Hermione woke the next morning with a familiar dread sitting in her chest.
She should have taken Pansy up on her offer last night. Instead, she'd wallowed in her dormitory until she fell asleep.
She looked over at the other beds. Everyone was still asleep. She really, truly did not want to see Ron.
She showered, dressed, and headed outside. The morning was cold and grey, the grounds quiet. She followed the path down to the lake, breathing in the sharp air, and found — to her genuine surprise — Pansy Parkinson sitting on a bench by the water, eyes closed.
Pansy opened them as Hermione approached. "You're up early."
"I needed air." Hermione stopped a few feet away. "What are you doing here?"
"I come here in the mornings. It's calm." Pansy nodded at the bench.
Hermione sat.
"How was the wallowing?" Pansy asked.
"I should have come last night," Hermione admitted, staring at the lake. "It probably would've been considerably better than what I actually did."
Pansy shrugged. "I figured you wouldn't."
"Why?"
"You don't trust us. And frankly, I don't blame you." Pansy glanced at her sidelong. "The offer still stands, for what it's worth. Theo likes your company. Just — don't make a move on him. Daphne has prior claim."
Hermione laughed quietly. "She doesn't need to worry. I'm not interested in Theo." She paused. "I'm not entirely sure what I'm interested in at the moment."
A breeze came off the lake, cold enough to make her shiver. She stood. "I should go — class soon."
Pansy looked her over as she got to her feet. She hesitated.
"That's a joke, right? That you're going to class like that?"
Hermione looked down at her uniform. Perfectly standard. She looked back. "...What do you mean?"
"You can't walk in there looking like you didn't sleep, after Weasley saw you last night." Pansy stood up, brushing off her robes. "I'll walk you. We can sort it."
Hermione opened her mouth.
"You still have to wear the uniform," Pansy said. "I'm not a miracle worker. But there's a difference between wearing a uniform and wearing it with intention." She raised an eyebrow. "Follow me."
---
Pansy said the password to the Slytherin common room without hesitation — "Selcouth" — and a stone serpent shifted to reveal the entrance. She took Hermione's wrist and pulled her in before she could second-guess it.
Hermione looked around with a startled sort of fascination.
The Slytherin common room was entirely unlike Gryffindor tower — low and vaulted, lit with the cold green light filtering down through the lake above. Dark stone, dark wood, the pale gleam of silver in the lamplight. Quieter than she'd expected. Almost peaceful.
"Relax," Pansy said. "We're going up to my dorm. Only Daphne should be there."
Hermione followed her up a narrow staircase and through a door into a room that smelled faintly of something expensive. Daphne was sitting cross-legged on her bed, finishing an essay, and looked up as they entered.
"Well," she said, taking in Hermione. "I've seen everything now."
"Daph, be a love and do her face while I find something for her to wear." Pansy disappeared into her wardrobe, already pulling things out and discarding them.
"I'm not really one for makeup," Hermione started.
Daphne was already walking over, tilting her head to examine her. "I'll just fix it. You look like you had a bad night."
Hermione kept quiet as Daphne worked — a little concealer under her eyes, a touch of powder, light enough that it felt like nothing. Hermione had to admit the results in the mirror were startling. She looked, as Daphne had said, like herself. Just a rested version.
Daphne had also — somewhere in the process, without really asking — done something to Hermione's hair. It was still curly, still very much hers, but less battle-worn. A half-up style, some loose spirals framing her face.
"So," Daphne said, blending something carefully along her cheekbone, "what kept you up?"
"Something stupid with Ron," Hermione said.
"Boys are useless. Take my word for it."
Pansy emerged from the wardrobe, arms full, and laid the clothes out on the bed. "It's still the uniform," she said. "Just better."
It was: a shorter pleated skirt, a fitted white blouse, and — Hermione held it up — a green jumper.
"I'm a Gryffindor," Hermione said flatly.
Daphne rolled her eyes. "Green is a colour that exists outside of Slytherin. I own blue things and no one's accused me of switching houses."
Pansy flicked her wand at the jumper. It turned a deep maroon.
"There," she said. "Happy?"
Hermione smiled. "Very."
She changed in the bathroom and examined herself in the mirror for a moment. The skirt was shorter than she'd ordinarily choose — the hem sat just above the knee — but with the fitted blouse and maroon jumper, the whole effect was crisp rather than fussy.
"Wow, Granger," Pansy said when she stepped out. "You look almost decent when you make an effort."
"Don't push it, Parkinson."
Daphne clapped her hands together with a delighted smile. "Weasley is going to hate himself."
"It's freezing outside," Hermione said, eyeing the skirt.
Daphne was already at her drawer, pulling out a pair of dark tights and throwing them across. "They're Charmed. You'll be warm."
Hermione pulled them on, relieved by the immediate difference. She straightened up, accepting her tie and coat back from Pansy.
"I'll walk you out," Pansy said.
---
Theo arrived to Ancient Runes alongside Draco, the two of them mid-conversation — whatever Draco was saying was making Theo look very serious. Hermione glanced at Draco as they came in. Harry was right; he was paler than usual. She wondered idly if Daphne could be talked into working the same spell on him.
Theo stopped mid-sentence when he noticed her.
He came over. "You look different."
"Good different or bad different?"
"Good different. Did Pansy get to you?"
"Her and Daphne, actually."
Theo grinned. "I bought her that jumper for her birthday two years ago. Could've sworn it was green, though."
"It was," Hermione laughed.
Draco arrived at their table a moment later and stared at her with faint puzzlement. "What's on your face?"
Theo looked at him as if he'd said something dim, and sat down.
Hermione didn't dignify it.
"Do you have plans tonight?" Draco asked. He pulled absently on a strand of her hair. "Is that what this is?"
Hermione turned around. "No, Malfoy. I don't have plans."
"Then why do you look like Pansy attacked you with her wardrobe?"
"Because she did. Now please be quiet — I'm not interested in another detention."
She turned back to the front as Professor Babbling started the lesson.
After class, Draco pulled Theo aside before he could follow Hermione out.
Theo turned with a resigned expression. "What is it?"
"Why are Pansy and Daphne making Granger over in their dormitory?"
"If you spent less time disappearing at all hours, you'd know," Theo said. "She had a rough evening. Pansy found her and invited her to join us — she didn't come, but apparently Pansy decided to follow up this morning."
Daphne appeared at the classroom door, entirely self-possessed. "If you've both finished gossiping, Hermione and I would like to get to class. Pansy and Blaise are already there."
"Hermione?" Draco mouthed at Theo's retreating back.
He fell into step behind them as they moved down the corridor, turning it over in his mind. Granger, somehow, had made herself welcome in his circle. More than welcome — Daphne was laughing at something she'd said, and it wasn't the strained politeness of someone playing a part.
That bothered him more than he could clearly articulate.
"She still looks like herself," Theo was saying to Daphne. "You didn't overdo it."
Daphne smiled. "That was rather the point."
"She looked pretty before," Theo said, glancing at Hermione.
Draco's stomach turned.
He followed them to the D.A.D.A. corridor, watching Granger say something to Daphne in a low voice, smile, and disappear through the classroom door. Daphne leaned against the wall, clutching her books, waiting for them.
"Save us seats, would you, Draco?" Daphne asked.
He went without arguing.
Theo watched him go, then turned to Daphne. "Alright. What's wrong?"
"Don't make a joke," Daphne said quietly.
"When have I ever—"
"Theo." She exhaled. "Slughorn's Christmas party. I was wondering if you'd like to go together."
Theo blinked. "Yeah, of course. I'll go anywhere with you — you didn't have to make it a whole thing." He tilted his head, unbothered, and pushed through the classroom door. "Come on, we're late."
Daphne stood in the corridor, staring at nothing.
That hadn't sounded like a date.
---
Hermione slid into her usual seat beside Harry, who looked at her with slightly widened eyes.
"You look nice," he said.
"Thank you. Pansy and Daphne."
Harry's brow furrowed. He glanced across the room at the Slytherin side. "Are there a Pansy and Daphne I've somehow missed?"
"Same ones," Hermione said.
He was quiet for a moment. "Hermione, I'm not sure how I feel about Parkinson being suddenly so... friendly with you. It's odd."
"Harry, you think every Slytherin is a disaster waiting to happen." She kept her voice low. "Look at how you've been treating Malfoy. He probably just has a lot on with his N.E.W.T. preparation."
"Just look at him," Harry said.
She did look. Draco was taking his seat across the room, something tightened around his eyes, the pallor he'd been carrying all term still not gone.
"He looks exhausted, not sinister," she said. "Not everything is a conspiracy."
Harry opened his mouth to respond, then stopped — because Ron and Lavender had just walked in, laughing, and taken seats together at the back.
Hermione looked forward and kept her face very still.
Ron slowed when he saw her. Something in his expression shifted.
"What've you done?" he asked, looking at her properly for the first time in days.
Lavender tugged on his arm. "Won-Won, come on — Parvati saved us seats."
"Right. Yeah." Ron went with her.
As they passed, Lavender glanced over. "You almost look presentable today, Hermione."
"I think she looks quite lovely," Harry said.
Hermione appreciated it more than she let on.
---
Draco cornered Pansy in the common room after lunch.
"What exactly are you doing?" he asked.
She looked at him blankly. "Walking to Potions. Care to join?"
He lowered his voice. "I mean Granger. The whole... project. What's going on?"
Pansy sighed. "Hermione is nice, Draco. She doesn't spend her evenings creeping around the castle doing Merlin-knows-what and shutting out everyone who cares about her. She was upset. I saw a chance to be decent and I took it."
"You're not decent to Gryffindors. Not to Muggle-borns."
"Maybe I'm trying something different." She sidestepped him. "It's not like I'm inviting Potter for tea. I'd rather be expelled."
Draco grabbed her arm. "You're deluding yourself if you think you can actually be her friend."
"I think you're so accustomed to your father's opinions that you've forgotten how to have your own." She looked at him steadily. "Theo says you and Granger bicker constantly in Ancient Runes, but you're not actually insulting her anymore. Anyone watching would say the same. She keeps up with you intellectually, Draco."
He followed her into the corridor toward the Potions classroom. "I am not going to befriend Granger."
"Then don't. But you have no say in who the rest of us decide to be kind to." She turned on him. "Give me one valid reason."
"She's Granger. She's friends with Potter. She helped put my father in Azkaban. She's a Muggle-born—"
"Draco." Pansy stopped walking. Her voice dropped, losing its sharpness. "Those aren't reasons. They're things you've been repeating since you were eleven. We're seventeen. Your father is in Azkaban." Her eyes searched his. "Lucius tried to kill Potter last year. If this carries on — in a year, two years, five — you'll be in a position where you're expected to do the same. I don't want that. I don't want to have to go there." She shook her head. "You're better than this. You know you are. Get out while you still can."
They walked into the Potions classroom.
Draco stopped.
Granger had her back to the door, speaking with Slughorn. He'd seen her in her robes all day, but now — coat on the back of a chair, no robe to speak of — he was getting the full picture of what Pansy had done with her.
The skirt.
He became aware that he was staring only when Pansy's voice appeared beside his ear.
"You're gawking," she said, quiet and amused.
"No, I'm not," he said, too quickly.
"You absolutely are."
"I'm just wondering what Slughorn is saying," he said, and walked to his seat at speed.
He had barely settled when Granger turned away from Slughorn's desk and walked toward him — nearly walked into him — stopping short and dropping her copy of Advanced Potion-Making with a sharp sound.
"Really, Malfoy," she said. "You'd think a Slytherin could manage to move with some warning."
She started to bend down to retrieve it.
Draco reacted without thinking, putting his hands on her shoulders before she could.
Granger went very still under his grip. Slowly, she looked up at him.
"What the—"
"Don't," he said. "I'll get it."
Pansy had to turn her face away.
Draco crouched down and picked up the book. He found himself, rather unfortunately, at precisely the wrong eye level for a moment.
He stood up quickly, held out the book, and avoided her gaze entirely.
Granger took it. "Are you feeling alright?"
"Perfectly well," he said crisply, and walked away.
Theo was already laughing by the time Draco sat down.
Draco glared at him. "What?"
"Just didn't realise what a gentleman you were," Theo said.
"It wasn't—"
"Is that your wand, Draco, or are you just pleased Granger's here?" Pansy said pleasantly, taking her seat beside him.
"Shut it, Parkinson." He shifted in his chair, very deliberately fixing his attention on the Potions textbook. "Next time you put Granger in a skirt that short, you might consider teaching her how to pick something up without — it was embarrassing for her. I was saving her the embarrassment."
"How thoughtful," Pansy said.
Draco didn't answer. He found their assigned page, set the book open flat, and concentrated very hard on the instructions for the next forty minutes.
"Draco. Oi — Malfoy!" Blaise said.
Draco blinked. "What?"
"Your stirring. You're going too fast."