"Harry, honestly, can't you do something to get him to stop?" Dean asked over lunch. It had been over a week since Ron and Lavender got together at the after-party, and they still couldn't seem to keep their hands off each other.
Harry groaned, pushing his food around his plate. "Trust me, if I could, I would. It's exhausting."
Ginny ran into the Great Hall and slipped into the seat beside Dean. "Sorry I'm late — McGonagall droned on in class," she explained. She glanced over at Ron and Lavender, a couple of seats away, practically eating each other's faces.
She grabbed a scone and chucked it at her brother.
It hit Ron squarely on the side of the head. He jerked away from Lavender, blinking in surprise, then turned to glare at Ginny — who was nonchalantly buttering a roll as though nothing had happened.
"Oi! What was that for?" he demanded, rubbing his head.
Ginny didn't look up. "For the sake of everyone's appetite. You two are making it impossible to eat."
"I don't know what your problem is, Ginny," Ron scoffed, shifting closer to the group.
"Besides not wanting to watch my brother snogging someone senseless over my Monday breakfast?" Ginny asked, biting into her scone with an innocent smile. "How about the fact that you're a hypocrite?"
Ron's face turned a deep shade of crimson. "I am not a hypocrite!"
"Hermione's nowhere to be seen because you were an arse about her and Krum. And you practically called me a slag for snogging my boyfriend in a corridor the other day."
Lavender pouted, her hand running up and down Ron's arm. "Well, maybe Hermione is just jealous because she has no one to do this with."
Ginny's eyes flashed dangerously. "And what exactly does she have to be jealous of? Hermione doesn't need a bloke to validate her existence. And if she did want one, all she'd have to do is announce it."
"Then she's jealous of the fact I have Won-Won and she doesn't."
Ginny rolled her eyes. "I have six brothers. If she wants a Weasley, she's got a litter to choose from — and I doubt Ron would be her first pick, given how he slobbers."
"I do not slobber!" Ron yelled.
Harry looked at Ginny. "Please just stop it," he whispered.
"It's not our fault she's a prude," Lavender declared.
"Hermione Granger does not need an orgasm to prove to the likes of you that she's fun!" Ginny screamed.
"Godric," Harry muttered, dropping his head to the table.
The entire Great Hall went silent. Heads turned toward their table with varying expressions of shock, amusement, and curiosity. Even a few of the professors at the head table appeared momentarily taken aback.
Ron's face turned an even deeper shade of red — half embarrassment, half fury. "Ginny—"
"Don't Ginny me," she scoffed. "Funny how you leap to Lavender's defence, but you've been sitting back treating Hermione like rubbish for weeks."
"Maybe because I'm his girlfriend and we're in love," Lavender pointed out.
Dean glanced at Harry. "It was funny for a while. Please make it stop."
Harry shook his head. "I'm not getting in the middle of a Weasley row, mate. She's your girl."
Ginny laughed. "Love? You've been snogging for a week! That's not love — that's hormones."
"Miss Weasley!" Professor McGonagall finally cut through the scene. "Not that I disagree with your sentiments, but I suggest you return to your dormitory before I'm compelled to give you detention."
Ginny looked at her, sighing. "Fine. He's the one causing a scene, but I'll go."
Across the Great Hall, Blaise was fighting a losing battle trying to keep Draco awake.
"Mate, drink the coffee," he whispered, pressing a mug into Draco's hands.
Draco stared at it, his eyes heavy with fatigue. "I don't need coffee, Blaise. I need sleep."
"Yeah, well, if you didn't spend every night out of the dormitory, you'd have some." Blaise muttered. "Drink it."
Draco rubbed a hand over his face and took the mug. "Fine."
He sipped it, grimacing at the bitterness. His mind was still foggy, but the sharpness of the drink nudged him toward awareness. He glanced at Blaise, who was watching him with an amused yet concerned look.
"You're pushing yourself, you know," Blaise said, leaning back in his seat, voice low. "I don't know what you're up to, but you're going to burn out."
Draco groaned as the sound of the Weaslette screaming at her brother carried across the hall. "It's eight in the morning. What could they possibly be arguing about already?"
"If you'd tell us what you're doing, we could probably help. Get you some sleep," Blaise said, ignoring the Weasley war entirely.
"Hermione Granger does not need an orgasm to prove to the likes of you that she's fun!"
Draco choked on his coffee, launching into a coughing fit as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
Blaise looked over at him, shaking his head. "Well. That's one way to wake up."
Draco didn't say anything, blinking rapidly as he tried to process the announcement.
Blaise scoffed. "I don't know what's worse — their fighting, or the fact that that's what finally woke you up."
Draco groaned and dropped his head into his hands. "No, no, no, no." He was muttering like a madman, the image already forming unbidden — Granger, in bed, gasping. It was a picture that had lately found its way into his mind in the dead of night or first thing in the showers, no matter how firmly he refused to invite it.
He blamed that skirt.
Blaise raised an eyebrow, watching the meltdown unfold with a mix of amusement and concern. "You alright, mate?"
Draco got to his feet. "I can't. I've completely lost my appetite. I—" He cut himself off as another image surfaced. "Merlin." He left the Great Hall without another word.
---
Hermione stormed into the Gryffindor common room, face flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and fury. Her eyes swept the room and landed on Ginny, lounging in an armchair by the fire.
"Ginny Weasley!" Hermione's voice rang out, and several students looked up from their homework.
Ginny looked over with a frown. "Hiya, Hermione. I haven't—"
"Tell me you did not actually say what people are saying." Hermione hissed. "Do you have any idea how mortifying that is?"
Dean scoffed. "Oh, she did."
Ginny smacked his arm. "Seriously?"
"Harry and I told you to stop," he argued.
She huffed and turned back to Hermione. "I was trying to defend you. Lavender called you a prude."
"Do you know how many blokes have offered to give me orgasms today?" Hermione whispered.
Ginny had to bite back a laugh. "Well... did you take anyone up on it?"
"GINEVRA!"
Ginny's eyes widened and she jumped to her feet as Hermione stormed off. "I'll fix this!" she promised.
---
In the library, Daphne was talking with Blaise when Hermione came in and dropped into the chair across from them.
Blaise looked at her, smirking slightly. "Granger—"
"Out," Hermione snapped, as though reading his thoughts before he could voice them.
Blaise chuckled. "Fine. Enjoy your little girl time." He rolled his eyes and headed off.
Hermione sighed and let her head fall onto the table.
Daphne smiled softly. "You okay?"
Hermione lifted her head just enough to meet Daphne's eyes, her face still flushed. "I've had better days," she admitted, her voice muffled.
"I heard about breakfast," Daphne said gently. "Ginny's got quite the mouth on her."
Hermione groaned and sat up fully. "You think?"
Daphne laughed, the sound light and almost comforting. "She was trying to help, in her own unique way. That's what you Gryffindors do, isn't it?"
Hermione hummed, then straightened. "Speaking of helping — that's actually why I'm here."
Daphne raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"
"Pansy mentioned you asked Theo to Slughorn's party, and that he might think it's just as friends?"
Daphne groaned. "He is so oblivious. How much more obvious can I be that I fancy him?"
"Let's brainstorm." Hermione pretended to think about it. "How about, 'Hey, Theo, I fancy you. Let's go snog in the corner'?"
Daphne stared at her. "Not funny."
"Fine. Stop calling him an idiot and start complimenting him. Touch his arm, lean into him, laugh at his jokes."
Daphne raised an eyebrow. "You sound like you have experience."
Hermione shrugged, her cheeks colouring slightly. "Not really. A little, maybe. I've read enough about it, and I've watched it work with Ginny."
"Well, if you're helping me, it's only fair I return the favour."
"You already did, remember?"
"Yes, but Pansy's planning a shopping trip for you, so be warned." Daphne paused. "Slytherin has Quidditch practice Thursday. Come with."
"I'm not a Quidditch fan," Hermione said.
"But you're a fan of boys, aren't you? Move on from Weasley. We've got some very decent-looking players."
Hermione laughed. "Last I checked, Malfoy was on your team. Not exactly what I'd call attractive."
Daphne laughed. "Oh, come off it, Hermione." She glanced around the library and leaned in close. "Don't tell me you really haven't noticed."
"Noticed what?"
That made her laugh again. "Everyone's obsessed with him!"
"Malfoy? Draco Malfoy?" Hermione scoffed.
Daphne rolled her eyes and settled back in her chair. "You're too prejudiced to see it. He's tall, Hermione. Taller than most boys in our year. Weasley has him beat on height, but Draco carries himself differently — there's a certain confidence about him."
Hermione watched her, one eyebrow lifting, but Daphne carried on.
"He's got this sharp jawline, like it was carved from marble. And those cheekbones? Don't get me started." Daphne looked at her. "And his eyes?"
She sighed. "They cut right through you. There's something intense about them — like he's always calculating, always observing. When he actually looks at you, it feels like he sees everything."
Hermione shifted in her seat.
"His hair, too," Daphne added, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. "It's always so perfect. You really mean to tell me you don't want to just mess it up a little? And his hands — I'm always hearing people talk about his hands. They give him away. You can tell when he's calm, when he's tense, just by watching them."
She was studying Hermione's face, trying to gauge her reaction. "I won't go on about his build — you'll see that for yourself at Quidditch practice Thursday."
Hermione had to laugh. "Are you sure you fancy Theo and not Malfoy?"
Daphne groaned. "Ugh, no — never. I love Draco, don't get me wrong, but I'd rather die."
"All right. I'll give your Quidditch boys a fair chance. But please stop talking about Malfoy."
---
The next day in Transfiguration, Ron and Lavender were more insufferable than ever.
Hermione sat at her desk, trying to ignore the incessant giggling and whispered exchanges across the aisle. They were practically glued together. Every time Lavender leaned in to murmur something, Ron would chuckle loudly, his hand resting possessively on the back of her chair.
Hermione's gaze flicked over to them more than once, each time willing herself to focus on the lecture. Professor McGonagall was walking them through an intricate piece of Transfiguration theory, but between the persistent distraction and her own fraying patience, concentration was nearly impossible.
McGonagall's expression made it plain she shared Hermione's irritation. For whatever reason, she wasn't intervening.
---
"Harry, I can't do this," Hermione whispered, following him around to another shelf in the library.
Harry's expression was strained. "You don't understand — they're insufferable. I see her all day, and then I have to hear about her at night when Ron comes in from wherever."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "And I'm sorry, but I don't want any part of that."
"You're the only one who can get through to him," Harry pressed as Hermione pulled a book from the shelf. "When I try, he accuses me of taking your side. And Ginny's only making things worse."
Hermione turned to face him, her eyes wide. "I can't fix everything, Harry!"
Harry leaned against the shelf, frowning. He knew she was hurting; he wasn't blind to it.
"I just hate splitting my time between you two," he murmured. "I've barely seen you these past two weeks."
Hermione's expression softened. "I know. But I've been keeping myself busy. You don't need to worry about me."
"Yeah — with the Slytherins," Harry muttered.
She pressed her lips together. "They're just being friendly, Harry."
"Keep an eye on Malfoy. He's up to something."
Hermione fought the urge to roll her eyes. "Harry, Malfoy is not a Death Eater. I'll stay alert, but I don't think I'll find anything." She paused. "I mean it."
---
Wednesday in Defence Against the Dark Arts, they were back to practising nonverbal spells.
"Potter." Blaise appeared at Harry's elbow. "Swap with me. I want to duel Granger."
Harry raised an eyebrow. "Why?"
"She's good, and I need a challenge. Theo's boring me."
"You want to duel me now?" Hermione asked.
"If you're up for it."
She glanced at Harry.
Harry shrugged. "Fine by me. I could use a chance to hex a Slytherin," he decided.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Don't go easy on me, Zabini."
"Wouldn't dream of it."
"Begin." Professor Snape's voice rang out.
Without hesitation, Hermione cast a nonverbal Stupefy. Blaise countered it with a swift Protego, then sent back a silent Expelliarmus. Hermione sidestepped it and returned a wordless Petrificus Totalus.
Blaise was fast — faster than she'd expected. Keeping her spells silent while trying to keep up with him was dividing her focus, and she knew it.
Before she could compensate, a Jelly-Legs Jinx hit her and she went down.
She landed with a thud. Blaise cancelled the jinx and crossed to her, extending a hand.
Hermione took it and let him pull her to her feet.
"You're not mad?" he asked.
She laughed. "No, actually. It's good to come up against someone who can knock me off my feet."
Harry made his way over. "You alright?"
"I'm fine, Harry. It's just practice."
"Right, Potter. Figured you'd be dying to scope out our weaknesses," Blaise said drily.
Harry ignored him. "Lunch with us?" he asked Hermione.
"Yeah, that sounds—" She trailed off, spotting Lavender waiting by the classroom door. "Actually, you know what — let's catch up later. I've got an Arithmancy test to study for."
Harry followed her gaze to Ron and Lavender just outside the classroom. He sighed, recognising the tension in her posture. "All right. Later, then." He tried to offer a reassuring smile.
Hermione gave a small nod and watched him go, then turned to gather her things.
"Are you about to tell me not to pick that up either?" she asked Blaise, who was still watching her. "I'm still baffled by what Malfoy did last week."
Blaise chuckled. "No, no — trust me, we're all still confused about that too."
"Really?"
"Well, I'm sure if you asked him—"
"I don't talk to Malfoy unless I have to."
Blaise scoffed. "Please, Granger. You're always at each other."
"I wouldn't call it arguing."
"Quarrelling, then?"
"That's just another word for arguing."
Blaise smirked, leaning against a desk. "Fine — bickering. Whatever you want to call it, you two have a thing. Like you can't help but wind each other up."
Hermione rolled her eyes, adjusting her bag. "It's not a thing."
"It's absolutely a thing," Blaise said. "But it's entertaining. And if you ever want help with your nonverbal casting, I'm up for another duel. Just name the time and place."
Hermione smiled. "I might take you up on that. I can't afford to lose my ranking."
Blaise scoffed. "Yeah, that thing you have with Draco that I was just talking about? You should try channelling it in a duel."
She sighed. "It's not a thing."
---
Draco was hunched over a book the Room of Requirement had provided, brow furrowed as he cross-referenced it with his class notes, a quill resting between his fingers.
"That's wrong," Theo said, and Draco shut the book.
"What?"
"Your translations. You're using our notes on Roman runes, but that book is written in Greek runes," Theo explained.
Draco's jaw tightened. "And how exactly would you know that?"
Theo shrugged. "Because I paid attention in class. Unlike you, apparently."
Draco exhaled sharply and reopened the book, scanning the page with renewed irritation. "Fine. What's the correct translation, then?"
"No idea," Theo said, dropping into the chair beside him. "Babbling showed us the different runic systems, but she didn't teach us to translate them all. Said we'd cover Latin and Greek around March."
"March?!" Draco snapped. "I can't wait until March!"
Theo held his hands up. "Don't curse the messenger. What are you even working on?" He reached for the book.
Draco snatched it away. "Need-to-know basis. And you don't need to know."
Theo scoffed, clearly unimpressed. "Fine. Keep your little secrets. But if you want that book translated, you'd do well to find someone who actually knows what they're doing."
"Like who? A Greek ghost from the eighteenth century?" Draco muttered.
Theo chuckled. "Or, you know... Hermione. She probably knows Greek runes backwards. Could likely translate the whole thing in her sleep."
"I'm not asking Granger for help."
"Is it because it's for the other side, or—?"
"It's because it's Granger. It's not happening."
"You're the one who's in a hurry. She's your best bet."
Draco scowled and crossed his arms. "I'll pay someone."
"Who, exactly?"
Draco fell silent, thinking. He stared at the book a long moment.
"I'm not asking Granger."
---
"I cannot believe you're actually dragging me to this," Hermione muttered as she stood in the Slytherin common room, arms folded against herself, acutely aware of the sneers being sent her way.
Daphne rolled her eyes. "Relax. Think of it as research."
"Research?"
"Yes. You're researching handsome men." Daphne grinned, taking Hermione by the arms. "Nobody's forcing you into silver and green, all right? You're still as Gryffindor as ever."
Pansy came rushing down the stairs.
"You're late!" Daphne called.
"Sorry, sorry — I couldn't find the scarf!" Pansy sighed.
Hermione looked her over. "You're not wearing a scarf."
Pansy rolled her eyes. "Not for me. For you." She produced a green-and-silver scarf from her bag and draped it around Hermione's shoulders. "Now we're ready."
Hermione looked at Daphne, expression flat. "You literally just said I wouldn't have to wear your colours."
Daphne shrugged. "I can't stop Pansy."
Blaise appeared from the boys' corridor. "Can we go? Practice is starting."
"We're coming!" Pansy laughed.
Daphne looped her arm through Hermione's and they headed out.
They reached the pitch as the sun was sinking low, the cool air sweeping across the stands as they climbed to their seats.
"So who's actually on the team?" Hermione asked, looking out at the empty pitch. The players were still in the changing rooms.
"Crabbe and Goyle are Beaters," Blaise said. "Vaisey, Urquhart, and Theo are Chasers. Montague is Keeper. And Draco's Seeker."
Hermione nodded. "You don't play?"
"Not my thing." He nodded at Daphne, who was already bouncing in her seat. "She's the obsessive one."
"Ah," Hermione said.
The team emerged onto the pitch, and Hermione leaned forward slightly. She attended Gryffindor's matches out of loyalty, not love of the sport, and she rarely paid close attention to the actual play.
The cold wind cut across the pitch as practice got underway. The Beaters drove Bludgers at the Chasers with brutal efficiency, and Hermione had to admit — Crabbe and Goyle were formidable. But Vaisey was quick. Rivalling-Ginny quick.
Theo intercepted a pass and tossed the Quaffle to Vaisey, who swerved around a Bludger and scored cleanly.
Daphne leapt to her feet, clapping.
Pansy laughed, then glanced at Hermione. She followed the Gryffindor's gaze to Vaisey and raised an eyebrow.
She edged closer. "You know, if you understood Quidditch better, you'd enjoy this more."
"I know enough," Hermione said. "Ron and Harry have been going on about it for years."
Pansy hummed. "Sure, sure. It's just that... you might be missing the best part."
Hermione looked at her. Pansy nodded upward.
Hermione followed her gaze to where Malfoy was soaring above the rest of the team.
"Do all of you have some sort of fixation on Malfoy?" Hermione asked.
Daphne finally pulled her eyes from the pitch. "Ew."
Pansy snorted. "He's practically my brother, Granger. I just meant the Seeker's usually the most exciting position to watch."
Hermione sighed and turned her attention upward.
Blaise caught Pansy's eye from across the row and raised an eyebrow: what the bloody hell are you playing at?
Pansy simply looked back at the pitch.
There was a certain precision to Malfoy's flying — his body angling into every turn with practiced efficiency, weaving around Bludgers without losing a beat. His platinum hair hadn't shifted despite the wind, and Hermione found Daphne's words from earlier drifting back to her.
"You really mean to tell me you don't want to just mess it up a little?"
She blinked, shaking the thought loose. They were getting in her head, and it was working. She looked back to the rest of the team — but every so often, her eyes drifted upward again.
After about an hour, practice ended and the players made their way off the pitch.
Hermione leaned toward Daphne. "This is your chance. Go talk to Theo," she whispered.
Daphne looked back at her. "Come with me."
"What?"
"I don't want to go alone."
Pansy looked at Hermione with a glint in her eye the Gryffindor didn't quite like. "You should go. Keep her company."
Daphne grabbed Hermione's arm and pulled her toward the changing rooms.
"Daphne, I honestly think you'd be better off talking to him alone," Hermione said as they descended the stands.
"Nonsense. You're my wing-witch," Daphne said, as though they'd been doing this for years. They reached the door, and while Hermione fully expected to wait outside, Daphne walked straight in like she owned the place.
Hermione's eyes widened. "Daphne!"
Daphne turned back. "Relax. It's not as though they're all naked."
Hermione's face flushed deep red as she stepped inside. Several players were shirtless, towels slung over their shoulders as they laughed and talked. One or two had just stepped out of the showers, towels wrapped at the hip.
Her blush deepened considerably.
Daphne, entirely unbothered, spotted Theo and steered them both toward him. He was pulling a shirt over his head.
"Theo!" Daphne called brightly. "Great practice today. You looked good out there."
Theo finished straightening his shirt and grinned. "Yeah? You think?" He noticed Hermione's expression. "Hi, Hermione."
"Hi, Theo," she said, already reaching for Daphne's arm. "Shall we—?"
"You're doing brilliantly," Daphne said to Theo, setting her hand on his forearm just as Hermione had suggested.
Hermione was just barely resisting the urge to hex her.
"Didn't expect to see you two here," Theo admitted, reaching for his jumper.
"We thought it might be fun. And we heard they're redoing the Slytherin-Gryffindor match later in the year — something about some rule violations," Daphne said.
"Yeah, we get another shot." Theo nodded, then smirked. "So was it the game, or something else that brought you down here?"
"The game, personally," Daphne said airily. "Hermione, on the other hand, couldn't quite keep her eyes to herself."
Hermione spun to face her. "Don't say that!"
Theo's eyes lit up. "Is that right?" he teased, turning to Hermione. "Who caught your eye, Granger?"
Hermione's face burned. "No one! She's making things up."
"She was practically drooling over Vaisey," Daphne said, batting her lashes. "Think you could put in a good word?"
Theo was grinning from ear to ear. "Oh, I can do better than that." He disappeared around the lockers.
Hermione looked at Daphne. "What does that mean?" she hissed.
Daphne's smile gave everything away.
Theo reappeared a moment later with Vaisey in tow.
Vaisey was still slightly damp from the shower. He offered Hermione a charming smile. "Granger. I thought I spotted you in the stands."
Hermione felt her cheeks warm. "Hi. Yes — Daphne dragged me out here."
"I hope you're not here to spy for Potter," he teased.
Hermione shook her head vigorously. "Godric, no — I wouldn't—"
"Then come to the next practice," Vaisey cut in. "Maybe we grab a Butterbeer after."
Hermione's pulse was somewhere between still embarrassed and genuinely flattered.
"Let me finish getting changed, and I'll walk you back to the castle," Vaisey said.
Hermione nodded, still processing.
Theo looked at her as Vaisey walked away. "You have a date. No need to thank me."
Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Actually, Theo, I think I should. How about you and Daphne join us? Make a proper double date of it."
Daphne's eyes went wide.
Theo blinked, looking between them. "I mean, if — if Daphne wants—"
"Y-yes! For Hermione's sake," Daphne managed.
"Right. For Hermione," Theo agreed.
Just as Hermione was beginning to feel more at ease, she caught sight of Malfoy out of the corner of her eye — emerging from the showers with a towel slung low at his hips.
Her breath caught.
Her gaze moved from his damp hair down to his feet before she could stop herself. The water was still trailing down his chest, yet his hair was slicked back in its usual perfect position.
Malfoy turned to pull clothes from his locker, his back to her.
Hermione tried to look away. She really did. But Daphne's earlier remark echoed through her head, and his back alone was enough to make her stare.
She was at least grateful that Theo and Daphne were busy falling over themselves assuring each other that the double date was purely for her benefit.
Malfoy shut his locker and turned around — before Hermione could look away.
He raised an eyebrow, a slow smirk forming on his lips. She wished very much for the floor to open up and swallow her whole.
He sauntered over, clearly enjoying it. "Didn't take you for the type to sneak into the boys' changing rooms, Granger," he drawled. "Enjoying the view?"
Her embarrassment curdled into irritation before he could even finish the sentence.
He didn't give her time to respond. "Did you enjoy watching us practice? Quite a step up from Potter's ragtag lot, isn't it?"
Hermione straightened. "For your information, I didn't sneak in — Daphne dragged me here against my will. And Gryffindor is a perfectly fine team. Better than yours, if you want my honest opinion."
Malfoy scoffed. "Please. You can't get through a single match without Potter playing the hero like he's the second coming of Merlin himself."
"At least he has the talent to back it up."
"So you admit it? Potter does show off."
Hermione sputtered. "I didn't say that! I said he has the talent — which is more than can be said for someone who relies on dramatics just to get noticed."
He bit the tip of his tongue. "You were noticing me just fine a moment ago, Granger."
Her face burned. Her stomach twisted. She opened her mouth — and nothing came. She always had a comeback. Why didn't she have a comeback?
Malfoy stepped closer, arms crossing over his chest, his muscles straining with the motion, the towel still hanging at his hips. "Cat got your tongue?" he taunted.
Hermione clenched her fists, trying to maintain her composure even as her peripheral vision helpfully reminded her of exactly how much skin was still on show. "You're insufferable," she muttered.
"You're the one who was staring," he said, voice low and teasing. "Should I turn around again so you can have another look?"
Across the room, Theo and Daphne exchanged wide-eyed glances. Theo looked at Daphne as if to say: is this actually happening?
Daphne was biting the inside of her cheek to keep from grinning.
Hermione, desperate, shot a pleading look in Daphne's direction. Daphne was too busy suppressing a smirk to be any use.
Refusing to let him win, she huffed. "I was observing your technique — which needs work."
"Right." Malfoy leaned in a fraction. "Just here for the Quidditch, I'm sure."
"I was watching Vaisey, actually," she said, watching with satisfaction as the amusement shifted to something sharper in his eyes. "He's a far better flyer than you."
Malfoy's smirk faltered. "Vaisey? You've got a thing for Vaisey?"
She crossed her arms. "And what if I do?"
"The bloke's barely worth the broom he flies on!" Malfoy snapped.
"All right, Draco," Theo said, stepping between them with a grin that suggested he was thoroughly enjoying this. "Let's not start something before the match. And just so you know — Vaisey's already asked Hermione out."
Hermione flashed Theo a grateful look.
"Is that right?" Malfoy drawled, stepping back toward Hermione, grey eyes glinting. "A date with Vaisey, Granger. How charming for you."
"Are you quite done?" she snapped, patience finally wearing thin. "Honestly, Malfoy, I can't decide if you're obsessed with me or just looking for a fight."
Before he could respond, Pansy's voice cut through from somewhere behind them. "Must you two always do this? It's like watching a pair of snarling Kneazles." She sighed theatrically. "Maybe you should just get it over with and snog each other already."
They both turned to stare at her.
"What?" they said together.
Pansy shrugged. "The arguing clearly isn't working. You may as well try something else. Wouldn't that be a plot twist?"
Hermione scoffed. "I'll wait for Vaisey outside." She walked out before anyone could say another word.
She didn't have long to wait.
"Didn't keep you waiting, did I?" Vaisey asked, appearing at her side.
Hermione shook her head, offering a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Not at all." She drew a breath, searching for the words to let him down gently. She didn't think a date was a good idea — she just couldn't quite say so.
Before she could open her mouth, she noticed Malfoy stepping out of the changing rooms, his posture easy and confident, his hair still damp. Her stomach twisted and she lost the thread entirely.
Vaisey followed her gaze. "Something wrong?"
"No!" Hermione said quickly, touching his arm to redirect him. She laughed — brighter and warmer than she felt. "Everything's fine. So — that Butterbeer?"
---
Draco stood just outside the changing rooms, Pansy at his side, watching as Granger laughed at something Vaisey said, all but falling into him as she did it.
His eyes narrowed. There was something about the way she leaned in — that easy, unguarded posture — that irritated him far more than he wanted to admit. It wasn't even about Vaisey specifically. It was the way she seemed to enjoy herself. The flush of her cheeks. The brightness in her eyes.
All directed at Vaisey, of all people.
Pansy was frowning, watching him.
Her expression softened. "You don't like it," she said quietly. It wasn't a question.
Draco didn't answer, his gaze still fixed across the courtyard.
"You're staring," Pansy pressed, taking his arm.
His fists clenched at his sides. He hadn't been staring — had he?
"Nothing to stare at," he muttered. But the words rang hollow, and Granger's laugh was still echoing off the stone.
Pansy was panicking. She wasn't showing it, but she was panicking.
The idea had been simple enough at the time — push them into each other's orbit, let Hermione see what was going on with Draco, and maybe she'd find a way to pull him back from the edge. Hermione was smart, steady, and — despite years of history — surprisingly compassionate. If anyone could see through Draco's facade, it was her.
Pansy had planned for the possibility that Hermione might develop feelings. She hadn't loved that outcome, but she'd accounted for it.
What she had never once accounted for was Draco.
That scared her.
"It's Granger, Draco," she hissed, keeping her voice low. "She's a Gryffindor. A Muggleborn. She's not your type. You wouldn't have the patience for her. She's hot-headed, and she's my friend, and I want to keep her that way."
"Vaisey!" Draco called, striding toward the pair with all the authority of someone who hadn't just been standing there in a state of quiet torment. "Urquhart needs you. Something about the next match."
Granger's smile dropped. Something turned over in his chest.
Vaisey looked at him. "Tell him I'll see him in the common room later. I'm busy."
Draco's jaw tightened. "He was persistent about it."
Granger folded her arms. "What's so urgent it can't wait?"
"I'm sure Potter can explain the delicacy of captaining a team to you later, Granger," Draco drawled.
Vaisey sighed. "All right — sorry, Hermione. Come to our next practice and we'll get that Butterbeer after."
Granger smiled at Vaisey, her cheeks colouring as she gave his arm a light squeeze.
Right. The date.
"Then I'll be there," she said, meeting Draco's eyes as she did it.
Vaisey left. Draco watched him go, painfully aware of Pansy's gaze boring into the back of his head from a distance.
A smack landed on his arm. He turned around.
"What the bloody hell is wrong with you?" Granger hissed.
Draco looked at her. Her eyes were blazing, her arms crossed. "What?" he scoffed.
"Don't play dumb. We were in the middle of a conversation."
"You mean you were in the middle of embarrassing yourself," Draco said. "You should be thanking me."
"Embarrassing myself?" she snapped.
"Yes! You were just—just flirting!" The words were out before he could catch them. He heard himself say it and took an involuntary step back, blinking.
Granger stared at him, mouth slightly open, apparently unable to decide whether to be furious or baffled.
"Flirting?" she repeated.
Draco frowned, forcing his expression into something more composed. "Yes. Throwing yourself at him. It's embarrassing to watch."
"Then don't watch."
He had no answer to that. He had expected — what, exactly? An apology? A flicker of guilt? She looked completely unrattled, and somehow that made everything worse.
Pansy chose the moment perfectly, drifting over and wrapping her arms around herself. "Draco, it's freezing. Can we go back inside?"
Draco tore his eyes from Granger. "Yeah," he muttered. "Let's go."
Pansy nodded, letting him walk a few paces ahead. She looked back at Hermione, offered a small apologetic smile, and followed Draco toward the castle.