Archive of Our Own ^beta

Draco was walking at a fast clip, trying to get to History of Magic early to ensure he got his favorite seat. He’d coveted the position since he first sat there. When Professor Binns went off on a tangent, which was often, he could tune him out by looking out the window. That, and he could watch Granger practically float above her desk every time she raised her hand.

“And it's really thanks to Malfoy here that I've got it,” he added.

Draco stopped when he heard his name. He turned to see where it came from and did a double take when he saw Potter with a brand new Nimbus 2000.

“So I suppose you think that's a reward for breaking rules?“ came an angry voice from just behind them. Granger was stomping up the stairs looking disapprovingly at the package in Harry's hand.

”I thought you weren't speaking to me?” said Potter.

”Yes, don't stop now,” said Weasley, not deigning to look at her, ”it's doing us so much good.“

What was Potter doing with a brand new broom, let alone a top of the line model? And why did Granger’s expression change from one of smug defiance to one of wilting embarrassment? Sher shut down and pulled into herself like a turtle escaping into her shell to hide from predators.

Ignoring the Nimbus 2000 for a moment (he’d come back to that preposterous idea later) he replayed their words in his head to find the connection between the boy's snark and her dejection.

Ah, now he understood.

Merlin, with friends like that, who needs enemies?

Class was entirely forgotten.

He watched the two idiots push past her as they ran for the stairs to show the broom to a group of Gryffindors gathering at the bottom.

Hermione looked around until she locked eyes on Malfoy. They widened and she slapped her hand over her mouth before fleeing up the stairs.

Draco followed Granger and caught her by the arm just before she entered the classroom. He pulled her into an alcove, the tapestry hanging in front fell back into place, cutting them off from the rest of the world.

“Malfoy, what are—”

“Why did Potter say it was thanks to me he got the broom?”

Draco stopped for a moment, the scent of lilacs wafting over him.

Has she always smelled like that?

He looked at her intensely, wanting an answer to his question, but not missing her expression of dismay and sadness, now infused with rapidly growing anger.

“What?”

“You heard me.” But he repeated the question nevertheless. He didn’t realise he was still holding onto her arm until she ripped it away from him.

“You thought Professor McGonagall gave Harry detention right?” Hermione waited for the nod. “Well, she didn’t. She introduced him to Oliver Wood and he’s now the new Gryffindor seeker on the Gryffindor skittish team. Then he showed up with this brand new broom and said it was thanks to you stealing Neville’s remembrall that he got it.”

She stopped and let it sink in.

Draco couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“Okay, first of all, it’s Quidditch, not skittish. Emphasis on the ‘quid’.” Draco rolled his eyes. Honestly, muggleborns are useless. “And secondly, do you mean he didn’t get in trouble for flying and instead got put on the team?” After saying it out loud, he realised, “But first years aren’t allowed to play.”

“Whatever. Regardless, he got a bloody broom for breaking the rules.” Hermione sniffed, her interpersonal troubles pushed back as self-righteousness took hold. “It’s not fair.”

First mystery solved. Eventually, he would act incensed when he was back in the Slytherin Common Room, relaying this ridiculous story to Crabbe and Goyle. At the moment, however, he found he needed, no, wanted, to know why the Gryffindor Three were at odds.

“Why did Potter say you weren’t speaking to him?” Now that he wasn’t holding onto her arm, Draco could see her face more clearly.

She has freckles. Considering he’d seen her every day since school started, he was surprised that he hadn’t noticed before. It was just a sprinkle on the bridge of her nose and across her cheeks. Not like Weasley’s freckles, which made him look like a house elf who’d spent too much time in the garden.

“Because he and Ron—” she paused.

“Don’t stop, go on.” Draco desperately wanted to hear what they did. Maybe it was something he could use to his advantage at a later date.

“No way. I know you’ll take this to Snape,” she said.

Only three weeks into school, and she knows me too well.

“Try me.”

Hermione thought for a moment. “Well, Harry spilled ink on Ron’s Potions notes and they assumed I would lend mine out. I told them if they touched my notes I’d hex them into next week. Then they said I should have been sorted into Slytherin, so I stopped speaking to them.”

Well, they’re not wrong, that is something we would do. All of sudden, Draco had this horrible vision of Hermione and Pansy becoming friends. He shivered. That’s a dangerous combination.

“Oh,” Draco said, “That’s all?”

“Well, they were also doing things that could get them hurt, or worse.”

“What could be worse than getting hurt?”

Hermione rolled her eyes and looked at him like he should know.

“Expelled, of course.”

Merlin, I think I’m beginning to see their point.

“So, what were they doing that was so dangerous?” He had to know.

“Nope. I’m not telling you. Now, if you’d let me get to the class that I’m already late for, I’d appreciate it.” Hermione proceeded to pass by him and reached for the tapestry when he stopped her again.

“Malfoy! Let go of me.”

“Just because you care for their safety doesn’t mean they have to be rude to you. Weasley sounded like he wanted you to continue ignoring them.”

“Yes, well, he’ll get over it,” Hermione said. Her words were strong, but her tone was a bit unsure.

“Some friend,” Draco said, stopping for a moment. Was he really going to defend her? If it was at Weasley’s expense then, heck yes.

Hermione looked back at him, eyes squinting, as if she was trying to see his brain working.

“Your point?”

“Friends fight, sure, but that doesn’t keep them from being friends; that is, if they’re really friends in the first place.”

“Oh, and you have so many friends, Malfoy?” Hermione looked him up and down with a sneer. “Most of your friends are just riding on your coat tails hoping some little crumb will fall their way. That’s not friendship, that’s called taking advantage of you.”

Malfoy started to speak, but stopped when he thought about what Granger had just said. Then he shook his head.

“I have real friends. Friends I’ve known since we were in nappies. There isn’t anything we wouldn’t do for each other,” he shot back.

“The lady doth protest too much,” Hermione said, looking at him severely, but with a slight twinkle in her eye. “That’s Shakespeare. Now, let. Me. Go.” She tugged at him again.

“What are you on about? I’m not a lady,” Draco said with disgust.

“It’s just a quote, Malfoy, it can mean men or women,” Hermione said, sighing at having to explain it to him, “don’t get your knickers in a twist. It just means you’re not trying to persuade me you have real friends,” she said with air quotes, “you’re trying to convince yourself.”

How did this end up being about me? And who is Shakespeare?

He realised at that moment, she had turned the conversation around on him, and while he didn’t like that it was at his expense, he did have a reluctant admiration for her wiliness.

Wait, no. He did not admire her. He thought she was the most annoying, irritating, bothersome witch he’d ever met. Maybe Weasley was on to something. No way. I am not agreeing with anything that underfed, overblown git whose parents ran out of brain cells to give by the time he came along.

So, he deflected. “Whatever. All I’m saying is that if he was really your friend he wouldn’t treat you like that, especially in front of others.”

Hermione looked at him like she’d just seen him for the first time. Then her eyes welled up with tears.

“Oh, no, do not cry, Granger,” he said, not wanting to be caught up in a girl’s maelstrom of emotions. He pulled out a handkerchief and handed it to her. “Keep it. You’ll probably need it again.”

She took the handkerchief as the tears spilled over. He watched her as she gathered herself back together, and realised he’d never been this close to her. Draco couldn’t stop looking at her eyes. They were a shade of brown that changed depending on the light—right now they were amber, and even though she was crying, they were clear.

He tore himself away from her eyes just in time to see her bite her lip as she looked at him.

His stomach flipped.

“Sorry,” she said, “I just can’t believe that my own friends can’t stand me and I’m standing here being given life lessons by a prat like you. Plus, it’s my birthday and no one said anything.” A big fat tear rolled down her cheek.

Now it was Draco’s turn to be annoyed. If no one had acknowledged his birthday he’d–well, he’d make sure everyone knew it was his birthday. “Your friends will come around; especially once they figure out they need you to keep from getting expelled. And, happy birthday.”

Hermione stared at him, dumbfounded. After a few moments, she gathered herself together.

“Thank you, Malfoy,” she said, a tone of surprise in her voice. Then she thought about what he’d said before that and looked at him thoughtfully.

“You’ve given me something to think about, though, Malfoy. What being a friend really means.”

Draco squinted at her, starting to panic just a little. “Don’t get used to it. I only have so many pearls of wisdom to drop. This was your only one.”

He pulled the tapestry back and let her go through first. He watched her leave, the spring back in her step, hair bouncing everywhere. Only the scent of lilacs remained behind.

He took a deep breath. Mmmm.