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“Remind me again why I have to hang out with Potter and Granger?” Draco pouted as Pansy pulled him down the hall.

“Because,” she replied, glaring over her shoulder at him, “Harry is my boyfriend and Hermione is his best friend and she has a muggle game guaranteed to make us break up.”

“Lead the way then,” smirked Draco.

Ever since Pansy and Potter had become friends and started dating she had been begging him to hang out with the boy. He had succeeded in avoiding the inevitably awkward situation until last night when he had been sufficiently drunk off something called tequila and he had agreed to go with her tonight. To spend time with her boyfriend. Harry Potter. As well as Harry Potter's best friend, Hermione Granger.

He was, to say the least, really fucking pissed. But Pansy was persistent, and Pansy was his best friend, and honestly, Pansy knew some fucking terrifying curses and he did not want to get on the wrong side of her. So that meant a night of muggle board games. With Harry Potter. And Hermione Granger.

Hermione Granger. The girl who had beaten him every year. The girl who was so obnoxious and clever, it made his teeth clench. The girl who punched him in the face when he was a prat. The girl he couldn’t stand. The girl Pansy had drunkenly called his crush the night before.

Draco had laughed at the time, but now he couldn’t stomach the thought of seeing her. He knew Pansy, he knew if she thought he liked her, she would be anything but subtle. As a result, he was dreading tonight, for more than just time with Potter.

He groaned as Pansy reached the heads dorm. How Potter and Granger had gotten themselves made heads he had no idea, but tonight, he was glad for it. No one else would have to see him socialize with them.

Pansy knocked and waited, after a few seconds the portrait swung open and Harry Potter appeared.

“Just who I was hoping to see,” he smiled, pulling Pansy in and giving her a kiss that made Draco half retch behind them. “Sorry Malfoy, didn’t know you’d never seen kissing before.” Potter laughed as he let her go.

“I’ve seen kissing, just nothing that pathetic,” muttered Draco as he entered behind Pansy.

“Play nice Draco,” hissed Pansy. He glared at her in response.

“Pansy, there you are!”

Draco whipped around. Hermione was standing by the small kitchenette. She had a bowl in her hands, and was making her way toward the fireplace. They had pushed the coaches and tables out of the way to make room for them to sit, and there were bowls of food scattered around.

“Hello Malfoy” Hermione gave him a curt nod.

“Granger,” he replied, “I hear you have a game that will make Pansy and Potter break up.”

Granger nodded, “I do, but it’s more likely to destroy your friendship with Pansy.”

Pansy laughed and Potter shook his head, “Aren’t you worried about our friendship, Hermione?”

She shook her head and smiled, “If we could play this with the Weasley’s and still be friends, I think we’re fine.”

“Where is Weasel by the way?” Draco asked, smirking. He knew Granger broke up with him in the last week, but he was not above pushing her buttons a little.

“Not here,” snapped Granger, clearly stiffening, “So why does it matter?”

She set down her bowl and took a seat on the carpet. Pansy and Potter joined her, and Draco moved to the only available spot, between Potter and Hermione. He glared at Pansy across the carpet and she only smiled. He knew she did it on purpose. He’d get back at her later.

Granger pulled out a deck of cards, and began to shuffle. “Harry,” she said, intent on her work, “Explain the rules to Malfoy and Pansy?”

Harry smiled, “The game is simple. You’ll get seven cards, and your goal is to be the first with no cards. After Hermione deals, all remaining cards go in the middle, she flips the top card, and left of the dealer begins.”

“This doesn’t seem very relationship ending,” Pansy said, beginning to pout.

“Don’t worry, I’m not done love,” replied Potter. Draco made a loud gagging noise.

Hermione, to his surprise, laughed. “You think that’s bad, try living next to him!”

The black haired boy’s face was red while Pansy cackled. Draco’s lips twitched in the tiniest of smiles.

“As I was saying,” said Potter, trying to recover, “Hermione flips the top card and left of the dealer, Pansy, begins. Pansy must match in either color or number. If Hermione flips a red seven, Pansy must play either a red card, or a seven. If Pansy doesn’t have those, she must draw until-”

“She doesn’t necessarily have to draw,” Granger interrupted.

“I was getting there Hermione,” Potter said with an eye-roll, “Pansy must draw until she has either a red, or a seven. I should mention, there are four colors, red, yellow, blue, and green, and numbers zero through nine.”

Hermione gave Potter a look that said hurry up, and started dealing.

“There are also sabotage cards. Skips and reverses are color specific, so you can only play them on matching colors, or if there’s a skip or reverse played before you. Draw two’s also have a specific color. There are also wild cards, and wild draw fours. Both can be played on any color, and both allow you to change the color to one you prefer. Am I forgetting anything?” Potter looked at Hermione, who had finished dealing and was placing the remaining cards in the middle of their circle.

“Not that I can think of, we can add in stacks once you two get the hang of it.” Granger replied. “Oh, and I’ve charmed these cards so you can’t change them, so no cheating.” To Draco’s surprise, she was glaring at Potter.

“I would never do that,” he said with a smile.

Draco got the feeling stacks will make this game unnecessarily complicated. Also, he wanted to hear what happened to make Granger charm the cards.

“Any questions?” Granger asked and he shook his head, wanting to get this over with.

Pansy, however, piped up, “You promised me more tequila!”

Granger laughed, “Let’s play a round so you get the feel for it, then we can do some shots.”

Draco stared at Granger, “What,” she asked, fidgeting uncomfortably under his gaze.

“Just never would have thought Princess Granger would be the one smuggling alcohol into school,” he smirked.

Granger glared at him, “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Malfoy.”

She tossed her hair over her shoulder, and leaned forward, flipping the card on top. It was a red seven. Pansy looked at her hand, and selected a card, placing it on top of the red card. A blue seven. Potter went next, he placed a five on top, also blue. Draco selected a blue at random and threw it on top.

“Bitch!” Granger shrieked. Draco looked at her in confusion and she pointed to the card. He looked and realized that the card has two small arrows on it. Granger was glaring at him.

“You reversed it back to me,” Potter explained, he was smiling, “And also did the first douche move of the game, so…”

He laid his card, it was also blue but had a circle with a line drawn through it. “That means you’re being skipped,” Potter smirked as Pansy glared at him.

Draco couldn’t help himself, he laughed at that. It was a glare he’d known since childhood, and he found it amusing that Pansy was not above turning it on her lover.

“What’s funny Draco?” asked Granger as she laid a card, “You’re the one who has to draw four.” Now Potter and Pansy were the ones roaring with laughter while Granger flashed a little smile at him that made him feel, something. Something he didn’t want to deal with exploring because he can’t quite believe what she just said.

He turned to her in disbelief, sure enough the card had a little plus 4 in the corners and a grid of colors in the middle.

He glared, and all Granger did was laugh some more.

“The color is red,” she added as he leaned forward and drew four. None of the cards he got were red.

The game continued in a similar way, until everyone was staring at Draco, who was about to play, waiting for him to make a move.

“Come on Malfoy,” Potter implored, “Do something, you can’t let her win!”

Granger was holding one card in her hand, and Draco was looking at a yellow three. He had five cards in his hands. Two yellow, one green, one blue, and one wild card.

“Pansy, are you sure you don’t know what she has?” he asked.

“Draco, if I knew I would tell you,” Pansy responded, her eyes not leaving the cards in his hands. They’d been playing for nearly half an hour at this point, and tensions were running high. He’d sabotaged both Potter and Granger more times then he can count, and Pansy had yelled at him twice. He also could not remember the last time he’d laughed this hard. Granger had opened a box of wine - boxed wine, muggles really were strange - about half way through, so at this point they were all a little bit more tipsy than when they had started.

If only he knew Granger’s color, he could take the game from her, but he didn’t. He had a three out of four shoot at this, but he was nervous as hell, he also had a feeling that Granger wasn’t one to go down that easily.

He looked back at his cards. Then back at Granger. Then back to his cards. God damn her, goddamn this stupid muggle game, goddamn everything.

He lay down the wild card.

Taking a deep breath, Draco spoke, “Green.”

All eyes turned to Granger, who looked at her card, then at everyone else, she lay it daintily in the middle. It was a wild plus four.

“Fuck,” screamed Pansy as she threw her cards into the air, falling backwards dramatically.

Hermione collapsed onto her side, laughing. Potter was crawling across the circle, shaking her roughly. Draco could not help but start to laugh.

“What’s so funny?” Pansy was glaring at him, “We lost!”

“The way she did it,” Draco was breaking out into full blown hysterics. “Did you see? She- she just, just laid the little card down.” He was actually cackling now, “Little perfect Granger, laying down that card with that smirk.”

Everyone was staring at him now, then Potter started to laugh.

“What?” said Pansy, turning on him now, confused.

“The way Malfoy is laughing, at Hermione, I just never thought I’d see something like it.”

There was a pause, and then both girls were laughing too, falling over sideways.

Draco casually folded his arms over his chest and pouted. That only made Pansy and Granger laugh more. Draco glared and Granger reached hysterics.

They kept laughing for several minutes. Eventually they finished, and wiping tears from their eyes, the girls sat back up.

“Well, Malfoy,” he didn’t like the way she drew out his name. “What would you like to do now?”

Draco felt a smirk creeping back onto his lips, “I do remember something about, what did Pansy call it? Tequila?”

“Oh yes!” shrieked Pansy. Jumping to her feet, she seized Granger and pulled her up as well. “Tequila! Please! Please! Please!”

He was reminded of Pansy back when they were children and he had something she wanted.

“What about the stuff I gave you last week?” Granger looked amused more than puzzled.

“We drank it last night!” explained Pansy. “It tasted a little funny, not like it did when we had some.”

Pansy was in the process of dragging Granger into the kitchen, both girls are smiling in a way that makes Draco happy, but he can’t figure out why.

“Did you use the lime and the salt?” Granger asked.

Pansy shook her head and Granger rolled her eyes.

“Harry, Malfoy, come on!” called Hermione.

Potter got to his feet and offered Draco a hand. He refused, scrambling to his feet himself.

He walked to the kitchen, where Hermione had lined up four shot glasses, and was busily slicing limes. Pansy was sitting on the counter next to her, chatting.

“And then we’ll go to Harrods together,” she was saying.

Granger rolled her eyes, “Pansy, Harrods is kind of a tourist trap, do we really have to go there?”

“Hermione,” Pansy replied, exasperated, “Daphne has been pouring over muggle fashion magazines since third year when she stole them from some Hufflepuff. You are not depriving her of this chance!”

Granger smirked at that, but Draco felt a little shocked.

“Granger, since when do you go out with Daphne and Pansy?” his brows had furrowed in confusion.

“Since Pansy started dating my best friend,” Granger replied. She said it in the most casual way he has ever heard. It made him angry.

Hermione had finished slicing the limes and was pouring a shot of tequila for each of them. She reached up onto the top shelf and pulled out a jar of salt.

Pansy licked her hand easily and held it out, taking a shot glass with her other hand. Hermione placed a slice of lime in her hands, and sprinkled on some salt. Potter prepared the same as Pansy, and Granger turned to him last.

“What am I supposed to do exactly?” he asked.

Granger shook her head and laughed, “This is Pansy’s fault. She didn’t teach you to do a proper tequila shot.”

She flicked her hair over shoulder in a way that completely infuriates him. “It’s called a salt-lime shot. Basically you lick the salt off your hand, do the shot, and then suck on the lime.”

“Why?” Draco could not understand why this was happening, or why this was necessary.

“Because that’s how it’s done, Draco.” she replied.

He hated the way she said his name, he hated that she used his first name. It aggravated him, rubbing him the wrong way.

He took the lime and shot, hesitated, but decided to lick his hand, and accept the salt as well.

“Well then, on three,” said Granger, raising her class.

She counted off, and licked the salt. Draco followed her motion, downing the shot just after and biting into a lime. The sensation was surprisingly pleasant. It tasted a lot better than it did the night before. Something about the combo changed things.

The shot went down, and he found himself asking Granger for another, which she willingly provided. He did two more shots before Hermione made him a mixed drink, which she called a Cuba Libre,

Whisky was the main drink in the wizarding world, there was also one type of rum, red currant rum, that his father keeps around, but that was very different.

They returned to the clear space, and Hermione dealt another hand of Uno. She won this one, and the next three after. Hermione supplied them with a number of muggle drinks throughout this. He tried a Dark N’Stormy during the second game, and a mojito at the end. He made a joke about Hermione getting him drunk, and she gave him a strange look after he says that.

After the fourth game, Potter threw down his hand and screamed that Hermione must be cheating, and that ended their games. Hermione couldn’t help but fall over laughing when that happened, and Pansy joined her. They lay on their side giggling until Potter started to tickle Pansy. Pansy got to her feet at that.

She dragged Potter and Hermione to the kitchen, demanding shots, and Draco followed behind her.

Pansy giggled and pushed some vodka to him, before grabbing something she called radio and started blasting music. She pulled Potter into the main area, and started dancing with him.

He stumbled to a coach, falling onto it and laughing a little, then began gagging as he watched the way that Pansy was grinding on Potter. He did not need to see that.

Hermione fell down next to him.

“Well Hermione, it appears we have become unnecessary,” he said.

She gave him that look again, this time he told her to stop, asked her why she’s looking at thim that way.

“You never call me Hermione,” she replied. He notices her voice is a little slurred.

“Well, I never had a reason to,” he retorted.

“I’m a person, Isn’t that reason?” she snarked back, sitting up and looking at him.

“Calling you by your last name does not make you not person,” he responded.

“What does it make me, then?” She looked alert now, and was glaring.

“It makes you a...a you, I don’t know,” he didn’t know what else to say.

“I get it, a mudblood,” she seemed to be snarling at him, in a very tipsy way.

“It makes you a not, a not, a not not not my close friend,” he stumbled his way through the sentence, and realized the muggle stuff was a little more potent than he’d thought.

“So only your close friends have names?” she giggled. Why was she giggling now?

“Not names, they just don’t have super duper special names,” he responded.

“Special names?” she looked perplexed, “What’d’you mean special names?”

“Well isn’t Hermione pretty special? I’ve never met another Hermione.Or Hermy. I do know a Hermon.”

“It is special, it’s an ancient Greek name, it’s very very very special,” she giggled a little throughout everything she said, he never pegged her as a giggly drunk. Ok, he never pegged her as a drunk to begin with.

“That’s true,” he replied, “It’s always bothered me because it’s a very pureblood name.” He may be more drunk than tipsy, he never would have said that sober. .

“So only purebloods get cool names?” She’s glaring a little now.

“No, no, no, no, no,” he’s going into damage control mode, he didn’t want to make her mad. “It’s just there are rarely any non-old school purebloods, who aren’t, well, who aren’t named something, something, something cool!”

“You think my name is cool,” her eyebrows have arched up.

“Of course I do, your name is Hermione,” he smiled at her. “How could I not love that name?”

Hermione giggled again, she glanced down, and bit her lip a tiny bit. “Well, that’s nice. It’s good to know you like something about me.”

“I like a lot of things about you,” he sat up and turned to face her, “I like your insane hair and your big giant brain.”

“My giant brain, you think I have a big brain?”

“Granger, everyone in the goddamn world knows about the size of your goddamn brain Granger!”

“Why are we back to Granger,” he likes the way her brow furrows when she’s angry.

“Well, I reserve the right to switch at any time.” Her brow furrowed more at that, he liked that even more.

“That’s not fair,” she was pouting now, Draco likes her pouting. “I should get to decide what you call me!”

“That’s not fair! What if I come up with a very cute nickname for you?”

“Well, you at least have to pick one thing and stick to it!” She looked grumpy and pouty now.

“If I must,” he tried to do a dramatic gesture and ended up falling over, Hermione had been leaning on him a little, and fell with him. She rolled off him, onto her back, giggling. Draco propped himself up on an elbow to look at her. She’d slipped down onto the floor and it was very amusing to him. He laughed a little at her expression.

She punched him lightly in the arm.

“You made me fall Drakey,” she pouted.

“Drakey? Since when did I become Drakey?” he’s puzzled as to how she got that.

“Since Pansy called you that while she was drunk!” she squealed. Draco could feel himself turning red. It was Pansy’s nickname for him during childhood, not because she couldn’t pronounce his name, just because it irked him and she knew it.

“Remind me to jinx Pansy for that,” he grumbled, sliding onto the floor to be with her.

“You may have to wait for a bit,” Hermione said, and Draco realized that Potter and Pansy had vanished.

“Gross,” Draco said. He did not want to think about what Potter and his best friend were up to in Potter’s private room.

Hermione struggled to her feet, and made her way to the kitchen. She poured herself a glass of water and picked up the radio, changing the music. Her music was slower, and more instrumental than what Pansy had been playing.

She poured a second glass of water, and came over to him. She settled down next to him and began to sip the water. She placed the other glass in front of him. He took it and began to sip.

“This is pretty,” he muttered, as her music kept on playing.

“Draco Malfoy, did you just complement Muggle music?” she was mocking him, even when he’s drunk, he can tell.

“It’s pretty, the instruments are all flowy and nice.” He waved one of his hands absently in the air as he spoke.

“Thank you” she smiled a little bit. “Drink your water Drakey.”

“Granger, if you call me Drakey one more time, I’ll -”

“You’ll what?” There’s a challenge in her eyes that he can’t quite place.

“I’ll make you stop,” he tried to glare, but he didn’t think it was mustering the level of threat he wanted.

“Make me? I dare you to make me.” She paused. “Drakey.”

“Oh you’re gonna get it Hermione,” He launched himself at her, grabbing her by the waist, and pulling her towards him, beginning to tickle her.

“No, no, no STOP!” she shrieked, thrashing about, “Drakey stop!”

She twisted underneath him, somehow freeing one of her arms which she started using to tickle him back.

“Hermione, no, please no!” he yelled as she found the particularly sensitive spot on his left side.

“Arghhhh,” he managed to twist away from her, scrambling back across the floor toward the coach.

Hermione was sitting a few feet away, a smug smile on her face. “Told you you couldn’t make me… Drakey.”

Draco glared at her, “I’ll still make you stop.”

“You failed one attempt, you’re gonna have to try again,” she was smirking. Why did she have to keep smirking like that.

“You really think I can’t stop you?” he asked.

“Oh yeah, no way you can,” she was laughing at him.

He sat back and smiled at her.

“You aren’t coming after me?” she asked.

“I may,” he responded, “But I’m gonna bide my time.”

“Oh really, you’re such a coward Drakey,” she was still smirking. Fuck he really wanted her to stop smirking like that.

“I’m not a coward, I’m slytherin. I’m just waiting until you’re weakest.”

“I am never weakest, I’m watching you Draco,” she smiled. “You aren’t gonna get me.”

“Oh yes I am,” the song changed on her radio, becoming loud and upbeat. Hermione groaned, and got to her feet, hurrying into the kitchen. She changed the song a few times before eventually settling on something slower and sweet sounding.

“This is the same singer I started with,” she hummed, pouring herself another cup of water. Draco got to his feet and went to join her in the kitchen.

“What’s the singer’s name?” he asked, pouring his own glass of water.

“It’s a group, Destiny’s Child,”” Hermione said, drinking her water. “They’re American.”

“They have nice voice,” murmured Draco.

“Never thought you’d complement an american, muggle singer,” Hermione responded.

“Well, it is pretty.” Draco told her, “Plus my mother always said we should appreciate muggle culture. Something about more people meaning better literature.”

“It’s true,” Hermione smiled, “Sorry but wizarding literature really is shit.”

“Trust me, I know. My mom made me read Chaucer, Charles Dickens, Jane Austen, Virginia Woolf, a few others.” He smiled fondly at the memories.

Without thinking, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Hermione’s waist, pulling her in for a dance.

Her hands came up to his shoulders and they swayed on the spot. After a minute Draco reached up and pulled one of her hands off his shoulders, beginning to waltz slowly around the kitchen.

“Draco,” she said after a minute, “Why are we waltzing around my kitchen to an American pop singer?”

“Because,” Draco replied, “It felt like the right thing to do.”

He said it mater-of-factly, but in truth, he had no idea why he had stepped forward, why he had taken her in his arms. The song just felt like it should be danced to.

The song changed, moving to something more upbeat. Hermione stepped back out of his arms, moving towards the counter where she leaned awkwardly, watching him. Neither was sure of how to react.

“So you like muggle lit?” she asked, reaching desperately for a topic.

“Yeah, Canterbury Tales are important even in the wizarding world,” he responded.

“Wasn’t one of Chaucer’s kids a wizard, muggle born?,” she asked.

“Agnes Chaucer, the youngest,” he told her.

“I thought she wasn’t real,” Hermione looked puzzled.

“Well yeah, in the muggle world, but in the wizarding world she’s the one who brought in literature of a higher level, she’s pretty famous actually.”

“And she was muggle born?” She looked puzzled, “y’all hate muggle borns.”

“Wrong,” said Draco, “Some people hate muggle borns, some people hate muggle borns who don’t assimilate properly, and some people really don’t give a shit.”

“Which are you?” she asked.

“I used to be the first, but now I’m somewhere between wanting some level of assimilation and not giving a shit,” he told her.

When his father had gotten arrested in connections with a string of hate crimes during his third year, his mother had moved them out of Malfoy Manor, and they hadn’t been back since. It was her more liberal opinions that had influenced him in more recent years.

“There are other, more important, historical figures who are witches and wizards,” He continued, wanting to get off the topic of his family and his father’s politics. “Margaret Tudor, the one whose Catherine of Valois’ kid, she was a wizard, Jacquetta of Luxembourg, and all her children, which includes Elizabeth Woodville, and even Elizabeth of York, although there’s a lot of controversy there, she rejected magic and had a lot of problems with it.”

He was rambling, and couldn’t stop. “One of Edward III’s illegitimate children by Alice Perrers, Bjorn Ironside-”

“-Eleanor Cobham?” she asked.


“A girl who got convicted of witchcraft in the mid 15th century, famously beautiful,” she was looking at him expectantly.

“Never heard of her,” he admitted, she looked disappointed.

“What about Joan of Arc?” she pressed.

“Actually that one's unclear,” he told her, “No one is really sure. There are a few books written on the subject, I can send you some if you want.”

“You’ve got books on magical history lying around?” she looked genuinely shocked.

“I’ll have you know,” he straightened up, “That my mother is the current world authority on medieval wizarding history.”

“Narcissa Malfoy, the socialite?”

“Yes,” he didn’t understand why she wasn’t getting this.

“But she doesn’t teach, and Bathilda Bagshot doesn’t mention her,” she said, folding her arms across her chest.

“You don’t have to teach to be the world authority, Granger,” he told her smugly, “Also, Bathilda is kind of a joke within the magical historian community.”

“So what’s her opinion on Joan of Arc?” she asked.

“She thinks it’s highly likely that Joan may have been a witch. During the Hundred Years War there was a lot of confusion about where magical kids, particularly in occupied France, should go to school. It’s very possible Joan was a witch, perhaps gifted with Seer abilities, that used religion to explain things she couldn’t understand.” He smiled proudly, grateful that he had payed attention to his mother over the years.

“Why don’t we learn any of this from Professor Binns?”

“Because Binns only got the Hogwarts job on a whim back in the mid 1800s, and the curriculum is Ministry influenced, and therefore highly biased.” His mother's opinion on the ministries education interference was one of the things she had talked more about after his father’s arrest.

“I never knew you were so passionate about education,” Hermione was looking at him quizzically.

“It’s what I’m doing after graduation. I’m going to work for a mastery in history, then work for the ministry in the Department of Magical Education.” He smiled as he said it, he was actually very excited about his post-grad plans. His mother was over the moon.

“That’s quite ambitious Draco,” she told him. He was still grinning though, “I look forward to seeing what you do with it. I hope the magical world will be better for it.”

“That’s the goal isn’t it?” he gave her a rueful smile. “Improve the world in some small way.”

She nodded. “It is.”

“What do you want to do?” he asked, walking over to the sink and grabbing two glasses and a bottle of wine. He walked back into the main room, praying she was following him. He let out a relieved breath when she sat down next to him on the sofa, and accepted a glass of wine.

“Education as well,” she told him. “Professor Snape has invited me to do a potions mastery, and from there I want to teach, and eventually run Hogwarts itself.”

“So we’ll be seeing a lot of each other then,” he smiled.

“Think you can handle that?” she teased,

“Oh, I have a feeling you’ll make it well worth my time,” he smirked.

“So,” she turned to look at him fully, pulling one leg onto the sofa, “tell me more about your mother’s work.”

He lit up instantly, before he launched into an explanation of her work on wizards in the Hundred Years War and the War of the Roses. He explained about the conflicts within wizarding society, and how muggle conflicts had affected the withdraw of wizards into their own society, and the eventual statute of secrecy.

“How do I not know any of this?” she questioned eventually.

“History of Magic focuses on magical history for the first five years. If the conflict was muggle focused, it doesn’t get addressed till NEWT classes,” he explained. That logic had always frustrated him.

“I know, I know,” he continued, reading her expression, “It’s ridiculous, and Dumbledore is a great wizard, but he doesn’t understand the role that history plays in our society. We can’t view ourselves as a separate entity from the past. It’s one of the things I want to change eventually.”

“How does no one know this about you?” she asked then.

“Know what about me? That I like history,” he blinked at her, “Granger every Slytherin knows that, it’s a running joke in our common room. It isn’t my fault you Gryffindor’s don’t pay attention. Hey!” he yelled as she slapped his arm.

“I do pay attention,” she informed him, “I’m the best in our year for a reason!”

“You pay attention in class, that doesn’t mean you pay attention to other people!” he mock glared at her, “Book smart is different than people smart, Granger.”

“Thanks for the character analysis, Malfoy,” she curled her lip a little, but there was a twinkle in her eyes. “I’m thrilled to see that after seven years of classes with me, you have realized that I am exceptionally book smart.”

“It takes amazing observational skills like mine, trust me, to realize this,” he told her.

She laughed at that, throwing back her head, and letting her hair fall down her back. Her laugh was infectious, he couldn’t help but join her.

She slumped back onto the cushions as she finished laughing. Draco joined her back on the cushions.

“Why potions?” he asked as he added more wine to her glass.

“I guess I want to change the world,” she shrugged. “I wanted to be a healer for the longest time, but recently, I guess I realized that as a healer I could help people, but if I want a chance at actually changing the world, I need to be creating the cures, not administering them.”

Draco nodded in understanding, “Makes sense. Got any idea what you’ll want to do your final project on?”

“I think something to do with wolfsbane, or maybe polyjuice. I haven’t decided yet,” she shrugged.

“Those are two very different things, Hermione,” he told her.

“I know, like I said, I haven’t decided yet,” she glared at him a little. “I don’t need you judging my life.”

“Hey, hey hey,” he held his hands up, the wine sloshed a little in his glass, “I’m not judging you, to be honest, I’m insanely impressed by you and what you’re doing. Those potions are both insanely complicated. Working on those, that takes serious skill.”

“Thanks,” she gave him a little smile that made his heart sing, “It’s nice to hear you say that.”

“You’re welcome Hermione,” he leaned a little closer to her, “I look forward to seeing whatever you do with your life. I know it’ll be great.”

She gave him another little smile, “Thanks Draco, I know you will too. I look forward to seeing what you teach the next generation of Hogwarts students.”

“So, you really think you can handle it, spending the next few years with me Hermione?” he was moving closer. Why did she have to be so goddamn cute?

“I don’t know why I wouldn’t be able to,” she was still smiling, from the angle he was at now, she had to look up at him a little through her lashes.

“Because, you strongly dislike me,” he smiled.

“I don’t dislike you Draco,” she protested.

“Could’ve fooled me,” he smirked.

“Seriously, Draco,” she looked indignant, “You really think I don’t like you? Especially after tonight I find I very much enjoy your company!”

“Oh really?”

“Yes, really!”

“Prove it!”

“I will!”

With that statement, she closed the distance between them and kissed him. It wasn’t a sweet little kiss, rather, she launched herself onto him. She straddled him, wrapping one hand around the back of his head and resting the other hand on his shoulder.

His hands came up to her waist with ease, and he gripped her, pulling her to him.

After a minute, he pulled away.

“So Granger, what does that prove exactly?” his voice sounded lower to him, he hadn’t realized that could be a side effect of kissing like that.

“It proves that I like spending time with you?” she stated matter of factly, “And based on your reaction,” she leaned a little closer, “You like spending time with me too.”

“Maybe I do,” he murmured, meeting her eyes.

“She gave him a soft smile, “You know last night, Harry said it seemed like I had a crush on you sometimes. I’m thinking he may be right.”

“You know,” he said, running his hand through her hand, “Pansy said the same thing to me last night.” He pulled her a little closer, “I definitely think she’s right.”

Then he pulled her in, and kissed her again.