Ron and Harry were finally talking to her again.

Of course, this was after McGonagall had given Harry back his broom and there was also a three-foot essay due on the properties of Devil’s Snare for Professor Sprout so Ron promptly forgot his frustration with her over Crookshanks and Scabbers. After all, they were her best friends, so she swallowed her pride and was grateful when she was brought back into the fold.

“Harry, can I ask you something?” Hermione started, leaning back in her chair by the fire to rub her tired eyes from her potions essay.

“Mmph?” Harry mumbled, clutching his quill between his teeth as he read over a particularly nasty paragraph he’d just written about the best way to retrieve a fresh toad liver.

“It’s a silver dagger, not bronze,” Hermione corrected off-handedly, her eyes drifting over his barely legible handwriting that she had learned to decipher over the years the same way she had with Ancient Runes.

She tapped her wand to the parchment, changing the word for him.

“Thanks ’Mione.” Harry put down his quill and removed his glasses, buffing them on the sleeve of his jumper. “What is it?”

From the corner of her eye she watched Ron building a card tower and hoped he was too focused to listen in.

“Have you heard of older Gryffindors beating up Slytherins in our year or younger?”

Harry’s bright green eyes grew wide for a moment, then he blinked a few times.

“What? Of course not, that’s mad,” he said incredulously.

Hermione bit the inside of her cheek.

“That’s what I thought…” she said softly.

Harry leaned forward, glasses glinting in the firelight.

“Where did you hear that?”

She tried to shrug casually and played with the end of her quill.

“I… overheard a few younger Slytherins talking about it. One of them looked pretty roughed up,” she invented quickly.

Ron hmphed as his cards caught fire and sizzled into ashes.

“Come on, ’Mione,” Ron interjected, turning to face the two of them. “You’re way too gullible. If Slytherins are getting beat up, it’s because they’ve done something to deserve it.”

Harry nodded sagely. “It’s true. How many times have you seen Malfoy and his cronies taunting people? Taunting you ?”

Not a lot , Hermione thought honestly, especially this year. Instead, she gave a noncommittal noise with a nod.

“It sounds like utter rubbish to me,” Ron grumbled then turned to her. “What do you even care, Hermione?”

She blanched. It was a valid point – what did she care? But… of course she cared!

“It just doesn’t seem right, them being picked on just because of who their family is. No one deserves to be harmed just because of that or what house they’re in.”

Ron made a disgusted noise. “You’re talking about families who supported You-Know-Who, Hermione. Of course they deserve that.”

“Do you really think so, Ron? You really believe that a first year deserves to be hexed because of who their parents are?”

The stubborn expression Hermione always associated with the end of a conversation and beginning of an argument crossed over Ron’s face.

“Yes, I really do,” he snapped.

“What about you, Harry?” Hermione turned to her best friend and was sad to see a similar expression on his face.

“I don’t think it’s right for a first year to get hurt… but people like Malfoy and Nott and Zabini? Their parents helped the man who killed my parents, Mione… of course I’m not going to care what happens to them.” Harry stood up, collecting his books and parchment into a neat pile. “And I don’t think you should either.”

…

Hermione was back in the library at her favorite table. She should have been nose deep in her transfiguration notes, but instead she was watching the snow– the torchlight illuminating just enough of the outside that she could see the fluffy flakes bouncing against the glass and accumulating on the sill.

Though she had told herself to stop worrying about Malfoy and the rest of the Slytherins, unfortunately her mind had done quite the opposite. She found herself paying more and more attention to them but especially to Malfoy. He seemed to swing wildly between brazen overconfidence, swaggering around the halls and taking cheap shots at anyone who passed – except for her she’d quickly realized – and withdrawing so deeply into himself he was almost completely unrecognizable.

A shuffle to her right broke her out of her reverie as Theodore Nott limped into view.

“Oh bollocks,” he grumbled. “No one’s usually back here.”

Theo’s brown curls bounced as he looked around, obviously trying to figure out another place to go. He was cradling his left hand close to his chest and his shoulder also seemed to be set strangely.

Without thinking Hermione jumped to her feet.

“Are you all right?” she asked, coming forward to get a better look at him.

Theo huffed a laugh. “Don’t you worry your brilliant brain about me, Granger. I’ll be fine.”

He’d gestured with his right hand, finally exposing his left hand where his first two fingers looked disjointed and purple. She let out a small gasp at the sight and Theo clapped his hand back over it, causing him to groan in pain.

“You need to go to the hospital wing, Theodore,” she said in her best authoritative tone.

“It’s fine, Granger, don’t worry about it. Blaise will pop them back in place and I’ll be right as rain.” He gave her what she assumed was supposed to be a debonaire smile, but his grimace as he shrugged ruined the effect.

Her mind started working. Here was yet another Slytherin obviously injured yet seeking refuge in a secluded part of the library instead of going to the hospital wing.

“What did you do?” she asked warily.

As they stood there, she could see the shadow of a bruise beginning to form over Theo’s jaw. He blinked at her.

“What makes you think I did anything?” he answered in a cold voice. “I was just on my way to the Great Hall for a late dinner when a group of seventh year Gryffindor’s decided they wanted to try out a few spells they’d found in some mad book. From the way they were talking, the spells are supposed to replicate muggle fighting. Boxes or Boxts or whatever.”

“Boxers,” Hermione said without thinking.

Theo nodded.

“Uh yeah, boxers. Boxing hexes.”

She stared at Theo for a long moment.

“Sit down, Theodore.” She gestured to the table.

He gaped at her for a long moment, staring between her and the table where her books and parchment took up the majority of the space. Then he slowly lowered himself into a seat, still clutching his hand to his chest.

“May I take a look?” Hermione extended her hand towards him. Her heart gave an uncomfortable squeeze at the look of fear that passed over Theo’s features. “I promise I won’t hurt you.”

Just as Theo was about to release the hold on his hands, they heard a shuffling of feet and the sounds of ragged breathing.

“Theo! Theo! ” Malfoy called in a whisper.

As soon as Malfoy turned the corner, he skidded to a halt.

“Granger…” he said warily. “What are you doing here?”

Her breath caught in her throat. Malfoy’s pale face was tinged with pink from the cold outside, he’d obviously just come from quidditch practice if his gauntlets still strapped to him and the slightly damp Slytherin jersey was any indication. She couldn’t help the way her eyes raked over his body, stopping to linger on his muscular thighs and broad chest. Then she remembered herself, but before she could respond Theo spoke up.

“I kind of crashed her spot,” Theo said. “I remembered you telling me about a spot at the back of the library and went looking for somewhere to hole up while the common room thinned out.” He turned to Hermione, a slightly sheepish grin on his face. “Sorry about this, Granger.”

Clearing her throat, Hermione turned back to Theo.

“It’s fine, Theodore. Let me take a look, okay?”

Without invitation, Malfoy smoothly sat beside Hermione, close enough that she could smell the cold still clinging to his clothes and see the tiny snowflakes melting in his hair. She tried to focus her attention once more on Theo, who slowly lowered his injured hand onto the table.

“Salazar Theo,” Malfoy cursed. “What happened?”

As Hermione inspected Theo’s injuries Theo filled Malfoy in on the Gryffindors and their boxing hexes. From the look of his hand she thought that the fingers were broken and slightly out of place.

“I think I can fix this… if you don’t want to go Pomphrey,” she said, accidentally interrupting the beginning of Malfoy’s rant.

Theo’s jaw dropped open.

“You can do that?”

She shrugged. “Maybe, I’ve gotten pretty good at healing charms over the last three years with how much trouble the boys get into.”

She could see both Theo and Malfoy both grimace at the mention of the boys but she was surprised when they didn’t comment.

“Let her help you, Theo. She fixed my nose a few weeks ago.”

Theo looked back and forth between them.

“That was you ?”

Hermione blushed for a reason she couldn’t quite quantify. Perhaps it was the awed look Theo gave her, or the pride that seemed to be emanating from Malfoy. Rather than responding, she just nodded.

“Ok then, Granger. Give it a go.”

She took a deep breath, steadying herself.

“This may hurt a bit – I’m sorry if it does.”

With a wave of her wand, she mended the bones in his fingers with a sharp crack . Theo jerked, a small groan escaping him.

“Sorry, sorry ,” Hermione gasped at his pain. Panic started to bleed through her veins and her hands began to shake.

“It’s… fine…” Theo gritted through his teeth.

Suddenly a cold hand covered her own.

“You’re doing great, Granger.” Malfoy’s grey eyes pierced hers. She felt a rush of delight at his praise and it calmed the panic. “Just breathe, yeah?”

She nodded, taking a slow breath.

“Hold his arm steady, I’m going to set the bones in place,” she asked Malfoy, who immediately reached over to clamp both hands over Theo’s forearm.

This was the part she was nervous for, having only read the theory and incantation in a book she’d checked out from the library. Over the last few years she’d made it a point to learn as many healing charms as possible considering the amount of danger she, Ron, and especially Harry seemed to find themselves in.

With a twirl of her wand and a muttered locatus , Theo’s fingers shifted and popped. The purplish hue faded and Theo wiggled his fingers experimentally.

“She’s absolutely…” Theo’s voice faded as he looked between her and Malfoy.

“Brilliant, that’s what she is,” Malfoy finished for him.

She was startled to see Malfoy’s grey eyes twinkling in the candlelight. There was so much in his gaze she could and couldn’t understand. There was gratitude for her helping his friend that she could see easily, awe at her magical skills was also there, but there was something else lingering below the surface that looked a little like longing.

“Thank you, Granger. Truly,” Theo said sincerely, pulling her attention back to him.

She waved a hand. “It’s no trouble, Theodore.”

“Call me Theo, Granger. I think you’ve earned it.” He flashed her a smile. “Well, I’m off to stop Blaise from hunting me down as well. See you in the common room, Drake?”

Malfoy nodded once.

“Thanks again, Granger. See you around, yeah?” Theo gave her one last grateful look.

“You’re welcome, Theo. See you,” Hermione answered as he made his way out of sight through the stacks.

Nerves started to squirm their way through her chest as she realized Malfoy had made no move to leave.

“You helped him,” Malfoy said softly.

“Of course I did,” she answered just as quietly.

He had that strange look in his eyes again and seemed to be searching her face for an answer to a question he hadn’t yet asked.

“They really are targeting you, aren’t they…” Hermione said.

Malfoy nodded solemnly.

“I’m sorry,” she said after a moment.

“We don’t need your pity, Granger,” he snapped quickly. The sneer that had just marred his handsome face disappeared as quickly as it came. “I’m sorry… that was rude of me.”

Hermione had to stop herself from gaping at him. Draco sodding Malfoy had just apologized for being rude to her .

“Did you get injured tonight as well?” she asked without thinking.

He stared at her, obviously trying to understand her question.

“No… why?”

“You don’t have another concussion?”

Malfoy obviously remembered their last conversation and laughed, pushing his hair back where it had fallen into his eyes.

“I told you, Granger… I’m done with that now.” His voice had taken on a low, husky tone and his eyes seemed to grow molten with his sincerity. “You need to be careful, you know.”

Her skin prickled at his warning.

“Why is that?”

“This is the second time you’ve helped a Slytherin… first me, now Theo who is as good as a Malfoy. If you’re not careful we’re going to start thinking you don’t hate the Slytherins.”

“I don’t hate you,” she said quickly.

His grey eyes widened and a small smile turned up the right corner of his mouth. With a blush she realized her mistake – she had said I don’t hate you instead of I don’t hate the Slytherins .

Malfoy leaned a little closer to her, his breath ghosting across her cheeks. She could feel the warmth of his arm resting just beside hers on the table.

“I’ll tell you a little secret, Granger…” Without thinking, it seemed, he reached to brush a stray curl from her cheek. “I don’t hate you either.”

Before she could exhale, Malfoy quickly stood and swept from the library, leaving Hermione reeling.