Messy Moments
The moonlit clearing stretched out before them, an expanse of soft grass and delicate wildflowers, bathed in the glow of a silver half-moon. Hermione stood at the edge of the small hill, her eyes wide with wonder as she watched the herd of mooncalves grazing quietly, their silvery coats shimmering as they moved in gentle synchrony. There was something peaceful about them, a serenity in their shyness, a grace that made Hermione's heart swell with admiration.
She lowered herself into a crouch, fingers brushing through the grass, her eyes never leaving the creatures. Slowly, she reached into her satchel and pulled out a small bag of food, her heart fluttering in anticipation. The mooncalves, so quiet and elusive in nature, had always intrigued her. Few had ever truly observed them up close. The chance to do so was both rare and magical, and Hermione wasn't about to waste it.
Draco stood at her side, watching the creatures with a mixture of skepticism and curiosity. His arms were crossed over his chest, his usual cool demeanor slightly disrupted by the unfamiliar calmness of the herd. He took in a deep breath, clearly aware of the strange atmosphere that seemed to hang in the air.
"You sure this is a good idea?" Draco asked, his voice breaking the silence. "They don’t exactly look like the type to enjoy company."
Hermione gave him an amused glance, then smiled. “They’re harmless. Just a bit shy, that’s all. They tend to warm up if you show them you mean no harm.”
She then held out a handful of soft moss, her fingers gently scattering it onto the ground. The mooncalves, with their large, round eyes, immediately turned their attention toward her. They sniffed the air curiously, their ears twitching at the sound of the rustling moss.
A few tentative steps followed, and before long, the creatures had gathered around her. Their fur was soft to the touch, like moonlight woven into a tangible form, and Hermione marveled at how they nuzzled into her hands, their warmth surprising against the chill of the night air.
She began feeding them little sprigs of enchanted foliage she’d packed for the journey, and one by one, they accepted her offering. Draco stood back, watching, his expression unreadable as she continued to care for the gentle creatures. There was something enchanting about the way they responded to her, an almost unspoken connection that grew as she fed them.
After a few moments, Draco let out a soft snort. “You really do have a way with animals.”
Hermione glanced up at him, her brow furrowing slightly. “It’s just a matter of patience. They’re not so different from people, really. It takes time for them to trust.”
She extended her hand to another mooncalf, and it leaned into her palm, its soft breath warm against her skin. Hermione smiled softly, then looked over her shoulder at Draco, who had lowered his arms, clearly intrigued by what he was witnessing.
“I think you should try it. They’re quite friendly once they get to know you,” she suggested, watching him with an almost playful glint in her eye.
Draco, still cautious, arched a brow. “I’m not sure I want to start feeding magical beasts in the middle of nowhere, Granger.” But despite his words, there was a flicker of curiosity in his gaze. Slowly, he walked toward one of the mooncalves, awkwardly holding out his hand.
It wasn’t long before the creature sniffed his fingers, then nudged them with its cool nose. Draco blinked, clearly caught off guard. His usual guardedness gave way to surprise, and before long, he was feeding the mooncalf with quiet amusement.
“I’ll admit,” Draco said after a moment, his voice softer than usual, “this is... calming.”
Hermione smiled to herself, enjoying the moment of peace. The mooncalves continued to feed from her, and Draco followed suit, his earlier skepticism fading. The air around them was thick with the tranquil hum of nature, and for a few minutes, nothing seemed to matter except the simple bond they were forming with the creatures.
Then, as if on cue, a soft rustling came from Hermione’s pocket. She stiffened, hand instinctively reaching for the enchanted map she had tucked away. The map had remained dormant for the past few days, offering nothing more than the occasional odd direction or vague hint. But now, it seemed to be calling to her.
Draco noticed the sudden tension in her posture. He turned toward her, brow furrowing. “What is it?”
Hermione didn’t respond at first. Her eyes fixed on the map, which was shifting within her pocket. She pulled it out slowly, and as she opened the parchment, her breath caught.
The map, usually a jumble of scattered lines and labels, had a new marking—a tiny dot glowing faintly in the distance. What was even more peculiar was the soft glow emanating from it, almost as if it were a small light in the dark expanse of the forest.
Hermione stared at it, puzzled. “I think the map’s pointing us to something.”
Draco, now intrigued, leaned in closer to see the glowing dot on the map. “What’s that? Another mooncalf? I thought we’d seen the last of them.”
Hermione shook her head, frowning as she examined the map’s details more closely. The light was no mooncalf, she could tell that much. The map seemed to be suggesting they should investigate it—whatever it was.
“Don’t know,” she murmured, squinting into the night. “It’s not far. Just beyond the clearing.”
Draco’s gaze followed her, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the dark landscape. “A light in the middle of nowhere… Could be anything.”
Hermione tucked the map back into her bag, determination flashing across her face. “It’s worth checking. We’ve been on this quest for the thunderbird. This could be connected.”
Draco hesitated, his eyes darting between Hermione and the darkened forest. “You really want to go traipsing off into the woods in the dead of night?”
“Don’t tell me you’re scared of a little walk, Malfoy,” Hermione teased, giving him a pointed look.
Draco snorted but nodded. “Lead the way, Granger. Let’s see where this little light takes us.”
With a shared glance, they began to make their way toward the glowing dot in the distance, the mooncalves following behind them in their quiet, serene manner.
The mist thickened as Hermione and Draco trudged through the dark, moonlit forest. The eerie glow they’d seen earlier grew stronger, casting an unsettling light that seemed to ripple with an unnatural gleam. As they approached, the faint figure became clearer—a solitary figure, half-human, half-shadow, swaying just out of reach like a candle in the wind.
Draco squinted, brow furrowed. “What the hell is that thing?”
Hermione took a step forward, eyes narrowing. "I think that's a hinkypunk."
Draco looked at her. "A hinky-what?"
“Hinkypunk. It’s a small, mischievous creature. It lures people toward it with the light, only to lead them into trouble," Hermione explained, her tone brimming with the mix of knowledge and caution she’d cultivated over the years.
“Great,” Draco muttered, clearly unimpressed. “Just what we need in the middle of nowhere.”
Hermione could barely hold back a smile at his usual skepticism. She took another cautious step forward, her eyes fixed on the small creature. The hinkypunk’s luminous light flickered like a will-o'-the-wisp, its tall, spindly form shuffling forward with a slow, rhythmic motion.
“This is definitely the last thing I expected tonight,” Hermione muttered, more to herself than to Draco. “But, if it’s trying to lead us somewhere…”
Before she could finish her thought, the hinkypunk abruptly turned and began to drift away into the thick mist, the light bobbing in the air like a lure on the water.
“Brilliant,” Draco said dryly, his eyes narrowing. “It’s trying to drag us further into this nightmare, isn’t it?”
Without waiting for a response, he began to follow, his footsteps light and careful on the soft, damp earth. Hermione shook her head and sighed, but she followed close behind. As the two made their way through the forest, the mist grew heavier, and the path beneath their feet became muddier.
"Not much of a trail left," Hermione said, glancing at the increasingly treacherous ground beneath them.
Draco didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he was too busy squinting into the fog, watching the hinkypunk lead them farther and farther away from the clearing. The light ahead glimmered, dancing just out of their reach, almost as if teasing them.
“Hermione, do you really think this is the best idea?” Draco asked, his voice tinged with unease. "I’m starting to get the feeling we're about to meet something far less friendly than a mooncalf."
Before Hermione could respond, there was a sickening squelch as Draco’s foot sank deeper into the muck.
“Bloody hell!” he yelped, pulling his foot back, but it was already too late. The ground beneath him gave way, and with an undignified grunt, he slipped, falling forward into the bog.
“Malfoy!” Hermione cried, her eyes wide with alarm.
But it was too late. Draco let out a surprised shout as he plunged face-first into the thick, slimy mud with an audible splat. His body hit the ground with a heavy thud, and for a moment, all was quiet except for the sound of squelching mud.
Hermione froze. The sight before her was both horrifying and, strangely, a little funny. Draco’s arms flailed wildly as he tried to push himself up, but he just ended up sinking deeper. His platinum blonde hair was now a tangled mess of clinging mud, and his pristine robes were drenched with the sludgy water.
“Merlin’s beard, you’ve got to be kidding me,” Draco muttered, his voice muffled by the mud as he pushed his face out of the wet ground. He glared up at Hermione, eyes wide with a mixture of disbelief and frustration. “This—this wasn’t supposed to happen!”
Hermione could hardly contain her laughter. She bent down to offer a hand, but just as she stretched it out, she stepped forward—and instantly felt the ground give way beneath her.
“Oh no!” she yelped, but it was too late. With a rather ungraceful plop, she was on her way down, landing directly on top of Draco with an almost comedic thud.
Draco grunted as Hermione landed on him, his face now pressed into the boggy ground beneath them. “You’ve got to be bloody joking!” he groaned. “First, I’m the one who falls, and then you—you—fall on top of me?”
Hermione scrambled to get off him, though she wasn’t having much luck due to the slick mud. “I didn’t mean to! It’s just—everything’s slippery, okay?”
“Clearly!” Draco shot back, wiping mud off his face with an exasperated look. He managed to push himself up onto his elbows, glaring at her as she tried to sit up, her robes now caked with muck. “You’re—you're not going to start laughing at me now, are you?”
“Me? Laugh?” Hermione’s voice was laced with a barely contained chuckle. “No, of course not. You only look like a muddy, soggy mess.” She couldn’t hold it in any longer, and a small giggle escaped. “You’ve got to admit, it’s a bit funny.”
Draco scowled, his hair now resembling a bedraggled mop. He wiped his hand across his face, dislodging more mud. “This isn’t funny, Granger,” he muttered, though his expression betrayed a hint of amusement.
“Oh, come on, Malfoy. You look like you’re auditioning for a swamp creature role. I’m honestly impressed with how much mud you managed to find in one fall.”
Draco narrowed his eyes on her. “I don’t need this right now, Granger. I’ve had enough trouble with bogs to last me a lifetime.”
Hermione raised an eyebrow. “Oh really? What trouble would that be? You’ve been hiking in bogs before?”
He shot her a glare. “One time, Granger. One time, and it was in second year. You think I’d forget the whopping humiliation of getting stuck in a bog, all because of some ridiculous Slytherin prank? I think not.”
She couldn’t help but grin at the memory. “Well, at least you’re not stuck in it... yet.” She extended a hand, this time more deliberately, and Draco begrudgingly took it. With a tug, Hermione helped him up, though the process was much slower than she’d like to admit, especially with the mud clinging to them both.
Draco wiped his hands on his robes in a futile attempt to clean them. “I should’ve known,” he muttered. “We chase after a hinkypunk, and this is where we end up—muddy, miserable, and absolutely covered in bog water.”
Hermione laughed, shaking her head. “You do realize you’re complaining about mud when you’ve been through far worse, right? I mean, the whole Death Eater business—surely that’s more humiliating than getting dirty?”
He shot her a sarcastic look. “Getting dirty was never the problem, Granger. It’s the lack of dignity that bothers me.” He glanced down at his robes. “At least I didn’t fall like you did.”
Hermione raised an eyebrow and smirked. “Oh, don’t worry, Malfoy. I’ll be sure to keep my fall in mind next time you decide to have a little meltdown in a bog.”
With a final shared glance of exasperation, both of them started to move toward the distant glow of the hinkypunk, their previous argument forgotten, replaced instead by the overwhelming need to figure out what had led them here—and to try, somehow, to avoid any further falls into the dreaded bog.
And though their clothes were soaked and their pride was in tatters, Hermione couldn’t help but think that—at least for the moment—there was no one she’d rather be stuck with than Draco Malfoy.
🔍
The mooncalves had long since disappeared into the mist, leaving behind only the sound of dripping leaves and the soft rustle of the forest. It was quiet now, but the air still carried a faint chill, and the heavy scent of damp earth clung to everything around them. Hermione and Draco stood side by side, both covered in mud and drenched from head to toe, staring at each other as if neither of them could quite believe what had just happened.
“Alright,” Draco finally broke the silence, his voice low and tinged with frustration. “This... this is not how I envisioned this journey going. We were supposed to be finding magical creatures, not ending up in bogs with a hinkypunk leading us to our doom.” He wiped a muddy hand over his forehead, a scowl twisting his features. “Honestly, if I get out of this mess with even a shred of dignity intact, it’ll be a miracle.”
Hermione let out a soft laugh, despite herself. She shook her head and pulled her wand from her bag. “I think we can manage the dignity part with a simple drying charm.”
Draco gave her a look that could only be described as mock incredulity. “Ah yes, the simple drying charm. Because when you’re covered in enough muck to drown a Hippogriff, all you need is a flick of your wand, and poof, it’s like it never happened.”
“Don’t be so dramatic,” Hermione said with a smirk, her wand already raised. “It’s not like we’re trying to get the mud out of your hair with a curse or something. You should be grateful.”
With a quick flick of her wrist, Hermione cast the charm, and Draco's soaked robes immediately started to dry, the heavy mud melting away into nothingness. She repeated the spell on herself, the mud vanishing from her clothes in a puff of air.
Draco shook out his now-dry robes, running a hand through his damp hair. “Well, at least something’s going right. But if you think for one second that I’m not going to remember this humiliation, you’re wrong, Granger.”
Hermione smiled and gave a small, teasing shrug. “I’m sure you’ll find a way to turn it into some grand speech about your suffering, but for now, I think we should get some rest. Tomorrow, we will continue.”
Draco raised an eyebrow at her suggestion. “Rest? Oh, I’m sure you’re right. We’ve had enough excitement for one night.”
With a reluctant sigh, Draco pulled off his now-dry shoes and sat down, leaning against a nearby tree. Hermione followed suit, making herself comfortable on a patch of soft moss nearby. The sounds of the forest felt distant now, as the calming silence of the night wrapped around them. They’d been on the move for hours, and the exhaustion from the day’s events was beginning to take its toll.
“We really should be more careful,” Hermione said softly after a moment, the weight of the day starting to settle in. “This forest is full of unexpected dangers. It’s too easy to get sidetracked or distracted by things like hinkypunks.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not exactly thrilled about what’s next,” Draco muttered, his voice muffled against the tree bark. “Tomorrow, we could end up being eaten by something with tusks the size of a small mountain, and I’ll be the one stuck holding the map.”
Hermione rolled her eyes, but the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her amusement. “I think we’ll be alright,” she said, although a part of her wasn’t entirely sure. “Tomorrow, we’ll follow the map, and if anything goes wrong, we’ll deal with it. Together.”
Draco didn’t respond right away, his eyes half-lidded as he rested his head against the tree. After a long silence, he muttered, “You know, for all the chaos, this isn’t exactly the worst company I’ve ever had.”
Hermione couldn’t help but smile at that. “I’ll take that as a compliment, I suppose.”
As they sat in the quiet, Draco’s breathing evened out as he began to drift off. Hermione, however, stayed awake for a while longer, the thoughts of the day swirling through her mind. The journey they were on was certainly unpredictable, but there was a strange comfort in having someone by her side—someone who, for all his faults, was proving himself to be more than just the arrogant Slytherin she’d once known.
Eventually, sleep claimed her, and the forest settled into an uneasy stillness, punctuated only by the distant hoots of owls and the occasional rustling of creatures moving in the underbrush.
🔍
The next morning, the forest was much quieter than it had been the previous night. The fog had cleared, leaving behind a crisp, cool air that clung to their skin as they resumed their journey. Hermione packed up their supplies, and Draco, looking slightly more alert now that the morning sun had risen, retrieved the map from her bag.
"Alright, let’s get this over with," Draco muttered, examining the map as he walked alongside her.
Hermione glanced at him. “You’re so optimistic.”
Draco shot her a wry smile. “I’m brimming with optimism, Granger. Just wait. We’ll be through this forest and onto something far more interesting—preferably something less muddy—by the end of the day.”
“Don’t jinx us,” Hermione warned as she glanced at the map. “The map’s pointing us this way.” She gestured to the thick forest ahead, where the trees were close together, their branches arching over the path like a canopy of tangled limbs.
“Wonderful,” Draco muttered, looking ahead with faint distaste. “A dense forest. I’m sure there’s no danger of us getting lost or falling into any more bogs.”
Hermione rolled her eyes but didn’t respond. They ventured deeper into the forest, following the winding path indicated on the map. The air grew denser as they moved, and the trees seemed to grow taller, their trunks thick and gnarled, their leaves dark green and glossy in the sunlight that filtered through the canopy.
They’d barely taken more than a few steps into the dense undergrowth when Draco, distracted by the map, didn’t notice a peculiar-looking tree stump at his feet. Without so much as a second thought, he sat down heavily, expecting it to be a solid, comfortable rock.
Instead, the stump suddenly shifted underneath him, and before he could react, it sprang to life, its rough bark forming thick, tendril-like vines that wrapped around his legs. Draco gasped in surprise, struggling to rise, but the stump’s roots had already ensnared him, pulling him deeper into its grasp.
“What the—?!” Draco yelped, thrashing about as the stump tightened its grip on him. He twisted in the vines, his robes getting tangled with the thick roots as he tried to free himself. “Granger!” he called out in panic. “Granger, get me out of here! This thing’s alive!”
Hermione spun around just in time to see Draco flailing about, his legs stuck to the stump as if it had glued itself to him. The sight was almost too much to handle, and she struggled to suppress the laughter bubbling up inside her.
“I told you not to sit on anything in this forest!” she said, trying to sound serious but failing miserably.
“I didn’t sit on it! I thought it was a rock!” Draco shouted back, his voice laced with frustration. “And now I’m stuck—again! Help me!”
Hermione rolled her eyes, but her wand was already out, and with a flick of her wrist, she cast a spell to free him. “Hold still, Malfoy,” she said, trying to focus despite the ridiculousness of the situation.
“I’m not moving! I’m stuck, Granger!” Draco snapped, his voice a mix of irritation and embarrassment. “And do you have to be so calm about this? I’m being attacked by a tree stump!”
Hermione bit her lip to stop herself from laughing and focused on the spell. It took a moment, but eventually, the vines began to loosen, releasing their grip on Draco’s legs. He managed to pull himself free with a final yank, stumbling backward into the underbrush. He stood there for a moment, breathing heavily, his robes half-ripped and dirt-smeared, before finally glaring at her.
“Well, that’s just fantastic, Granger,” he muttered, his face flushed with both exertion and indignity. “I sit on a tree stump—a magical tree stump—and you get to laugh at me. Again.”
Hermione couldn’t help herself; the laughter broke through. "You look so erotic a while ago, though... You, being wrapped with vines, looking flustered and helpless..." She doubled over, holding her sides as she chuckled at his expression.
"Shut up!" Draco’s face twisted in horror. “Don’t you dare continue what you're saying, Granger. If this gets out, I’ll hex the entire Department of Magical Creatures. You hear me?”
Hermione raised an eyebrow, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. “Oh, don’t worry, Malfoy. Your secret is safe with me. For now.”
Draco shot her a dirty look but said nothing, his dignity in tatters as they continued on. The journey was far from over, and yet, in that moment, it felt like the most entertaining mess they’d ever been part of.
Now, after some hours of walking, they found themselves standing before a serene river that wound its way through the forest like a ribbon of crystal blue. The water gleamed in the afternoon sunlight, flowing gently over smooth stones, and the air was thick with the scent of fresh water and wildflowers.
“Finally,” Draco muttered, rubbing his eyes as he surveyed the peaceful scene. “A nice, quiet spot to not get eaten alive by magical creatures. You’d think the universe would cut us some slack after everything we’ve been through.”
Hermione looked around with a little more appreciation. The river sparkled beneath the sunlight, its banks lined with soft grass, dotted with wildflowers in a mix of colors. It looked like the perfect place to stop for a rest. The sun was still high in the sky, but the cool breeze that blew off the river made the temperature tolerable.
“You’re right,” Hermione said, glancing at Draco as he kicked at some nearby pebbles. “It’s a good place to stop for a while. We’ve been walking for hours.”
Draco shot her a sidelong glance. “I think you’ve been walking for hours. I’ve been… distracted.”
Hermione rolled her eyes but didn’t respond. She was too busy thinking about the food she’d packed for the journey. She had managed to shove most of her supplies into the bag earlier, and now, the pull of food was undeniable. With a satisfied sigh, she started rummaging through her bag, pulling out a loaf of bread and a jar of jam. The bread was soft, the jam perfectly sweet, and she couldn’t wait to finally sit down and eat something that wasn’t dried-up rations from her last few meals.
“Would you like some?” she asked Draco as she looked over at him, trying to offer the small peace offering.
Draco, who had been kicking pebbles into the river in an almost childlike manner, shrugged carelessly, not even bothering to look up. “Nah. I’m fine.”
Hermione raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure? We could both use some food, especially after all that running around and… falling into bogs.”
Draco made a nonchalant noise, still not looking at her. “I’m not hungry. You go ahead.” He kicked another pebble into the river with more force than necessary, his attention still on the quiet flow of water.
Hermione wasn’t about to press the issue. She set the bread and jam down on a patch of grass and, after a moment of deliberation, unrolled the large cloth she had packed for them to sit on. She spread it out on the soft grass, the cloth settling flat as she sat down with a small, contented sigh. Her thighs ached a little from the walk, and she massaged them absently as she took a bite of bread, her stomach growling in agreement.
As she chewed thoughtfully, Hermione glanced over at Draco. He had finally moved away from the river’s edge, though not far. He was still standing nearby, kicking pebbles and looking as though he were in a world entirely of his own. She figured it was probably the first time in ages he’d had a moment of peace, and despite the mess they were in, she couldn’t really blame him for zoning out.
She had just finished chewing her first bite when she looked over and saw Draco walking toward her, still seeming slightly distracted. He’d pulled out a small piece of bread from the bag, and as he plopped down beside her, he attempted to spread some jam on the bread. It was a task he seemed to be struggling with.
Hermione stifled a laugh as Draco squinted at the jar of jam. His efforts were, well, messy, to say the least. He was spreading the jam all over the side of the bread, some of it dripping down onto his robes, which was, ironically, making the whole thing worse. The bread was already crooked, and half the jar seemed to be oozing out in all the wrong places.
Hermione raised an eyebrow. “Need some help with that?” she asked, her voice barely concealing her amusement.
Draco looked up at her, a flash of irritation crossing his face. “What? No. I’ve got it,” he snapped, though his voice didn’t carry much conviction. He pushed his sleeve up to try and wipe some of the jam off his robes, but it only spread the sticky substance further.
Hermione fought hard not to burst out laughing. She took another bite of her bread, her expression neutral, though her eyes were dancing with mirth.
“You really don’t know how to do this, do you?” Hermione asked, her voice soft but teasing.
Draco glared at her, his hands now full of jam and bread in a decidedly unappetizing manner. “You’re not one to talk. I’ve seen you get your hands dirty enough times—usually with your books.”
Hermione’s lips twitched. “I’ll admit, I’m a little more proficient with a quill than I am with a jar of jam. But at least I don’t make a mess out of it.”
Draco huffed, sitting back and finally taking a bite of his... slightly disastrous sandwich. “You know, Granger,” he muttered, his voice slightly muffled, “I’ve always had house-elves to do this kind of thing for me. They’d take care of all the little details—food, clothes, you name it.” He paused for a moment, chewing thoughtfully. “To be honest, I didn’t really expect to be sitting in a forest, eating like a muggle, of all things.”
Hermione rolled her eyes. “Right, because you’re such a highly refined individual. A little bread and jam can’t possibly be beneath you.”
Draco looked at her, his eyes narrowing as he swallowed. “It’s not beneath me. It’s just… different. I’m used to things being a bit more polished.”
“I know,” Hermione said, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “It must be so awful to have someone do the hard work for you. How do you survive?”
Draco’s lips twitched, though he kept his composure. “I survive quite well, Granger. I’m just not used to, well, this… roughing it.”
Hermione snorted, shaking her head. “I think we’re both ‘roughing it’ now, don’t you? No house-elves, no fancy service. Just us and the wilderness. No one to do the work for us.”
Draco didn’t answer right away, though he seemed to be considering her words. He wiped his hand on his robes again, a bit more forcefully this time, before leaning back on the grass, looking up at the sky.
“Alright, I’ll admit it,” Draco said after a long pause, his voice unexpectedly serious. “This is… well, it’s not so bad. Maybe a little less glamorous than I’m used to, but... I don’t mind it. I’m not exactly in a hurry to go back to that life anytime soon.”
Hermione looked at him, surprised by his sincerity. “You mean that?”
Draco nodded, his gaze drifting back to the river. “Yeah. I guess I’ve spent so much time trying to be something I’m not, that maybe I’ve forgotten what it’s like to just... be. To not worry about appearances, or expectations.”
Hermione studied him for a moment, wondering if he truly understood what he was saying. But instead of dwelling on the depth of the moment, she grinned and nudged him playfully. “See? I knew there was a decent person hiding under all that... Malfoy.”
Draco shot her a look. “Keep it up, Granger. I might start thinking you actually like me.”
Hermione smirked. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Malfoy. But I will admit, you’re not as insufferable as you used to be.”
Draco shook his head, a small smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “I’m still the same, Granger. You’re just getting used to the disaster that is me.”
Hermione smiled, her gaze shifting back to the peaceful river in front of them. It was true—this journey was full of surprises. And maybe, just maybe, she was starting to appreciate Draco Malfoy’s company a little more than she’d expected.