AN: written in response to a prompt by riddelsgurlforever on tumblr for the February 2016 #dhrfavorites prompt exchange. It's published way too late but that was the inspiration.

Prompt: Students are allowed to come back to Hogwarts for their 8th year, after the war. Draco has also returned, granted leniency for defecting. Hermione takes on an internship with Madam Pomfrey as she resolves to become a healer after the horrors she's witnessed in the war. Draco keeps himself busy with Quidditch. Perhaps one day Draco gets injured and has to be cared for by Hermione? What ensues after this?

September

"Apprentice Granger, will you join me in the infirmary please?"

Madam Pomfrey's voice drifted into the small office where Hermione was making more Skele-Gro. The school stock seemed to be rapidly dwindling, even though the new school year had only just begun.

Hermione grabbed her wand, put a stasis spell on the cauldron and straightened her light blue healer's robes before she walked out of her office and into the infirmary.

Madam Pomfrey was standing next to a bed at the far end, her body hiding the patient on the bed from view. As she walked nearer, her heart beat rapidly. Would this be the moment when she'd really start to learn about healing? She'd taken up the apprenticeship with Madam Pomfrey because she wanted to become a Healer, and Madam Pomfrey was arguably the best. But the first weeks had been nothing but making third year potions like Skele-Gro and ointments for boils. She knew how to do those in her sleep.

When she neared the bed, she saw the patient and gasped.

"Malfoy! What happened?"

He had a split lip, blood stains on the front of his green quidditch robes and bruises beginning to colour his cheekbones and eyes.

Malfoy glared at her. "Quidditch accident," he muttered, wincing as his lips started bleeding again from the movement.

"I'd like you to perform the diagnostics on Mr. Malfoy, please, Apprentice Granger," said Madam Pomfrey, gesturing at the patient on the bed. She took a step back, to give them all the space they needed.

Hermione stared at Malfoy, momentarily distracted by the blood dripping from his nose and lips.

"While we're still young, Granger," he snapped, and she blinked in surprise.

"Dolorem revelio."

Hermione watched as the spell took effect, highlighting different parts of his body and face. She no longer saw him, but a puzzle she was anxious to solve. Her heart beat rapidly as she tried to distinguish the different injuries.

"Cracked rib. Sprained wrist. Split lip. Lost a molar, some loose teeth. Broken nose. Lots of bruising in the face and some on the back of his head. No concussion, though." She turned to Madam Pomfrey with a smile, as if proud to have completed the exercise. Then she shook her head, remembering he was not just some theoretical problem, but a patient, and seriously injured at that.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Malfoy, you must be in a lot of pain. I'll get you a pain potion and we'll start healing you."

She hurried to the cupboard, took a few potions and returned to the bed.

"Explain to me what you would do to heal Mr. Malfoy," Madam Pomfrey interrupted.

"Oh. Right. I brought a pain potion so the patient feels more comfortable while we're healing him. I also have a diluted version of Skele-Gro for the cracked rib. The full-strength version isn't necessary for that. I would repair the facial injuries with spells. And a few drops of Denta-Gro can take care of the teeth."

"Not bad, Apprentice Granger," Madam Pomfrey said, then gesturing at the patient sitting on the bed, "Go ahead."

"What?"

"What?"

"You're letting me heal him?"

"You're letting Granger heal me?"

They looked at each other with mirroring faces of horror. Then Hermione's face morphed into the professional mask she'd put on while diagnosing him, and she turned to Madam Pomfrey.

"Are you sure, Madam?"

"Of course, Apprentice Granger. These are minor injuries, I'm sure you can handle them. I'll be right here to intervene, of course, should anything go wrong. But I'm confident everything will be fine."

Malfoy opened his mouth to object, but before he could get a word out, Hermione had pressed the pain potion to his lips.

"Swallow this, Mr. Malfoy, then I'll tend to your injuries," she said, her voice clinical and detached. He turned his face away.

"I'd rather you did this without, it makes me feel dizzy and sleepy."

Hermione pursed her lips but put the cap back on the vial and placed it on the bedside table.

"Your call. It's right there if you change your mind."

Then she set about casting episkey to set his nose, and sanentur to ease the bruising and heal the lips. Although the process was very painful, her patient never uttered more than a hiss. Whenever she glanced at him, she saw his grey eyes following her every move, and it made her feel jittery.

"Open your mouth, please."

"What now?"

"I want to heal your teeth, Mr. Malfoy. Open your mouth, please." Her voice didn't betray any irritation.

He opened his mouth a fraction, and she gently pried it open further, dabbing Denta-Gro along the loose teeth and leaving a larger dose where he'd lost his molar. The teeth snapped into place with an audible crunch. She knew it must hurt, but he just sat on the bed, immobile and quiet.

"The tooth you lost will grow overnight. I think it's best you stay here for the duration. And do take that pain potion, Mr. Malfoy, or you won't be able to sleep," Hermione said, now moving on to his ribs and wrist.

"You also need to take this dose of Skele-Gro to heal your rib, that will be done by tonight, as it isn't a very large crack. I'm going to spell some bindings around your wrist, it should be fine by tomorrow. Religo." She watched as a bandage tied itself tightly around his wrist, and then gave him the Skele-Gro. Finally, she cast a quicktergeo to get rid of the bloodstains. "Does it hurt anywhere else?"

Malfoy snorted, then winced. He'd forgotten about that cracked rib. "Why, yes, Granger. My eyes still hurt with the sight of you. Do try and get that hair under control, will you? I'm sure it's a health hazard all by itself."

Hermione considered retaliating but then reminded herself that she was supposed to be a professional, and above petty insult trading.

"Glad to hear you're feeling better," she said instead, with a sugary sweet smile that made her own teeth hurt. "Make yourself comfortable on the bed, Mr. Malfoy, you're spending the night in the infirmary."

Then she turned on her heel and went back into her office.

Interlude: studying

She stared out the window of her room, the highest room in the West Tower. When she came back for her Eighth Year, she also asked for a Healer's apprenticeship with Madam Pomfrey. Since that made her staff as well as a student who was of age, she'd received her own rooms in the staff quarters. She liked the view from the West Tower, and didn't even mind all the stairs she had to climb every day. The new room also didn't remind her so much of the friends who had decided not to come back, like Gryffindor Tower. Or the friends who never had the choice in the first place. The West Tower was new territory, no memories to haunt her and no ghosts to keep her company.

She knew she should be studying, she was taking eight NEWTs this year, after all, but her attention was drawn again and again to the flash of green and silver flying around the Quidditch pitch. He always seemed to be flying these days. She never cared for Quidditch and never liked flying, but watching him fly was different. In the air, he was poetry incarnate. He looped around the field, twirling and diving and rolling around in intricate patterns that mesmerised her.

It became increasingly difficult to tell herself she still hated him, when he was in the hospital wing more often than in the Great Hall. Especially because no matter how painful his injuries, he would refuse a pain potion and suffer quietly. It was so much unlike the whinging brat who had claimed to be dying after Buckbeak had given him a scratch on his arm, that she was forced to consider he might have changed in other ways as well.

She watched him fly until the sun set, and it became too dark for her to make out any shapes or colours. She wondered if quidditch was an escape for him, like healing had become for her.

October

"In here again, Mr. Malfoy? This must be the sixth time since the beginning of the year!"

"Happy to see you too, Granger. Get on with it, will you? This fucking hurts."

She performed the diagnostics spell wordlessly this time.

"Broken arms, broken ribs, lots of bruising. What happened this time?"

He gave her a level stare. "Quidditch accident," he bit out through clenched teeth.

He always said it was a Quidditch accident. She knew he was lying. He was trying too hard to seem sincere.

"Another one?"

"It's a dangerous sport, Granger, you should know, old Scarhead had enough accidents on the pitch."

She ignored his dig at Harry.

"You sure have a lot of quidditch accidents for someone who isn't even on his House team."

He looked away now, his face still carefully expressionless.

She shook her head, resigned.

"Pain potion?" she asked.

"Just fix me."

"It'll hurt."

"I can handle it. Just give me the fucking bone potion."

She shrugged, summoned the Skele-Gro and held it to his mouth.

"Swallow it all up, I'll get you some pumpkin juice after."

He did as he was told, and apart from a twist of his lips, he didn't react to the foul taste.

"I'm going to take care of your bruises now," she said, pointing her wand at his face, first. He glanced at her with an unreadable expression, then sighed and closed his eyes. She traced her wand along his face and body, muttering the spell over and over.

She turned away when she was finished, ready to go to the Great Hall for dinner, but he stopped her.

"Stay, please."

She turned back, surprised.

"Why?"

"I can't eat on my own. Broken arms, remember?" He laughed, as if embarrassed for his helplessness.

"Madam Pomfrey is always here, she can help you."

His laugh faded quickly. "Fine. Go. See if I care."

Hermione conjured a chair next to the bed and sat down.

"I don't mind staying. I'm sure the house elves will bring enough food for two."

As soon as she'd spoken, a tray appeared, two large bowls of soup and a rack of buttered toast hovering in front of her. She grinned at him.

"See, now I have to stay and feed you." She conjured a table for the tray, then fluffed up the pillows behind his back and helped him sit up a little straighter. Feeding him was oddly intimate. They didn't talk during the meal.

As soon as they were finished, the tray disappeared and she banished the table.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome, Draco." The words were out of her mouth before she realised it, and she blushed. He quirked up one corner of his mouth in a half-smile that was oddly endearing. I did NOT just think he was endearing.

"On a first-name basis now, are we?"

"I… That is to say… I…"

"Don't worry about it, Hermione." She flushed even more when he said her name. "I don't mind. You are my personal healer, after all." And he winked. Winked. She was mortified.

"I need to go. Homework and all. You better stay the night, and there's a pain potion right here if you need it." It took a lot of effort to put the professional Healer mask back on.

"Hermione…"

She really didn't want to hear what he might want to say, and just kept talking while she walked towards the doors.

"If you need anything at all tonight, Poppy… I mean, Madam Pomfrey will be in the little room just off the infirmary."

He scoffed.

She whirled around, confused. "What?"

"Nothing. Goodnight, Hermione."

"No, seriously, why did you just… What did I say?"

Draco Malfoy leaned back in his pillows and closed his eyes, suddenly very tired. He could feel her staring at him, and then she finally turned around again and he listened to her footsteps until she reached the doors.

"Why do you think you're the one who's always tending to me?" he muttered.

She looked over her shoulder, but his eyes were still closed, and she wondered if she'd imagined it. She wasn't sure what he'd meant, either, and felt even more confused than ever. When the doors shut behind her, she took two strides to the other side of the hall, and rested her forehead against the cool stone wall. She hated being so confused.

Interlude: Hallowe'en

She'd never dreaded anything as much as the Halowe'en Feast that year. The festival of the dead was celebrated all over Hogwarts, pumpkins and cobwebs in every nook and cranny, on every staircase and in every classroom. It was just so trivial, so wrong, when not even six months before so many had died in these halls and rooms. She'd known coming back would be difficult, but it had seemed to be fine, up until that moment.

All the students were so excited, there would be great food and even butterbeer, and it was rumoured the Headmistress had organised a band of Vampires to play after dinner. And while she couldn't think of anything but the bodies that had lined the Great Hall, the students joked about skeletons and zombies and spoke of nothing but food and parties.

She made it through dinner, though the food tasted of sawdust and ashes, but left the Great Hall as soon as the food disappeared. She collided with him in the doorway, and he reached out to steady her.

"Careful, Granger."

"Sorry, didn't see you. Excuse me."

She pushed out of the Great Hall and began to walk up the stairs.

"Everything alright?"

"Just fine. Tired." Why did he keep asking questions when she wanted to be left alone? She tried to walk faster but he seemed to keep up with her easily.

"You don't look alright."

"Just leave me alone, Malfoy."

"It's okay, you know, not to be alright. It's a difficult day for some people, the celebration of death."

She choked back a sob, but kept mounting the stairs, determined not to look back.

"Granger… Hermione…"

They'd reached the fourth landing now, and she turned around to face him. He sucked in a harsh breath when he saw the desperation on her face.

"Is there anything I can do?" he asked gently, reaching out hesitantly, as if wanting to comfort her but not sure how.

She shook her head.

"Just… Just leave me alone, Draco. I just want to be alone."

His hand dropped back to his side, and she saw a flash of what might have been disappointment in his eyes.

"Well, if there's anything else, let me know." His voice was tight.

"Why? Why would you want to help?"

"You help me every time I'm injured, don't you?"

She took a deep breath.

"I'm an Apprentice Healer, Draco. It's my job to take care of your injuries."

He took a step back as if she'd slapped him. Then his face morphed into a cold and aloof mask.

"Of course. Good evening, Apprentice Granger."

She could only stare at his retreating back in wonder.

November

Miss Granger,

Please join me in the hospital wing at your earliest convenience.

P. Pomfrey

She'd received the note in the middle of Ancient Runes and bolted out of her chair, hurried excuses falling from her lips as she stuffed her quill and notes back in her satchel. She transfigured her black school robes in the light blue healer's robes as she ran along the corridors, dodging suits of armour and jumping over disappearing steps on the stairs to get to the hospital wing as quickly as she could. All day she'd had a horrible feeling, and she somehow knew she had no time to lose.

Draco Malfoy was lying on the bed, pale and still, his chest barely moving with every breath.

"Ah, Apprentice Granger, how good of you to come so quickly. Mr. Malfoy was brought in earlier, unconscious." Madam Pomfrey gestured at the still figure in the bed.

"What…. What's the diagnosis?" She was trying to get her breath under control, but it wasn't easy.

"I haven't cast the spell yet, Apprentice Granger. He is your patient."

Hermione stiffened, her mind putting together the pieces of a puzzle she didn't like the outcome of. She turned to her mentor, robes billowing with the sudden movement.

"What did you just say?" Her voice was flat and low, her eyes burning with rage.

"He's your patient, Apprentice Granger," Madam Pomfrey repeated, unconcerned.

"Have you cast any spell at all to make him more comfortable? Did you even check his vitals?"

Madam Pomfrey just raised an eyebrow. "He's your patient, Apprentice Granger," she said with deliberation.

Hermione turned back, closed her eyes for just a moment to allow the disappointment and anger to rage inside, then she pushed those emotions away and focused on Malfoy.

"Dolorem revelio."

She bit her lip as she watched, in horror, as the diagnosis presented itself.

"Broken bones. Ruptured muscles. Knees fractured. Cracked skull. Broken ribs. Lungs… Oh dear Merlin. Stasis"

She looked over her shoulder at Madam Pomfrey. "When was he brought in?"

"About half an hour ago."

"His left lung was almost pierced by a broken rib. He could have died in the meantime. You took a Healer's Oath. It is your duty to heal those in need. He was brought in here unconscious and you didn't even bother to check if he was at all injured? How can you turn your back on a student in need?" Hermione was yelling by now, oblivious to any other patients in the infirmary and her wand pointed at Madam Pomfrey. She was so outraged, she could have hexed the woman on the spot.

Madam Pomfrey turned white with anger. "He's a Death Eater," she hissed, "He let other Death Eaters into this castle. Werewolves, in my school, among my students. He's responsible for Albus' death. And do you have any idea how many students ended up in my care last year because of him? Do you have any idea how many I had to mend overnight, only to see them back in my wing a few days later? Do you have any idea what he did?"

Hermione glared at the woman.

"It doesn't matter. It's over, we need to move on. If we all stay buried in the past, then it will just happen again and again and I won't stand for it. I won't. He was tried before the Wizengamot and cleared. The war is over. And yet you refuse to heal him. You always pass him onto me, don't you? I thought it was so I could learn more about healing, but it's so you don't have to treat him, isn't it? And if anything went wrong because I'm only an Apprentice, well, you couldn't care less, could you? And you pretended not to hear him when he was in your care, didn't you? Ignoring him when he asked for pain potions or help with dinner? I should have known…" She took a deep breath, reeling from the sudden realisations.

"I will report you, Madam Pomfrey. You violated your Oath. I did not fight a war for this… this ridiculousness to continue. I didn't fight a war just so there could be more hate and prejudice, so another group could become the outcasts. I wanted to become a Healer because I was done fighting, but if this is what peace is like, by Godric, I will fight again."

She swallowed, then continued, "I've established that someone used the Cruciatus curse on Mr. Malfoy, it accounts for the ruptured muscles and the strange angles of his broken bones. You refused to treat someone who was the victim of an especially vicious Unforgivable."

With a deep breath, she pushed past Madam Pomfrey, who was now staring at her, open-mouthed, and selected the potions she'd need to treat him.

Hermione sat on an hard wooden chair next to his bed, too exhausted to move, too exhausted even to transfigure the chair into something more comfortable. It had been brutal. Draco Malfoy was still in a magically induced coma so his body could recover more easily. She realised now she had almost lost him, and that made her feel all sorts of emotions she wasn't ready to acknowledge. She wouldn't let it happen again though. But first, first she needed to sleep.

Interlude: Letters

Dear Harry,

How's Auror training going for you and Ron?

Hogwarts isn't too bad. It seems people have trouble letting bygones be bygones, though. Did we really fight a war only to have more prejudices, more hate, more anger in our world? I have so much to tell you, but we can catch up next weekend in Hogsmeade.

I was wondering if you could bring Prongs' cloak and the map to our meeting. I'd like to borrow them for a while.

See you soon!

Love

Hermione

To the General Council of Healers

Subject: Violation of Healer's Oath and Medical Malpractice

I am hereby filing an official complaint regarding the healing serviced of Poppy Pomfrey, Healer at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Ms. Pomfrey has repeatedly refused to treat one of the students in her care, Mr. Draco Malfoy. She has passed treatment for the patient onto myself, although I did not receive any instruction as to how to heal the injuries Mr. Malfoy sustained, and I am only in my first months of my Apprenticeship.

Ms. Pomfrey has done this on eight occasions, and the latest one could have resulted in the death of the patient.

Ms. Pomfrey refused to treat the patient when I asked for assistance, and when he was brought into the hospital wing unconscious, she didn't even cast a diagnostics spell, by her own admission, and waited almost thirty minutes before summoning me.

When a Healer takes the Oath, they commit to assisting those in need, regardless of past or future, regardless of political inclinations or personal history.

According to the Healer's Statutes, Art. 5 par. 8.3b, refusing to help the injured, in whichever circumstance, will result in the immediate retraction of a Healer's license.

Mr. Malfoy and myself will be happy to testify if needed.

Respectfully,

Hermione J. Granger

Apprentice Healer

December

Harry had been reluctant to part with the Marauder's Map and his invisibility cloak, and Ron had stormed and raved about her "association with the ferret" as soon as she'd let Draco's name slip, but she wouldn't be Hermione Granger if she couldn't badger them both into agreeing.

Ever since Malfoy had woken up from his coma, she'd made an effort to talk to him more. The first time she'd taken the seat next to him in Arithmancy, he'd merely raised his eyebrows at her, then ignored her. Nobody ever sat next to him, and he didn't seem happy with the change.

The next time, she'd amiably started to discuss their homework, and though his answers were always short, she congratulated herself on having a normal conversation with him. They sat together in the library, quietly studying until they were chased out by Madam Pince. She joined him at the Slytherin table sometimes, ignoring the hateful looks of the other Slytherins. She even followed him out to the Quidditch pitch, cast a warming charm on herself underneath the invisibility cloak and read while he was flying. She followed him around under the cloak, for his own protection, hexing and jinxing anyone who lifted a wand against him. She was sure he suspected something, but he never said anything. Other students gave her strange looks when she accompanied him from one class to another, but she cheerfully ignored them and expertly dodged the tripping jinxes some of them tried to send at her.

He never initiated conversations, and he remained mostly monosyllabic, adopting a bored and even irritated demeanor whenever she came near him. It almost disheartened her, until one day she saw the flash of relief in his eyes when she settled across from him at dinner. It was gone before she could even be sure it had been there, but she quickly saw all the little signs that showed her he wasn't quite so against her company as he liked to pretend. An occasional touch guiding her out of the way of other students while she was walking and reading between classes, the set of his shoulders, not quite so stiff whenever she sat with him in the Great hall, the corner of his mouth quirking up just slightly, as if to suppress a smile. So she doggedly continued to seek out his company, and ignored the whispers and the stares.

And when she couldn't follow him around, she checked his dot on the Marauder's Map, telling herself she only wanted to be sure he was safe.

"You really shouldn't be doing this," he whispered one evening when she dumped her books on the other side of his table and settled down for another evening of work in the library.

"I assure you I need all the time I can have to study for NEWTs."

"That's not what I meant and you know it. People are gossiping, and it's your reputation on the line. You shouldn't spend so much time with me."

Hermione shrugged, took out her Astronomy notes and a new self-inking quill, and started making annotations.

"You know I couldn't care less about my reputation. I like spending time with you, you can keep up with me in discussions and usually you're a good study companion." She looked up from her notes, and said, with a cheeky smile, "When you're quiet, that is."

He scoffed, but turned back to his books and they worked in silence until most of the other students had left.

"You never did tell me who attacked you," Hermione said suddenly, pretending to flatten another scroll of parchment. She glanced up at him, and quickly back down at her notes after catching his scowl.

"I don't know what you mean."

She sighed and tried to catch his eye, but now he was the one studiously looking at his notes.

"It was a Cruciatus, wasn't it? I know it was. There was still an aura of a dark curse surrounding you and I know what the physical signs are. Why didn't you say anything? Don't you know who it was? Can't you remember?"

"That is neither here nor there, Granger. Many students here hate my guts and they don't like it any more than the rest of Wizarding Britain that the Wizengamot was so lenient with me. They want to see me punished for my many misdeeds."

"But you were acquitted!"

He shrugged. "Not in the court of public opinion."

"That's rubbish and you know it. We can't all start our own vigilante justice, that's even worse than having another band of Death Eaters roaming the country."

"It's life, Granger. All I have to do is survive the year, and then I'll be free to go wherever I want. France, or the States, or even Australia. And since I have my own brilliant personal healer, I'm pretty sure I can take whatever they try to throw at me here." He chuckled. "And it seems I have my very own personal guard dog, too, which doesn't give them many opportunities to throw any kind of curses at me. I'm safe enough."

Hermione could feel her face heating up, and looked away.

"You still should have said something. It isn't right."

Madam Pince came around the corner of an aisle just then and told them it was time to close the library. They started packing up, listening to her footsteps fading away.

"It doesn't matter. Whatever they throw at me, it can never be more painful than what I've already been through. But you really should think of yourself, Granger. Nobody's going to take you seriously as a Healer if you're associated with a Death Eater," Malfoy muttered.

"I'll take that chance."

"Sodding Gryffindors."

"Bloody Slytherins."

They smiled at each other.

Finale: Mistletoe

She didn't want to go home for Christmas. Her parents were still in Australia, oblivious to the fact they had a daughter in England, and it was just too painful to spend the holiday with Ron and his family. She arranged to see her friends in Hogsmeade on Boxing Day and assured them she really would prefer to spend the rest of the winter break at Hogwarts.

The castle was almost empty that year, the War too recent a memory for families to celebrate the holidays without their children.

Draco Malfoy was one of the few other students who remained behind, and the only one of the Eighth and Seventh years she shared any classes with.

They met in the library every day, talking about nothing but homework and research. They never talked about the attacks, which seemed to have ended, or Poppy Pomfrey's dismissal from Hogwarts, which hadn't endeared Hermione with either the staff or the students. There was a new Healer now, Madam Roseberry, who was fair to everyone. Hermione enjoyed her Apprenticeship much better now she was properly instructed and supervised. Of course, that Malfoy hadn't ended up in the hospital wing once since November was also a bonus. Or was it? Of course it was. I don't want to see him in there. Not really.

They were walking down together for Christmas Eve dinner, when all of a sudden, an invisible wall seemed to block their path and close in on them. They looked up simultaneously, realising at once what the problem was. A sprig of mistletoe with glittering white berries dangled above their heads.

Hermione kept her eyes on the mistletoe and swallowed. She could feel Malfoy's eyes on her, but was unwilling to meet them.

"I guess we better…" She stopped and blushed.

"Yeah…"

She took a deep breath and turned towards him, eyes closed and mouth slightly open. He licked his lips, cradling her face in his hands, and bent down. Then he hesitated. She could feel his breath on her lips and wondered why he had stopped. She opened her eyes again, and found his face only a hair's breadth away. His eyes seemed larger from up close, gleaming silver with specks of gold in the torch light.

"Hermione," he whispered, so quietly she could have sworn she'd imagined it.

Then his lips were on hers, warmer than she'd expected, but unmoving. It was chaste and soft and infuriating and exhilarating all at once. Her heart seemed to skip a beat and then sped up, her breath hitched in her throat and her hands were moving to his shoulders without any conscious thought.

And then his lips were gone, and he rested his forehead against hers, his lips moving, forming words he couldn't quite say.

She gasped for breath, then her hand sneaked around the back of his neck and she drew him closer, kissing him again, moving their lips together, softly biting his lower lip, sucking it to ease the pain, then running her tongue over his upper lip.

A moan escaped from the back of his throat, and it seemed to startle him. He pushed her away.

They stared at each other, both breathing heavily and trying to make sense of what just happened.

"I'm sorry," he blurted out.

She blinked. "What?" Not exactly the words she'd expected to hear.

"I'm sorry. I know you don't feel… It won't happen again." He turned bright red, and started to walk away.

"Wait. What are you talking about?"

"You told me, remember, you're just doing your job, I don't mean anything to you. I know. I promise it won't happen again."

"When did I say that?"

"Hallowe'en."

"I was a little upset that day, Draco. And a lot has changed since then."

He swallowed, but still didn't look at her.

"How much?"

She sighed, exasperated. "How much what?"

"How much have things changed?"

She rolled her eyes at his back, grabbed his arm and pushed him against the wall.

"A lot, you idiot." She smiled at him, nudging her nose against his before she kissed him again.

This time, they didn't stop until Professor McGonagall cleared her throat and reminded them dinner was waiting for them in the Great Hall.