Luna Lovegood was not someone easily frightened or swayed away from things other people thought were odd. Often, these same people thought she was odd, and Luna hardly thought she was anywhere near as fascinating as all the things yet to be discovered in their world. Their hesitance about what was not normal came from fear, but that is where her Ravenclaw heart drew courage from—at the endless possibilities that came from digging deeper, from seeing beyond the surface of one thing to discover a plethora of truth. 

For that reason, Luna had to nudge Cho on the shoulder a half-hour past midnight.

"Blaise, I'm not reading you another bedtime story. Go to sleep," mumbled Cho, swatting Luna's hand off her shoulder. 

"It's Luna," she said, nudging gently again. "Although, I do have an interesting story about a niffler that used to belong to Newt Scamander. The little thing was responsible for the biggest jewelry theft in—"

Cho opened her eyes, a glare already present as she rolled over to look at her house-mate. "Why?"

"Well, you see, nifflers are quite notorious for being attracted to—"

"No, Luna," Cho mumbled again, sleep still threatening to weigh down on her eyelids. "Why are you waking me up? Did someone steal your pillow again?"

Luna shook her head, slowly sitting up on her knees, looking around to make sure the other Ravenclaws were soundly asleep. They were sharing a four-poster, she and Cho, courtesy of the latter's little sister for the sleepover they kindly invited Luna to join. 

"Ginny keeps waking me up."

Cho groaned, pulling herself up on her elbows to scout the dormitory. When she did not see the redhead Gryffindor, she sighed, "Explain, please."

"She's in my head."

With something that sounded like an exasperated curse word, Cho dropped herself back on the four-poster. "All right. What's Weasley saying?"

"That I'm being silly."

"I can agree with her there," mumbled Cho before saying more clearly, "Is this about Thomas?"

Luna nodded, moving the stray blonde hair falling out of her ponytail from her face. "I think Ginny might be right. I've been silly to hide from Dean because I'm scared."

"Why are you scared, Lu?" asked Cho, no more trace of annoyance across her tired eyes. "You love him."

"Isn't that the most terrifying thing?"

Cho was not a stranger to tears. In fact, she knew they were going to surface, her own little waterfalls, always ready to leave trails down her cheeks as evidence that heartache still lived within her. Grief, she knew so well already, was a monster of a different magnitude, but so was love. 

Love opened possibilities for extraordinary things, but was also the gateway for the things that could ultimately destroy all that was built. 

Four years after Cedric Diggory's passing, Cho didn't know if loving him was worth everything that came because of it. 

She could not be frustrated at Luna's hesitance, then. Not when giving away one's heart was a chance game most people were terrified to play.

"It is," Cho murmured, "but Thomas loves you, too, Luna. If you're going to be terrified, be terrified together. You don't have to have everything figured out. Believe me, none of the rest of us do, but at least you, alike Weasley and Harry, or Neville and Hannah, are a step ahead. You already have what the rest of us have to find."

Luna put her hand on Cho's shoulder again, squeezing. Cho moved her own hand over hers, smiling one of those watery-eyed smiles Luna sadly thought were too common on her friend. "You deserve it, too. You know that, right? You just have to let yourself."

"It's not smart in Hogwarts to tell someone to heed whatever a Weasley says," said Cho instead, not able to find an answer to what she does or doesn't deserve at this juncture of her life, "but I think you should this time. Go back to your chamber and talk to Thomas. Figure things out together."

After pressing a kiss onto Cho's tear-stained cheek and murmuring a goodbye, Luna quietly pulled herself from the four-poster and headed for the dormitory door. 

Alike most days of her life, Luna wished she had her mother with her. If Pandora Lovegood was extraordinary at magic, she was more so when it came to loving everything this world had to offer. She had taught Luna the purity of the emotion and its strength. Luna knew, then, her mother would have taken her hand, looked her in the eye, and told her to love boldly.

But like the same thing that tormented Cho, Luna finished growing up to watch her father grieve her mother in a way that made him lose pieces of himself. He was absolutely brilliant, but even Luna knew his head was never right after losing his wife. 

The thought kept plaguing Luna after the Ministry of Magic announced their marriage law. In turn, the fear those memories brought became much louder than her heartbeat, one that echoed out Dean Thomas' name since sharing fragile moments at Shell Cottage at the height of the war. 

Get in there, Ginny's voice rung in Luna's eardrums when she came to a stop in front of her chamber. Get in there, wake the idiot up, and tell him you love him!

"In that order?" said Luna.

Now! Or so help me Merlin, Lovegood, I will yank you two by the ears and marry you myself in front of the entire Great Hall! Don't test me. 

If there was one absolute certainty in this world, it was never to cross Ginny Weasley. As such, Luna reached for the doorknob and let herself into the chamber. 

"Bloody hell. Where did I leave—Luna!" At the exact moment Luna had been about to enter her bedroom, Dean rushed out of it. When he came face to face with her, he stumbled back, terror flashing bright across his dark eyes. He put one hand over his bare chest, covering his heart. 

Luna let her eyes drift over the expanse of soft, dark skin, marveling at the scatter of freckles mixed with silver scars, and even the streaks of green ink around his collar bone.

"Um, why are you—why are you here? I thought you were sleeping at Ravenclaw Tower tonight?" he spoke again, making Luna meet his dark gaze, offering him a tentative smile at grimace creeping on the lines of his beautiful face. 

She reached for his hand. For a moment she thought he would not extend his like he had done so many times in the past couple of months, but Dean, Luna was coming to find out, would never hesitate to reach out to her when she needed him to. His fingers were covered in dry, blotched green ink, too. 

"Ginny woke me up," she murmured, surveying his long fingers before steering him toward their couch. He followed blindly, Luna could see; his eyes still in hers. "She told me I had to come home."

Dean's hand pressed more firmly against hers. 

Home.

Where he was, where he waited for her—that's what Luna considered home. She knew that even before she started avoiding Dean. She had discovered early on there was no place she felt more herself, more at peace, more loved than when Dean had an arm around her shoulders, looking down at her with a love her mother used to read her bedtime stories about. 

Gryffindors like him got the inherent label of brave, but other Houses were, too. Luna was, too. Maybe it did not show in the same ways that it manifested for them, but it did not make it any less potent. As a Ravenclaw, her courage came from her knowledge—and what Luna knew absolutely, without question, right at that moment, was that she loved Dean Thomas in a way she never thought would happen to her. 

Naturally, she rose up from her place next to him on the couch and knelt down before him. 

"I've seen firsthand what love does to people," she whispered, her hand still firmly in his. "It's wonderful, like you and me with our toes in the sand, painting the sunset in Brighton this past summer, do you remember? But I've also seen the grief it leaves behind when it's gone, like my father never being the same after my mother died. And it scared me to think I could lose you, too."

Dean instantly sank to his knees, too, reaching for her free hand and bringing both up to his chest. He squeezed like she was a lifeline and there was a tsunami approaching. "I can't defeat Death or know what lies ahead of the unknown, but all I can promise you is this. My heart. Yours, Luna. For as long as you want it, even long after that, too. I promise you will always have me."

"Will you marry me, Dean?"

He let out a loud laugh, dark eyes brimming with tears, nodding fervently. "Yes, Lu. I'll marry you."

"Dean, I think I'll head back before—"

Something shattered. 

Maybe it was the golden bubble of magic weaving around Dean and Luna, wrapping them up together as their love, pure and whole, manifested. 

Maybe it was the happiness that had grown the most handsome, sweetest smile on Dean's lips. 

Maybe it was the frustration with which Lavender Brown exited Dean and Luna's bedroom, a towel wrapped around her naked body, long, blonde hair dripping down her back, the ends the same green that had tainted Dean's skin.

Maybe it was Luna's young, foolish heart. 

"Luna," gasped Lavender, eyes wide when she clocked in on her. "It's not what it looks like, I swear it!"

Her words were wasted. Luna could not hear. The world had lost all its sound. It had lost all of its color, too. 

Luna fell back from her knees, an onslaught of thoughts invading her head, screaming out so loud Ginny's encouraging words had been replaced with Leave, Luna! Leave! before they got lost in all the noise. 

Dean was trying to reach for her again, the same terror that she had seen when she entered their chamber was flashing across his face once more. His mouth was moving, eyes red and pleading, but Luna turned her body, crawling a few inches before she got enough momentum to pick herself up and run. 

XX

The days following the Ministry of Magic's public release of their Restoration and Magical Retention Act were nothing short of chaotic. Constant owls were being sent from outraged parents and betrothed partners outside of Hogwarts, most of which were Howlers directed at the staff; as such, Headmistress McGonagall had to send out firm reminders of the castle's mailing hours to all households in order to regain control within the school. Of course, normalcy in a time of marriage laws was hardly achievable for even the Headmistress. Once the younger students caught wind of it, all the Sixth and Seventh Years were put on display. 

McGonagall and the rest of the Hogwarts staff had to stop the younger students from shouting—begging—at Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley for an invitation to their upcoming wedding every chance they got. Or, more than a couple of times now, McGonagall had to save Hermione from being cornered by younger girls, tears in their eyes at the tragedy her romance with Ron had become, and bombarded her with offers of making Draco's life miserable and (or) throwing Pansy to the giant squid so she was never heard of again. 

Because it had become almost impossible to walk around the corridors without being flagged down, Sixth and Seventh Years under this marriage law were keeping to their chambers as often as they could. None more so than the Golden Trio, but at the first signal of an easy retreat out of the castle, Harry, Ron, and Hermione hurried to the gardens near the Herbology greenhouses after their Potions lesson. 

Harry stretched out under one of the trees like the sun was pouring down warmth and there were no red, dying leaves cushioned beneath him. "Look at his face," he said, nudging Hermione with the tip of his shoe. "Mr. Sunshine, that one."

Hermione looked up from her Herbology notes, frowning at the wet mark he left on her knee. While she hardly cast a glance over at Ron, she was aware that he was grinning, just as stretched out across the damp patch of grass like he was bathing in sunlight. 

"Bet he and Parkinson have...you know."

"We are meant to be revising," reminded Hermione sternly. "We have an exam in a few minutes. We don't need to know what Ron does inside his chambers."

"Or inside Parkison," offered Harry with a wiggle of his brows.

She let out a gasp, extending her leg to kick Harry in the kneecap as he had done to her. "Stop it, Harry. You don't want to talk about your sex life, then it is only fair not to discuss Ronald's—"

"We are never discussing Harry's sex life," hissed Ron, opening one eye to glare at his friends. 

"You do know we are meant to reproduce because of this marriage law, right?" said Harry despite Hermione giving him another kick. "I'm going to give you nephews or nieces, mate."

"Ignore him, Ronald," Hermione said instantly, looking at the redhead with a patient smile. "Go back to your happy place."

Doing just as he was told, Ron closed his one glaring eye and took in a deep breath, holding it for a few seconds before exhaling. 

Hermione and Harry watched as he repeated his breathing technique. Although they thought it best never to voice it out loud, both were relieved that Ron had managed to find his way to the counseling sessions Hogwarts provided every Saturday and Sunday mornings for the students that needed them. Granted, Hermione knew all three of them needed to attend, but Ron had been the one closest to a breakdown with no return. His grief created enemies everywhere he went, especially when he looked in the mirror. She had once loved those blue eyes and scatter of freckles more than anything, she couldn't stand the idea that Ron thought them features of a monster, of someone not worth loving.

Of someone not worth living. 

Both Hermione and Harry had also thought it best never to voice out loud that one morning they caught Ron and Pansy entering those sessions together, hands clasped tight. 

"You okay?" whispered Harry, nudging her a lot more gently with his shoe. He had asked the same question when they had seen Ron and Pansy that morning, his green eyes glimmering with a worry Hermione had not seen since Lavender hung herself around Ron's neck, her mouth attached to his. 

"Yes," said Hermione, blinking away from Ron. She had answered the same then, but somehow something about it felt more concrete in her chest. It didn't feel like a half-life anymore. It was more like a dull ache, like thinking back to a memory that happened long ago. 

Harry nodded, but then reached out, grabbing Hermione's ankle to squeeze once. "He did love you, you know?"

"I know," Hermione muttered. "It just wasn't enough."

"Love should have prevailed."

"But war still has its consequences and we were that," Hermione told him, a smile tugging the right corner of her mouth. "Besides, he's learning to be happy again. If Parkinson is helping him see something I couldn't, then how can I be jealous of that?"

Harry hesitated for a moment but, in the same whisper, asked, "Do you think the sorting hat was right, then? Placing Ron with Parkinson. And you with—"

"Do you think I belong with Malfoy?"

"Do you think you belong with Malfoy?" returned Harry. He was smart enough not to answer that and face his best friend's wrath in case he was wrong. 

Besides, if it had been up to Harry, Hermione would have been excluded from this law completely. Ginny said he was an overprotective fool, but Hermione was his sister. Harry did not think there was a bloke alive who deserved to have Hermione's heart. Naturally, he would never tell her that; she would either roll her eyes, smack him upside the head, or launch herself at him to trap him in an embrace (either option would definitely hurt). 

"He's trying. I see it every time we are together," said Hermione, looking back to her notes. Harry did not miss the pink flushing under her pale cheeks. "But...it's only common sense to expect the worst, right? I mean, this is Draco Malfoy we're talking about. I'd be foolish not to protect myself."

"I think you're afraid."

Hermione looked up at him again, brown eyes narrowed. "Afraid? Of what?"

"Of believing Draco Malfoy is not the arrogant, pathetic, cruel bouncing ferret he was before. You're afraid to get attached to the Slytherin, aren't you?"  

As the words left his mouth, Harry did not think himself stupid to say them—even if he was not entirely sure he wholly believed it, either. Of course he was skeptical of Draco; Harry and Hermione both had years worth of bad memories with the Slytherin to think back on that allowed them to be so. Still, while Hermione was determined to limit how much of Draco she integrated into her personal life, Harry had seen when they were together. There were no sneers on Draco's face; no frowns, no smirks, no evidence that he hated Hermione for the things she was unable to control. Before, he would have rather died than to be even five feet across from her, but these days, Harry did not see Draco and Hermione with more than five inches of distance between them. 

Harry did not trust Draco Malfoy with Hermione's heart, but he wanted to believe—he needed to believe—that the war had changed him enough to one day warrant it.

"What are you saying, Harry?"

"That maybe it isn't ideal, or what any of us expected, really, but you deserve to be happy, too. It's all any of us want for you."

Hermione pressed her mouth into a tight line, forcing the words her tongue created not to come tumbling out for fear that Harry would know the truth.

And the truth was this: her heart no longer felt like the remains of shattered glass, rather a mosaic of stained crystal, put together in its mismatched, colorful state for Draco Malfoy to marvel at. 

She was afraid that she already was open to the possibility of not being afraid of him.

 "Release," Ron murmured from the background.

Hermione and Harry turned to their friend, his blue eyes opening again. His same grin was still on his face, causing them to return it, too. 

"It's gotta be sex, 'Mione," said Harry with a laugh. "Or the Imperius Curse."

Ron gave him the finger just as their lonely, sacred solace was interrupted by a wave of students leave greenhouse four. From the throng, he spotted Ginny, all shiny, red hair pulled up into a messy bun and Luna, all long, blonde hair that was currently rivaling Hermione's worst bad hair day.

When he also spotted Ginny making her way toward them, Harry sprung up from under the tree. She barely came to a stop when he wrapped arms around her middle, hoisting her up.

Hermione lingered at the sight, but blinked away when Ginny's lips came down on Harry's. "Luna," she said, clocking in on the sullen Ravenclaw. A frown started to settle between her brows; if there was one adjective to describe Luna, it was definitely not sullen. "Are you okay?"

"Don't bother," said Ginny for her best friend soon as she was back on her own two feet. She shot Luna a sad glance before turning to the others again. "Neville said she's not talking about it."

"Neville?"

Ginny nodded at Harry's question, his green eyes already drenched in concern. "He said she went to his and Hannah's chamber last night. Wouldn't say a word about it."

Harry starting pulling his arms from Ginny, but she reached out to grab his wrist, keeping him in place. He raised a confused brow. 

"You don't like people pestering you, Harry Potter," she said. "Don't do it to her. Luna will talk to us when she's ready."

"Think it has to do with Dean?"

Just a few feet away from Harry and Ginny, Luna let out a loud, shaky breath. 

Ginny elbowed Harry, frowning. "Didn't I say shut it?" 

Before Harry could mumble out an apology, another greenhouse was letting out a second wave of students. These came with infamous smirks and emerald ties.

"Afternoon, Gryffindors!" said Blaise, waving a parchment high in the air for them to see. "Waiting to see if you can get the answers to the exam, eh? Well, a galleon per question, little lions!"

Pansy scoffed, shoving Blaise out of the way to strut over to where Ron sat. He did not get up as Harry had done for Ginny, but his freckled face turned bright red at her proximity and the grin he had widened. 

"Don't buy for a second Zabini did well. He's never had an aptitude for Herbology," Pansy told them, sneer in perfect place. 

"Or you," called Theodore Nott as he joined in the growing circle of classmates. "Both of you are afraid to ruin your manicures."

Blaise rolled his eyes as he stopped next to Luna. Like they were old friends, he threw an arm around her shoulders, shaking her a little too roughly. "How's it hanging, Lovegood?"

"Low," mumbled Luna. "Very low."

"Those nargles following you around?" asked Theodore, poking her free side. 

"Or did someone eat your pudding?" added Gregory Goyle, fishing the textbook slipping out of Luna's fingers. 

Hermione was about to point out to her friends if they found the Slytherins' friendly behavior almost unnerving, but, when her eyes met the silver gaze of a particular Slytherin, she picked herself up from the damp grass and approached him.

She was startled pink when Draco pressed a kiss on her cheek. 

"Had a good day so far?" he asked, smirking at her reaction. 

Hermione felt herself about to say it's better now, but thankfully Ginny had lunged forward, smacking Blaise repeatedly until he was cowering behind Nott and Goyle.

"Potter!" he hissed. "Stop your woman!"

Harry grinned, crossing his arms over his chest. "Have you met Ginny? It doesn't work that way, mate."

"All right, Weasley!" Blaise dodged before Ginny's fist collided with his nose. "I'm sorry! I was just asking Lovegood an innocent question!"

"What kind of question is asking her if Dean poked her roughly with his wand?" 

"Thomas has shitty wandwork—that's what I meant!"

This time, Theodore ducked to save himself from the onslaught and gave Ginny access to punch Blaise on the chest.

"Idiot," said Draco and Hermione at the same time, their fingers lacing together. 

Their eyes fell to their clasped hands, lingering for a moment at the unintended action, before looking up at each other. Hermione's face was still flushed a rosy color, but there was a flicker of terror in Draco's silver eyes that she recognized. 

Fortunately for him, Hermione became instantly distracted by Neville Longbottom chasing down Dean Thomas. Both came running to where their fellow Gryffindors stood with the Slytherins, leaving a terrified Hannah Abbot to pick up their disregarded schoolbags and textbooks along the way.

"Neville, let go," hissed Dean when his friend caught him by the collar of his robes, yanking him back. 

Hermione watched horrified as Neville slammed Dean onto the ground. Ron pulled himself up from the grass, rushing forward just as Harry and Ginny were grabbing any part of Neville they could. 

"Didn't I tell you," Blaise told Theodore, grinning, "these Gryffindors are a lot more interesting than we gave them credit for all these years."

"Ten sickles on Thomas," said Goyle, reaching into his pocket.

"Smart move, Greg," said Blaise as he slid a hand into his own pocket, fishing for stray change he had nicked from Draco's trunk. 

"Thickheads," snorted Pansy, standing now, too. "Twenty on Beef Cakes Longbottom."

"Yeah," said Theodore, pulling out sickles from the pocket of his robes, too. "He killed a snake last year with a sword, remember? He can definitely take on Thomas."

When Dean aimed a fist at the side of Neville's jaw, Ginny managed to grab his wrist before he did it again. It gave a second-long window for both Ron and Harry to pull Neville off of their friend. 

Just like all those times she had wrestled with Fred and George, before she got a wand of her own and they all started cheating to gain the upper hand, Ginny was able to effortlessly pin Dean's arm down, her knee coming down into his ribcage. 

"Enough," she hissed at her ex-boyfriend, putting more of her weight down. "What the hell is going on?"

"Let me go, Ginny," Dean returned with the same enraged sound she had made.

"Yeah, let him go, Gin!" Neville shouted, thrashing against the hold his friends had on him.

"Please don't," blurted Hannah as she rushed over to her betrothed, dropping both schoolbags she had gathered between the two feuding Gryffindors. "Nev will regret it later if he hurts Dean."

 The betting Slytherins let out a loud chorus of boos. 

"Don't listen to Abbot, Longbottom! Destroy him!" cheered Pansy.

"You're going to let Longbottom talk to you that way, Thomas? He got beat up by a house-elf Fourth Year!" shouted Blaise.

Hermione pulled out her wand and pointed it at them. Instantly, Blaise shut his mouth, eyes wide before dodging behind Theodore and Goyle again. Pansy, still too proud to be intimidated by the Brightest Witch of the Age, scoffed at the threat, but still found herself quieting the uproar she was making alongside her house-mates. 

Neville seemed like he was eager to prove Pansy Parkinson and Theodore Nott right, even as Hannah begged him, her hands pressed against his chest, to calm down, but the wildfire of fury that had taken over him instantly dwindled when Luna walked out of the shadows to stand in front of him.

There was sadness swimming in her blue eyes, Hermione could see it from the distance. While she was certain Luna had a functional range of emotions, Hermione hardly saw her outside of happy or curious. To see dark, navy shades creating threatening clouds in her bright gaze seemed almost unnatural to her. 

Maybe that was why Neville let go of his own unnatural red shades of fury. 

After his arms grew limp, Harry and Ron slowly let their grip around Neville loosen. He looked at Hannah for a fleeting moment, giving her reassurance that he was all right, and then he blinked at Luna. The genuine glimmer of affection being reflected from Neville's eyes for Luna was hardly a surprise; Hermione had known they, alongside Ginny, had created a bond forged from the war, just as strong, just as true as the one Hermione shared with Harry and Ron. 

"Luna, please," Dean called from under Ginny, just as defeated and subdued as his fellow Gryffindor had become. He tried to pull himself up to look at her, but by the way Luna cringed at the sound of his voice, Ginny forbid him to do so.

"I've got her," Hannah told Neville, the hands she had on his chest rubbing comforting circles for a few seconds. "Go to your lesson."

Dean called out for Luna as Hannah wrapped an arm around her, steering her as far away from him as she could. He flailed under Ginny, but she did not let up. 

"What'd you do?" she demanded. 

As Dean turned away from Ginny, Neville got back up. Harry and Ron walked behind him, surveying every step he took in case he lunged at Dean again, but both were startled at his hand extending out for Dean to take.

With a shaky breath, Dean reached out, too, letting himself be pulled up back to his own feet. Ginny glared, but Hermione was instantly relieved when Neville picked up their discarded schoolbags and handed Dean his. 

"Pathetic," huffed Blaise as Dean and Neville headed for their designated greenhouse in complete silence. "You Gryffindors call that a fight? Fuck sakes, Millie Bulstrode once tore a chunk out of Marcus Flint's ear! And she wasn't even that angry!"

"Neville and Dean are friends—"

"So? Millie is an inbred cousin of the Flints. What's your point, Granger?"

Hermione rolled her eyes at Blaise as she slipped her wand back into her pocket. 

"What'd you reckon Dean did?" asked Ron as he blinked away from the greenhouse Neville and Dean had entered. 

"He better hope I don't find out," said Ginny through her teeth as Harry shrugged, looking equally as confused as his best friend. She gathered her schoolbag too, yanking back Luna's textbook from Goyle's clutch in the same movement. "I'm going to go find her. Good luck with your exam, you three."

As Ginny left a kiss on Harry's right cheek before departing, Pansy put an arm around Ron's neck. She pressed her mouth on his chin, then along his jaw, before putting it on his ear. He was turning red again, but his eyes narrowed in the next second, too. 

"No way," he grumbled, shaking his head. "Impossible. Dean's the greatest bloke ever."

Pansy pulled back from whispering into Ron's ear, smirking before pressing a kiss on his neck. "I'm just saying. It makes sense."

"What makes sense?" asked Hermione impatiently. 

"Pansy thinks Thomas might have broken a few loyalty clauses in this whole marriage deal," Draco told her, his fingers loosening from hers. 

"No way," Hermione echoed Ron's first reaction. "Dean loves Luna."

"Hasn't stopped anyone before, has it? Love isn't some magical shield that keeps bad things from happening," said Theodore with a laugh before slapping a hand on Goyle's back. "Come on you lot. We've got Double Potions with Slughorn next. And if we don't get seats in the back, he'll make us talk to him again."

Harry had to tug on the back of Ron's robes for him to stop waving after Pansy. "Come on. We should get inside, too."

Draco was not oblivious to the once-over Harry gave him and Hermione before directing Ron to the greenhouse where their lesson was to take place. Draco caught the glint of distrust behind Harry's bespectacled eyes, but also the small smile he gave Hermione before he was off. 

She was not looking at her best friends, however. Hermione's brown eyes were cast on her fingertips barely hanging on against Draco's, a frown settled between her brows. 

He slid his hand back to where it had been before Neville and Dean brought their chaos. 

"You all right, Granger?"

She nodded, but her frown did not waver. 

"You can copy my exam if you're worried about it. We both know I'm better at Herbology than you—" Draco laughed when Hermione finally looked up at him, her frustration turning into annoyance. Instead of further egging her on, he said, "What's wrong?"

"Nott."

"You have to be more specific, Granger. Nott's been wrong for years."

Hermione rolled her eyes, smacking him on the shoulder with her free hand. "I mean, what he said. What Parkinson said, too."

"Don't you think that's Thomas and Lovegood's issue?"

"He loves her," she repeated, just as fervently as she had said it the first time. "And that's my point. What if Nott's right? What if love isn't enough to stop anyone from getting hurt?"

Draco wanted to let his hand slip from hers, trace his house-mates steps out of the greenhouses to avoid the look of absolute terror that glistened in Hermione's eyes. There was a vulnerability too pure caught inside of her that not even he was too much of a monster to shatter. 

How could he tell her he did not believe in love? 

Draco had never seen it. Not really. He would have bet every galleon in the Malfoys' vault that his parents loved him, but after he was sacrificed to the Dark Lord to amend Lucius' mistakes, how could Draco still think they did? No one could call it love when a boy is raised to hate. 

No one could call it love when a boy is raised to take and never to give.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Granger," Draco heard himself saying before he swallowed down the treacherous words. His hand squeezed hers before his free one moved to cup the side of her face. He felt her hold her breath, fight-or-flight instincts flashing across her brown eyes for a moment. When Hermione did not pull away, he said, "I promise I won't."

"You can't promise love, Malfoy," she murmured.

Draco wanted to tell her I can't, you clever girl, but his tongue did not even think about forming the words so he could give them to Hermione. Instead, somewhere inside his head, somewhere where darkness had not taken over completely, he heard a voice say but I can try, Hermione.

It sounded like him.

Maybe Hermione heard it, too, because Draco then found she pressed her mouth against his. 

And no voice inside his head, friend or foe, told him to let go. So he put his hands on her waist, his lips moving gently along hers.

It had to be those blasted Nargles, Draco knew. Lovegood left them everywhere she went.