Daphne walked alongside Hermione by the Black Lake, arms wrapped around herself against the cold. "Have you asked anyone to the party yet?"
Hermione sighed. "I think I'm just going to go alone."
"Terribly boring." Daphne glanced ahead. "Looks like we're late."
Hermione followed her gaze and felt her pulse quicken when she saw Malfoy standing with the others. "Malfoy's coming?" she murmured.
"I know we're meant to be shopping, but I dragged Theo along so we can coordinate — he's my date. And he brought Blaise and Draco." Daphne shrugged as they reached the group.
Pansy sighed, exasperated. "Finally. We've been waiting ages."
"We've been here ten minutes," Blaise corrected. "She's being dramatic. Shall we go?"
They set off toward Hogsmeade, Daphne immediately falling into deep conversation with Theo.
Hermione watched her friends with a quiet smile — glad, genuinely, to see them working through things at last — when a familiar voice murmured close to her ear.
"You didn't come last night."
She stiffened. Draco's voice was close enough that she could feel the warmth of it. She turned to face him, keeping her expression composed despite the flutter in her chest.
"I wasn't feeling well," she said, perhaps a little more clipped than she meant it.
His eyes glinted. "You could have sent a note. I waited."
Her eyes widened slightly. "You waited?"
He shrugged. "Maybe. Don't make it into anything. It was your turn to help me."
"I told you — I wasn't well."
"Oi," Blaise called back to them. "If you two are done bickering—"
"We're having a conversation, Blaise," Draco said, and the whole group turned to look at them.
"A civil conversation?" Theo asked. "No snark? No sniping?"
Hermione gestured at Draco. "He only knows how to communicate in sarcasm."
Pansy tried and failed to suppress a laugh. "That's more like it. I was starting to think you'd both lost your edge."
"Don't encourage him," Hermione groaned, moving to walk beside Pansy instead. "I don't need another accusation of flirting."
"Flirting?!" came the chorus.
Draco groaned and pressed a hand over his face. "I was winding her up. That's all."
Pansy watched him carefully, expression unreadable.
"What about Longbottom?" Daphne asked Hermione, already bored with the flirting conversation.
"Neville? No," Hermione said.
"I'm not letting you go alone." Daphne turned to the group. "What about Blaise?"
"No," Blaise said quickly.
Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Gee. Thanks, Zabini."
Blaise exhaled. "It's not personal, Granger. I just don't think it'd be appropriate." He glanced briefly at Draco.
Daphne followed his eyes and broke into a grin. "Draco can take her!"
Draco froze mid-stride. "I beg your pardon?"
Theo laughed outright. "That would be golden."
"I haven't agreed to anything," Draco said sharply, fixing Daphne with a look.
"Oh, come on. You've wanted an invitation to Slughorn's little club since we got on the Hogwarts Express in first year," Theo pointed out.
Pansy was already shaking her head emphatically. "No. No, I agree with Draco. He can't. Not a chance."
Hermione's jaw dropped. She pulled her arm free of Daphne's. "That's completely unnecessary. I told you — I'm fine going alone."
"You can't show up alone," Daphne said, waving her hand. "People will talk."
"They'll talk considerably more if I show up with him," Hermione hissed, throwing a sharp look at Draco, who was still recovering from the suggestion.
"Think about what Potter would say," Blaise offered.
Pansy was still muttering something about how it was impossible and unthinkable and frankly catastrophic.
Draco crossed his arms, turning to Daphne. "Granger and I barely tolerate each other. Why would I—"
"Because you owe me," Daphne said pleasantly. "Or did you forget what you said about my family? About Astoria?"
"This is not happening!" Hermione said.
"I agree with her," Pansy said, then stopped herself and looked at Hermione. "Not because of you, Hermione, before you say anything. You are not the problem. He is."
Hermione glanced at Pansy. "You're starting to offend me anyway."
"No! Hermione, I promise, you have to believe me—" Pansy shook her head. "It's entirely him."
"I'm not going with Granger," Draco muttered.
"And I'm not going with Malfoy," Hermione added.
Daphne sighed with theatrical patience, the sort one reserves for difficult children. "It's one evening. How terrible could it be?"
"Terrible," Hermione said flatly.
"Disastrous," Draco added.
"Awful."
"Dreadful."
"Atrocious."
"Disgraceful."
"Laughable."
"Miserable."
"Egregious."
A long silence fell over the group.
"You two should co-author a thesaurus," Blaise muttered.
"This is unhinged," Pansy said.
Hermione scoffed. "No argument there. Daphne, give me until the end of today. If I haven't sorted a date by then—" she glanced at Draco "—I'll ask Neville."
Daphne groaned and tilted her head back. "Longbottom? You'd genuinely pick Longbottom over Draco?"
"Without hesitation," Hermione said.
Draco rolled his eyes. "Right then. We're finding Granger a date."
"We?" Hermione said. "There is no we. You and I are not doing anything together."
"There absolutely is, if it keeps me out of that party."
"If you don't find someone by tonight, you're going with Draco," Daphne said sweetly, absolutely certain she wouldn't manage it.
Blaise shook his head. "You have to admit, going with her beats sitting in your dormitory alone."
"Don't even entertain it," Draco said. But as Hogsmeade came into view, his gaze lingered on Hermione a moment longer than he'd intended.
---
The group approached Gladrags Wizardwear. Hermione walked with her head slightly down. She knew there would be other students around — the thought of someone from Gryffindor spotting her with this particular group made her stomach tighten.
Inside, racks of dress robes in every colour lined the walls. A cluster of Hufflepuffs had claimed the back corner, and Hermione ducked behind a display of shimmering blue robes, pretending to study them intently.
"For Merlin's sake," Draco said, pulling the robes apart. "What are you doing?"
"Looking at robes," she snapped, drawing them back.
He pulled them apart again, leaning against the rack to peer at her. "You look like you're hiding."
"I'm not hiding. I'm browsing."
"You're as subtle as a Hippogriff in a tea shop. Who are you avoiding?"
"No one," she hissed.
"Potter? Weasley? Worried they'll hex me for corrupting you?"
Hermione stood up abruptly, their faces suddenly much closer than anticipated. "I would pay good money to watch you get hexed, Malfoy."
Across the shop, Blaise watched the scene with his arms folded, a knowing smirk forming. Beside him, Theo looked up from the display of ties.
"You look smug," Theo murmured.
"Look at them." Blaise nodded their way.
Theo watched as Hermione glared up at Draco, her face flushed. Draco, for his part, looked entirely too amused — leaning just slightly closer, clearly enjoying the effect. "They're at each other's throats as usual. What's new?"
"Have you ever seen him lean in like that with anyone?" Blaise said.
Theo sighed. "You're reading too much into it. Draco's bored, and Granger's easy to wind up. You're starting to sound like Pansy."
The door swung open. Seamus, Dean, Romilda Vane, and a handful of other Gryffindors came streaming in.
Hermione's eyes went wide. She grabbed Draco by the arm and shoved him in front of her like a wall.
Draco stumbled slightly, hands catching himself, then turned to look at her. The glare melted into something more bemused. "Did you just use me as a human shield?"
"Shh!" She peered over his shoulder, watching the Gryffindors drift further into the shop.
Blaise nudged Theo. "She just manhandled him."
"That's not romance; that's self-preservation," Theo said. "Or possibly attempted manslaughter."
Hermione yelped as the group veered in her direction. She forgot herself entirely, grabbed Draco by the arm, and yanked him backwards with her.
Draco stumbled, suddenly considerably closer than before. "If you wanted to get this close, Granger, you really could've just asked," he said, something faintly pink creeping up his neck despite the drawl.
"Will you just shut u—" She stopped. Blinked. "You're blushing."
Draco turned away immediately, but not fast enough. "I'm not. You're imagining things."
Hermione reached up and turned him back by the jaw, studying his face with undisguised wonder. "Draco Malfoy is blushing," she murmured.
His eyes had gone wide. The smug composure he wore like armour was nowhere to be found — there was just him, faintly pink and very clearly unprepared for the way she was looking at him. "Let go," he said, but it came out quiet rather than sharp.
Hermione didn't move her hand immediately. Her thumb brushed his jaw almost without meaning to, her eyes moving across his face like she was seeing something she hadn't noticed before. She'd seen him furious. She'd seen him sneering. She had never seen him like this. "You're actually blushing."
"Stop looking at me like that," Draco said tightly.
"Like what?" she asked, barely above a murmur.
He opened his mouth.
"Hermione!" Daphne's voice carried across the entire shop.
Hermione dropped her hand instantly, her heart slamming back into its normal rhythm.
And then the horror set in. If she could hear Daphne shouting her name, so could everyone else in the shop.
"Hermione?" The Irish lilt was unmistakable. Seamus.
She let go of Draco and stepped back.
Seamus was near the door, head tilted, watching her with a curious look. "Well. Hermione Granger with Malfoy." His tone was teasing, but there was a real edge of confusion beneath it.
Draco recovered first. "Problem with that, Finnigan?"
Hermione stepped in front of him, which was moderately less effective given the height difference. "We ran into each other. Literally. That's all."
Seamus raised an eyebrow. "Right," he said slowly. "Very close run-in."
"First she wants a human shield, now she doesn't want my help," Draco muttered, mostly to himself.
Romilda arrived at Seamus's elbow, apparently oblivious. "Seamus, I can't decide between these two — which one do you think Harry would prefer?"
"Why not ask Hermione?" Seamus said, his eyes still on her. "She knows Harry better than anyone. Right, Hermione?"
It landed like a brick. The subtext couldn't have been less subtle.
Romilda looked at her. "Oh, please don't mention it to Harry. I just want to be prepared in case he asks me."
Daphne appeared at Hermione's side, huffy and purposeful. "Hermione, when someone calls your name, you respond. Come on — I've picked dresses for you." She seized her by the hand and started pulling her toward the changing rooms.
Seamus watched her go, Daphne's very presence confirming everything she'd tried to deny.
"Save me," Hermione mouthed at Draco over her shoulder.
"Not a chance," he mouthed back.
He looked at Seamus with a thin smile. "If you'll excuse me, Finnigan." He walked over to Theo and Blaise.
Blaise's smirk was already waiting for him. "Enjoying yourself, mate?"
"Don't," Draco said.
"Very invested in that conversation, you were."
"I wasn't—"
"Flirting?" Blaise supplied, biting back a grin.
Draco's jaw tightened. The flush was, mortifyingly, still there.
---
In the changing rooms, Daphne had assembled an alarming number of dresses.
"Start trying them on," she said cheerfully, closing the door.
Hermione picked up the first — a deep emerald green, fitted bodice, flowing skirt. She turned in the mirror, adjusting the straps.
"Well?" Daphne's voice came through the door. "Are you going to show us, or shall I come in?"
"Give me a moment!" Hermione opened the door a crack. Daphne was waiting. Behind her, Blaise, Theo, and Draco stood in a loose cluster.
She stepped out. "Happy?"
Daphne clasped her hands. "Gorgeous. Green is definitely your colour."
"Perfectly Slytherin," Theo laughed. "Try another one."
Dress after dress. Something wrong with every single one.
"You're staring," Pansy murmured, appearing at Draco's shoulder.
"I'm not staring. I'm observing."
"Observing what, precisely?"
She was in a maroon dress now, standing in front of the mirror, turning slowly to look. She caught his eye briefly and looked away, her cheeks colouring.
Pansy sighed. "Tell her she looks nice."
Draco turned sharply. "What?"
"If you're not going to stop looking at her, you may as well say something," Pansy said, the words clipped and resigned.
His jaw tightened. He was quiet for a moment, watching Granger tug at the hem. "She's still Granger, Pansy. Her being your friend doesn't change what she is. She's not—"
"Not pretty?" Pansy said.
He didn't answer. He turned away.
"Two left," Daphne was telling Hermione. "Back in you go."
Hermione disappeared and came back in a lavender gown that went several inches too wide at the skirt.
"I look like a dessert."
Daphne tried to hold back a laugh. "A very elegant one."
"It has flair," Theo offered charitably.
"Try this one," Draco said.
Everyone looked at him.
"You've been completely silent for the last ten minutes," Blaise said.
Draco held out a deep blue dress and walked over to hand it to Hermione. "Just put this on," he said.
Hermione took it with a sceptical look, something about his tone making her not bother arguing. She went back in.
The dress was velvet. Deep blue, deep cowl neck, halter-style with an open back, skimming her waist and falling clean to the floor. She stood in front of the mirror for a long moment.
It was nothing like the others. Simple, but entirely sure of itself. She ran her fingers over the fabric.
She stepped back out.
"Gorgeous," Pansy said immediately.
"It's plain," Daphne said.
Theo elbowed her. "But it looks brilliant."
Blaise glanced at Draco. "You picked it. What do you think?"
Draco's brain had temporarily stopped working.
His eyes moved over her — the way the velvet sat at her waist, the fall of it, the way the open back changed something about how she stood. He thought, without quite meaning to, about the fabric.
"Draco?" Pansy said, the amusement in her voice with a blade underneath it.
He blinked. "You look... tolerable."
Blaise stared at him as though he'd grown a second head.
Hermione was smiling — genuinely, like he'd handed her the highest possible praise.
"I'll take tolerable," she said softly. "Thank you. Draco."
She disappeared back into the changing room.
Daphne turned to him in disbelief. "I had her try on fifteen dresses, and she picks the one you chose in thirty seconds?"
Pansy grabbed his arm. "Tolerable. You said tolerable. You couldn't manage nice? Not even acceptable?" She was looking at him like he'd committed a personal affront. "Tolerable?!"
---
After shopping and a long lunch at the Three Broomsticks, the group made their way back to Hogwarts.
"It's nearly four," Daphne sang, falling into step beside Draco. "Still no date."
"Don't start again," he muttered.
"I'm merely observing. Our deal was end of day, or you take her."
Hermione was paying no attention to them, instead glaring at the house-elves decorating the entrance hall with festive garlands.
"Do you hate Christmas, Granger?" Blaise asked.
"Christmas is fine. What's not fine is putting these poor house-elves to work without pay or any choice in the matter."
Blaise glanced at the nearest elf, who was draping garland with brisk efficiency and every appearance of contentment. "They don't seem to mind. In fact, I'm fairly certain they enjoy it."
Hermione spun to face him, eyes blazing. "That is the problem, Zabini. They've been conditioned to believe they enjoy servitude. It's exploitation."
"Is that what your S.P.E.W. campaign in fourth year was about?" Pansy asked.
"S.P.E.W.," Hermione corrected. "Yes. They deserve freedom of choice."
"Granger, this is literally their purpose," Draco said.
Hermione rounded on him. "Dobby didn't think so!"
Draco blinked, going very still. "What do you know about Dobby?"
She caught herself — too late. "Nothing. I know nothing." She turned away.
Draco reached out and turned her back. "It was Potter, wasn't it."
"I don't know what you're talking about," she said, not meeting his eyes.
"Potter stole my family's house-elf." Draco shook his head.
Theo laughed. "Potter's been on your case since first year. That's not a surprise."
"It's not funny," Draco snapped. "Dobby was—"
"Dobby chose to leave," Hermione cut in, voice sharp. "He wanted freedom. Harry only gave him the means."
"All right," Pansy stepped between them, one hand raised. "Dobby is clearly a special case. Potter had no business tricking your father, Draco. But Hermione—" she turned "—what would it actually take to make things better for the elves here? Practically speaking."
Hermione stared at her. "I'm sorry?"
"What can we do?" Pansy said plainly. "They clearly won't accept freedom. But what would make a difference?"
Before Hermione could answer, Daphne sauntered up to the nearest house-elf, leaned down, and spoke quietly for a moment. The elf looked up, considered, and nodded. Then it passed its garland to a second elf, who passed theirs along, and within moments, one by one, they were abandoning their decorating and dispersing.
Daphne turned back to the group, raising her eyebrows. "Well?" She crossed her arms. "Get to work."
Hermione's mouth fell open. "What just happened?"
"I gave them the week off," Daphne said, the picture of patience, "on the condition that we finished decorating. Happy?"
"The entirety of Hogwarts?" Pansy asked, staring at her.
Draco looked genuinely appalled. "Have you lost your mind, Greengrass?"
Theo watched her in awed silence. "I can't decide if I'm terrified or impressed," he said quietly.
"Both," Pansy said. "This is possibly the most insane thing she's ever done, and I once watched her dye her dog pink." A pause. "I'm in. If only to watch Draco fall apart."
Theo clapped him on the back. "No way out of it now, mate."
Draco turned to Blaise.
Blaise was already examining a wreath. "It beats homework," he said. "And honestly, this is going to be entertaining. Draco Malfoy, decorator. Has a ring to it."
"I swear, if you don't—"
Daphne pressed a strand of garland into Draco's hands. "You made a scene arguing with Hermione. Now you can help clean it up."
Hermione sputtered. "You really didn't have to—"
"Yes, we did," Pansy said, with something between resignation and actual fondness. "Just stop talking and decorate."
Hermione smiled quietly, taking a length of garland from the pile. The image of these six very polished Slytherins decorating the castle was going to live in her memory for a long time.
"I don't see why we're humouring her," Draco muttered, watching as Hermione started up a ladder with a loop of garland.
Blaise laughed. "All you do is humour her."
"I do not."
"Somebody stop her before she strangles herself," Theo murmured, watching Hermione manage to tangle herself in the garland while the ladder wobbled beneath her.
Draco hesitated — then stepped forward.
"Move," he said, taking the garland from her hands.
"I was managing fine."
"No, Granger, you really weren't." He steadied the ladder with his left hand and, with his right, quickly unknotted the mess she'd made. He tossed the salvaged end down and held up a hand. "Get down."
"If a house-elf can handle it, I certainly—"
"You're not a house-elf. Get down, or I'll take the decision out of your hands." He looked up at her, entirely too smug.
"You wouldn't dare."
A small but definitive wobble moved through the ladder.
"See?" Draco said. "Still standing."
"Barely." He let go of the ladder.
She yelped. And before she could do anything else about it, his hands wrapped around her waist and lifted her off, setting her down on the floor with firm steadiness.
Hermione's breath caught. Her hands found his forearms automatically, and for a moment they were simply standing there.
Pansy looked at the ceiling. "Right. I'm done." She turned to the nearest box of decorations.
Draco let go, pulled out his wand, and fixed the ladder with a Stabilising Charm. He picked up the garland and went up himself. "Find something to do. Ground level, ideally."
They fell into a rhythm after that — Pansy and Blaise on lights, Daphne hanging clusters of mistletoe at worryingly strategic intervals, Theo arranging Christmas trees, and Hermione casting Snow Charms along the windowsills.
It was chaotic, and a little loud, and not at all what any of them had expected their afternoon to look like. Draco caught himself watching Hermione more than once — her hair coming loose from its bun, her cheeks flushed from the cold, her whole face different when she wasn't trying to win an argument. More relaxed. Almost bright.
"We should move on," Daphne announced, looking around at the finished corridor with satisfaction. "The moving staircases next. It'll be more fun."
Hermione was laughing, already turning toward the stairs. Draco's gaze followed.
"What could possibly go wrong," Draco muttered.
Theo looked at him with full knowledge in his eyes. "That's the spirit, Malfoy. Christmas cheer suits you."
"Careful," Draco said, "or I'll make sure Daphne puts mistletoe over your head."
They followed Hermione to the staircase.
"Right," Daphne said, standing at the foot with a mischievous expression. "Who's brave enough to put garland on a moving staircase?"
"I'll do it," Hermione said, stepping forward. "It's just a challenge."
"Challenge, she says, fun, she says," Draco muttered, already picking up the lights.
Hermione glanced at him. "You love this."
"I'm tolerating it."
"You love it," she said, sing-song, picking up a box of baubles.
He rolled his eyes, but there was no real venom in it.
"Hermione," Daphne called, already stringing garland with theatrical flair. "I bet I can decorate more stairs than you."
Hermione straightened. "Is that a challenge?"
"Gryffindors don't back down, isn't that what you're always saying?"
"They don't," she said, grinning.
"We want in!" Theo shouted.
The whole group pitched in at once. It became loud and competitive and honestly rather fun, three flights of stairs slowly coming alive with lights and greenery and baubles. Students who happened to pass through stopped to watch, whispering to each other, taking turns on the stairs just to get a better look at the spectacle.
Draco had somehow ended up with an armful of string lights and the distinct sense that this was not how he'd planned to spend his Saturday.
"Can you imagine Snape's face?" Blaise called from the landing above him.
Theo howled with laughter. He pitched his voice low and cold: "Mister Malfoy, kindly explain what you think you are doing."
Draco looked up at him. "Give him ideas and you'll regret it."
"He'd give you all detention," Pansy said, perched on a railing. "The lot of you."
Draco glanced up at Hermione, who was adjusting a strand of lights with a quiet, private smile, her hair entirely abandoned now. He looked away.
"Still staring," Theo said pleasantly, passing with a box of ornaments.
"Still not," Draco said.
"Malfoy!" Hermione called from higher up. "Come here — I need someone taller!"
He looked up at her, something inconveniently warm settling in his chest, and moved toward her.
"I'm not a house-elf," he said when he reached her.
"You're the only one who can reach! Come on." She nodded at the upper banister where the garland needed fixing.
He reached her quickly, found her balanced on the edge of the staircase, attempting to loop a last piece of garland around the top post.
"Granger, you're going to strangle someone with all this," he murmured, taking in the chaos around her.
Her eyes flickered to his, playful. "I'll make sure it strangles you first." She took the garland in her hands and tossed it around his shoulders, pulling him forward.
Draco went still.
The garland sat loose across his shoulders, both ends in her hands, and she'd tugged him close enough that there was barely a breath of space between them. He could see the exact moment she realised what she'd done — the slight widening of her eyes, the way she held the position a beat longer than she needed to.
Her fingers were resting against his chest now. She was looking up at him.
She had gone quiet in a way she almost never was.
He could see it — what Daphne had been trying to tell her, maybe. The way Hermione was looking at him wasn't quite the same as usual. Like she was seeing something she hadn't allowed herself to notice before.
"See?" she said softly. "I said I'd get you."
"You think a bit of garland constitutes a victory?" he asked. His voice had come out quieter than intended.
"Don't you?"
He said something. He thought he did, anyway. But then the smell of her perfume reached him, and whatever it was dissolved. She was close, and she was looking at him, and her hands were still resting where they were, and his heart had apparently decided to do something unreasonable.
Horror broke across her face. She shoved him away.
Draco caught the banister, surprised more than anything. He looked at her — she'd backed away a half-step, one hand pressed to her mouth.
"What the—?" he started.
"I think I've come down with something," Hermione said.
He blinked. "What?"
"I think I'm ill." She looked as though she meant it, which, admittedly, made the whole thing more alarming.
Draco took a careful step forward. "Let someone take you to the Hospital Wing—"
"No, I'm—" She looked at her own hands. "I'm fine. I just need a moment."
Daphne and Blaise rounded the corner below them.
"Hermione?" Daphne frowned, hurrying up the stairs. "You've gone white. What happened?"
"Nothing," Hermione said quickly. "Nothing happened. I'm fine."
Daphne looked between them. "Blaise, what did he do?"
"Nothing," Draco said. "I genuinely did nothing."
Hermione wasn't helping his case by still standing three steps away with her hand to her face.
"I'll take you back to Gryffindor," Daphne decided, taking Hermione's arm.
Hermione let herself be steered. She glanced at Draco once, over her shoulder, an expression he couldn't quite name, and then she was gone around the corner.
Draco turned to Blaise.
"You had to have done something," Blaise said.
"I didn't," Draco said. "I have no idea what just happened."
Theo appeared from behind a garland-draped column, carrying a box of baubles, and leaned over just enough to murmur: "She's completely into you."
Draco stared at him. "Can you not—"
"Just saying." Theo kept walking.
Draco looked at the garland still draped over his shoulders and did not quite know what to do with any of it.
---
Daphne guided Hermione through the Gryffindor common room and up to her dormitory, ignoring the stares, and sat her down on the edge of her bed.
She crouched in front of her, studying her face. "All right. Talk to me. You're scaring me slightly."
"God, am I sick," Hermione said.
"Sick how?"
Hermione didn't answer. She got up, crossed the room in four strides, and made it to the bathroom just in time.
"Oh," Daphne said, pulling out her wand and following. She kneeled beside her, pinning her hair up with a quick charm. "Right, I'm sending an owl to Madam Pomfrey."
"I think I was hit with a Confundus Charm," Hermione said weakly, sitting back. "It's the only logical explanation."
Daphne handed her a glass of water. "Let's say, for the sake of argument, that you were Confunded. Who would have done it, and why?"
"Malfoy."
Daphne went still. "Hermione. I don't think Draco Confunded you."
"Something I ate, then?"
"Probably," Daphne said, which was obviously a lie. "Drink your water and lie down."
Hermione leaned her forehead against the cool porcelain. "It's not something I ate," she said. "It's him. It's completely him."
Daphne helped her to her feet and walked her back to the bed.
"Did he say something?" Daphne asked, smoothing the blanket over her. "About your parents? About Harry?"
"Harry and Ron are going to hate me," Hermione whispered.
Daphne paused. "What?"
"If they find out."
"Hermione, you have a fever, because I genuinely have no idea what you're saying."
The dormitory door opened and Pansy slipped in, closing it quickly behind her. She stared at Hermione with an expression of barely-contained dread. "Tell me you don't," she said. "Please."
"Don't what?" Hermione said.
"I saw how you looked at him." Pansy crossed the room. "On the stairs."
Daphne looked between them. "I'm clearly missing something."
Hermione groaned, pulling the blanket to her chin. "Stop."
"Hermione!" Pansy said.
"Somebody tell me what's happening!" Daphne snapped.
"I can't—" Hermione sat up, pressing her hands to her face. "I don't know what's happening. I can't think clearly. I felt something and I don't know what to do with it."
"For Draco?" Pansy asked, very precisely.
Daphne blinked. "Felt something. What kind of something?"
Hermione looked at her, face burning.
"Butterflies? Fireworks? A sudden overwhelming urge to—?"
"Don't say it!" Hermione pressed her hands back to her face. "I've spent years thinking of him as this insufferable, arrogant, infuriating—"
"And attractive," Daphne said. "And attentive. And protective when he thinks nobody's looking."
Hermione lowered her hands. "He's Malfoy," she said helplessly. "He's the same Malfoy who has been awful to me for six years. Except that he hasn't been, recently. He's weirdly kind when it's just us, and even when he's mean, he's not actually mean anymore, and I don't know how to account for that."
Daphne reached over and gently pulled her hands down from her face. "Okay. So you've been spending time with him. And you've been seeing a different side of him. And now, after seeing him as an actual human being, you're starting to feel something."
Hermione nodded reluctantly.
"And today on the stairs—"
"He was very close," Hermione said, very quietly. "And he smelled—" she stopped herself.
"He smelled?" Daphne repeated, slowly.
"I should not have said that."
"No, please, continue."
"I'm not—"
"How did he smell?"
Hermione looked at Daphne, completely mortified. "Good," she said miserably. "He smelled very good. Expensive and clean and— I don't know, like a new book, somehow, and I—" She buried her face in the pillow. "I wanted to—"
"Snog him?" they offered.
Silence.
"I'm surprised it didn't happen two weeks ago in the changing rooms," Daphne said.
The image came back immediately — Malfoy fresh from the shower, towel low at his hips, water still on his chest.
"Daphne!" Hermione hissed.
"What?" She laughed.
Pansy stood up. "Right. Nap. Sleep it off." She pulled Daphne toward the door. "We're obviously not helping."
Daphne looked back one more time, smile softening. "I fancy an idiot. You can fancy a prat."
The door clicked shut.
Daphne looked at Pansy in the corridor. "It's a little bit adorable, you have to admit."
Pansy was already walking away. "I'm going to kill him," she said, with the calm certainty of someone who has made a decision and intends to see it through.