fervere

Chapter Two

The first night back at Hogwarts was ruined by a sudden meeting request from Dumbledore. Draco had no real option to decline. 

Snape stressed it was urgent, dragging Draco away from the lazy crowd of content full-bellied students who slowly were making their way to their respective houses. Throughout the welcoming, Draco had been looking forward to his nice soft bed. He, regrettably, spent most of his energy on the train ignoring the whispers about the World Cup: what it meant, who had marched. It took a lot of energy to not jinx a few group of girls that carefully would steal glances his way, especially when he heard his surname being tossed around.  

Truthfully, Draco didn’t have concrete proof his father had been a part of the march, although he would be stupid to deny it especially when the late night intrusion flashed through his head. There was a huge disconnect Draco desperately sought for, he didn't want to be linked to his father's allegiances. Not now at least. 

Nevertheless, despite not being a part of the march, Draco was conscious of the attention he was receiving. By the time he boarded off the train, climbed into the carriages, settled himself down at the Slytherin table, he had walked by five groups that had hushed and stared when he'd walk by. It wasn’t until Dumbledore announced their hosting of the Triwizard Tournament as weel the arrival of Drumstrang and Beauxbatons, that he felt the attention shifted over to more meaningful things.

Even with such big announcements Draco didn’t think much of the sorting nor the feast. He never did really. Except for the canceling of Quidditch, that stung Draco a bit but he had been to tired to spend much of his energy caring. Draco went through the motions, eating to his heart’s content. He was just as tired and sleepy as any other student except that he didn’t have the pleasure of heading straight to his own dorm.  

Draco shrugged Snape’s grip off his shoulder as he was faced with the entrance of Dumbledore’s Office. The giant stone Gargoyle spun around, revealing its spiraling steps. Draco hesitated looking up the steps, the smell of a burning candles floated down from Dumbledores off. Snape lightly pushed Draco, and he took a step slowly ascending towards the handsome wooden double doors.  

“Headmaster...” Snape announced, pushing the doors open, “Draco Malfoy as your requested.” 

The tall boy followed Snape in, rather annoyed that this meeting had to take place tonight. What could have been so important that couldn't wait? Couldn’t he rest first? 

“Mr. Malfoy.” Dumbledore cheerfully greeted, "Wonderful to see you!"

“Dumbledore.” 

He was lightly swatted on the back of his head by Snape.  

“Your manners, boy.” He hissed.  

“My apologies, Professor Dumbledore,” Draco corrected with a tinge of annoyance, “You wished to see me.” 

“Yes, it seems long overdue since our last chat.” 

“I presume your schedule’s been full with Potter, if I’m not mistaken.” Draco muttered out without filtering. That earned another swat.  

“Another and I’ll be taking points from your house, Malfoy.” Professor Snape lowly warned.

"Please Severus," Dumbledore held his hand up, "That won't be necessary. I rather have his honesty than performative pleasantries."

Without much patience of greetings and formalities, Draco cut to the chase, huffing, “I don’t know much.” 

Dumbledore’s brows rose. Even Snape had craned his neck in curiosity.

“I know why you called me in and if you’re asking about the World Cup. I’m not one hundred percent sure if my father was a part of the attack.” He admitted, “I could only assume he was, but he had gone to entertain Fudge before the match ended and that was the last time I saw him until the next morning.” 

“Of course,” Dumbledore closed his eyes, full of understanding, “I hope there is no misunderstanding, Mr. Malfoy. I hope you are aware that the actions of your father, although unconfirmed, do not reflect on you whatsoever.” 

There was something about Dumbledore’s optimism in Draco that confused him. As if he completely trusted Draco was nothing like his father, that he was different than him. Draco shifted his eyes around nervously as silence took hold of the room while Dumbledore continued mulling over some convictions in his head. He tilted his head slowly side to side, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.   

Draco had not been used to Dumbledore’s profound patience. Anytime Draco had not pleased his father with an immediate and exact answer that he wanted, he was punished for it. Mostly it was a hex that would cause Draco’s skin to feel like it was set on fire, but it was only for a minute at most. Maybe two.  

Disappointing a powerful wizard like Dumbledore with a half-ass answer made Draco feel like he deserved the fire skin curse, yet he stood there without a punishment.  

“There was this meeting,” Draco suddenly blurted, fully aware that there was no turning back. Was there really a way to redemption in correcting the things he knew to be true since birth? Draco couldn't be completely sure but his impulse had led him to jump at the opportunity. His curiosity challenged the kind of alliance he was brought up to uphold. Draco knew that by divulging this information, he was doing the exact thing his mother was afraid of and what Snape warned him of doing prematurely.

But, Draco couldn’t help the slight pull of something, beyond his will, that was leading him to another path.  

Snape and Dumbledore looked at him intently. 

“Speak, Draco,” Snape ordered, patting his back to push him forward. 

“The night before the world cup, father had visitors. A Macnair and Crabbe.” Draco began. 

They exchanged looks.  

Draco paused, recollecting the night, “They kept bugging father about a great unfailing plan and his return.” 

“Him being Voldemort,” Dumbledore leaned forward in interested.  

Draco solemnly nodded.  

“The details?” Dumbledore asked, looking over at Snape. 

Without warning Snape invasively arrowed through his mind the moment Draco turned to his Professor and locked eyes. He even dived deep into his most recent memories, noting of the interaction between Granger and him at the World Cup. It hadn't been a notable interaction, but Snape had sensed Draco’s urgency to her gain her attention, causing shame to swallow Draco whole when Snape let go of him. Draco took a shaky step forward, grasping on to the guest chair to hold himself up. He had already been tired, but Snape’s legilimency had exhausted him to new lows.  

Snape gave Draco a long look, trying to hold off his disappointment for later. 

“Draco knows of a plan but in the vaguest of terms.” He confirmed, “Tell him.” 

He stood still taking slow shallow breaths to steady his mind. Snape had seen a considerable amount and it had embarrassed him to have Snape discover how delighted Draco was to see Granger in the Great Hall, despite the color that the girls from Beauxbaton added to this year.  

“There were no real names mentioned but there was something about entrapping the boy in a graveyard.” Draco shook his head, “I don’t know... really, that was all I caught.” 

He looked back at Snape for reassurance, and he gave him an approving nod.  

Dumbledore sighed, “An extra watch on Potter this year Severus.” 

“With all this babysitting I’ve been doing these past few years,” He gave Draco a pointed look, “You’d think that I'm a single mother with two idiot boys.” 

Dumbledore chuckled, “We are all thankful for your care. A word with Mr. Malfoy, Severus. Alone?” 

Professor Snape bowed and threw a sharp look at Draco as to warn him to not be curt with the Headmaster. 

Once the door was closed and Dumbledore, in all his mysterious ways, knew that they were now in a space of privacy, turned to Draco. He gestured to the seat in front of his desk as he, himself, rounded the desk to lean against the front. Draco assumed he wanted to feel less of a Headmaster and more of a mentor. Draco, still weak, held on to the chair as he took the few steps to plop down in exhaustion. 

“Summer was quite the event.” He carefully chuckled, "Professor Snape mentioned a few things, including having to make accommodations for a dog? An Aster?"

Draco smiled for a second, "He brought him?"

Dumbledore nodded, "Well can't have Aster fend an entire year by himself."

"Is this what you wanted to talk to me about, Professor?" He sighed out, "About Aster?"

"No," He earnestly responded, "Not at all, it just moves me that you were able to step outside the box your family has placed you in."

Draco took his time to respond, his mind moving at the exciting pace of molasses. He had been trying to figure out Dumbledore’s motive to talk to him privately. Dumbledore knew that Draco could provide valuable information but thinking about helping Saint Potter in any capacity brought a visible sour taste in Draco’s mouth. However, his mind would naturally shift over to Granger, and he felt soft and confused.  

“Professor,” he began, “Suppose I rather not help-” 

“It is completely your choice.” He advised. Draco couldn’t understand why, when presented with the most opportune chance of recruiting a valuable source, Dumbledore gave him the option. He didn’t feel coerced or blackmailed after Dumbledore saw what his father would recognize as weakness. Perhaps if his mother hadn’t been so concerned, Draco would have spent more of his summers allowing punishments to shape him into someone his father would be proud of.  

It brought his mind back to the summers he spent without dread, especially the summer filled with strange muggle things and days of discovery. Something that his father and even mother would be horrified to have discovered. Then Snape came into mind.  

“You have options. You can lead a different life if you so willed.”  

“I don’t pretend to know why Professor Snape is so loyal to you or why he’s pushing me to see there are different paths I can take.” Draco began, “But why is it that I must choose? Can I not just exist without the choice?” 

Professor Dumbledore remained quiet.  

“I assume you know by speaking to me, this meeting, that I am already implicated in a betrayal in father's eyes. Yet another thing that I didn’t get to choose.” Draco pointed out, lifting his heavy head to look directly at Dumbledore. 

The Headmaster gingerly closed his eyes and nodded once. 

The teenager scoffed, “Then I'm already damned, despite what I choose.” 

“I understand your sentiments in your unfortunate situation.” Dumbledore crossed his arms, still thinking, "I do believe you have a rather difficult path to walk when the Deatheaters are successful.” 

“When?” Draco questioned, “Not if ? Are you not doubtful?” 

Draco was met with silence, as if Dumbledore was unsettled with admitting his own reservations. 

“If this is indeed a fool proof way of bringing him back, sir, why hadn’t it been done earlier?” 

“It has been attempted,” Dumbledore smiled knowingly.  

“Then why has there not been a stop to it?” Draco had enough energy to raise his voice just enough to sound pitiful. Dumbledore jolted up, quickly abandoning his leaning spot and rushed over to his storage room in the back. He returned with a jar full of chocolate balls.  

“Have one,” He offered, “You’ll feel better.” 

Draco took two and popped the chocolate in his mouth, watching Dumbledore pace around.  

“I believe your mother's concerns are justified if what you just told me, comes to fruition,” Dumbledore advised, “It is for your own good to remain as removed as long as possible for your own safety and your family as well. It is only a matter of time when your family will face repercussions for failing him in its completion.” 

Draco held in a wince, beginning to feel the weight of a heavy decision placed upon him. One that he often ignored. 

“You’re kidding me.” He scowled, sitting up a bit straighter than before. 

“Not at all,” Dumbledore shook his head eagerly, “On the contrary. If you really must know, I hold the belief that his return is inevitable and those subjected to him, like your family, will have to submit to questioning from Voldemort. But, despite all of that, rest assure there will be a singular moment when you will be the one to decide what is what you truly want, and if you have the desire to fully stand for it.” 

That was that. Draco nodded and stood up, making his way down his office stairs only to bump into Professor Snape who was waiting for him to finish up with Dumbledore. There was a pause as Draco waited for him to arrow through his mind again to discover what was discussed about but after several seconds of standing there nothing happened. 

Professor Snape didn’t.  

Being silently escorted back to the dungeons wasn’t the worst part of walking with Snape, it was the fact he didn’t take his eyes off of Draco, as if he was trying to read him and still respect his privacy. Draco still half expected him to go through his mind before they reached the Slytherin Common Room, but he didn’t, which made his staring much more annoying. 

“What?” Draco snapped.  

“It has come to my attention that it is now become imperative to implement a routine of occlumency for you every night.” He warned, “Your memories are damning evidence for not only yourself but for me.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Draco waved him off, which caused Snape to reach out and grab his student forcibly by the collar.  

“Listen, Draco, I am not risking putting my neck out on the line for you just so you can soften at the sight of Ms. Granger. Give me one solid ounce of doubt and I will not hesitate to use a memory charm on you if need be.” Snape threatened, “All of your school boy tenderness for Granger will be gone from your mind.” 

Draco panicked at the mention of her name. There could have been a someone around the corner for all he knew. 

“You panic over something insignificant.” He insisted.  

“You don’t have me fooled,” Snape narrowed his eyes, “Small things, if watered, can grow.” 

“I can keep my emotions in check. Perhaps I’m interested in playing double agent, just like you.” He glared back, “If you, of all people, managed to convince both sides your loyalty lies with them, then couldn’t I?” 

“You toe the line boy.” Snape pointed his finger at Draco’s scowling face, “If the Dark Lord, when he returns, becomes aware that you’ve managed to gain the trust of Potter or those close to him-” 

“Wouldn’t be worse than harboring a student for a summer to dissuade him from choosing sides, would it?” Draco rolled his eyes at the nerve of his Professor suggesting that his uncertain friendships would be more damning than his role of changing Draco’s path.  

Snape gave his student a long look before straightening up, “You’ll find that keeping your loyalties crystal clear will be, unforgivably, most difficult if you involve yourself more than you should, Draco.” 

Snape paused. 

“Don’t think that I missed the detail on Sephina, your house elf,” He pointed out, “If you hear from her, it would be best to relay any information, big or small or unassuming back to the headmaster or I. Understand?” 

“Yes Professor.” 

“Off to bed.” 

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

The next days were filled with classes and lots of bodies bumping into each other as Hogwarts was up the brim with guest students from Drumstrang and Beauxbatons. Draco had participated on the ongoing chatter of his peers, ogling the fresh new faces.  

Draco wasn’t immune to curiosity.  

Admittedly, it was mildly exciting at first but after the third day the same topic of conversation grew tiring. The novelty faded fast for Draco, despite having a world renowned Quidditch player in their midst. Could he have attempted to befriend Krum and succeeded? Perhaps, but there was something deeper itching inside him to even think of approaching the famed student. 

After a week, Draco was unwillingly subjected to the latest spotting of Viktor Krum at the library or the gossip of which girl from Beauxbaton had given Draco a long look. Crabbe and Goyle egged Draco on to approach a group that had been giving them signals but Draco refused.  

“Don’t understand,” Crabbe whispered loudly to Goyle after Draco lightly snapped at them. His friends had been hopeful that he’d flirt with the gaggle of Beauxbaton girls so they'd have a chance at one of them, “You’d think he was chuffed when all the girls were staring at him on the train.” 

“He grows like half a wand size over the summer, looks like he’s carved out of stone, and he doesn’t take advantage?” Goyle sighed out, “What’s up with the Slytherin Stud?” 

Crabbe snorted, “You heard the Ravenclaw girls talking during History, didn’t you?” 

Both Goyle and Crabbe fell into a fit of laughter as Draco stormed away, leaving his plate half eaten while they gossiped over their lunch. It was the kind of gossip that Draco avoided. Everyone was talking about someone and it was all so tiring. Draco didn’t care much for any of it, sulking himself into a corner of a cold classroom during afternoon lessons as thoughts of a warm summer and decisions weighed heavy on his mind.  

Was it possible that he could have the choice to alter the expectation that was chosen by his birth? All he had ever known was prestige and pride of purity.  

And yet, that look in her brown eyes staring up at the starry ceiling was burned into his memory, that was purity. Draco tried to imagine himself choosing to freely pine over some girl that hated him and he would let a gripping fear take a hold of him. It would mean abandoning all he grew up with, didn't it?

Perhaps toeing the line was the only thing he could do. Question was, should he even be entertaining the thought.

To escape from his own troubling thoughts, Draco spent his evenings ‘hiding’ in the library.  

It wasn’t much of a hiding spot when it was swarmed with girls after Krum was spotted there twice. Rumors only took less than a school day to spread and now the library was alive and buzzing with nosey students from all three schools. Draco usually would have checked out his secret spot to study in peace, but considering the amount of students, he rather not have it revealed for others to use. Nevertheless, Draco muffled his own ears with a charm and tried his best working on homework and sometimes treat himself to a reading a chapter from the muggle books he had snuck into school.  

Occasionally, (not that he was purposefully camping out) he’d catch Granger walking back and forth with a stack of books in her arms and that would bring a fulfilling smile on his face for the entire day. It was rare to catch a glimpse of her outside of class or in the Great Hall alone without Potter or Weasley. The library was proof Hermione had a life outside of her famous best friend and that, for some reason, gave Draco immense satisfaction.

One Thursday evening the library was packed, as usual, swarming with desperate students looking to cram two months of lessons in a night. The air was heavy with anxiety when exam season had fallen upon Hogwarts and had been, unfortunately, scheduled the morning before the selection of the Triwizard Champions. A good number of students were looking forward to a cheerful feast. However, a majority of them were also looking to catch up on the lost study time. Perhaps all the gossip had distracted a good amount from focusing the past weeks. By the looks of it, it seemed like all the houses had fallen victim to a rather distracting start of the year. 

Half were still walking around trying to look inconspicuous stalking Krum (failing miserably if Draco could say so himself), and the other half were sweating over books unable to keep up their studies.  

A sixth-year boy sitting next to Draco had cried twice, unable to transform his ink bottle into a pair of decent spectacles. His most ‘successful’ attempt, the sixth-year slipped on the glasses only to have his hands and face stained black from the ink heavy within the spectacles.  

“I’m going to fail,” He whispered pathetically to himself. He began packing his bags, abandoning all hope and Draco felt the weight of his misfortune leave with him. Smirking and glad to be alone with his book after hours of pouring into his potion's notes, Draco had a moment of rest. 

Draco had barely flipped over the first page, mindlessly glancing around, when he spotted Granger standing at the end of the aisle, cautiously peering in with her arms full of books. Taking note of an empty chair, she took a few steps in and froze the moment her warm brown eyes connected with Draco's. They both froze. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that Granger had been eying the chair next to her enemy.  

She stood still, weighing her options of taking the seat, and judging by her darting eyes scanning the area, there was no other choice. The library was filled to the brim with students in every corner. 

However, she still stood there for another minute. 

And then another.  

Draco felt his fists ball up. It was unknown why he felt so bothered by her inner conflict. To sit or not to sit. He knew she would rather burn herself at the stake than to sit next to him and if he was in her shoes, he probably curse himself too.  

Draco knew he couldn’t blame her, yet he was still angered that she hesitated.  

Frustrated battling his own thoughts, Draco stood up suddenly gathering his things. Throwing ink bottles carelessly in his leather book bag and shoving scrolls in without a delicate hand, he made the choice to go. He had to. He couldn’t bear to see her rejecting the chair next to him when he knew it was inevitable. 

Ready with his things, Draco stalked towards her trying his best to look ahead and not give her a single bit of attention. That was until he noticed, from the corner of his eye, her head turned to look at him.  

And like gravity, his chin was pulled into her direction. Shoulder to shoulder, he stared her down and if it wasn’t for his fear of showing weakness, he would have taken all the time to just stare at her. But he forced himself to continue.  

Allowing his feet to lead the way, Draco didn’t stop stomping until he reached the gloomy common room of Slytherin. Flinging his book bag off to furiously pace around and let off some steam, a few fearful first years looked at the raging boy in awe. Rather than threatening them with a curse, Draco exasperatedly grabbed his things once again and stormed up to the privacy of his dormitory.  

The best part of the Slytherin dormitories was the fact that they were allowed individual rooms once they entered their third year. Lucky for Draco, he really couldn’t imagine sharing a room with others anymore. He shuddered at the fact that other houses were forced to share their dorms for their entire stay at Hogwarts.  

How they didn’t murder each other at the end of the year was beyond him. Even the thought of unknowingly interrupting the privacy of another would have scarred him for life.  

Draco continued pacing around his circular room. Opening the curtains to the dim greenish aurora of the windows to the great lake, he placed his cheek against the cool glass as if it would help him with his temper. He desperately needed to get a grip. It was no good in harboring strong feelings towards Granger.  

Draco couldn’t even bring himself to go down for dinner at how flustered he felt. He spent the rest of his night tossing and turning recalling the details of her face as she began to formulate how she was going to reject the seat next to him without looking obvious.  

Draco knew the rejection was obvious, he just couldn’t face the reality of it. 

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

The next morning, Draco was feeling miserable and sleepy as the morning chatter centered around the selection of champions that was taking place that night. It was all everyone talked about. All Draco cared for at the moment was having his porridge in peace and reviewing his potions notes.

The morning post had arrived, owls screeching in just as Draco put a teaspoon of brown sugar into his warm bowl. The sporadic thumping of packages came in and to his surprise, Draco had received a small rectangular parcel. Stunned, he expected to find his father’s eagle waiting for a treat only to find one of the school’s owl staring back at him. He handed it a piece of toast and the tawny school owl flew away content with it’s reward.  

Crabbe and Goyle were too busy to notice Draco’s small package. They always stuck their noses into Draco’s business in the case he had been sent sweets that his mother got from her travels in France or Austria.  

Draco hadn’t been paying much attention but they were huddled up whispering something about befriending a friend of a friend of Krum’s. He rolled his eyes and ripped the parcel open.

He peeled off the brown wrapping to reveal a book cover that should have been in the safety of his book back. The title shined in gold lettering. Horrified to find the small book of Beauty and the Beast looking back at him, Draco's heart stopped for a moment.  

Surely he had... 

I threw it in my book bag, it's in my bag, Draco thought recalling last evening when he was furious at the nonsense in his head regarding Hermione. 

There was a note sticking out, bookmarked inside the middle of the book. It slipped it out when Draco cracked it open and in the most unfamiliar handwriting, it read:

I believe this is yours. You left it behind when you rushed out.
                                                                               - H.G.  

A flood of embarrassment pooled at his cheeks and Draco glanced over to the Gryffindor table in search of Hermione. He caught her, quickly averting her gaze away. She put on a nervous smile towards Harry, seemingly putting on a mask that she wasn’t worried about Draco’s reaction.  

After all, she had caught him with the most damning evidence subjecting himself to a slew of questions if anyone found out. 

Her brows were furrowed, a sense of unease began to fill her face. Draco assumed that even she was questioning why she had returned his book back.  

Granger wasn’t stupid, she was bookish, Draco was more than sure she had come across this book once in her life. She was possibly also wondering why it was in his possession. Just as Draco came up with a good excuse on why she shouldn't immediately assume the book belonged to him, his own bookmark fell out which was a slip of thick stock paper and, unfortunately, addressed to the last person who checked out the book.  

Draco’s name was scrawled neatly on the last entry.  

She was not wrong in her certainty that it belonged to him.  

He deflated. His excuse would not work. 

Nevertheless, he quickly slipped the book into the pocket of his robes in hopes nobody at his table saw him and tried to enjoy the porridge, consistently having to correct his smiling at this small victory. 

It was then when dread filled every inch of him. Shouldn’t he be more bothered? Shouldn’t Draco be scrambling for a lie he could use? 

It couldn’t be.  

There must be some good explanation to this why her discovery didn’t bother him as much as he wanted it to. 

Had he really taken a liking to Granger? 

Perturbed by even the idea that feelings had been implanted in him, he headed to double potions early to clear his head. It was untimely that he had lessons with Gryffindors, and despite the fear of having to face Hermione in class, it was beginning to feel like is was golden opportunity. What kind of opportunity?

Draco was not sure himself.  

The dungeon filled in, the tension thick with desperation and dread for the morning exam. Draco sat in the back, his leg nervously shaking while he read over his notes pretending he didn't notice when Granger hurried in. Moments later, Snape floated in flicking his wand. Their tables were immediately cleared of any books or scrolls. Another flick of his wand and the anti-cheating quills flew out from his cabinets, gently placing themselves at each student's desk. Ron and Harry rushed in, apologizing to Professor Snape. It was obvious that their slight tardiness infuriated him but dismissed it in favor of explaining their morning exam. Draco did his best to keep to himself, stealing glances at Hermione who shared a table with Longbottom. He was curious if she would hint at the favor she did for him or even acknowledge him at all. 

His train of thought led him to volunteer to help hand out their written exams while Snape was kind enough to examine their cauldrons to make sure they were cleaned out properly. Draco surprisingly accomplished his task without making any snide remarks to Weasley’s stupid freckled face or to Neville’s nervous stuttering when he apologized for spilling his ink all over Draco's leather shoes.  

Instead, Draco wordlessly went back to his own table and began to work diligently in silence, forcing himself to focus on the questions on his test. It was challenging task when he tried not to acknowledge Hermione's gawking face at the missed opportunity to snap at Longbottom.

It only took him about ten minutes to complete and used a bit of time to review his answers. He was sure he would ace it. Snape snatched the exam out of his hand when Draco approached him. Professor Snape scanned it, giving him a glaring look before he waved his wand and the stain of Draco's inky shoes disappeared. 

"Fool," Snape whispered, handing him his cauldron.

After handing in his written exam to Snape, Draco promptly began working on his exam potion quietly as he basked in the warmth of the memory of Hermione's momentary attention. It wasn't long before he cycled back to the worry that perhaps Snape was right in his concern but then, thought of the time and care Granger went through sending him his book back... 

Draco licked his lips as he cut up some fezzywig root for his Effervescent Elixir, concentrating to cut the root in sharp angle. Draco hadn't been the prodigal potion student, but he did take pride in making some of the best potions in class. Sometimes first, and sometimes second to Hermione. He took a glance at her when she stood up to turn in her written exam. Snape gave her the same cold stare and handed over her cauldron and the slip of paper that had all the information need for a Effervescent Elixir.

Draco gritted his teeth, stopping his eyes from stealing another small look. He knew if he continued he would cross the line of being reckless, but it was really hard to see that line when his head went fuzzy spending time in his own world. Sure, it caused Draco such blissful misery that a look from Snape would straighten him out. Draco would be dead if Snape caught him enjoying his thoughts as he swooped his eagle eyes to watch intently over the class.  

“Professor Snape,” Hermione’s voice called out as she stuck her hand in the air, “I’ve ran out of the anise seed. Is it possib-” 

“You are fully aware that the school’s supply closet is at your disposal,” Professor Snape interrupted, “Grab only as much as you need, Ms. Granger and be sure to make the most of your next visit to Hogsmeade to replenish your own supplies. Go.” 

Hermione jumped up immediately and headed to the back of the room, her robe brushing past Draco as she disappeared into the supply closet. 

Draco was struck by the change in scent. He hadn’t noticed she smelled different from the usual herbal scent that hung thick in the dungy dungeon air. Then again, Draco never had been close enough nor cared enough to take notice before. He was deep in thought trying to figure out just exactly what the scent was, carefully pouring slugged oil into the cauldron, when Ron’s annoying voice pierced the air.  

“What’s that miserable git smiling at?” Ron elbowed Harry next to him, “Reckon he’s taken a dose of something?” 

“What are you on about,” Harry hissed loudly back trying to focus on his exam. Hermione rushed by once more and Draco felt an unwanted smile spread over his face. Alarmed, he pressed his lips together and hoped that for once Weasley was minding his own business. 

“He looks like he’s wrestling a troll in his mind, doesn’t he?” Ron’s attempt at whispering was irritating the Draco, “Worst of all, he’s been silent the entire class. Bit creepy, no? Not that I’m begging to hear his voice. ” 

Likewise , Draco thought, scoffing into his cauldron, stirring three times clockwise and once counterclockwise.  

“-but you’d think he would jump at chance to take the mickey out of anyone. Look at Neville for crying out loud!” 

Draco stared at his potion hoping to not lead on that he was following their conversation. Although Draco was sure everyone, even Snape, was following their conversation at this point considering that Ron was as subtle as a banshee. 

“Even he’s on edge that Malfoy didn’t hex him for spilling ink all over him.” Ron took an obvious look over his shoulder at Draco who was sitting right behind them. Even Neville glanced over, terrified that Draco would point his wand out suddenly and thank Ron for the reminder to hex Longbottom.

“Leave him alone.” Granger’s angelic voice pipped in, “It’s not like he's deaf, he can hear you both.” 

“We all can,” Professor Snape sighed, “Five points from Gryffindor.” 

Harry and Ron both quickly wheeled back to their written exam, missing the Draco narrow look he had given them. Still despite the trouble of having Ron point out his countenance for the whole class to take notice, Draco gave himself a smug smile, proud that Granger had defended him in a way.  

Chuffed at the gesture, Draco moved on to lowering the flame of his cauldron when he met Professor Snape’s eyes. He immediately dropped any sense of accomplishment. He shouldn’t be happy about this at all. He should have been rightfully defensive and moody, ready to bully anyone who thought of him other than the menacing prideful Malfoy but he was blissfully floating ten feet in the air.

“Well done, Draco,” Professor floated over to his troubled student, hoovering over Draco's work, “May I advise to not lose your focus, as this work is barely passable compared to your usual standards...” 

The stoic Professor went on to criticize more potions while Draco earned looks from those around him. Even when Granger sent a long look at Draco, he struggled to ignore her.  

He didn’t need Hermione to be looking at him, not when it would put the entire class in danger if he managed to slip in the wrong ingredient in the delicate brew. 

However, Draco met her eyes and for a moment that felt like an eternity, Draco found himself drowning.