#it was bothering me that i didn't have my own version of how draco redeems himself

[arewelonely]

hogwarts sixth year, slow dramione (edit: titled wait for me)

it’s really important to me to say that I do not condone or agree with any of the hatred JKR is spreading or has spreaded. You are all so full of worth. Every part about you deserves to be loved and treated with care. please feel free to send me a message if you want to chat <3 i love all of you so much. here is

part one

—

He had been staring at her for a year now. At first she had thought it was her acne, but then her cycle moved on and the oil died down and he would still look at her, sometimes in Potions, and then turn back to his cauldron, stoically stirring and occasionally chuckling at his friends’ jokes. But other times she saw him ducking away in the Great Hall, at dinner, the white-blond hair hiding behind his friends’ dirty messes when she met his eyes. And there was no way he could overhear their conversations from that far away, like Harry claimed he could–

“It’s just not possible, Harry,” she insisted. “And we were talking about Ron’s latest crush, so why would he even care?”

Ron shoved her. “‘Mione, everyone’s gonna hear, hush it.”

“Oh, it’s not like you’re not obvious or anything, the little blush and all,” she waved her hand in front of his face and Harry shoved Ron, grinning as that peachy blush took over his cheeks and he glared at them both.

The conversation, as it always did, drifted on to happier topics–Quidditch, and Ron’s pure puppy-dog love for a witch in the year above–but his pointy face remained in her head as much as she tried to banish it.

There was just no logic here: why would Draco Malfoy, the perfect picture of pureblood power, spend all of this time watching, listening, remaining quiet without action? Where was his lackluster insult, his attempt at wedging the Mudblood knife in a little bit more? Where was the violent action aimed in her direction?

Hermione tugged on one of her curls, winding it around her finger again and again, Harry and Ron’s conversation drifting in the back of her mind. She wished she could concentrate and banter with them–

“Ask her to Hogsmeade, why don’t you?”

“Harry.”

“Ron.”

“That is frightening!”

“You’re a lovely lad, you’ll do great.”

–and she hated that she couldn’t. Hated that he had to take up space in her brain, the bastard who taught her about Wizarding slurs and who turned her love of school into a fucking race where she could never catch up. Bastard who had been reading their school textbooks since diapers and who grew up speaking fucking French and flying around on his state-of-the-arts broom while she had arrived excited and giddy at age eleven and had been on the receiving end of only one of his laughs before she could barely contain the desperation in her heart to run to the train back home.

So she hated that she had to give space in her head to this troublesome nuisance, when she could learn so much more, be so much better if she could instead focus on her N.E.W.T.s. Oh, if she could succeed excellently and do something good for herself, something that she wanted to do…

And she would have time to figure out what that was once Malfoy stopped bothering her, yes, she would have time to think and ponder what she really cared about once she was out of this race and, of course, had finished first, leaving that prick of a Pureblood in her dirty Mudblood dust.

---

Hermione poked Ron’s and Harry’s backs as she walked, robes swishing between her strides, “come on, I will not let another Potions Master blindly favor the Slytherins again, stop your chatting and hurry on up–”

“Yeah, Hermione, we know,” Ron rolled his eyes, nudging her in the side. “Harry was just talking Quidditch strategies through, you know we’ve got that game–”

They didn’t feel her heart rate, though, didn’t have her tunnel vision down this hallway towards that door. “Yes, but you are just going to chat about that during class anyway, and he might actually treat me fairly this year and I might actually be able to–just, come on–”

She linked her arm through Ron’s and pulled, Harry trailing behind them until they finally reached the door and Hermione burst it open.

A new year, a new chance, new professor. The room still smelled the same, though, faintly burnt parchment and crushed ginger. Same bastards who sat on the right side of the classroom, but that wasn’t where she sat, so it was okay. Hermione could sit on the left side, spread out her parchment and textbook and quill on her desk, could pretend for half a second that it was just her and Harry and Ron, all together in this class, thanks to this new professor, who Harry said was odd but he was new, and he had liked Harry’s mum, so maybe–

Professor Slughorn strode in the room and beamed at them all. “Hello, class! Aha, here’s the boy who dragged me out of retirement!”

Hermione exhaled as Harry raised his eyebrows and a warm blush fluttered across his cheeks.

“Oh, I don’t blame you, dear boy, I just had to come and teach Lily Potter’s son! And oh, who do we have here, Longbottom? Neville, is it?”

Harry sat back in his chair and chewed his lip, sliding a glance over Ron and Hermione’s way. Hermione raised her eyebrows and Ron stifled a laugh, turning to watch Neville flush at the sudden attention.

“Uh, yes, sir.”

“Well, I knew your parents!”

Hermione was pretty sure she could see where this was going. She crossed a leg and watched as the professor made his way around the room, spotting something in each student that made him rise up on his toes, snapping his fingers as he remembered the name of a parent who he had taught. At least, he appeared to be giving equal attention to the Gryffindors as the Slytherins. Malfoy, of course, did not blush when he was called upon–

“The Malfoy boy, eh? Slytherin, I assume?”

–instead, straightened and gave a sharp nod of his head, “yes, sir. I hear you were Head of Slytherin when you taught here last?”

“Why yes, I was. Quite enjoyed it, but of course Professor Snape–one of my students, naturally–is doing an excellent job at that now, hm?”

“Yes, sir, he is.”

Hermione scoffed quietly, hands clasped on the table in front of her and her thumbs tapping her knuckles. An excellent job?

Professor Slughorn paced across the room to stop in front of Hermione’s desk. “And, by Merlin, I cannot figure out your name! Do tell.”

She lifted her chin, heartbeat resuming a quicker thud in her chest. “Hermione Granger, sir.”

“Granger!” Slughorn inclined his head and tapped at his chin. “When were your parents here?”

“They did not attend Hogwarts; they’re Muggles.”

“Ah,” he shifted his gaze to Harry again. “Well, now, Harry, is this the friend whose praises you were singing?”

Harry nodded. Malfoy shifted positions in his seat.

“Well, you know,” Slughorn nodded at Hermione, “Lily Potter–” he waved in Harry’s direction, “–she was one of my most talented students, and Muggleborn, of course.” He looked down for a second, falling silent, then picked his head back up and clapped his hands. “Alright class, well, today we’re going to be starting off with a Euphoria potion. Just a little way to set the mood for the year, no?”

Hermione blinked. She turned to catch Harry’s eye and cocked her head. Singing her praises?

Harry grinned and shrugged.

The rest of the class passed in a haze of smoke and clouds and prayers that her potion would just do what it was supposed to, like the book said… Ron grumbled under his breath and Harry’s book had scribbles all over it and Hermione’s was pristine clean, newly bought with her parents at Flourish and Blotts’, and Hermione huffed when she was stirring it exactly as the book said but her color wasn’t exact yet, chest tightened when she thought about her parents so eagerly awaiting her first owl…

She tucked her hair roughly behind her ear, and shook her head when Professor Slughorn called out time, siphoning her potion into the bottle. Her potion had a beige color instead of the golden sunshine it should be, but at least it was homogenous, while Ron pouted at her, holding up his cloudy orange potion.

“Harry’s got a fancy book, it has different instructions,” Ron muttered, nodding over at Harry who was cleaning his cauldron with… Merlin, a shiny orange-yellow potion sitting on his desk.

“Different instructions?”

“Yeah, we got them from the cupboard, his was used before or something, like really well used.” Ron passed Harry’s book over, showing the scratches across the Euphoria potion instructions: altered ingredient amounts and different stirring instructions “for a more generous outcome”.

“Hey, pass it,” Harry hissed, scooching out of his chair to lean over Ron and grab the book out of Hermione’s hands–

She frowned, “Harry, the book is–”

“Ah, everyone, look here!” Professor Slughorn had stopped in front of Harry’s desk, looking as if he had already taken a Euphoria potion himself. “Very well done, boy, must have your mother’s talents! And of course, benefited from Professor Snape’s excellent teaching–I’ll let him know what a good job he’s done, I can only imagine how it was to watch the two of you work together all these years!”

Harry’s wide eyes and small smile were plastered on his face. Hermione tried to block out Ron’s low chuckles to run through what could possibly be happening with this book… It was a Potion book. And it had made a really accurate, really good potion.

Slughorn wasn’t the only one to notice; the Slytherins had mixed results with their potions as well, and they all gazed in awe at Harry’s glistening vial, except for Malfoy, whose nostrils were flaring as he glanced between his potion and Harry’s. Hermione squinted at his… it wasn’t bad, just a tad more orange than yellow, but the consistency and composition looked right. She lifted her eyes to find Malfoy staring at her desk. She looked down, but it was clear except for her books and her potion…

“...on behavioral changes for next time!”

Malfoy jerked his eyes up to hers as the classroom began to move, with students picking up their books and small chatter starting. His cool grey eyes blinked once, twice, and Hermione felt her nose twitch before his gaze dropped to his own books.

She exhaled and slowly stood up from her desk, pushing in her chair.

“What about that, eh, Hermione?” Harry muttered with a grin as he passed her, eyebrows raising.

Hermione brushed her hair behind her ear again, turning and following him out of the room. The halls were just beginning to fill with students exiting their classes. She cleared her throat. “Okay, firstly, we need to talk about that book, and secondly, singing my praises?”

Harry turned around, walking backwards, wide grin and somehow managing to balance holding a conversation and refraining from bumping into anyone behind him.

“Yes, Miss Granger!” His voice echoed down the hallway and Hermione’s laughter escaped from her chest. “I felt your praises needed to be sung!”

Ron laughed, saying something about now having two teacher’s pets on his hands, calling out a warning when Harry almost bumped into a second year right behind him. Hermione shook her head… Merlin, her boys. This year might be alright.