Disclaimer: None of the characters are mine, they all belong to J.K Rowling. The plot follows Half-Blood Prince, so if you recognize it, it's not mine. I hope you enjoy it!

Prologue. For Now

July 2nd, 1997

She turned to face the boy lying beside her, taking in the sharp line of his jaw, his dark lashes that were fluttering against his pale cheek, and his lips slightly swollen from their recent snog. She noted the curve of his neck, how his collarbone was clearly outlined, and his notably muscular upper torso was relaxed for once. His breathing was slow and even, proving to her that he was, indeed, asleep soundly next to her, and she sighed with a bit of relief. Knowing he was alive, healthy, that he loved her and cared for her, was one of the only things keeping her going these days. The war was just beginning, having witnessed the boy nearly murder their Headmaster under command of the Dark Lord. Hermione knew that whatever was to follow would be dark, and painful. Hell, she may not even make it through the war. But at that moment, she was still alive, able to lay beside the love of her life and watch him while he dreamed peacefully.

The image of his twisted expression, the fear and dread painted plainly on his face as he stared down Albus Dumbledore, flashed behind her eyelids as the fresh memory floated to the surface of her thoughts. She had wanted to leap in and save him, from himself, from Voldemort, from Dumbledore, but she knew she couldn't. Had she done so, the witch could have wrecked everything he had worked to conceal, to manipulate in order to keep her safe. He had done everything in his power to ensure that she lived to see the war, even though he couldn't promise her much after that. There were on opposites sides, as their circumstances had deemed them to be, even though she knew he would give anything for the freedom to stand at her side. Thankfully, someone else had stepped in and done what Draco obviously couldn't gather the courage to do and killed the Headmaster. It had been a shock to see the green curse shoot from the end of her professor's wand and see Dumbledore fall from the top of the tower, even though she had known it was coming.

While she stood firmly with her friends in their quest against Voldemort, there were shades of grey that came with her new perspective that started to warp her view on the war coming for them. Draco may have been the son of a Death Eater, but he was nothing like them. He was kind, and loving, and believed all witches and wizards to be equal. And even though he was being coerced into doing horrible things, he was tormented by the task. Dumbledore had been manipulating Harry into being the leader of a war since he was a child. He'd hid things from them, things that would have helped them greatly through life that she had only just found out.

Sitting there now, staring at her hero, she could sense how truly one-sided her view had become. Hermione had prided herself for years on being open-minded and fair, seeing things from the perspective of others and given those she didn't know the benefit of the doubt. She had missed, obviously, how polarised her perceptions had become over the years, and how easily she found herself supporting what she believed the be the right side of things. It seemed, however, that right and wrong was more subjective than she could have ever imagined, and the proof was asleep right beside her.

Gingerly, she rolled onto her side, propping her head up under her palm and continued watching him. The placid nature of seeing him sleeping made her eyelids heavy and her arm weakened. She bent her elbow and tucked her arm under the pillow so she could lean into him, resting her head on his chest. He responded a moment later by wrapping his arms around her and inhaling deeply. Nuzzling in, Hermione closed her and held him close.

"Goodnight, Granger," he whispered, kissing the top of her head, and squeezing her just a bit.

"Goodnight, Malfoy," she replied, drifting off to sleep.

Chapter 1. The Beginning

October 31st, 1996

It was Halloween, but frankly, no one was in the celebratory mood. Ron was a bit touchy overseeing his sister snogging Dean and Harry was just as stressed about Quidditch try-outs and leading the Gryffindor team to victory. Hermione, however, was on edge about what had happened to Katie, her classes, and most of all Ronald's complete lack of interest in her. It wasn't that she was being obvious about her affections for the bloke, but she wasn't exactly hiding it. She'd invited him to Slughorn's Christmas party, which he bluntly declined, citing his disinterest in puttering around with a bunch of know-it-alls. Both Harry and Hermione had been slightly hurt by the comment, but they understood he was simply jealous at not being included in the Slug Club. And Hermione had heard it enough times from her potions professor over the years that it didn't carry quite the sting he may have wanted it to.

So now they were sitting at the Halloween feast, Ron shovelling food into his mouth as if it were his career, Harry staring intently across the room at the Slytherin table, and Hermione nervously tapping her nails on the wood in front of her. She wasn't hungry, especially so after watching the mess that was being sloshed around in Ron's trap. Sighing, she twisted to look behind her at the Slytherins' table where Harry was staring and notice Draco gazing down at his food with a tormented expression. Surely, it's not that hard to make yourself eat? She mused, turning back to her own meal. Inhaling deeply, she sent one quick look to run who was now chugging back pumpkin juice and winced. On second thought, I completely understand. The witch pushed her meal away from her a bit and propped her head up on her palms.

"Why do you think he looks so angry, 'mione?" Harry asked, absent-mindedly. Harry's eyes were still fixed on the boy behind her and she exhaled, rolling her eyes, and sitting back.

"I don't know, Harry. Maybe he's not feeling well?" She offered, knowing it wasn't the answer he was looking for. The boy-who-lived was dead set on pegging Draco as the culprit behind Katie's curse. Ever since seeing the blond with his family at Borgin and Burke's, he was convinced the boy was a Death Eater, just like his father, and that he was on some mission against him or Dumbledore. She and Ron had both tried reasoning with him, stating the severe lack of evidence proving his theory, but he never listened to them.

"Or he's plotting his next attack on Dumbledore," Ron encouraged. Hermione shot him a deathly glare and he sent an equally menacing one in return.

"Don't listen to him, Harry, he's just being a prat," Hermione covered quickly, but Harry didn't seem to be listening to either of them.

"Oi!" Ron protested, but Hermione waved him off and leaned into Harry, hoping to enter into his field of vision and distract him from his fixation. Her dark-haired friend broke his stare and took a forkful of his dinner. Tucking a curl behind her ear, Hermione glanced around the Great Hall, in the moment of silence. The tables were packed, as normal for the Halloween feast, but it was abnormally quiet. It seemed that everyone was in the same mood as the trio and it wasn't surprising, given the proven return of the Dark Lord and the looming war.

"Harry, you can't let him get to you. That is more likely to be his plan," Hermione reasoned, resting her chest on her forearms, as she attempted to look him in the eye. He avoided her contact and simply continued powering through his dinner. The next few minutes passed in silence and the witch was beginning to get anxious. She had papers she could be working on, assignments, books to read. Instead, she was sitting with her friends in awkward quiet as they internally debated the existence of a Death Eater amongst their ranks.

Dessert showed up and Ron eagerly filled his plate with a variety of cakes and sweets that frankly just made Hermione nauseous. "I think I'm going to go to bed," the witch announced with a sneer at her gluttonous friend. Perhaps this is more of a convenience crush than anything genuine, she mused, watching him devour one of the cakes. Yes, that must be what it is, the witch determined, tearing her eyes away from the crime scene that was unfolding. She waited for some form of acknowledgement, but when it seemed like nothing was coming her way, she stood up from the bench, flattening to her skirt and buttoning up her cardigan. "Goodnight Harry, Ronald," she said as she turned to leave the Great Hall.

The witch decided to take a detour on her way back to the Gryffindor tower, walking along the outer edge of the castle to look out over the grounds from the large windows. Leaning against a wall, she looked out at the darkened landscape, the stars barely visible but twinkling still behind the clouds rolling past. It wasn't raining, though it had been for the previous weeks, and all the trees had shed their leaves onto the grounds. The orange, red, and yellow colouring was beautiful in the daytime, and she was very much looking forward to the walk she had planned with Ginny after the Quidditch match on Saturday. That night, however, the colours were more shades of grey, with the odd muted dash of orange.

"Rather be here than with your friends at the feast?" Draco's voice made Hermione spin around to face him. "I don't blame you, a rather unintelligent pair they are. You, however, have got some brains. Overcompensating does people good sometimes," he noted smugly, his hands in his pockets. He donned a crisp all-black suit with a Slytherin tie, and his white-blond hair was slicked back.

"Sometimes it doesn't, something you'd know a lot about," she quipped back, crossing her arms over her chest, and stepped back to the wall. He sneered at her, ready to hit her with another insult, disguised or otherwise. Instead, he was interrupted by a deep, resonating voice that made the witch nearly jump out of her shoes.

"Miss Granger, Mister Malfoy, might I suggest a slightly more secluded area for your couple's quarrel," Snape hissed, his tone even and unfeeling. A shiver ran over her skin as she looked over at the professor standing behind her. The two students moved to protest and proclaimed their adamant denial of his assumption, but he shot his hand up to silence them. "As it is, I have need of you Mister Malfoy, please accompany me to my office," the Defence professor commanded. When Draco didn't move, the older wizard widened his eyes and seethed through gritted teeth, "Now." The blond did as he was told and turned around, but not before giving Hermione another once-over.

She swore she heard him spit something close to mudblood, but she didn't engage him in his pettiness. Instead, Hermione just ground her teeth and spun on her heel, storming off towards Gryffindor Tower.

Once in the common room, she stomped up to the girl's dormitories and threw open the door. Lavender was partially undressed and held her jumper up to cover her chest. "Merlin, Hermione, knock much?" The blonde shrieked in shock at the sudden entrance. Hermione paid the girl no mind and went straight for her cot, pulling closed the curtains around the bed and huffing dramatically.

While she didn't believe the boy was a Death Eater, Draco Malfoy was certainly a right git and she had every right to loathe him. From the moment he found out about her blood heritage, he made it his mission to be as bigoted and deplorable to her as he could possibly be and let her know at every turn how much lesser of a witch she was.

The brunette ripped off her cardigan, undershirt, and bra before wiggling out of her skirt and tights. Left in her knickers, she leaned over the edge of her bed and peeked out from the curtains to open her trunk. She pulled out a pair of Gryffindor shorts and an oversized t-shirt that her parents had given her as a leftover from one of their promotional runs for their dental practice. Hermione tugged on her sleep clothes and laid back in her bed, staring up at the ceiling.

Why is it that Draco sodding Malfoy gets to me every time? I know I'm not a lesser witch simply because my parents are muggles. I know I'm intelligent. I've been called the brightest witch of my age, for Merlin's sake. There is no good reason the boy should continue to tease me into our sixth year, there is No. Good. Reason, she huffed internally. Crossing her arms over her chest, feeling her nipples harden at the contact. Oh, for Merlin's sake, she rolled her eyes as she turned to face the wall, frustration building.

The witch tucked herself under the covers after reached out to her nightstand and gathering the novel she'd been reading. Casting lumos to read in the darkened room, she finished a few chapters before she was able to fall asleep. She'd wished it had been Friday, so she could stay up late and finish her novel, but it was only Thursday and she had Potions bright and early the next day.

-x-

November 1st, 1996

It was almost as if the elves of Hogwarts had spent the entire evening undecorating from Halloween because when Hermione made her way down to breakfast, the entire castle seemed to become just that much bleaker in the face of the new month. Ron and Harry weren't up yet, she the witch took the opportunity to eat her meal without the delightful image of her ginger mate mashing eggs like a horse. Ginny sat down across from her shortly after and gave her friend a brief smile. "Good morning, 'mione," she greeted.

"Good morning, Gin," Hermione responded, cutting up a piece of toast and egg, with a bit of bacon on it, then plopped it into her mouth. She poured herself a cup of tea and added her desire milk and sugar as the two girls ate in silence. The room started to fill up as late risers began filing in, to power through their meals before class. Hermione was nearly done when Ron and Harry came barrelling into the Great Hall to take their seats beside the girls. Harry gave a shy grin to the youngest Weasley before shovelling some food onto his plate to start eating. "I'll see you in potions, Harry?" Hermione said as she stood up, slinging her bag across her chest. The dark-haired boy nodded, his mouth full and the brunette started off towards the third-floor classroom.

Unfortunately for her, she didn't make it far before she heard the tell-tale sound of Draco's expensive Oxfords against the castle floor. Hermione shut her eyes tight and resolved herself to just keep walking, speeding up her pace just a bit to stay out of earshot from the boy, but she was unsuccessful. It seemed that his legs were simply longer than hers, as he was a good six inches taller than she was, and he caught up with her far too easily.

"Get Potter to stop staring at me, would you, Granger? It's awful disturbing," he demanded, not stopping to speak to her and simply walking past her. She wasn't sure what it was about the comment that made her fume, perhaps it was simply the fact that it was Malfoy who had made the request of her. It's not like I'm Harry's keeper, I can't fix who he stares at, she shot back mentally.

Taking up a spot in her regular potion's desk, she brought out her textbook and readied her station as she waited for Slughorn. The classroom slowly filled and as she waited for Harry to join her, she couldn't help but let her eyes wander over to the boy who had been a menace since she met him. Draco was alone at his station, his book set up much like hers was, and he was staring off at another Slytherin boy with his jaw clenched. Following his gaze, she noted he was glaring at Theodore Nott.

"Good morning, students," Slughorn announced, pulling her attention away from the interaction as her professor entered the room. Harry was distinctively missing from her left and she stepped up on her tip-toes to see if he was coming down the hall. "Miss Granger, good morning. How was your Halloween?" The older potions master inquired to her surprise. She stared at him a moment, collecting her thoughts enough to respond.

"Fine, sir, thank you," she finally spoke, eliciting a twisted grin from the wizard before he glanced to her left.

"No Potter today, I see?" He noted, looking back to her. Hermione winced. The sting that came with the fact that her professor was more interested in having her friend in their class than her. It was something she still hadn't gotten used to. Being the best friend of the chosen one meant that she and Ron were nearly always in his shadow, but she didn't mind that socially. Academically, however, the witch found it was shocking just how cold it was to be in the shade behind her friend.

"I'm sure he's on his way, sir," she offered, glancing back to the door where Harry appeared moments later. He looked a bit frazzled, his tie was a bit undone and his hair was a mess. Not that he was normally put together, he hardly ever tucked his shirt in, but he looked particularly out of sorts at that moment, as if he had been running about the castle and gotten lost on his way to class. She narrowed her eyes at him as he made his way through the classroom.

"Sorry I'm late, sir," he apologized, finding his way over to Hermione, and setting down his battered copy of the textbook. Hermione gave him a short sideways glance as he adjusted his robes and straightened his tie. She nearly rolled her eyes, having tucked hers away before class, as wearing a tie during brewing was an explosion waiting to happen.

"Glad you could join us, Potter," Slughorn said joyfully, turning around to face the front. "Now then, let's begin the lesson, shall we?" His voice trailed off into the back of her mind, knowing exactly what it was they were going to be learning and opting not to listen to his briefing on what she had already read twice before coming to the practical lesson.

Since Harry had started out-performing her, she had begun practising even harder on her own time. Testing out potions before class in the second-floor girl's lavatory, reading passages repeatedly until she practically had the content memorised. Frankly, it was taking up any free time she had left, and she was beginning to miss her friends over it. So, Hermione had promised herself she would cut back on the competitive studying habits she had developed and leave more time for her friends. She was already weeks ahead on homework assignments, so she could afford to relax a bit. While it was her N.E.W.T year, making it inherently stressful, she felt she had a rather strong handle of most of the material she had decided to enrol in for her sixth year at Hogwarts.

"Draco's staring at you," Harry commented, drawing Hermione's attention. She frowned at her friend before looking over to find the blond in fact making eye contact with her before immediately turning away. She did too, turning her focus to her professor to at least pretend to be listening. As he droned on, she felt her eyes being pulled across the room to see if the boy had continued to stare at her, and each time she looked over, he had been. The hairs at the nape of her neck began to stand on edge and shivers scattered over her arms as she attempted to remain composed under the blonde's scrutiny.

Why does he keep staring at me? Should I stare back at him to make him stop? What does he want? His voice was clear in her mind as she recalled the many times he'd hurled foul names and deep cutting insults at her and her friends. Is he just coming up with more awful things to say to me? Maybe he's staring at Harry. He asked me to keep Harry from staring at him, but now he's staring at me. Maybe that's why. He wants me to know what it feels like to be stared at for long periods of time so I will actually get Harry to stop doing it to him. If that's the case, it's wor-

"Miss Granger, why don't you start us off?" Slughorn suggested, swinging Hermione's focus to the present. Heat spread across her cheeks as she blushed deeply, her eyes widening as she examined the board briefly to see if there was any context she could draw from to answer his question. It was blank and her stomach was churning as she gaped in silence.

"I'm sorry, sir, what was the question?" She asked. For the first time in her entire educational career, Hermione Jean Granger had not only not been paying attention, but she didn't have an answer to the question posed of her. The witch could feel the eyes of her classmates glued to her as she wanted nothing more than to shrink into herself.

"You could use it to reverse the effects of a Sleeping Draught, sir," Harry chimed in, making Slughorn beam with pride. Hermione wanted to vomit. Uses of Wiggenweld Potion, she figured, having memorized an extensive list of normally practised uses and alternative uses she had found in a text she had checked out from the library for a bit of light reading.

"Very good, Potter! Five points to Gryffindor," their professor proclaimed proudly, walking towards the Slytherin side of the room. The witch sunk into herself and leaned against the classroom wall behind her.

"Where's your head, 'mione?" Harry questioned, making her exhale deeply.

"No idea," she answered.

A/N I'm the kind of person that starts one story and gets really excited about it, but then sees one Instagram post for a different ship and decides to write an entirely new fic about it. So, I hope I can work on this one and my other main story at the same time and not lose focus! I look forward to your comments.