There was something to be said about spending an afternoon blasting fake Death Eaters apart. It was cathartic. Healing. And, for the first time in what felt like years, Hermione slept deeply and without interruption. Her dreams were of something else entirely and when she woke, the Hippogriff that had been sitting on her chest was gone.

She took advantage of the fact she was feeling better - refreshed, energized. Hermione chose clothes that were clean, took the time to apply charms to her curls, and even dotted a small drop of perfume behind her ears. For the first time since sixth year, the enchanted mirror didn't have anything derogatory to say about her appearance.

She was flying high on her mood alone. When she saw Draco, she was going to tell him just how much she appreciated what he'd done for her. It put such a bounce in her step that when she came to the trick stair at the bottom of the steps from the eighth year common room's staircase, Hermione leapt over it and grinned when she nailed the landing.

Having a clear head was nice. She remembered the homework that was due a week from now and planned to hit the library that night to complete it. She hadn't kept up on her schoolwork like she used to. Finishing an essay at the minimal required length, a night or two before it was due, and having no peer review to ensure accuracy and viewpoint had been her new normal; she turned in what she'd managed to scribble down and called it her best.

It had been a tumultuous return to school. She'd been excited to get back to school, but then on the very first night during first year sorting, she realized she was devastated, haunted, isolated, confused, exhausted, and broken down. Some of that had changed since she and Draco became… were they friends? Hermione wasn't sure. Perhaps something more than acquaintances, something less than friends.

When she saw his blond head duck into the Great Hall, she grinned and swept through the corridor after him.

"Good morning, Mudblood."

Her spine straighted. Her body seized as if ice had been poured down the back of her jumper. She turned on her heel and faced the Slytherin that seemed to have taken to taunting her this year. Her eyes narrowed in his direction and she tried desperately to squash the rising jitters that sparked along her nerves.

"Malcolm. This has to stop." Hermione tried to keep her voice even. He'd only get worse if he knew he was getting under her skin.

"Can't handle a little bit of honesty?" Chunks of his brown hair fell in a swoop over his forehead as he laughed at her. It wasn't a pleasant sound, but vicious and taunting. "Silly Mudblood thinks she can make the big bad Pureblood play nice."

Baddock pulled his wand from his robes and leered at her. Her stomach twisted and her lungs emptied. Hermione shifted her eyes away from Baddock and the memory slammed into her with the force of a stunning spell. There, just behind where Baddock stood. That was where the world had imploded, where walls had fallen away, and Fred with them. She didn't think she'd ever forget Percy's wails, the way they'd had to pry him from Fred's body, the ghost of Fred's last laugh frozen on his face.

It was a punch to her gut. Unforgiving. Relentless as the memories assaulted her and pulled her from the present. Drowned her in war and loss and pain.

She could barely make out Baddock's hissed words. "Crazy bitch."

She flinched when she snapped her gaze back to his face and found him closer. Her hand twitched toward her wand. Backward, forward, breathe , jab.

"Your friends didn't even want you around anymore," he laughed and drew his face into a sneer. "Now you need a blood traitor like Malfoy to save you. It's pathetic. You'repathetic."

Despite her shaking hands, Hermione pulled her wand from her pocket. Her vision darkened around the edges. She repeated Malfoy's mantra in her mind and breathed along with it. Backward, forward, breathe , jab.

"Look at how much you're shaking." His mocking laugh coated Hermione's stomach in acid. "Can't even hold your wand straight. Pft. War hero, my arse."

She would not cry. She would not . A sharp inhale through her nose, out of sync with her desperate pattern, soothed her for just a moment as she felt her lungs expand. Her chest contracted painfully as she exhaled. There was a stabbing sensation from the edge of her ribcage all the way up to her shoulder.

Her body felt heavy. Blood like lead, weighing her down. She blinked, slow and deliberate as she tried to steady her wand arm. When her eyes opened, Draco was standing behind Malcolm with his wand drawn and rage etching the lines of his face.

"You're nothing but a dirty, magic-stealing, disgusting piece of Muggle filth !" Baddock took a step forward and Malfoy stepped along with him.

Hermione forced herself to speak. It was like choking around jagged glass. "Stop. Stop now."

She kept her eyes on Draco until he paused in his step. She really didn't want him to rescue her. Hermione had to handle this herself, had to stand up for herself and tryto be better. Her shoulders rose, heart frenzied, when she ducked her chin and silently told Malfoy that she was okay. That she had this.

Draco lowered his wand, a twitch at the corner of his lips. He didn't move, didn't turn away, but remained standing, watching. She flicked her gaze from him to Baddock.

" Stop! Stop! " he taunted her in a faux whiny pitch. "Is that how you begged Lestrange when she carved into your arm?"

Her gaze darted to the angry crimson scar on her forearm. Mudblood glared back at her through misty eyes. Everything felt hazy. Her mind screamed insults at her, driving home every single bad thing that people like Baddock have told her throughout her life. At her Muggle primary school, being taunted for her teeth and her hair, her first year at Hogwarts and Malfoy's jeers — when she had heard Mudblood for the first time — to now, where it was permanently a part of her in such a vile and sickening way.

"I think Lestrange did everyone a favor. Now everyone will know exactly what you are — nothing but a mental Mudblood that parades around as a Malfoy whore."

The words filtered in. She reacted immediately. Mercilessly. Hermione stabbed her wand forward. No spell left her lips. Her mind was a whirlwind of rage, spiralling down and down and down until she heard Baddock's body hit the ground. A sickening thud followed by the crack of skull against concrete.

"Shit!" Draco lunged forward and crouched at Baddock's head.

Hermione took a step forward and her hand flew to her mouth, wand clattering to the floor. "Is he—"

Draco pressed two fingers just below Baddock's jaw. The planes of his throat constricted and his lips tugged down. A beat passed, then two. Bile rose in her throat as Draco turned his face to hers again.

"Get out of here, Granger." Draco's voice was low as his gaze skimmed the corridor to see if there were any witnesses. "Go! Now!"

She started, but her knees locked into place. The world darkened around her. She wobbled on the spot. "Malfoy. Is he—"

"Run to the dorm and lock yourself in." He stood and pulled his wand, lifting Malcolm's body from the floor. "You were never here . Do you understand? Go."

Hermione stole a greedy breath and stared down at the prone boy on the floor. She warred with herself — call a professor or run? Leave Malfoy to clean up her mess or stay and take responsibility for her actions?

"I can't just leave him," she answered finally, approaching Draco and Baddock with her heart fluttering in her throat. "Is he alive? Draco, please, just answer me that."

She saw him sigh. Watched as he rolled his neck until it popped. Stared in wonder as Baddock's body hovered as if lying on an invisible surface.

"Granger." He turned to her, eyes tight as he took in her shaking body. "I've got this, alright? Go. I'll make sure he's taken care of. He got what he deserved after saying that shit to you. Now go. I'll see you later, yeah?"

Her chin wobbled and she opened her mouth to speak. At his narrowed eyes, she snapped it shut again and grabbed her wand from the floor. Without another word, she tore through the corridor toward their dormitories. She shook the whole way there; up the staircase, nearly tripping on the trick step, round the bends of the halls as portraits shouted after her to slow down. She didn't stop until she was sitting on her four-poster bed with her knees drawn up to her chin. A full panic attack slammed into her without mercy.

What had she done? She'd done it without thinking, without considering the consequences. Her magic overtook her and protected her. But it was dark, it had to be. Baddock was still alive, but she had no idea what curse she'd used. What if he never woke up? What if they expelled her from school — or worse, threw her into Azkaban? Living with these thoughts every second of every day would kill her. She couldn't — couldn't stomach the thought. She retched. Bile slicked her throat and burned until her eyes watered.

She couldn't sit there and wonder what would happen if someone found out what she did. She had to face it, had to face Baddock. With legs like jelly and her vision blurred, she pushed herself off her bed and moved slowly through the dorm. Ginny called her name, but she ignored it. The door swung open just as she reached for the handle. Hermione stopped dead.

Draco stood before her. Black trousers, green shirt, messy hair. She thought he looked sleepy. It was, of course, still so early in the morning. His gaze swept through the dorm behind her and then rested on her eyes. He nodded his head to the side and she followed him as he led her away from the dorm.

He walked until they reached an old, abandoned classroom and ushered her inside. After casting a thorough succession of locking and privacy charms, he turned and reached out for her. She shied away, blood rushing through her ears, terrified of what he was going to say to her. Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes and she sniffed them back. She didn't want him to see her cry. He'd seen enough of her weakness.

Hermione stepped back as Malfoy stepped toward her. She shook her head, curls whipping around her scrunched face as she tried like hell to hold back her tears.

"Granger…" it was soft, a delicate whisper, as he reached out again and took her by the elbow until she was pressed against him. He pulled her arms around his waist and then wrapped his own arms around her shoulders. "It's alright. He's okay. It was only a stunner. He'll be alright."

At his words, her body sagged against him and she held him so tightly that she felt him wince. Hermione cried in earnest then, relief and fear mixing together, overwhelming all rational thought. He told her quietly, against her thick, unruly, tangled curls that he had her, that he wasn't going anywhere until she was okay.

"Madam Pomfrey asked about you," he whispered as his arms flexed around her. She burrowed into his warmth and felt the wet stain of tears against his shirt. "She gave me a potion for you, a calming draught."

"I don't want it." It was stubborn, she knew, but there were so many horror stories of post-war addiction to potions. George, Lee, Dean, Luna. They'd all gone through it. Hermione refused to be another statistic. "Give it back to her."

There was a rumble in his chest. A harsh chuckle against her head. She pulled back, though her hands remained firmly on his sides. Fingers splayed along the ridges of his rib cage. Her vision was still watery, but she swore he had a small smile at the turn of his lips.

"Stubborn witch."

Word traveled fast through Hogwarts. Hermione Granger, defender of Muggleborns. She thought, perhaps, Draco helped spur the rumors on. Baddock limping through the corridors also helped. He stared at her in the Great Hall, but ducked his head down when she caught him. Hermione was sure he'd return to tormenting her again, but even after a month, he continued to avoid her.

Ginny nicknamed her the Snake Slayer. Hermione reprimanded her every time her ginger best friend would snicker and proclaim her the Champion of Muggles, Slayer of Snakes.

First years and eighth years alike approached her. Thanked her for standing up to the wizards who hadn't realized they lost the Blood War. The Blood War , she thought. Apt, but not over. They would no doubt fight for decades more, for equality and for proper treatment. There were so many laws to overturn, so many entrenched beliefs to change.

And Draco promised to help her. He wrote to his mother and had her send books upon books that detailed Pureblood law and tradition. She wrote to the Ministry, pleading for Kingsley to look into and start re-writing the laws.

When Quidditch started, Hermione would stroll down to the pitch and watch Seamus and Draco practice on the newly formed eighth year team. Ginny acted as their referee at the request of the Headmistress, since 'house unity' was still tenuous and fragile throughout the school. She'd work on her coursework or respond to Ministry letters and occasionally she'd cheer them on, though she had no idea what she was cheering for because she'd get so lost in what she was doing.

By the time the Christmas holidays neared, Hermione had corresponded with so many Ministry officials that she had piles of letters all over her dorm. The sheer amount of work she had to do kept her so occupied, there was no time to panic. Whenever her hands would quake, she'd breathe. In for four, out for six. She'd pause, gain her bearings, and ground herself. Multitasking became her potion of choice.

It was the middle of December when things changed again.

Hermione walked to the Quidditch pitch, dutifully ignoring the triggers on the grounds of Hogwarts that were known to set off her anxiety. She'd created little pockets of safety within the castle. Longer routes to classrooms to avoid triggers, secret passages to hide in when things got to be too much. But the walk to the Quidditch pitch, chilly and wet as snow floated down and melted before hitting the ground, was peaceful. Routine, even.

She found a seat near the middle of the stands and cast a warming charm around her as she watched the entire eighth year team practice for the afternoon. Every once in a while, Draco would zoom by her, flash that wolfish, heart-stopping grin, and fly off after the snitch.

When she beamed into her scarf, Ginny caught her eye and gave her a knowing smile, one that said she knew precisely how much Hermione had been enjoying Draco's company lately. Hermione's eyes sparkled as a blush rose up her throat and to her cheeks. Ginny shook her head, a playful gesture, and flew in between the hoops as the quaffle was raced back down her side of the pitch.

Practice ended an hour later when Draco caught the snitch. The team landed on the ground, all pink-faced and wind whipped as Hermione took the stairs down two at a time. Ginny, Dean, Theo, Draco, Seamus, Mandy, Susan, and Justin formed a circle and spoke in low whispers until they broke apart. Ginny tossed her a wink as she tore off toward the castle with everyone else in tow except Draco.

He approached her with an easy, lopsided smile and wind-sculpted hair. "I have to admit that it's going to feel good to beat the Slytherin team tomorrow."

Hermione laughed and pulled her cloak tighter around her frame. "Isn't that blasphemy?"

Draco shrugged and stepped closer. "Probably. You came to my practice today. Isn't that blasphemy?"

She shrugged, playfully smiling at him. "Probably."

He chuckled deeply and licked at the corner of his lips. "Have you got any plans tonight?"

"Hot date with the library, I'm afraid." She hooked her arm through his and allowed him to lead her through the pitch to an area of coverage under the stands. Just to get out of the snow, she told herself, even as her heart thudded like birds' wings in her chest. "I'm finally ahead on my Arithmancy work."

"There's no Arithmancy homework until after the holidays," he reminded her as if he didn't know that she was going to scoff — which she did. He rolled his eyes. "Fine, fine. How about after? There's a party in Ravenclaw."

"Not interested." Her back hit a tall wooden post and Draco towered over her. Something pleasant flooded her, a haze of sorts that settled around her as Draco ducked his head down to eye level.

"How about another go at Wizard Chess?" His breath fanned against her cheeks. He smelled of snow and wind.

She was heady. Lightheaded. Zinging with magic at his proximity. "You, me, firewhiskey?" she asked him breathlessly.

There was an eagerness inside of her that she hadn't felt since before . The thrill of adventure that she'd always felt with Harry and Ron. It sparked within her as Draco drew closer and gripped onto her hips with slender, exacting fingers. She breathed, Merlin she had to breathe , but her lungs wouldn't function and she thought she was going to faint from holding her breath.

Draco's nose skimmed her cheek from nose to ear. "In and out, love. Like we've practiced."

He set the pattern for her and something warm settled into her lower abdomen. She followed his breathing and placed her hands on his chest. The staccato rhythm of her heart slowed to mimic his.

She'd never truly be rid of the demons that haunted the dark edges of her mind. But Draco's presence had helped her combat them a little bit every day. From the moment he'd said those two words to her in the library all those weeks ago — 'I apologize' — he'd been there, with his resolute calm and reserved compassion. Although Hermione felt that, perhaps, she was finally strong enough to fight her demons on her own.

But, as his lips finally, slowly touched hers, Hermione realized that it wasn't a question of needing him anymore.

Even if she was able to let him go, she really, really didn't want to.