The Thunder in My Heart

It's All Just a Game

Harry dumped his books with a loud thud on the large square potions' bench next to Hermione. Enough to make her cauldron jump and to catch Blaise and Draco's attention from their quarter of the shared work space.

'Merlin, Harry! What's got into you?' she exclaimed.

'End of the week euphoria, just Double Potions and then Catering this afternoon. Then it's the weekend.'

'I hope you're not going to be disruptive, Potter.' Draco drawled. 'Merlin knows you need to focus every tiny brain cell you've got left to pass Potions at the end of the year.'

Harry raised an eyebrow but Hermione could tell there was a glint of humour in his green eyes. 'Ever the wicked tongue, Draco. I'm sure we should find a better use for it.' He was staring at Draco's mouth as he spoke and she watched as the blond man nervously licked his lips, a blush deepening across his cheeks. Blaise smirked.

She decided it had definitely been a good decision to come back to Hogwarts. If only for moments like this. She had, of course, been worried that they would be pestered by the lower years but, in general, the other years were being respectful of their space. She did notice, however, that Harry still tried to talk to people outside class when it was convenient. She also noticed, with a certain amount of pride, that he kept an eye out for Draco, just in case anyone wanted to try any funny business, but it seemed that most people simply ignored Draco's presence. They could all see right through the pretence at confidence and the haughty and detached Malfoy mask that he still wore on a daily basis, but it served him well, keeping him at a distance from the lower years. Draco's decision to wear only muggle cloths and to show his very pretty pink rose tattoo at every opportunity obviously helped too.

She'd watched Harry step up to Draco's side once, when there had been a bit of name calling in the library, but Madam Pince was also there in the drop of a witch's hat, scowling and generally terrifying everyone, including any eighth years that had risen with Harry to Draco's defence. Hermione'd followed slowly behind when Draco and Harry had run back to the common room like naughty first years, giggling at their not-so-eighteen-year-old behaviour. A smile pulled at her own lips, mostly because of their behaviour but also because it was so damned nice to watch their relationship change to one of companionable, and occasionally flirty, friendship.

Yes, mostly it was the dance between Harry and Draco which made her so happy to have returned for the year and despite the aching gap left by the absence of Ron, both in physical presence and emotional support, their blooming relationship meant Hermione was exceptionally pleased with herself for persuading Harry to come back to Hogwarts with her. It was the highlight of her days, providing a distraction from her own failed relationship and her broken heart. At times, she would find herself with Blaise, watching the two men, or rolling her eyes at their antics, or generally getting frustrated that they didn't seem to be progressing beyond a highly-charged friendship. She found Blaise surprisingly companionable. He had a cutting wit, was intelligent, and always a gentleman in his manners. They had taken to stalking to the two men, making observations, and comparing notes in the dark recesses of the library together as they finished their Ancient Runes homework. They groaned together at Harry and Draco's ludicrously obvious infatuation with each other despite the unspoken denials.

It didn't mean the Potter-Malfoy situation was perfect. My God, Harry liked to complain about the other man. He would drag Hermione off to the kitchen area and rant about Malfoyisms, especially when Draco would push him away with a sneer or a condescending comment or when he made a derogatory remark about someone from another house, although, even Harry had noticed that they'd lost the bite of their previous years. Thankfully Draco had certainly dropped the pureblood rhetoric of previous years.