Not Yet

Hermione had nearly forgotten about her meeting with Malfoy, which was concerning because she never, ever, forgot anything.

She almost prided herself on her ability to recall events exactly as they happened. Which is why on the rare occasion that Malfoy wasn't being a twat, she was able to make up for it for him by thinking back on the time she had punched him, or the time she had gotten a higher mark than him by exactly two points, or the time—

Her thoughts were cut short by the library door bursting open down the corridor as she approached. 

Out came running Fred and George, being chased by Peeves, whose ghostly sheen seemed... sparklier? than usual? 

How they managed to mess with a bloody ghost would never cease to amaze her, she would have to ask them about it later. As far as she knew, it wasn't possible to magically alter a poltergeist unless the ghost did something to its own appearance. Even then, that was rare and difficult. 

Stepping into the library at last, she was met with the scowling face of Draco Malfoy. He was seated at his usual table, two tables down from her usual spot amongst the stacks, with his left ankle perched on his right knee. As he leaned back in his chair, with his hands folded over each other, Hermione couldn't help her smug smile. 

"Well, someone looks less smug than he did earlier. What happened? Daddy didn't buy you the right shade of bleach?" She quirked up an eyebrow and walked past him to sit at her table, not at his. 

"Funny. Maybe I was just waiting for you to come and lighten my spirit." Some smugness returning to his voice. 

Bloody enfltated ego.

"Well, then I must be disappointing you." She gave her most sarcastic smile. 

"You, sweetheart, never disappoint." He winked, finally seeming to fully relax. "But I do wonder, why did you sit over there knowing that I was waiting for you here?" He asked, feigning annoyance. 

These were the times she would never admit to anyone that she enjoyed. She knew that Malfoy was smart, almost as smart as she was, and it was occasionally thrilling to exchange comments with him. But that was too much for her to acknowledge, let alone for her to acknowledge out loud, to another person. 

So, although she knew that he knew why she sat there, simply to defy him, she replied anyway. 

 "Maybe I'm terrified that I'll be suddenly contaged with a case of 'oh look at me, look at me' pox if I sit at that forsaken table you never seem to leave." She held back her smile. 

Malfoy stood. "Oh?" He stepped closer. "So you..." Closer. "Noticed where I usually sit?" He walked the rest of the way to her table, hands in his pockets, save for three steps that would have him effectively towering over her. 

"How can I not? Once, your hair caught the light just so and burned a hole through my assignment." Hermione retorted but fought the need to stand. Even three paces back, he was noticeably on higher ground than she was. 

To her surprise, he just chuckled, pulling out a seat across from her. 

"Touché." He sat and crossed his arms, making his lean build that much more noticeable. 

She expected him to say something, to begin their 'lesson' or whatever it is they were supposed to do, but when he didn't, she found herself breaking first. 

"So what exactly did Slughorn instruct you to do?" She asked. 

"Hermione Granger... Finally, something you don't know?" He smirked, why was he always smirking? Although she did enjoy the unfamiliar way her name sounded on his lips. 

"Well, Slughorn didn't deign to provide me with the details of this arrangement." She grumbled. 

"Right. Fine. No funny business." He wiggled his eyebrows but leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table. "I have to report on our sessions, they have to happen weekly until further notice." 

"And if they don't?" He smirked again at that.

"Always asking the right questions, aren't you?" He pursed his lips and tapped the table once with his middle finger. He had very nice hands... and lips... No! Hermione. "He's going to invalidate your marks. So, if you don't attend every session, unless excused, he will fail you regardless of what grade you earn." He was more solemn then, waiting for Hermione's reaction. 

"This is ridiculous. I spent nearly six years being perfect, and the one time I decided to sleep in because I didn't feel well, I condemned myself to your presence." Hermione huffed, slumping in her chair. 

"What did you do in previous years when you were sick? Surely you can't have avoided it for six years."

"I went to class on a Pepper-Up potion. Though it rarely happened." She muttered, her thoughts lingering on how odd it was to have a conversation with Malfoy, but then he laughed. 

He genuinely laughed; was that a tear in his eye?

"Wh-what is so funny?" She asked, but found a chuckle escaping her at the ridiculousness of the situation. 

"I just can't believe that the eleven-year-old know-it-all I met first year might've occasionally been high on Pepper-Up." He let out a final, breathy laugh, Hermione found herself feeling chilly at that exact moment. Gooseflesh. 

"Well, when you put it like that, I guess it is slightly absurd—" She was mid-mumble when he cut her off with a smile reflecting pensively through his eyes, though his lips remained straight. 

"Do you dance, Granger?" 

"Do I... dance?" She almost laughed at the question.

"Yeah... I haven't seen you dance since The Yule Ball. You're never at the parties, usually off fighting trolls in bathrooms. You know, the usual." His face remained serious, but she could only assume he was teasing. So why did she answer truthfully?

"Well, uh, I don't not dance. I just can't seem to have the time and with Harry and Ron always up to something—"

"So what I'm hearing is that you like dancing but are too busy babysitting your supposed best friends to ever do it." He concluded. 

"That's not exactly—" 

"Sure it isn't." 

"Will you stop cutting me off?" 

"Will you stop selling yourself short?" That caught her off guard. 

"I am not—"

"You are." 

"Ugh!" She threw her hands up in frustration. "Let's just get back to what we came here for. How often do we need to meet?"

"Twice a week." At that, he finally went back to his original scowl. "As if you need it. The only plus side is I'll get to spend my time with someone who actually uses her brain."

"Oh, come on now, I'm sure Crabbe and Goyle are excellent company." She smiled at him, a fake, too-sweet smile. "But isn't twice a week... excessive? What on Earth are we supposed to discuss?" 

"Merlin's hairy left tit..." He muttered. "Do you concern yourself with everything? Wait. Don't answer that. I know you do. None of your friends are competent enough to do anything without you." He rolled his eyes. "Just let me handle it for once, okay, sweetheart?"

"Don't patronize me with nicknames, Malfoy." She sneered, but decided that maybe she should let him bite himself in the arse. "Fine, you deal with everything. Does every Monday and Thursday at 7 P.M. work for you?" 

"Yes, that's fine. I'll owl you the locations." He made a move to stand. 

"Wait. Locations? As in not here?" She stood too. 

"Will you stop worrying? Yes. Locations. I will let you know." He slung his bag over his shoulder, and she did the same as they made their way to the library doors. 

"Alright..." She said skeptically. 

Malfoy had been right about one thing: she wasn't used to having things done for her. In fact, she was sure Malfoy had everything done for him, so the fact that he was doing something that she wouldn't have to do was... concerning. To say the least. But, alas, she held on to the hope that this would all somehow fail, and she would be released from this mandate. 

"As for your dancing..." 

"Will you drop that?" 

"No." He stepped closer, lowering his voice even though the library was deserted. "Slytherin is having a party tonight. You should come. I'll even let you bring the Weaslette if you need some sort of support. Merlin knows she's the only one in that family with half a brain cell." 

"Not happening." She stepped around him to the door, but before she could open it, an arm went around her and held it open for her to walk through. 

Of course, he was a gentleman. He just had to make himself tolerable. 

They then walked in different directions, but before she turned the corner, she heard him toss over his shoulder. "Think about it." 

She just scoffed and went to dinner. 

Hermione was seated across from Harry and Ron at the Gryffindor table, not eating much but lost in thought. 

She couldn't help but ponder on her conversation with Malfoy. He was being so unlike himself, careless even. He was laughing, smiling, even complimenting her. Part of her was curious about the party, mainly that he had invited her seemingly because she liked to dance. But also because he didn't make her feel like she was just convenient to have around, if only it was anyone but him. 

Maybe someday she could warm up to him. But she couldn't just start liking him immediately because he called her sweetheart a couple of times, which she found rather condescending anyway. 

Not yet. 

"Mione?" Harry called from across the table. "Something on your mind?" He had that look he always put on when he thought there was some great mystery for him to solve. 

"Just annoyed at Slughorn, nothing unusual." She didn't exactly lie...

"MMmm. SlmmmGmm..." Ron tried to speak through his mouthful of food. 

"Will you swallow before you speak?" Hermione chided, indignation in her tone. She caught a flash of blond at the doors to The Great Hall and quickly looked away, not wanting her thoughts to wander. 

"Hermione, I think you need to refocus. You've been sort of relaxed for a couple of weeks, if Slughorn said so it must be true." Harry said, concern on his features. Was he serious?

Hermione was relaxed? Relaxed? How could anyone manage to relax when her two best friends couldn't complete a single assignment on their own? 

Even if she somehow managed to relax, wouldn't that be a good thing? This, in combination with her earlier conversation with Malfoy, snapped something in her. She felt her blood boil over. It was sudden, but she was tired of it. 

She was exhausted. 

For years, she had been helping her friends, and they never seemed to grasp just how lost they'd be without her. She got them out of trouble countless times. Hell, she even used her time turner to save that bloody bird lion. She had cared about it, of course, but she had done it for her friends. 

She had received no help from either of them when she was forming S.P.E.W other than their 'endorsement' and even that had been slight. So many moments. So many times that she could have chosen herself over them, and now she was practically being called lazy by Harry.

"You know what? You're right." She slammed her hands down to stand up. Harry knew he blew it if she admitted that he was right about something. "I will be going to bed early, can't have me sleeping in and not being able to explain to Ronald again how Polyjuice works before the exam. Goodnight." 

Hermione stormed out of the Hall, dinner unfinished, and a new determination in her. 

She had to find Ginny. 

They had a party to go to.