A/N: Written based on a Facebook post requesting a Dramionapple triad. TW: non-consensual kissing. TW: coarse language. There will be three chapters.

Lunch was the worst.

Only ten students from their class returned for what they christened "eighth year." They studied alongside the seventh-years, trying to obtain their N.E.W.T.s. Padma came back with intent to start her own business after graduation. Hannah Abbot wanted to take her mother's place on the Wizengamot and Longbottom came back to study Herbology. Kevin Entwhistle, Finch-Fletchley, and Roger Davies never amounted to much decent conversation. Michael Corner needed his N.E.W.T.s to attend law school. And Granger wanted … Well, if there was one thing Draco understood about the world it was that he knew nothing about Hermione Granger.

Luna Lovegood was his only friend. No other Slytherin from their year returned, and why should they? Many of their parents were preparing for trial, and even more were dead. Hogwarts was the last place most of them wanted to be, but it was a welcome respite for Draco. Malfoy Manor was constantly abuzz with preparations for his trial and he was desperate to think about literally anything else.

Luna sat across from him every day at dinner, but she had Herbology while Draco was at lunch. Eighth-years had the end of the Hufflepuff table closest to the faculty, but only one student shared Draco's time for lunch. He avoided Granger at first, stuffing his face with muffins then leaving. Until one afternoon when a green apple had been tossed onto a tray of fruit.

Draco could never resist a green apple.

He plucked it from the tray and plopped onto the bench. Not bothering to wipe it on his robes, he bit into it and groaned at the taste. Perfectly sweet and a little tart, he wiped away some juice escaping the corner of his mouth.

"Would you two like some privacy?" Granger quipped, not looking up from her book.

"You jealous, Granger?" Draco prodded. "I am getting closer to a shag with this apple than you are with Weasel-bee. Not that I mind his absence."

"Neither do I," she said with a shrug. Draco took another bite of his apple and she finally looked up.

"Why?" he asked.

"Why do you care?" she countered.

"I don't."

And he didn't, not really. He stayed long enough to finish his apple, but Granger pretended he wasn't there. That was fine, she was sort of admirable when she wasn't insulting him. Returning to the place where she lost her best friend was nothing to sneeze at. Granted, Potter somehow survived, but still … Admirable. Draco was at Hogwarts to run away from his demons, but Granger had returned to face hers.

.oOo.

There was a green apple at the end of the Hufflepuff table the following afternoon. Draco plopped onto the bench once again to watch Granger write something toward the end of a roll of parchment.

"Arithmancy equation?" he guessed. Granger nodded so he was silent until she finished. Arithmancy was his worst N.E.W.T. subject. There were only three of them in the class: himself, Granger, and Bastien Queensbury. Granger's nose was practically against the parchment and when she finally looked up Draco was surprised there wasn't any ink on the tip.

"Why are you taking Arithmancy?" she asked.

"I like learning things," he answered.

Granger narrowed her eyes and pointed out, "You said you would rather have a conversation with a baby Mandrake than step foot in another Herbology lesson."

"I like learning important things," Draco countered. "And what did you say about Divination? 'Guesswork decorated with glass balls of deception,' wasn't it?" Granger's face went an angry purple colour and Draco chuckled.

"Just keep tongue-shagging your apple and leave me to my equations," Granger insisted. Draco would have, but she had that look on her face he had come to realize meant she would explode if he said the right words.

"I still think you are jealous," he teased, taking a large bite out of the apple. Granger's cheeks flushed and Draco's stomach did a little flip.

"Jealous of everyone who decided not to return to hear your incessant chewing," she said. Draco grinned mid-chew and she rolled her eyes. "You never really answered my question.

Draco swallowed then admitted, "Arithmancy is static. Weights and variables, they all lead to an outcome based on numbers. Those are things I understand. I do not need to know what the hell a Hippogriff eats for breakfast or the five uses of a Puffapod. I can read about History of Magic in the manor library. I love Potions, I understand Arithmancy, and we have enough experience with the Dark Arts to make it the easiest class in all of Hogwarts."

"Foxes."

"Sorry?"

"Hippogriffs, they, um, they eat foxes for breakfast," Granger revealed.

"With a side of human flesh, I'm sure," he teased.

.oOo.

Lunch was like that for the next two weeks. October turned into November and Granger slowly became easier to talk to. Draco told himself he was only there for the apples. They were delicious, of course, but he would stay for thirty minutes after he finished just to speak with Hermione. The first time he called her by her name she toppled over the ink jar. She hadn't called him 'Draco' yet, but a few weeks more and he felt like she might go for it.

One Wednesday in November she asked, "Are you worried?"

"About what?"

"The weather," she deadpanned. Two could play that game.

"Absolutely," Draco replied. "It will begin to snow soon and hats are murder on my hair, you know—"

"I meant are you worried about your trial," she amended.

"Not that it is any business of yours, but I am in a place I would label something along the lines of 'absolutely fucking terrified,'" he admitted. "I did nothing wrong, but …"

"You did nothing wrong?!" Hermione asked, laughing aloud.

"Alright, I never killed anyone!" Draco shouted back. "D'you think I like the way everyone here looks at me? Stares at the sleeve of my jumper hoping to catch a glimpse of the Dark Mark? I did what I had to do to survive, Granger. I did what was best for my family, just as anyone would."

She did not say anything for the rest of lunch. Neither did Draco. It was at least ten minutes before he remembered he could leave. Five more passed before he convinced his feet to move.

Hermione sat next to Draco at dinner. That spot was usually left empty, but they sat there, elbows to elbows. She awkwardly cleared her throat and Draco pretended he didn't hear. She bumped his shoulder and he kept his eyes trained firmly on the plate of potatoes in front of him.

"Malfoy!" she whispered.

"Lots of Nargles!" came a shout from across the table. Both Hermione and Draco looked at Luna, still wearing her glasses. Draco smiled at her; she was always good for a laugh at the end of the day. She knew just the strangest yet right things to say. Her hair was pulled back and she was wearing a ridiculous purple jumper patterned with tiny radishes. He envied her sometimes for being so unapologetic about who she was and what she believed. Hell, Draco wasn't sure what he believed anymore.

"Nargles again?" Hermione asked.

"They're getting caught in your hair," Luna said, nodding. Draco stifled a laugh at the back of his throat and got an elbow to the ribs for his trouble. "Are you angry at someone?"

"No, Luna," Hermione said with a sigh.

"Oh, confused, then?" Luna offered.

Hermione turned to look at Draco once again and said, "Yes. Definitely confused."

.oOo.

Hermione always sat across from him at lunch and next to him at dinner. They fell into a comfortable pattern where Draco would ask Hermione to translate runes and she would ask for his advice on their latest assignment in Potions. If he didn't know better, Draco would say they were friends.

Then she took his apple.

He arrived in the Great Hall in the middle of November to see Hermione already munching on the green apple from the tray. Headmistress McGonagall was subtly watching them with an amused smile. Draco slammed his books onto the table and Hermione glanced up.

"Afternoon, Malfoy."

"You ate my apple!" he said through gritted teeth. Hermione looked at the core in her hand then locked eyes with Draco.

"I wanted to taste what all the fuss was about, and I understand. These things are delicious!"

"Yes, they are," Draco agreed. He plopped unceremoniously onto the bench and scanned the available food. He grabbed a sandwich and looked down at it disdainfully. "I feel like I am being unfaithful."

"To whom, the apple tree?" Hermione teased. Draco shrugged as she tossed the core onto her plate.

"To my routine. So much of life over the past few years has been an unpredictable hell and I like having little things that are the same every day."

"Oh," she muttered, chastened. "I thought … Well, I thought you were only here for the apple and if I ate it you would take your muffins and leave like you used to."

"You want me to leave?" Draco asked. He ignored the shot of disappointment that sent through his chest. He chuckled darkly to himself. How stupid had he been? Attempting a friendship with Hermione bloody Granger was doomed to fail from the start.

"No …" Hermione said. "I wanted to see if you would stay anyway."

Draco smiled down at his sandwich.

"Yes, Granger, I will stay."

.oOo.

It quickly became a game of who could get to lunch quickly enough to grab the green apple. Draco won most days. He would over-exaggerate his delighted moans after the first bite, and it always got that small blush to appear on Hermione's cheeks. She won twice and Draco vowed to never let her win again. Merlin on high, the way her lips looked on that apple … She had nice, puffy lips that looked rather soft … How had he not noticed before?

"Malfoy, you're staring at me," she said. That train of thought quickly left the station. He told himself Granger was much more likable when she wasn't talking. Another lie to make this easier. He needed a friend, after all, and options were limited.

"Sorry, just, you know … Me and apples."

"I shouldn't ask, but I can't help it," Hermione admitted. "Why apples? I've seen you toss out entire sandwiches for having too much lettuce, but you'll eat a bruised apple."

"You wouldn't be Hermione Granger if you were not curious about something that was none of your business," Draco quipped. He smiled a moment after when he noticed the hurt expression on Hermione's face. Still sensitive about her intellect, then.

"I suppose that's true," she admitted.

"I bet you have always asked too many questions," Draco guessed.

"Sure." Hermione shrugged and took another bite of the apple. Draco glanced back down to his own sandwich until she was finished. "Or, at least, I've never understood when not to ask questions."

"How do you mean?"

"For example, I when I was eight I overheard my teacher talking about me. She used a word I didn't understand, so I asked my mum what 'fucking' meant."

Draco stuffed his fist in his mouth to keep his laughter from spilling out. His shoulders shook with the force of it and Hermione gave him a shy smile.

"Did she have a fit?" he asked, once his breathing had returned to normal.

"Well, my mum told me not to use the word again. Then she went to the school and the next week our class had a new teacher."

"Mums can be scary that way," Draco agreed. Hermione nodded.

"Alright, now tell me an embarrassing story about you," she insisted.

Draco narrowed his eyes and said, "You watched me get turned into a ferret."

"And you made my teeth so long they reached my knees!" Hermione countered.

"Point taken," he conceded. "Right, well, when I was six I saw one of our house-elves going outside in the snow, so I gave him a hat. Father had a bloody fit."

Hermione's mouth fell open a bit. Draco took advantage of her oblivious moment and reached across the table to pluck the half-finished apple from her hand. She didn't seem to mind, so he finished it before she found her voice.

"You do have it in you," she said, astonished.

"The apple?" Draco asked, confused. He tossed the core onto his plate and said, "Yes, and it was delicious."

"Kindness," Hermione said. "Somewhere deep in your black soul, Malfoy, there is sympathy. You can care about other people."

"Maybe when I was six, but they burnt it out of me," Draco insisted. He did not like where this conversation was heading, so he took a bite of his sandwich and hoped Granger would take the hint. She didn't.

"Who?" she asked. When Draco didn't respond for several seconds, she repeated herself. "Who burned it out of you?" Draco huffed and tossed his sandwich back onto the plate.

"My father, the Dark Lord, the Wizengamot?! I dunno, Granger, take your bloody pick." He looked down at his plate. "Suddenly, I'm not all that hungry."

"Malfoy!" Granger said as he stood to leave. He ignored her so she said, "I didn't mean to offend you, I just … You surprised me."

"Do not get used to it," he spat.

"But you are trying to be nice to me," Granger said.

"I was," Draco said. Then he left.

He skipped dinner.

The next afternoon he walked to the end of the table, grabbed the green apple, and looked at Hermione. Her brown eyes were wide and expectant. She had been there awhile, Arithmancy problems running halfway down her roll of parchment. Granger had left the apple there for him as an apology of sorts. Draco took one bite, turned on his heel, and left.

However, he could not skip dinner again. His stomach growled during class and Professor Sinstra dropped some biscuits onto his desk. He ate them as silently as he could; the numbers on the board swirled into pictures he couldn't understand. Arithmancy was far worse on an empty stomach.

Draco arrived late to the Great Hall that evening, assuming he would have to spend less time ignoring Hermione. Of course, it meant that when he arrived there was only one seat available and it was his usual seat next to Granger. He sighed and his father's voice rang through his head.

The Mudblood has always been one step ahead of you.

Hermione said nothing when he sat next to her, and that was just unfair. He was upset with her so she should be the one to make the effort to change that … Right? But she didn't. Draco spent the entire meal acutely aware of everything. His heart jumped every time their knees knocked together beneath the table and stopped altogether when she finally asked how far he was on their Arithmancy homework.

"Finished," he said brusquely. She mumbled something he didn't bother listening to. Then he felt bad for not listening. Granger turned to him and whispered,

"Look, Malfoy, I'm sorry I offended you but given everything you have ever said to me … Can you blame me for being surprised you would want to be my friend?"

Draco's hands tightened around his cutlery. He stared at the potatoes on his plate and his breath caught in his throat. He wanted to be more than her friend. Draco liked her. He had a crush on Hermione Granger. He dropped the cutlery and his hand shook as he reached for his water goblet.

"I know you have limited options in our year, but—"

"It's not that," Draco said, wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve. "This may come as a surprise but I do not actually hate you."

"I know that now," she replied.

"Well when I said I had done something nice once you looked at me like I killed your cat. It just became very apparent that you think of me the way everyone else does. I just hoped you were willing to give me a chance to prove I'm not … To prove I'm not a terrible person. Anymore, at least."

"Okay," she said.

"Okay?"

"I will give you a chance to prove you're not a terrible person."

Draco smiled sadly. At the end of the day, he wasn't sure how to do that.

.oOo.

December came and they started walking to Arithmancy together. Then a week passed and they walked to dinner together. The next day they walked to Defense Against the Dark Arts together. By the ninth they spent nearly all their time at each others' side.

In the library, they spread out their Arithmancy textbooks on one of the giant tables and went to work. They shared an ink jar in the middle of the table, checking each problem to ensure they came to the same answer. If one of them was wrong it was usually Draco. But he did correct her once and it took Hermione five minutes to admit he was right.

The green apples kept appearing at lunch. One day, Draco and Hermione reached for the apple at the same time so their fingers touched for the briefest moment. They looked up at each other and felt the Hufflepuffs staring at them. Something shot up Draco's arm at her touch, like a Reviving Spell gone wrong. Hermione and Draco pulled their hands back like they burned.

The apple went uneaten.

One Saturday, they took a walk along the lake. Hermione was bundled up in a black coat and Gryffindor scarf but still shivered a bit. Draco briefly wondered how she could get so cold with that much hair, hell, her beanie was barely large enough to cover it all. He had to admit, it was a frigid cold. Their breath came out in tiny white puffs, crystalizing before their eyes.

"How is Potter?" Draco asked.

"He is coping as well as he can, I suppose," Hermione admitted. "Ron visits him every week, but the press is still gouging him for a story he doesn't want to tell. He and Ginny broke up, so that's taking a toll, too. I worry about him, but he'll get through it once everything calms down. He needs some time to himself."

"I thought he might be a bit mad," Draco admitted.

"Why's that?"

"My mother sendt word that Potter has agreed to testify on my behalf before the Wizengamot," Draco said. Hermione stopped dead.

"What?!"

"He wishes to testify at my trial," Draco repeated.

"I heard you, I just can't believe it!" Hermione said. She smiled. "Merlin on high, I was so worried they would convict you, but if Harry testifies—"

"You were worried about me?" Draco said with a teasing smile. He took a step closer to Hermione and the red of her cheeks deepened.

"Of course I was worried! You are the best Arithmancy study partner I've ever had."

"I am the only Arithmancy study partner you have ever had," Draco countered. He smiled even wider. "Admit it, Granger, you like me."

She started walking past him and brushed his shoulder with her own, pointedly ignoring him. Draco grabbed her hand and gently tugged her around to face him again. Hermione jerked her arm from his grasp but didn't walk away.

"I don't," she insisted.

"Liar."

"I don't dislike you," Hermione amended. Draco laughed and leaned forward, so close that the fog of their breath blended together.

"That sounds a lot like a yes."

"You are insufferable," Granger said, unable to hide her own smile. "But …"

She leaned closer to him and Draco thought she was going to do it. It had to be Hermione; he would never be brave enough to snog her first. It felt right, anyway, for her to do it. He had been so awful to her over the past seven years that it needed to be her decision. Draco was impatient, so he leaned close enough so Hermione could see exactly what he wanted. She placed a gloved hand against his cheek and there were maybe five centimetres between their lips—

"HERMIONE!"

"Neville?" she asked, pulling back.

"Neville?" Draco repeated, confused and upset at Granger's sudden departure. She ran around him and sped toward Longbottom who had appeared from nowhere with the world's worst timing. Draco rolled his eyes and slowly trudged over to them. Hermione turned to him and glanced briefly down to his lips before saying,

"I need to help Neville with an essay for Defense Against the Dark Arts. I'll see you tomorrow and we can … Talk about …"

"Yeah," Draco huffed. "It's fine, go help the less fortunate. That's what you heroes do, right?"

"Right," she said, disappointed.

.oOo.

Granger wanted to kiss him.

Hermione Granger wanted to kiss him.

Draco turned that over and over in his head for the next several hours. Was it an in-the-moment decision or did she truly like him enough to snog him? Did she regret it? Of course she would, she had to. They were friends. Study partners like she said …

But he wanted to snog her so badly. It had the dual benefits of both shutting Granger the hell up and finally getting Draco's stomach to stop doing that flip it did every time he looked at her. One of the fifth-years saw him in the corner of the common room and asked if he was doing okay.

"What's your name?" Draco asked.

"Riley Willingham," she answered. Draco surveyed her for a moment. He didn't remember much about her except that she was particularly gifted in Transfiguration. She was small, barely five feet, but she had wide brown eyes like Hermione. Another person who saw too much of the world.

"Well, Riley, I'm going on trial in front of the Wizengamot in six months and chances are good I will end up in Azkaban. Everyone outside of this common room hates me, yet I have a crush on one of those very people. So no, I cannot say I am doing okay."

"I don't think everyone hates you, Malfoy," she countered. "You just haven't given them much reason to like you."

"What reason do you have, then?" Draco asked.

"I don't need one, I just try to see the best in people until they give me reason not to," Riley answered.

.oOo.

Draco sat on Hermione's left at dinner, but she gave most of her attention to Longbottom who was at her right. He tried not to be bitter about it. Their knees brushed against each other, but neither one of them pulled away. Luna was sputtering on about that day's Herbology lesson and Draco felt his eyes glaze over a bit.

There was a red apple on one of the trays. That was strange, since the apples on the Hufflepuff table were only ever green. He thought about ignoring it, but Draco could never resist a good-looking apple. He rubbed it off on the sleeve of his robes and returned his attention to Luna's prattling.

"We started prodding the Snarfalump tentacle …"

Draco took a massive bite out of the apple. It was so delicious he took another bite before he finished chewing. He swallowed but found he couldn't bring himself to take another bite.

"Neville lost blood circulation in his hand …"

The sides of Draco's vision darkened like he was looking at the world through a telescope. He shook his head to clear it away but suddenly found the weight very heavy.

"Professor Sprout cut it off …"

He put the apple on the table and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands.

"The tentacle, not his hand …"

Then everything went black.