” Malfoy challenged.

But Hermione saw the moment when he remembered that she had been. His expression abruptly changed, something pained in it as his eyes found her face. She was lifting her hand slowly. The rest of the room muttered, and Ron tried to put a comforting arm around her shoulders, but she shrugged out of it.

“I want to learn from you, Malfoy,” she said, and she worked up her Gryffindor courage. “I trust you.”

He arched his eyebrow but said nothing.

Malfoy was a good teacher. It became apparent that he’d faced quite a lot of Dark magic over the last couple of years, much more even than Harry had. For Harry, life had been good and normal, punctuated by dramatic fights. In Malfoy, it seemed that the Dark magic had been a perpetual part of his life, something that weighed heavily on him.

Hermione was practicing Blasting charms with Harry when Cormac walked in.

“Go on,” said Harry impatiently.

“Sh!” she hissed. “I’m trying to listen!”

She could hear Cormac’s sniping from where she stood, and Malfoy’s husky voice replying.

“What do you mean, where’s Pansy? She’s taking a break, okay? She needs a break,” Malfoy said.

“She’s only allowed to be here because she’s giving these lessons,” Cormac said. “She had better be here for the next one.”

“She will be.”

Cormac looked smug.

“You two get so many privileges,” he sneered. “Leaving the grounds every weekend. It can all be taken away, you know. One word from me and…”

Cormac snapped his fingers. He grinned maliciously and turned to leave. The anger that Malfoy leveled at Cormac’s back as he left was so strong that it was a wonder Cormac didn’t turn back around. If it had been a spell, it would have knocked him flat.

They spent the better part of an hour practicing under Malfoy’s competent tutelage.

“Theo,” called Malfoy, and once again, Hermione was straining to listen as Theo trotted over. “We’ve got a performance coming up. How’s Pansy?”

Theo’s face was solemn.

“She’s…” he said, trailing off. “Malfoy, you know how she is.”

Malfoy began packing up his things quicker, clapping his friend on the shoulder and racing from the room. Harry and Ron were waiting for Hermione to join them on the walk to the Great Hall, but she waved them off, her eyes on Theo. He was already halfway down the corridor.

“Hey, Theo,” said Hermione, trotting to catch up to him.

His smile was dazzling when he turned.

“Granger,” he said smoothly.

They walked beside each other toward the Great Hall. Hermione had her book in her hands, held in front of her chest.

“What was Cormac talking about in there? Why does Pansy need a break?” Hermione asked.

Theo’s expression grew stormy, and he didn’t respond.

“And where would they go? Why would they need to leave the grounds?” she pressed.

“Oh,” said Theo. “They’ve been given permission from McGonagall to keep doing their performances.”

“What performances?”

Theo got a mischievous look on his face, and he grabbed his wand, holding it out in front of him as though dueling.

“They duel,” he said. “I mean, you’ve seen them. They’re good. Some of the Pureblood society have been hiring them to perform at parties and galas. The ones who aren’t in Azkaban, anyway.”

Hermione shook her head, mystified.

“You mean, they do that… that kind of dueling in front of people?”

“Have you never been to a Pureblood society gala?” he asked, and when she shook her head, he shrugged. “No, I guess you wouldn’t. They do all sorts of things that would make your jaw drop, but hiring a couple of talented duelers to put on a sexy show for them is one of the tamest, to be honest.”

A swoop of something went through her at this, and she had a strange feeling low in her belly. She tried to ignore it.

“To be clear, Pansy and Malfoy have been leaving the Hogwarts grounds to go to Pureblood society events where they duel in front of a crowd,” Hermione said.

“Yup,” Theo replied cheerfully.

“For money?” she asked. “Doesn’t he have money?”

Theo scoffed.

“The Ministry froze all his assets,” he said. “He’s lucky to have the ancestral home, but he can’t pay the taxes on it without working. We all need to finish school so we can get jobs, him most of all. For now, she and Draco have been performing.”

This had never occurred to Hermione. She’d always thought that Malfoy and the rest were rolling in money.

“What about you? Do you have money?” she asked.

“Isn’t that a bit crass?” teased Theo, and he pushed his shaggy brown hair out of his eyes.

Hermione’s cheeks reddened.

“Sorry.”

Theo laughed.

“It’s fine, really,” he said. “I have money because my mother’s assets are untouchable. They’re in a vault at my family home, not even in Gringotts, and I’m the only one who can access it.”

“Did they not even try to take it?” Hermione asked.

“Oh, they definitely tried,” he said with a mischievous grin.

They had reached the Great Hall.

“Well, I suppose this is where we part,” said Theo, and he tossed his head so that his hair was no longer in his eyes. “Unless you want to join the Slytherin end of the table.”

Hermione gave a bashful smile.

“Maybe next time,” she said.

Theo inclined his head, accepting the rejection with grace, and headed to the place where Malfoy and Pansy and the rest were already seated.

~

Potions class was as dry and boring as it had ever been. Slughorn was a jovial man, but even he couldn’t make the subject exciting. He roamed from table to table, offering comments and compliments. Harry in particular was on the receiving end of those compliments.

“I remember you,” said Slughorn through a grin. “A Potions natural!”

Hermione bit her lip, looking into her cauldron and making no comment. Ron, though, could not help himself.

“How are you still so good at this?” Ron muttered. “You don’t even have Snape’s old book anymore.”

“Don’t I?” said Harry, and he pulled the textbook out of his bag with a smirk.

Hermione rolled her eyes. She turned around, looking at the table at the back. Malfoy, Blaise, and Theo were standing over a cauldron together. Malfoy’s expression was still stormy, and Hermione wished she fully understood why.

Cormac caught her in the hallway after class.

“Hermione!” he said, and he took her by the elbow, smirking at Harry and Ron. “It’s okay, gents. I’ll take her from here.

Harry paused, tilting his head to one side.

“You good?” he asked.

Hermione nodded, not wanting to make a scene. Cormac strolled with her through the hallways, explaining all of his many responsibilities at the school for the summer.

“McGonagall reached out to me weeks ago just begging me to come help out with you all,” he said. “Of course, I had to check with the Quidditch teams before I accepted.”

“Sorry, I didn’t realize you’d made a team,” said Hermione.

Cormac reddened.

“I’ve been a free agent this year,” he said.

He had guided them into the kitchens, and an entire host of House Elves were falling over themselves to offer them something to eat. Cormac was accepting it all, shoving cheese and fruit and crackers into his mouth. Hermione did not eat. She was just about to leave the kitchen when she heard it. A soft whimper of a cry. While Cormac was busy with the House Elves, Hermione peered around the corner.

It was Pansy Parkinson. She was seated on the tile floor against the wall, her knees drawn up to her chest and her arms were wrapped around them. Her mascara was falling in lines down her face, and she was trembling.

Hermione turned to Cormac.

“I’ve just realized that I left something in the Potions classroom,” said Hermione.

“What?” said Cormac around a mouthful of cheese. “I’m sure it can wait.”

“Oh, no, it can’t!” said Hermione, ushering him out of the room as swiftly as possible. “We’ve got to go. Come on.”

Bewildered, Cormac followed her out into the corridor. She left him along the way, disappearing down into the dungeons and finding the suit of armor that guarded the Slytherin common room.

“Fuck the Carrows!” she announced.

The suit of armor jumped out of the way, and Hermione went inside. Blaise and Daphne were kissing on the sofa. They hardly bothered to break apart when they saw her.

“Where’s Theo?” asked Hermione.

“Did I hear my name?” he said, his head popping up from behind a large armchair.

“Theo!” said Hermione, and she crossed the room to him, lowering her voice. “Pansy’s in trouble. I found her in the kitchens crying.”

He dropped the book that he had in his lap, standing abruptly from the chair.

“Let me go grab Malfoy,” he said.

Hermione was left standing in the Slytherin common room. Blaise and Daphne had not resumed their kissing. They were both staring at her, Blaise’s fingers running down the skin of Daphne’s shoulder. It seemed so intimate. Hermione felt an uncomfortable swoop in her belly.

“You still with Weasley?” Blaise asked.

“What?!” said Hermione. “No!”

“Hm, of course she’s not,” Daphne purred. “Blaise, you couldn’t tell? She hardly looks at him. And who could blame her? He’s not much to look at.”

Blaise gave a low chuckle.

“Maybe she’s moved onto Potter,” teased Blaise, and Hermione nearly choked.

Blaise and Daphne laughed. But before they could continue, Hermione heard footsteps coming down the stairs. Theo had reappeared, and Malfoy was right at his heels.

Chapter Text

“Why is she here?” snapped Malfoy.

He was stalking the corridor toward the kitchens with Hermione and Theo at his heels. Malfoy’s long legs ate up the ground beneath his feet so that they had to quicken their steps to keep up.

“If McLaggen shows up, we’re gonna need her,” said Theo.

“Pansy just doesn’t think,” Malfoy said under his breath.

“What’s wrong with her?” asked Hermione.

Theo glanced surreptitiously at Malfoy before he responded.

“She’s up the duff, Granger,” he said. “She’s pregnant.”

Hermione’s steps faltered, her eyes widening. Malfoy had made a scathing noise, but he did not stop walking nor did he turn around.

“What’s he gonna do about it?” she asked.

This caused Malfoy to stop, spinning on his heel to sneer at her, his expression so vicious that it stopped her in her tracks. He was leaning down toward her to narrow the gap between their considerable heights.

“Oh, it’s mine? Right away you think it’s mine?” snarled Malfoy.

“Isn’t it?” she asked meekly.

Malfoy’s lip curled before he turned and kept walking. Theo spoke as though nothing had happened.

“Marcus Flint said he’s got a potion brewing for her that can… you know, take care of it,” said Theo. “We just have to find a way to smuggle it into the school.”

“I thought Malfoy left the grounds every weekend?” asked Hermione.

Theo snorted.

“You should see the search they put him through every time he comes back,” said Theo. “Shoving an Undetectable Detector right up his-”

“Theo!” snapped Malfoy.

Theo stopped talking, but he gave Hermione a smirk and a wink as they entered the kitchens. His expression grew solemn when they found Pansy, still crying as she sat against the wall with her knees to her chest.

Malfoy was achingly tender with her. He bent down and put her arm behind his neck, and like she weighed nothing at all, he lifted her. She was cradled against his chest, her nose buried in his neck.

“Hey,” he said soothingly. “You’re okay. You’re with me, now. I’ve got you.”

He was nuzzling Pansy in his arms, and Hermione could not help it as her fingers touched her own neck, imagining what it would be like to feel his warm breath against her skin. Malfoy walked between her and Theo, pushing past them. They followed him to the Slytherin Common Room, and he deposited Pansy on the sofa. Theo and Malfoy sat on either side of her, their hands stroking her back. Hermione felt like an interloper.

“Pansy, what have I told you a thousand times?” Malfoy said, and the protectiveness in his voice made her heart ache. “You get into trouble, you come to me.”

“It’s hopeless,” said Pansy, her voice choked.

Hermione felt Gryffindor righteousness bubble up in her.

“Don’t say that!” she said. “There’s always hope!”

Pansy gave her a scathing look, and she wiped her face. Mascara smeared across her cheeks.

“What do you know about my problems?” said Pansy. “You don’t even-”

“Oh, er,” Theo interjected. “I sort of told her.”

Pansy leveled her fury at him.

“Oh, come on, Theo. Now she’ll run off and tell McGonagall about it, and we’ll all get kicked out of Hogwarts,” said Pansy. “Why not just hang a big banner in the Great Hall that says ‘Pansy Parkinson got up the duff by Cormac Fucking McLaggen!’”

“Cormac!” said Hermione, aghast. “If it’s Cormac, he’ll get you the potion you need! He’ll have it ordered in!”

“He knows,” said Pansy ruefully. “He says it isn’t his.”

Hermione’s mind was racing. She had always known Cormac McLaggen was sort of a cad, but she couldn’t imagine him getting a student pregnant and then refusing to help her! She did have half a mind to go running to McGonagall and demand that Cormac be held accountable.

But this was exactly what Pansy and Malfoy feared she would do. She pressed her lips together. She and Theo met each other’s eyes for a moment, and then, Hermione turned and fled the room.

There was one person in the whole castle that she could trust with anything. Anything. And that person was currently in Gryffindor Tower. Hermione raced through the corridors looking for him, finding him sitting across a chess board from Ron.

“Harry,” she said. “I need the Marauder’s Map.”

“Hm? What for?” asked Harry, not taking his eyes off the chess game.

“I can’t tell you,” said Hermione.

This caused both of them to look up at her.

“Is everything all right?” asked Harry.

“Yes, yes, everything’s fine,” said Hermione. “I just… I need the map, and I can’t explain why.”

“You’re not trying to do something against school rules without us, are you?” asked Ron around a mouthful of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans.

“No, no,” said Hermione reassuringly. “Of course not.”

This was, in fact, exactly what Hermione intended to do. Still, Harry asked no further questions. He merely left for his dormitory, reappearing a few moments later with the folded parchment in his hands. He extended it out to her.

“Be careful with it,” said Harry.

Hermione kissed his cheek and scampered off, heading toward the Slytherin Common Room again. The suit of armor sprang out of her way when she shouted the password, and when she got inside, she saw the Slytherins dueling again. Malfoy was laughing as he and Pansy sent hexes across the room to one another. His expression was so relaxed and unguarded in that moment that he did not know she was there. It gave her a strange feeling deep in her belly to see him so undone.

“Hey,” said Hermione.

The room of Slytherins stopped their dueling and turned to her.

“I’ve got a map that’ll help you get out of the castle,” she said. “You can use it to get the potion from Flint.”

Pansy looked at her, something like hope in her eyes.

“Are you for real?” she asked.

“Takes a lot of courage to go ask Potter for help,” sneered Malfoy, popping the “P” in Harry’s name.

Pansy’s body language changed, her shoulders slumping forward slightly, and she faced Malfoy again. Theo was more practical about it, taking the map from Hermione and leaning in.

“Flint says the potion will be ready on Friday,” he said. “But he can’t transport it. It’s got to stay over the fire, and it has to be Friday or it’ll go bad and who knows what’ll happen.”

“Okay, so what?” asked Hermione.

Theo glanced at Malfoy, who was listening to them impassively.

“They have a performance,” explained Theo. “At the Warlow estate. They’re having a party on Friday night, and Draco and Pansy were supposed to be there.”

“So what?”

“She can’t very well perform if she’s… well…”

“Can’t someone fill in?” asked Hermione.

Malfoy’s lip curled in anger. He gestured to the room around him.

“We’re here by the skin of our teeth, Granger. One wrong step, and we’re out. McGonagall only let us in if we work. Zabini has a study group, and Daphne has kitchen duty. Everybody works here,” he snapped.

Hermione had not fully realized the situation the Slytherins were in. It seemed cruel, what was happening to them. They were children during the war, too.

“Unless you want to do it,” said Malfoy with an eye roll.

Theo frowned, thinking. His fingers stroked his chin, his head tilted to one side.

“I mean, it’s not the worst idea,” said Theo.

“It was a joke, Nott.”

“You’ve seen her spellwork, Draco. She’s good.”

Pansy looked hopeful again.

“Draco, you’re a strong dueler, you could lead anyone,” said Pansy.

Hermione was watching the three of them argue, her eyes bouncing back and forth from one face to the next. Malfoy’s jaw was rolling ominously as his cool, grey eyes stared down at her. Pansy had one hand on his arm pleadingly. Hermione made a decision. She lifted her chin and met his gaze with a fierce one of her own.

“I can do it,” said Hermione. “Let me help.”

~

It was hard to find time in between the many classes, study groups, and activities, but Hermione and Malfoy found an empty classroom on the third floor to practice the duel in.

“It’s not a random duel,” said Malfoy. “We’re not just casting hexes at will. It’s choreographed. It’s a show.”

“Why do they like watching it?” she asked.

“I don’t know. It gets them off, I guess,” snapped Malfoy, and Hermione’s stomach swooped. “Now remember, you move after I do. I lift my wand and then you wait one beat and take your two steps.”

He tried it, and she missed her cue.

“No!” he said. “Count in your head. I lift my wand, you count in your head. THEN step!”

She missed it again. She was nervous, and she was rushing. Hermione could not figure out how to make the movements flow naturally. Malfoy hadn’t even started actually sending any spells her way yet; they were just blocking out the movements. She was terrified for the moment that he was going to send an erotic hex her way.

Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.

Hermione had to summon every ounce of Gryffindor courage she had to keep going. He moved with such fluid grace, and she felt clumsy and awkward next to him.

“Don’t put your heels down,” said Malfoy. “Stay on the balls of your feet. Otherwise, you just look clunky. You’re not an elephant stomping around. You’re a performer.”

“Sorry, Malfoy,” she said, spitting out the name. “In the past, duels haven’t exactly been performances.”

A look that might have been hurt passed over his face for a split second, and Hermione could not help the guilt that settled in her belly to see it. She took a breath, meeting his grey eyes.

“Let’s do it again.”

Malfoy came back to himself. They tried it, still without wands. She was counting in her head, blocking out the movements. Wait, step, draw, spin, wait. The sun was low in the sky when she finally collapsed onto a chair, breathing heavily.

“I need a rest,” she said.

He considered her, pursing his lips.

“It’s probably time for dinner,” said Malfoy. “Let’s go.”

It was strangely exhilarating to walk to the Great Hall with him, even though they didn’t even speak. When they pushed the doors open, several heads turned to see who it was. Hermione noticed more than a couple of gaping mouths. Cormac was watching them from the head table with narrowed eyes.

“See you tomorrow, Malfoy,” said Hermione as he walked away.

He did not acknowledge her. He simply continued on to the Slytherin end of the table. Hermione sat down between Harry and Ron.

“Why were you with Malfoy?” Ron asked.

“Oh, we’re working on… a project,” she replied, scooping potatoes onto her plate.

“For what?” Ron pressed.

“For Defense Against the Dark Arts,” she lied.

Ron and Harry were looking at each other. Hermione felt her cheeks flushing, and she hoped she had not gone red. If they pressed, she wasn’t sure she was capable of lying more elaborately than that.

“I don’t know if I like you hanging out with him,” said Ron, gesturing toward the Slytherin end of the table with his knife.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Ron,” said Hermione simply. “We’re going to be interacting with the Slytherins for the rest of our lives. Might as well start here at Hogwarts, right Harry?”

She had been counting on Harry’s resounding support, but he hesitated. He cocked his head to one side.

“I think Ron’s right,” said Harry.

“Harry, you testified for Malfoy after the war!” said Hermione.

Harry had spoken before the Wizengamot about him. She thought his animosity toward the man was long over, but Harry’s green eyes were narrowed and stormy.

“Just because I don’t think he deserves to rot in Azkaban,” said Harry, “doesn’t mean I think you should be friends with the bloke.”

Hermione chewed her lower lip, and her gaze traveled down to the end of the table where Theo and Pansy were laughing, tossing walnuts from dessert into the air and catching them in their mouths. Malfoy had a half-smile on his face, like he found it all very funny but wasn’t allowing himself to laugh. He was so closed off, so distant from others. The only time she’d ever seen him look free and relaxed was when he was performing with Pansy.

She had an uncomfortable desire to see him so relaxed when he was dueling with her.

But Harry and Ron were both scowling as they stared at the Slytherins. If they were dead set against being friendly with Malfoy, Hermione was going to have to make absolutely sure they didn’t find out about the dueling performance for the Warlows.

Chapter Text

CHAPTER 5

“It’s time we used wands,” Malfoy announced. “You need to learn.”

Hermione felt a pit in her stomach. She had been thinking about the sexy Slytherin duels all week. She found herself moving through the corridors, imagining the way the spells would feel when cast on her body. As she lay in her bed at night, she stared up at the canopy wondering how it would go once they added wands to their choreography. Part of her had wanted to run her hand down her body, maybe lower underneath her loose pyjama shorts, but she forced herself to chastity. She could not masturbate while thinking of Malfoy and his dueling spells.

But here they were, facing reality. He was right. She had the choreography memorized, each step she was supposed to take and where in the room she would move. She needed to practice the wandwork.

Malfoy was staring at her, his head cocked to one side sceptically.

“Let’s start easy,” said Malfoy. “Can you throw up a Shield charm?”

“You’ve seen me do one,” said Hermione, rolling her eyes.

She cast, and her Shield appeared in front of her.

“Good,” he said, nodding approvingly. “But you’ll need to learn a new one of casting one for this.”

He stepped close to her, close enough that she could feel the warmth of his body as he took her arm in his hand. She tried to calm herself; it would not do if Malfoy could tell that she was all worked up over this innocent interaction.

“The Shield you need is more of a pulsing one. I have to be able to get my spell through it,” said Malfoy.

He had not let go of her arm.

“Do I just take the Shield down and put it back up?” asked Hermione.

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “You have to move your wand with the pulses without letting the Shield fall.”

He was showing her the motion, and then, he dropped her arm.

“You try,” said Malfoy.

He stood, arms folded across his chest as he watched. She tried to replicate what he had shown her, but her Shield just blinked out of existence when she tried. Malfoy pursed his lips.

“It’s like a heartbeat,” he said, and he unfolded his arms and placed his hand on his chest. “Feel it.”

Hermione nodded, but Malfoy narrowed his eyes, shaking his head.

“No, feel it for yourself,” he said.

For a moment, Hermione panicked, thinking that he wanted her to touch him. She breathed slowly, placing her hand over her heart.

“Ga-gunk,” said Malfoy in a low, deep voice as he patted his chest in a heartbeat pattern. “Ga-gunk.”

Hermione thumped her palm over her chest. Malfoy gave her a rare smile.

“Good. Try again.”

She did. This time, her shield shimmered and pulsed in the rhythm of her movements, like it should. Malfoy nodded approvingly.

They practiced for hours and hours. Hermione’s body ached from the spells and the movements, but she still hadn’t mastered the routine. She was panicking as Friday approached.

“We’re running out of time,” said Hermione. “We have to skip Potions, unless you want to stay up all night rehearsing!”

“I can’t skip any classes!” Malfoy roared back. “They’ll kick me out of school!”

Hermione was chastened, realizing the precarity of his situation. As she looked at Malfoy, she saw something desperate in his expression, like he was balancing too many plates spinning on broomsticks in the air, and one might drop at any moment. As though if one of them fell, his life might fall apart. She sighed.

“Okay,” she replied. “Let’s go to Potions. We’ll practice afterward.”

He jerked his head in a nod.

Several heads turned in their direction when they entered Professor Slughorn’s classroom. Hermione caught a glare from Ron, and there was an expression she couldn’t read on Theo’s face. She sat down between Harry and Ron and opened her textbook.

“What were you doing with Malfoy?” Ron asked, a sneer on his face.

“I wasn’t with Malfoy,” she lied. “We just walked in at the same time.”

Ron made a satisfied noise.

Throughout Potions class, Hermione found herself glancing back at the table where Malfoy, Theo, and Pansy were paired. Theo was always laughing, and Pansy had a coolness about her that Hermione felt she could never emulate. Tall and rail-thin, she was stunningly beautiful, and since the Eighth years weren’t required to wear school robes, she was always dressed in something vibrant and fashionable.

But Hermione let her eyes travel down to Pansy’s midsection. It was still just as thin as ever, but Hermione could not help but think of the unwanted pregnancy. She felt anger build in her chest, anger at Cormac McLaggen most of all. How could he put a student in such a position?

Then, she realized that Malfoy was looking at her. She’d been staring for too long. His face was expressionless, and he raised one blond eyebrow when she caught his gaze. Hermione whipped her head around to the potion in front of her.

“No, stop!” Harry hissed. “That was six stirs! One more, and it’ll go bad!”

“Sorry!”

Ron was incredulous.

“Since when is Harry better at Potions than you are?”

“Since he got Snape’s old textbook in Sixth year,” she spat back.

Thankfully, her Potion was solid enough that Slughorn had no comments for her. Harry, though, received glowing praise. Apparently even without the Halfblood Prince’s textbook, he had developed something of an aptitude for Potions.

“Couple of us are playing Exploding Snap in the Common Room,” said Ron hopefully.

“I can’t,” said Hermione, grabbing her things. Malfoy had already left the classroom.

“Why not? You’ve not got a Time Turner again, have you?” he asked.

“No! I’m just busy!” Hermione said, rushing off.

Malfoy was halfway down the corridor when she caught up to him, looking behind her to be sure that Ron and Harry had not seen. His legs were long so that she had to take extra steps just to keep up with him.

“Where shall we practice?” she asked.

“We can use the Slytherin Common Room.”

“What?!” she replied, sudden panic in her chest. “No! I can’t do this in front of Pansy and Theo!”

He stopped, rounding on her.

“You’re going to have to do it in front of a room full of wealthy Pureblood witches and wizards,” he said.

“Yes, but I don’t know them!”

Malfoy’s expression was bewildered.

“What?”

“I don’t know them! It’s easy to do this in front of strangers, but I can’t have Pansy Parkinson and Theo Nott watching me… watching me…” said Hermione, her arm swept out in front of her as though to gesture to whatever it was she was going to be doing.

“This isn’t a joke, Granger.”

“Does it look like I’m joking?”

“This is my life we’re talking about!” he snapped. “If I get caught doing this with you, I’m out of Hogwarts. No degree means no job and no money! The Ministry froze all my assets unless I finish school!”

This gave her a moment’s pause, but only a moment. Hermione screwed her face up in anger. The weight of his situation felt immense, but at the same time, it seemed that he had no understanding or appreciation of her role in his salvation. She wasn’t even sure why she was helping him in the first place, and the words began tumbling out of her mouth.

“You seem to forget how much I’m doing over here, Malfoy!” she snapped. “I’m doing nothing but helping you!”

“Yeah, you’d help me,” he said, his grey eyes stormy with anger. “Right off a cliff you’d help me.”

“Oh, yeah, I’ve been ignoring my friends, letting my grades slip, and busting my ass! The last thing I want to do is drop you on it!”

They were staring at each other, both panting at their outburst. Malfoy spun away from her, running a hand through his platinum hair. For one second, Hermione wondered how soft it would feel between her fingers, but the thought passed as quickly as it came.

Malfoy turned back to her, narrowing his eyes.

“Let’s get out of here,” he said.

“What?”

“Come on,” said Malfoy, and he held out his hand to her. “Trust me.”

Hermione didn’t know why, but she did.

His hand was rougher than she’d expected. A wealthy aristocrat should have soft, feminine hands, but Malfoy’s were callused in the places where he held his wand. Still, it was warm and inviting, and her hand felt small within his grasp. Something shifted in the air between them as she stared at their joined hands, and when she looked up at Malfoy, she could tell he’d sensed it, too.

He gave her a tiny smirk and took off, dragging her behind him at a trot. Unexpectedly, she let out a wild giggle as he pulled her down the corridors, and she could swear she saw the ghost of a smile on his face.

They reached the heavy front doors to the castle, and when he dropped her hand to push the heavy doors open, she felt the loss of his grasp. Hermione glanced around, making sure no one was watching, and when she was certain the coast was clear, she stole out after him.

“Where are we going?” she asked, wishing for a moment that he’d taken her hand again, but now, his hands were in his pockets as his long legs strode toward Hagrid’s hut.

“It’s still on the grounds,” said Malfoy, nodding toward the hut. “I’m allowed to be there, but no one else will be. You can practice your naughty dueling without any other Slytherins watching.”

He gave a real smirk at this, meeting her eyes. They flashed with mischief, and Hermione felt her stomach do a flip-flop.

The hut was dusty with disuse, but Malfoy was right: it was private. Hermione pulled out her wand, and he did the same.

“Now, the most important thing in this kind of duel is balance,” said Malfoy. “Your weight on the balls of your feet, not your heels, so that you can move fluidly.”

He began demonstrating, and it was mesmerizing to see his movement.

“Where did you learn this?” she asked.

Malfoy was casting spells as he talked.

“Summer after Fifth year, my parents hosted a couple of guys from Paris. My mother knew them,” he said, and he gestured for her to match his movements. She tried, but it was hard to replicate the ease with which he moved. “Look up here. Not at my feet. My eyes. Never down.”

That made it so much more intimate, staring into his grey eyes while they cast the spells they’d been practicing in the castle.

“Anyway, they were performers, doing this sort of thing all over Europe,” Malfoy continued. “I spent the summer learning from them. Never knew it would come in this handy.”

Hermione didn’t respond. She was lost in his eyes.

“Now,” he said softly. “Breathe.”

She did.

“Ready?”

Hermione nodded, exhilarated. He quirked his lips to one side in a playful smile and sent the spell at her.

The spell he cast was one she’d seen him send at Pansy Parkinson not so long ago, and Hermione recalled the sensual moan that had left Pansy’s lips when he’d cast it. Mostly, she remembered it because it was much like the one that Hermione had just made. Her jaw dropped, and Malfoy laughed.

It was a delightful sound, his laugh, but it made her furious, so she sent a spell his direction. His eyes wide with surprise. They dueled then in earnest, moving through the choreography of the duel and hitting almost every mark, though he hesitated at the big final move, a spell that would entwine them together and lift them both six feet in the air. She was terrified to try it, and he seemed to sense her apprehension.

“We’ll get it,” said Malfoy, though she wasn’t so sure. “We’ll get it right when we’re at the Selwyns.”

“If you say so, Malfoy,” said Hermione, chewing her lip.

He was breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling, and she could see a light sheen of sweat on his brow from the exertion. Hermione didn’t really know how she’d come to be in this situation, but looking at Malfoy, feeling the lingering aftereffects of the spells he’d cast on her, she was beginning to think that this would be the best summer of her life.