To Me, From Me // DHr ✔️

t w e n t y - t h r e e

Hermione was nowhere near done with all of her other work, so she simply stayed put. Apparently, so was Malfoy because he made no other movement aside from rolling up his sleeves again, and she couldn't help but be drawn towards his forearms as he continued to write. She's always known that his penmanship wasn't bad, certainly not Ron-five-minutes-before-the-essay-is-due bad (she doesn't think anyone can top that, anyway) but now she's witnessing, in an embarrassingly trance-like state for that matter, just how neat it truly is.

Observation number four.

"You're supposed to add the rest of the salamander blood after its turned red, not during, or else it won't work."

She snapped out of her reverie at his voice.

"Come again?"

He reached over the small table to point towards the paragraph of Hermione's essay about the preparation for the Wiggenweld Potion. "Honestly, Granger. And people actually say you're smart?"

Hermione wasn't listening though; she was all too busy staring at his bared his arms right in front of her face. Bare indeed, for there was no Mark, no any sort of indication of blank ink anywhere on his porcelain skin. Like no evil has ever touched him.

He ran his fingers over his arm where the Mark used to be, unconsciously tracing the outline it seemed like, as he followed her line of sight that was zeroed in on him. "It vanished when he died. Am I right to assume yours did too?"

She nodded mutely. "Happened straight after. Felt much-"

"Cleaner."

"-cleaner."

And there it was again, that rare moment of amity between them brought on by the horrors of the war. Funny how that works; how two people from opposing sides come out with the exact same experiences.

Clearing her throat, she waved her hand over her essay, for her wand was already tucked in the pocket sleeve of her robes, and non-verbally performed a charm that would easily erase parts of her writing and replace them with a new set, a charm of her own creation, one that she's perfected over time. At that moment, if she had just looked up, she would've seen Malfoy momentarily amazed. "Must've slipped my mind, thanks."

Silence ensued. It was one thing to sit broodily with him whilst pondering over the many what-if's and could've-been's, it was a whole other to peacefully coexist in the library as they do their own work. Over the next two hours however, the silence would sometimes be paused, for one or the other would occasionally point out something the other missed, or ask a question regarding another subject that they have together. That was another different thing too. It was today that Hermione realized Malfoy is in literally all of her classes, and the only subject that they're not together is Astronomy, which Malfoy takes but not Hermione.

At the chime of the bell signalling the start of dinner, she gathered up her stuff and stood to bid her own farewells, not entirely sure why she feels that she needs to say goodbye to Malfoy.

"Thank you for helping us out, really appreciate it. Goodnight." She then turned around and started to walk away.

But she stopped dead in her tracks when he called out her name.

Slowly looking back towards their table, she had no idea what he's about to say to her. It's not like they were friends – hardly even acquaintances. How do you aptly describe a relationship between two enemies who have somehow constituted a civil truce after a war? "Yes?"

He was standing beside their table, his hand fiddling over the strap of his bag that was slung over his shoulder, his posture the stiffest she's ever seen. If Hermione knew any better she'd say he was looking almost nervous.

"Would you teach me how to conjure a Patronus?"

Hermione didn't miss a beat. "Of course."

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A/N:

Here it is, folks. Another update as promised. Dedicated to none other than @Maddy5689 because she made a bomb-ass cover for this story (and also bc I live for her comments)! Always love hearing feedback from you guys xx