Chapter Text
Draco dragged a hand through his hair and stifled a yawn as he doodled another Malfoy crest on his parchment. With this one, he made the top corners shaped like penises. For variety.
He didn’t need to take notes for this History of Magic lecture. Draco‘s father had made sure he was exceedingly familiar with what happened during the Great Wizarding War. Riddle became Voldemort. Tried to exterminate Muggleborns. The Order of the Phoenix destroyed all the Horcruxes. Voldemort killed The Boy Who Lived’s mum and then tried to kill the boy too, but he was protected by his mother’s sacrifice or some bollocks, and the Killing Curse reflected onto Riddle. Without the Horcruxes, he was permanently killed. And they all lived happily ever after.
It wouldn’t have been such a bad lesson, but Binns’ droning monotone voice and the fact that his double period was at eight in the sodding morning practically guaranteed that the entire classroom would be asleep. Which nearly everyone was. Except, of course, for her.
Draco glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, out of sheer boredom. Perfect posture. Listening attentively. Taking notes, as if she hadn’t done the reading months ago and knew everything by heart. Swot.
They were the only people out of their respective friend groups who took this class. Draco had wanted to take Herbology, but his father had insisted he sign up for the History of Magic N.E.W.T., as it was required in order to work at the Ministry. He wondered whether that’s where Granger was planning to go after graduation. Would they end up being coworkers? Perish the thought.
It’s not that he hated her. She just happened to be best friends with The Boy Who Lived To Annoy Him and his Weasel helper. Sure, she was an irritating know-it-all, but if he was being honest, he had enjoyed the challenge of having to fight her for the top marks every year. And now, by coincidence, they were both taking the same seven N.E.W.T. classes. He was both vexed and thrilled.
He had tried to be friends with Potter back in first year, at his father’s insistence. Redeeming the Malfoy name after the war and whatnot. But Potty was sorted into Gryffindor and befriended the ginger menace instead, so he had become his rival ever since. And any friend of his was fair game. He’d mocked Granger over the years for her hair and teeth and swotty attitude. Never her Muggleborn status, though. The Malfoys couldn’t be seen supporting pureblood supremacy publicly.
And, despite his father’s best efforts in private, Draco couldn’t give a toss about any of that shite. Granger herself proved many times over that it was all rubbish and Muggleborns were just as capable as pureblood witches and wizards, if not more so. His father was an old fool with his head too far up the arse of family legacy and tradition. Draco couldn’t wait to be of age and access his inheritance so he could be rid of the man and his demands.
The person in front of him snorted lightly in their sleep, bringing Draco back to the present. He was so unbelievably bored. He slumped back in his chair and sighed, a little louder than he had intended. Granger, who was sitting to his right over in the next row, glanced at him and scowled. He smirked at her and she scoffed lightly, turning back to the droning ghost.
How she could possibly find this lecture interesting enough to pay attention to, Draco didn’t know, but he suddenly knew what he could do to keep himself entertained. He discreetly ripped out a piece of his parchment, making sure it contained the Malfoy penis crest, and wrote down a short message before folding it into a paper crane. When Binns turned around, he launched it at Granger.
He pretended to be writing something down when the crane landed on her desk, watching out of the corner of his eye how she looked around, trying to find the source. He couldn’t help but look over at her as she was opening the paper, wanting to see her reaction. He wasn’t disappointed.
“You’re cute when you’re being a swot.”
Granger’s eyes went wide and a flush spread over her cheeks, before she scowled at the paper, evidently deducing who had sent it, and looked up to glare at him. She huffed and crumbled the paper before turning resolutely back to the lecture, her glare still in place. And the flush.
Interesting. He had intended for the message to annoy her, assuming she would find his flirting repulsive. Which she did. But the blush meant she wasn’t completely unaffected.
Now Draco started thinking, still observing her discreetly. He supposed she could indeed be considered cute, if one was looking carefully enough. Her curly hair had lost its frizziness since the Yule Ball in their fourth year. And she’d gotten her teeth fixed, even though Pansy still liked to pretend otherwise. Her uniform and robes were strictly regulation, but he’d seen her wearing those Muggle jeans on the weekends, and even he couldn't deny to himself that she had a nice arse.
“...important dates of the war. Now, when was Tom Riddle born…?”
He was startled out of his thoughts about Granger’s arse when the owner of said arse shot her hand in the air before Binns even finished his sentence.
“Miss Granger…?” He seemed surprised that anyone was actually awake enough to answer a question, which he had probably asked to himself.
“Thank you, sir. Tom Marvolo Riddle was born on the 31st of December 1926, to Tom Riddle Senior, a Muggle, and Merope Gaunt, a witch.”
“Yes, yes indeed. Now, let us take a look at the history of the Gaunt family…”
Binns turned back around to the blackboard and continued his droning, oblivious once more to his students. Draco watched Granger settle back down with a pleased smile on her face, the absolute swot that she was. She glanced at him and her smile dropped, replaced again by scowling when he winked at her. She blushed again and pretended to ignore him.
Alright, he couldn’t deny it anymore. She definitely was cute, objectively. She had dimples in her cheeks when she smiled. Her flush was endearing. And he liked intelligent witches, especially when they weren’t afraid to bite back at him when he teased them. Well, Granger was really the only witch he teased. She was just fun to rile up. Most other witches he flirted with, or ignored if they didn’t interest him. And every witch he flirted with returned his advances. All except Granger, apparently.
Well, he couldn’t have that, could he? Draco had a reputation to uphold, after all. No witch could be immune to his advances. Even Granger.
Pulling his parchment back towards him, he grabbed his quill and started to write down some notes. Not of the lecture, of course. He started to plan.
“What was up with you in Arithmancy today? You let the swot answer all the questions. Now the Gryffindors are leading in points and it’s only the first week.”
Draco snorted inelegantly as he and Blaise slumped on opposite sofas in the Slytherin common room. Vince and Greg were already there, lounging on the adjacent armchairs. Vince was munching on a chocolate frog.
“I don’t give a shite about house points, Blaise. We aren’t fifth-years anymore. I only care about N.E.W.T.s. And winning the Quidditch cup, just to keep Potter humble.”
“And what about keeping the Gryffindor Princess humble?”
“About that. I have decided to take a different approach this year.”
“Oh?” Blaise drawled in an almost bored manner. “Which is?”
“Gentlemen, I have recently come to the conclusion that the swot queen has become rather fetching. Dare I say even cute.”
Blaise burst into an uncharacteristic guffaw. “Theo! You owe me ten galleons!”
A dormitory door could be heard slamming upstairs, and Theo came running down. “Bollocks. He finally worked it out.”
“Told you he would,” Blaise said nonchalantly as he accepted the money. “No one is immune to the Granger phase.”
Draco raised an eyebrow. “The Granger phase?”
“See Draco, while you were, rightfully, busy taking the piss out of the Golden Trio,” Theo explained, “most of us noticed Granger’s delightful Muggle outfits. Those jeans…”
“So you’ve all been aware that she’s fit for a while now?” asked Draco incredulously. Theo and Blaise nodded. Even Greg shrugged. “Why doesn’t anyone tell me these things?”
“We didn’t want to distract you, of course,” supplied Blaise. “Besides, with Potty and the Weasel guarding her like rabid hounds all the time, no one stands a chance.”
“Not all the time,” Draco smirked. “I was initially planning to bribe my way to a swap, but I happen to be partnered with our Princess herself for prefect rounds this year. Giving me ample opportunities to manoeuvre my way into her… heart.”
“Oh, this I would like to see,” laughed Theo. “Fancy another wager, Blaise? I’ll put another ten down for less than two weeks till the first snog.”
“Weeks? I’ll give it two months.”
“Have a little faith, Blaise. I can be rather charming when I want, as the female Hogwarts population knows very well.”
“Yes, but unfortunately for you, you’ve spent five years ensuring the Gryffindor Princess finds you supremely repulsive. Even you will struggle to get past that.”
Draco shrugged, and decided against mentioning Granger’s reaction to him in History. He knew she wasn’t immune to his looks, but Blaise had a point.
Draco had his work cut out for him if he was going to get Granger to look past his previous transgressions. But he chose to remain optimistic. He was Draco sodding Malfoy. And Malfoys always get what they want.
“Granger. I like what you did with your hair tonight.”
Hermione huffed at Malfoy for what felt like the hundredth time that day and self-consciously adjusted her high ponytail while avoiding looking at him. She had hoped he would bribe one of the other Slytherin prefects to take his place for patrols this year, but evidently he had other plans. He must have thought he was being clever, but she knew better than to believe he had suddenly started fancying her. No, she knew he was just switching tactics this year in his efforts to antagonise her and her friends.
Unfortunately, her traitorous heart didn’t know the difference between pretend and real, and she couldn’t stop the butterflies in her stomach or the heat in her face every time he flirted with her. She had been dismayed when she realised back in fifth year that she was not immune to the so-called Malfoy phase that all the girls gossiped about, and had started fancying him even though he continued to tease her. Her feelings did not fade as she hoped they would, and now she could only pray he would get bored soon before she did something stupid, like believe him.
“You’re late, though I’m pleased because that’s less time I have to spend in your company.”
Hermione turned around without waiting for his reply and started walking along the fifth floor corridor, where their patrol would begin. Tonight they were assigned to the top three floors of the castle and the three towers accessible to students.
“What a shame. I’m very much looking forward to your company this year.”
Hermione didn’t reply. Maybe by ignoring him he would get bored quicker.
“So, seven N.E.W.T.s, then? Not surprising for you. Any specific plans after graduation, or just wanted to show off?”
As much as she wanted to continue ignoring him, she couldn’t help but notice he had seemingly, for the first time ever, paid her a compliment. Maybe.
“I’m just keeping my options open, and I want to gain as much magical knowledge as possible.” And then, despite herself, Hermione had to ask. “Don’t you have the same seven N.E.W.T.s?”
“Yes, but some of those my father insisted I take. Besides, with Quidditch, I won’t get as high marks as you, which I’m alright with. I probably couldn’t have beaten you anyway.”
Okay, that was definitely flattering. Bloody mind games. She had to regain control of this conversation before she started blushing again.
“I’m surprised you even bother, considering your family. You could probably have any job you want straight out of Hogwarts, or not even work at all.”
“Granger, not all of us want things handed to them on a silver platter. Some things just can’t be bought with money.”
Hermione snorted. “Very rich coming from you.”
Malfoy didn’t reply, instead tapped her shoulder and pointed at a subtly bulging tapestry covering an alcove to their left. Hermione went and pulled it off, only to find a pair of sheepish looking Hufflepuffs behind it.
“Alright you two, back to your dormitory. And ten points from Hufflepuff for being out past curfew.”
“Ten?! Come on Granger, it’s the first week of school!”
“Yes, and? The rules apply the same.”
The boy Hufflepuff rolled his eyes and muttered to himself as he and his companion turned to walk away. “Swotty bitch.”
“Hey! That’s another ten for being a twat about it. Now piss off before I find a reason to take even more.”
The Hufflepuffs’ eyes widened and they hurried away, and Hermione turned to Malfoy. “That was unnecessary. And rude.”
“It was very necessary. We have to establish authority, Granger. This is how you build respect. Plus, he called you both a bitch and a swot.”
“You’ve called me that and worse,” she pointed out.
“Precisely why I’m intimately familiar with how hurtful it is.”
Hermione shook her head. “You’re unbelievable.”
“Also been called that before. Different context usually, though,” Malfoy winked at her.
She covered up her blush by rolling her eyes, then turned around and continued along the corridor, trying to put some space between her and Malfoy. Unfortunately, with his ridiculous height and long legs, he easily caught up to her in a few strides.
“Alright Granger, I admit, I do regret all that rubbish I said to you in the past. How about starting over?”
Hermione let out an almost shrill laugh. “Yes, that half-arsed apology sounds very sincere.”
Malfoy quickly stepped in front of her and she halted. “Hermione, I’m sorry for how I treated you. I was an arse.”
He was staring intently at her and Hermione found it difficult to look away from his grey eyes. In this light, they looked like molten silver. Her traitorous stomach was doing flips and she had to remind herself to breathe. She quickly sidestepped him and continued walking.
“Why are you doing this?”
“I’m a simple man, Granger. I’ve decided I actually quite like you after all. Like I said, I want to start over.”
Hermione ignored the way her heart sped up at his words and rolled her eyes again. “Right, Malfoy. First a fake apology and now you fake fancy me. I am not stupid. Leave me alone.”
“It’s not fake. Just ask my mates. I’ve entered my Granger phase.”
She froze in place and stared at him, dumbfounded. “Your Granger phase...?”
“Yes. It’s apparently been a thing in school for a while now. Ask any bloke. I’m a bit of a late bloomer.”
Hermione could do nothing but laugh at the absurdity of it all.
“You’re a looker, Granger. You could get with any wizard in school. And a few witches. Just have to stop clinging to those two simpletons you call friends.”
And there it was.
“Don’t talk about my friends that way, Malfoy. I know what you’re doing, and it’s not working. I don’t believe you.” Malfoy opened his mouth to try arguing further, but she continued. “And even if it were true, you would be the absolute last person in this school that I would be with. Leave. Me. Alone.”
Malfoy stared at her for a second before replying. “We’ll see.” With that, however, he mercifully dropped the topic and simply followed her in tense silence for the rest of patrol.
They ended at Gryffindor Tower, not encountering any other students out past curfew. Part of Hermione was relieved he hadn’t said anything further, even as another, traitorous part, really wished he’d chat her up again. She shoved that part to the back of her mind. He wasn’t really interested in her, she reminded herself, he just wanted to rile her up.
Malfoy silently walked her to the Fat Lady portrait, who was dozing peacefully. She was loath to admit that it was rather sweet of him to walk her all the way to her common room. He would have to make the long trek down to the dungeons on his own.
That must have been what possessed her to speak again. “Thank you for walking me here. You didn’t have to do that.”
“It was my pleasure.”
He was peering at her with those intense silver eyes again. For an absurd moment, Hermione thought this looked like they were returning from a date, and he was deciding whether he should kiss her.
“I know you don’t believe me, but I really am sorry, Hermione.”
Something about the way he murmured her given name made her knees weak. It was unfair.
“If you’re somehow being truthful about this, then you’ll have to prove it. Start being decent to me. And my friends.”
He frowned. “Need I remind you that your friends have never been decent to me or my friends, either?”
He did have a point. Harry and Ron, really most Gryffindors, also insisted on taunting the Slytherins every chance they got. This House rivalry had gone out of control ever since their first year. Stupid pride.
Suddenly his hand moved, and he slowly tucked a curl that had escaped her ponytail behind her ear.
“But with you, I can definitely be decent. And much more.” His eyes dropped briefly to her lips, and Hermione forgot how to breathe. His finger gently traced her jaw before he pulled his hand away and stepped back.
“Good night, Hermione.”
He turned and walked away, and Hermione stood in front of the entrance to the Gryffindor common room for a long time before she was able to function enough to go inside.
The next day, Hermione couldn’t stop thinking about what Dra-Malfoy had said.The idea of a Granger phase was absurd. Not that she considered herself ugly, but… Well, there was nothing particularly striking about her features. And aside from her hair, which she had finally learned how to care for properly, she did not spend much time on her appearance. She rarely wore makeup and dressed in jeans, jumpers and trainers on the weekends. Plus, she never received any male attention. Hermione knew it was a bit ridiculous she hadn’t had her first kiss yet, but no one had really approached her in that way, and she wasn’t desperate enough to go find any random wizard just to get it done.
She had hoped Ron would ask her to the Yule Ball in fourth year, had even bought a pretty dress and learned to do her hair in anticipation. But his invitation had been condescending and only came as a last resort. Hermione had been so angry that she rejected him and went with Neville instead. Neville had been polite, but they both knew there would never be any romance there, and they had simply chatted and danced a bit. Ron had apologised afterwards, and while Hermione eventually forgave him, she knew she could never develop feelings for him beyond friendship anymore.
In fifth year, she had been so absorbed with O.W.L.s, prefect duties and S.P.E.W. that she hardly had time to see her friends, let alone try to find any romance. Then of course, there was Dra-Malfoy. In the summer before fifth year he had grown several inches taller and broader. His face had filled out and lost its pointy angularity, his voice had deepened and his wit had sharpened. He was no longer an arrogant little boy hiding behind his father. Well, he was still arrogant, but in an annoyingly enticing, self-assured sort of way. Many witches fell prey to his charms. Even Gryffindor girls started swooning after him in private, especially after Quidditch matches. Slytherin hadn’t quite been good enough to win the House cup last year, but they did tie with Gryffindor, much to Harry and Ron’s chagrin.
He wasn’t just good at Quidditch, though. He had always been right behind her in marks, and Hermione knew that could not have all been because of his family name. He was intelligent and frequently contributed to lessons. Even his insults and jokes at their expense had evolved into clever quips, and she had to admit she did enjoy verbally sparring with him. Now that she thought about it, Hermione couldn’t remember the last time any of the Slytherin boys had mocked her appearance. Only Pansy still continued to pretend she was hideous.
Hermione paused her musings when Harry dropped into the seat next to her in the Great Hall and reached for a glass of pumpkin juice. “Morning,” he mumbled sleepily.
“Morning. Is Ron sleeping in again? I told him he has to use his free periods this year to revise, or else he will fall behind.”
“Give him a break. We stayed up last night, he’s helping me prepare for the Quidditch tryouts this weekend.”
“Oh. I didn’t see you when I got back after doing the rounds.”
“We were in our room. Dean, Seamus and Neville helped too. Everyone’s very excited to beat the Slytherins this year.”
Hermione rolled her eyes. “Merlin, I will never understand the obsession with Quidditch. Even Draco mentioned he’s prepared to have lower marks than me this year for the sake of it.”
Harry paused as he was filling his plate with eggs and turned to look at her with raised eyebrows. Hermione quickly realised what she just said and started babbling to cover it up. “Anyway, you’re here, even though you also have the morning free. I just wish Ron would take his studies more seriously, especially if he wants to be an Auror.”
Harry however was undeterred. “So how was your patrol last night? With… Draco.”
Hermione fidgeted with her tea cup. “It was fine. I guess he has a lot on his plate this year and isn’t interested in antagonising me on top of everything,” she said. He was interested in her in some way, that was for certain. But she couldn’t tell the boys that. She would never hear the end of it.
“Okay.” Harry didn’t seem convinced. “Like Ron said, if he’s being vile to you, just let us know and we’ll go straight to Dumbledore. You shouldn’t be forced to be subjected to abuse the entire year.”
“It will be fine, Harry,” replied Hermione with more conviction than she felt. “If he starts being truly insufferable, I’ll let you know,” she added for his benefit.
She supposed she could tell them if things got out of hand. But she really would prefer to solve her own problems and not involve Harry and Ron in everything in her life. She loved her friends, but they could be a bit overbearing.
They were still her friends however, and at the moment, Hermione had a puzzle to solve. “Harry, this is unrelated but can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“Have you heard any rumours about me?”
Harry glanced at her curiously as he chewed and swallowed. “What kind of rumors? Did Malfoy say something to you?”
“No, no. I just overheard something in the corridors the other day. Something about me and some kind of phase?”
Hermione watched Harry choke on his food and waited for him to settle down before he could answer her. The tips of his ears were red and he looked anywhere but at her. “Uh, well…”
“Harry! Tell me, please.”
He sighed and still wouldn’t look at her. “It’s just a stupid thing started by some of the Slytherin blokes last year. Don’t worry, though, Ron and I are making sure they don’t bother you.”
“What thing?”
“They were saying some nonsense about you. That you’re… well… you know…”
He gestured vaguely at her and Hermione took pity on him. “Attractive?”
“Not the word they used but essentially, yes,” Harry muttered.
“And you and Ron disagree?”
“Yes. I mean no! I mean… you know what I mean. We told them to stay away from you or we’d involve Dumbledore.”
“What?! Why would you do that?”
“Why not? Hermione, they’re Slytherins!”
“So none of them could possibly find me attractive, it’s all part of some elaborate scheme.”
“Exactly!” Harry exclaimed excitedly, before realising what he said and frowning. “I didn’t mean it like that. They’re always scheming. You can’t trust them!”
Hermione huffed. “How widespread is this, anyway? Is it really just the Slytherins?”
“Uh, it sort of caught on to the other Houses. But Ron and I told everyone to keep it away from you. We didn’t want you to be embarrassed.”
“You thought I’d be embarrassed that boys find me attractive?”
Harry looked sheepish. “When you put it that way… Sorry, Hermione. We just wanted to protect you.”
Well, that explained her lack of romantic attention, Hermione thought bitterly. “Thank you Harry, but I would kindly ask you and Ron to stop meddling in my life. I’m perfectly capable of handling things myself.”
“Right. Okay. Sorry!”
Hermione sighed and gathered her book bag. “I have to get to my Runes lesson. But we’ll continue this discussion later, you, Ron and I.” Harry rubbed at his neck and nodded as she left the table.
She made her way to class and was too distracted to participate much. The absolute nerve of Harry and Ron, threatening other boys to stay away from her out of some misplaced sense of protection. She was a grown woman, almost an adult. Worst of all, Draco had been right. People did apparently find her attractive. And more importantly, if he was telling the truth about that, what else did he tell the truth about?