There it was again, another book. Another book about the fabulous use of PolyJuice Potion, of who created it, why it was created, how it's brewed, and the thousand of reasons why it's both beneficial and a threat to the Wizarding World.

There were more than ten-thousand books in the library of Hogwarts, and never thinking that she'd see the day she would say this, but Hermione Granger thought they were all useless right about now. It was like her friends—all these beautifully informative books, ancient and a few decades old—were hiding the answer among them, excluding her out like Lavender Brown had done their Sixth Year when she whispered behind her back with the other girls.

"Useless, useless," she groaned in a heavy desperation, tossing another book to a pile beside her armchair. "I'm never going to find it."

Having had submerged herself in another pile of books like she'd been doing for the past two or three weeks, Hermione was oblivious to the outside world when that bubble of stubbornness and determination took over her. If she had been paying attention when she sat herself down beside the fireplace, she would've seen a few curious eyes glance back and forth to her.

Among those curious glances was a friend of the Slytherin Prince. She wondered why Draco Malfoy had been driving himself mad with every flip of a page he would give to all those books.

Shaking her head, Daphne Greengrass stood from her side of the common room, leaving her books and homework behind as she approached him. "What are you looking for, Malfoy?"

Hermione picked up another book, opening it to the index and scanning what it had to offer.

"Malfoy?"

'PolyJuice Potion: Early Roots as SoloJuice Potion.' Hermione groaned. There was a time when she, Harry and Ron would've found a use on how to make a PolyJuice Potion that was far simpler than the one they had to brew many times before, but now was not one of those times. She just needed to find a damn spell, potion, or something that explained her current predicament.

"Malfoy." Tap.

Feeling rough fingers touch her shoulder, Hermione looked up and found the dark eyes of a blonde witch staring back at her, annoyed and amused at the same time.

Finally getting her classmate's attention, Daphne smirked knowingly at the boy. "My, Draco, you're sure giving that Granger girl a run for her galleons."

Hermione shot her brows up, a little confused on what the girl was talking about—but in the reflection coming off of the girl's eyes, Hermione saw what she'd been staring at. It was Malfoy, sitting in an armchair and books scattered left and right; his blonde hair tousled in frustration.

 "Oh," she breathed, remembering who she was supposed to be, "Yeah. Just studying, you know."

"Right," Daphne snorted, leaning down and picking up one of the disregarded books he'd dropped. "You're looking for something — what is it? I haven't seen you this engulfed in textbooks since last year. And we all know what that was about."

In the armchair, Draco Malfoy looked confused, but was quick to shake away the girl's comment.

"Well," Daphne called him again, opening the book she'd gotten, "what are you looking for? Maybe I can help you. You might not be competing with Granger, but I reckon I've read at least half of the books she has in the library. I can be of some use."

Hermione made Malfoy's body sit up taller, clearing his throat as she narrowed his silver eyes at her. Yeah, like she could tell Daphne Greengrass what she was desperately researching. One word of what she and Malfoy had gotten themselves into and there would be a riot that would distract the war going on outside.

So instead of being Hermione-like, the Gryffindor inside mustered her Slytherin exterior. "Mind your business, Greengrass," she snapped with that venom Malfoy was known for. "Go back to your books. Your help's not wanted here."

Daphne hardened her eyes, her face composing itself into a blank look.

Instantly, Hermione felt like a royal twat. That look on Daphne's face was very Slytherin-like. It was a mask they all pulled on when they didn't want their real emotions to be seen, when they didn't want to show how hurt they really were. Hermione knew Daphne was now the outcast among her house-mates, and the way she spoke to her was the way Daphne was brushed off by everyone else. It's what caused that mask to come on—because she didn't want anyone to see how rejected she felt.

Letting out a throaty sigh, Hermione made Malfoy's silver eyes soften. "I'm sorry," she murmured, "it's just complicated. I can't have another person involved. You understand, right?"

Giving Malfoy a stiff nod, Daphne swallowed her pride and sat on the open armchair beside Draco with his book still in her hands. She let a moment or two of silence linger in the air, Slytherins walking back and forth in the backgrounds; the green-tint to the common room becomme lighter, signaling that someone had just entered.

"I hope you're not in trouble again, Malfoy," Daphne whispered hesitantly, her dark eyes on the book and not the boy next to her. "Salazar only knows why you're back since what happened Sixth Year, but don't blow it."

Hermione kept her gaze on Daphne, watching as she fingered the edges of the pages of the book. Something about her was lowering, like she was admitting an exhausted aura.

Sensing that stare, Daphne met the grey eyes of her classmate. "Hogwarts is an escape, Malfoy. It takes us away from the madness outside. I know you don't want to be back there, back to Death Eaters and the Dark Lord. So, please...don't ruin it."

As she said this, as Hermione caught the book the Slytherin had open was to a recipe on how to brew PolyJuice Potion—Daphne's eyes disapproving—Pansy, Blaise, and Theodore marched up to their blonde friend.

"Malfoy, you git," aiming a punch at Hermione's borrowed-shoulder, Nott glared at his friend, "we were waiting for you by the lake. What's the point of a partnered project if you're not going to show?"

Surprise the hit she'd received didn't really hurt, Hermione composed Malfoy's body and aimed a threatening frown at Nott. "I was busy," she snapped back. "Besides, I gave you my portion of the project. The rest is on you. And if you don't finish it on time, you won't only have McGonagall to deal with, but me, too."

Theodore rolled his eyes. "Fine. Don't get your wand in a knot. I'll finish it. You're rubbish at Transfiguration, anyway."

Snickering , Pansy lowered herself on the armrest of Malfoy's armchair. "Ignore him, Draco," her fingers were now in his disheveled, blonde strands, "these past few weeks you've been improving. At the rate you're going, you're going to surpass the little Gryffindor Mudblood."

Shaking Malfoy's head, hating the way Parkinson always wanted to rub a part of him, Hermione smacked the hand away to escape the girl's fingers.

"Oh, come here, Pans," chuckling darkly to himself now, Theodore reached over to pull her away from Malfoy. "If Draco doesn't want sloppy servings, I sure don't mind."

Now wrapped in Nott's muscular arms, looking both offended and rejected, Pansy surrendered and let him embrace her. "You're such a git, Theo."

"Yeah, that's true," he admitted, "but Draco still doesn't want you, so shut it." And with one hand caressing Pansy's left knee, Theo flashed a leer at the quiet, dark-skinned boy among them. "She's a bit of a handful, but she's worth it, don't you think, Zabini? She's cunning, witty, pretty, and a Pureblood. All you can want in a girl."

Standing tall, emerald eyes narrowed into slits, entire being frozen, Blaise remained silent as his friend's words echoed around them; the message loud and clear. It was evident Nott was still upset with him and he wanted nothing more than to rile up Zabini. But the thing was, no one knew why he did—or what he insinuated by those comments.

"Blaise," with a ringing voice among the silence, having had become background, Daphne made herself known, "are you still going to Italy for the holidays like you do every year?"

Zabini blinked, all the attention was now on the blonde girl sitting in the armchair beside Malfoy that they hadn't spotted before.

"Because if you are, I've a favor to ask," Daphne continued, trying to ease the place of uneasiness Nott had put the dark-skinned Slytherin into. "You remember that little antique shop you took me to once when I visited? There was a necklace there that I wanted. You remember which one, don't you? I'll owl you the money for it, if you don't mind."

Frowning, Pansy crossed her arms as Nott wrapped his around her waist. "Can't you get it yourself, Greengrass? Blaise is not your house-elf."

"It's a favor, Pansy," Daphne retorted. "People do that for one another. But if you must know, I'm staying in Hogwarts for the holidays and can't go fetch it myself. It's not really safe for Astoria and me out there these days. You understand that, don't you?"

Through Daphne's clear sarcasm, through Pansy's upcoming fit of rage, Hermione started rampaging through her mind. Holidays, she thought to herself, using Malfoy's fingers to count back.

"For goodness sake!" Leaping up from the armchair, Hermione grabbed Malfoy's wand and bolted to the exit of the Slytherin common room. 

X

This is torture. This is torture. This is torture. Oh, Salazar, this is pure torture.

He had lost count of how many days had gone by since this little mishap happened to him, but by the way people drifted to him, like they wanted to be with him, to relish in his presence, he knew it had been too many days now. They'd all become too comfortable around him, like he was accepted—like they thought he was their precious friend.

And currently adding to his dread and irritation, he was smothered on a bench on the outside grounds of Hogwarts with one of the people he had been proud he'd never said one word to: Luna Lovegood.

"It's nice, isn't it?" Luna looked away from the view of the green grounds, her blue eyes gentle and carefree as they looked at the brunette beside her. "The weather, I mean."

Trying his hardest not to scowl at the girl, Draco looked away from her to glance at the direction the Ravenclaw had been staring at. Passing the field with students, passing the gardens and the hills, Draco saw the glooming sky ahead of them. It was a murky blue, almost turning grey as the clouds remained dark as they passed through. The sun was hidden, the wind blowing past them was freezing—a storm was approaching.

Swallowing a stream of insults, Draco turned back to the Ravenclaw with brown eyes he'd been damned with. "It looks like rain," he said in a passive-aggressive tone.

Luna nodded her head, smiling aloofly. "Of course, but it's beautiful, right?" She turned back to her view. "The rain always helps clear my head. Some people enjoy the warmth of the sun, but I prefer the winter weather that freezes my skin."

Yes, but you're not normal, Draco wanted to throw at the girl, but he held a tongue that was not his. And honestly, that's what it was about. The fact that he had to subdue his thoughts, his real words, was the real reason why this insane Ravenclaw was sat next to him with a bloody grin on her face like she was with a friend.

He was not Hermione Granger—though the brown curls, brown eyes, and entire exterior physique contradicted that. And the fact that he's been able to pass as the Bookworm without much problems, only responding with an 'I'm fine, just tired' when they aimed a curious glance his way, was starting to make him feel uncomfortable. 

"Padma told me you've been defending me from Lavender," interrupting his internal turmoil, Luna spoke once more and pulled Draco out of his thoughts. There she went again, smiling at him with such a vibe that it made him want to slap her. "Well, that you and Ginny have. I expect it from Ginny, of course. She's my best friend. But I didn't really expect it from you, Hermione. You don't really like me, do you?"

The breeze hit them with a wave and Malfoy started choking on it; his gasps for air sounded delicate and feminine. Had he gotten things mixed up here? Had he been smiling and hanging about Loony Lovegood when Granger didn't even like her? Wait. That couldn't be true, could it? Granger loved all creatures, strange or not.

"Lavender's not really a problem, though," Luna continued, paying no mind to the brunette coughing her lungs up. "She likes Dean, I'm aware. I know it's a bit hard to accept that he and I can be friends, with me being me, but captivity does that to people. It makes them grow close with whatever form of human life there's around." She paused, looking in thought for a quick second. "I guess I owe the Malfoy family for that."

Finding now that he wasn't heaving over excessive air, Draco was now perfectly still as he could no longer feel the oxygen travel down Hermione's mouth to sustain his soul. He was frozen, struck still as Lovegood beamed at him, blue eyes looking like they held a secret.

"Being imprisoned in their cellar helped me form great friendships with Mister Ollivander, Dean, and even Dobby before he was killed. It wasn't a long imprisonment, but it was long enough to make you reevaluate human relationships."

Still rigid in his spot, Draco realized the other reason why he didn't like the Lovegood girl. And that was because she was a walking symbol of what had happened the previous summer, of the fact that his home was and currently is a place to keep the Light Side's prisoners. It was where she and Thomas—his classmates—had been held captive and mishandled cruelly.

When he felt like he was going to be sick, making Granger vomit what he'd eaten, Luna and he received the presence of someone else by their bench. And there, looking rushed and in full-out panic, was the figure of Draco Malfoy.

"Mal—Granger," Draco Malfoy huffed, his nostrils quick to inhale all the oxygen he'd lost in his run. "We...talk...now." Inhale, exhale, inhale.

Not being someone who was openly hostile, Luna rose from her side of the bench without aiming a retort or crude remark at the Slytherin that'd just appeared. No, as her weird and whimsical self, Luna smiled and had nothing bad to say to the boy that allowed her to get imprisoned. "Well, I guess I'll be going. I'm meeting Neville by the greenhouses."

"Luna—" One would assume the person to halt the Ravenclaw from her leave would be her Gryffindor friend, but instead it was Draco Malfoy that called her, his lungs full of oxygen now. "I...um...Take care of yourself, please."

Luna held on to her kind expression, not thrown off by the Slytherin's comment. "I'll be with great people, there's no safer place than with them." And with a wave at both students she was leaving behind, the Ravenclaw skipped her way from them.

Standing up with a huff, Hermione Granger glared disapprovingly at the Slytherin before her. "Can you be any more obvious, Granger? You mind as well have told her to tell Potter and Weasley that you love them."

Inside Malfoy's body, Hermione made the boy cross his arms. "She's my friend, Malfoy," she shot back at her own face, "and when you've a friendship with someone, you worry about their well-being. You would know that if you attempted to have friends not lap-dogs."

Choosing to ignore the last bit—because, honestly, he wasn't mad at Granger but at himself, because Lovegood stirred up memories he was never going to forget—Malfoy made Granger let out a hefty sigh and sat her back down on the bench. "You look frantic, Granger," he pointed out. "Did you find a way to undo whatever happened to us?"

 Hermione sighed,too, after a moment. "No. I haven't had much luck with anything in the library. Bu that's not important right now."

"How's that not important?" Malfoy retorted, quirking her brown brow. "It should be top priority, Granger. We cannot spend one more day as one another. Your friends annoy me with their feelings and emotional rubbish."

"Really, Malfoy, because yours are so lovely to be around," Hermione snorted, not fully meaning it. Daphne and Blaise were passable, she had to admit. "Forget about the swap—the holidays are tomorrow!"

Not really caring for the shock on his face that Granger was making him wear, Draco shrugged. "That doesn't matter. I'm staying at Hogwarts for the—"

"No, no!" Hermione snapped, reaching over and gripping herself by the shoulders. "You need to go home for the holidays, Malfoy! You cannot stay here!"

"Let go, Granger!" Malfoy hissed, wincing as his strength was bruising the body he was in. "I'm not going anywhere. My mother suggested I stayed, and frankly, I don't disagree."

 "I don't care about what you want!" she shrieked. "There's something important that I—we, since you're me now—have to do! It's important, Malfoy, and I can't stay here and let you be dragged into it!"

Wincing some more, Draco tried tugging his fingers away from Granger's shoulders. "Fine, fine," he shouted, "but let go! Let go!"

Just as Hermione was done bullying Malfoy into doing something she desperately needed—since it was a matter of life or death—both of them were unaware of the male two-thirds of the Golden Trio racing towards them, wands out.

"—Hermione!"

"—Let her go, Malfoy!"

A smile was about to come out of Hermione, but before she could let the overwhelming nostalgia she felt over seeing Ron and Harry, Ron shoved her forcefully several inches. His face was red with anger, eyes darkened and narrowed as Harry moved to the brunette on the bench, clutching her protectively.

"What the hell are you doing, Malfoy?" Ron hissed at the Slytherin before him, his wand-tip digging into the latter's chest.

"I—"

"Shut up!" Ron interjected angrily, pressing his wand harder onto Malfoy's chest. "Don't you think you've done enough to her? You've already tortured her! What else do you want?"

With an expression that showed heavy confusion, Hermione had to resist the urge to tell Ron to stop, that the wand he was using as a weapon was hurting her—that she was in Malfoy's body and she wasn't the enemy. But in those few seconds that it took her to keep Malfoy's mouth shut, she caught a glance of Harry and her on the bench. On her face, a face that was controlled by Draco, Hermione saw the ashamed look she was sporting. Her eyes reflected the mortified emotion Malfoy was feeling.

"I...I wasn't going to hurt her." Looking away from herself, Hermione flicked the silver eyes she was borrowing to Ron; those eyes filled with sincerity. "We were just talking."

"Hermione doesn't talk to the likes of you!" Ron shot back, not believing a thing. "Now go away, you slimy ferret, before I murder—"

"Stop," still wrapped in the Chosen One's arms, mainly because his hold was too strong to fight with when he thought he was saving a life, Draco spoke through Granger's lips. "Stop it, Ronald. We...We really were just talking."

Ron looked over his shoulders, frowning at Hermione's direction. "You've nothing to say to him, 'Mione. He's a foul, evil little insect and you don't need to waste your breath on him."

Before either Draco or Hermione could say anything else, Harry was the next to comment. "Leave, Malfoy. Now."

Inside Malfoy's body, Hermione was both comforted and annoyed. She was happy to see how protective they were of her, how much they loved her, but by the way Malfoy was making her face twist in many emotions that weren't usually associated with him, Hermione felt sympathetic.

Things just had gotten more complicated.

X

Those eyes: miserable, ashamed, damned, offended, and self-loathing. They were all she could think about. Sure, they were hers—right down to the lashes and brown hue with golden specs in them—but she had never felt what those eyes expressed before.

When she thought of Draco Malfoy she connected him with arrogance and ignorance—and that was it. To think he was capable of being something else that wasn't all negative and infuriating was impossible to assume. But now, now she really couldn't think of him entirely as insufferable because of the way he'd twisted her eyes.

Mixing in with those thoughts of who she thought Malfoy was, Hermione asked aloud, "What do you think of Hermione Granger?"

Startled out of the silence that was reigning in their compartment inside the Hogwarts Express, Blaise raised a quizzical brow at his best friend. "I'm sorry, what?" His tone reflected his confusion. "Did you just ask what I thought of Granger?"

Knowing she should be keeping her part as Malfoy completely accurate, Hermione just couldn't resist asking. She didn't necessarily mean to ask Zabini as much as she'd intended to ask Malfoy what he thought of her now that their lives were reversed. Still, she looked at the Slytherin with expecting eyes.

"Well, what can I tell you that you don't know, Draco?"

"Without prejudice," Hermione told him in Malfoy's persistent tone. "What do you really think of her?"

Blaise continued to hold on to his confused expression. "I...She's—Granger?"

As she looked at the dark-skinned boy with demanding eyes, Hermione hadn't noticed when the sliding-door of their compartment opened, revealing her entire persona.

With eyes masked in that Slytherin-way as she stood rigid by the door, Granger flashed brown eyes at Blaise. "Can I have a moment with Gran—Malfoy, please."

Shifting a curious glance between both Gryffindor Princess and Slytherin Prince, Blaise stood up after a moment of hesitation. Before he departed, slithering past Granger, his shoulder brushing her arm, Zabini gave his best friend one final look before sliding the compartment door close.

Dragging Granger's body to the open seat Blaise left, Draco sat himself with her arms crossed. "You said you needed to do something important over the holidays. What is it?"

A little surprised by the straightforwardness, Hermione cleared his throat, placing his hands on his lap in a calming manner she tended to do with her own when she had her body. "For the moment it's not important, Malfoy," she began. "What we need to do is...get to know a little more of each other. As much as possible to be able to endure these days at home and pass as one another."

Draco nodded once, but said nothing more.

"I...erm..." Hermione cleared Malfoy's throat again, hating the way he made her look so blank and lifeless. "My parents' names are Jean and Richard Granger. They're both muggle dentists—that's a sort of Healer for people's teeth," and so began her share of information. "I'm the only child, but I'm fairly close to my cousin Julianne. Julianne's currently studying in France, and we exchange letters often, but you won't get to meet her.

"I've a few muggle friends that I keep in touch with, but you will not socialize with them. I've purposely kept my distance from them for a year now, so they won't approach you unless you do. If they decide to do so, greet them simply and walk away."

He wanted to tell her he wouldn't socialize with muggles anyway, but he couldn't find the voice to say it. And, what did that mean: purposely keeping her distance from them? Was there a bigger reason for it— if so, is that why she was making his silver eyes look so sad?

He blinked her eyes and found that she'd continued talking, only catching a, "...but you know them. Then there's Bill, Charlie and Percy, but Percy's has sort of disowned his family, so his mention is always sour and sad for Mrs. Weasley. You'll be sharing a room with Ginny, so please behave yourself. Don't say anything you don't know the answer to, she's really perceptive.  I think that sums it up. What about you?"

Salazar, she talks way too bloody much, Draco thought, feeling a frown coming on. 

"Don't speak to anyone," he said to her, watching as she creased his forehead. "Stay in my room as much as you can and ignore anyone that isn't my parents or....There's not much you need to know."

Hermione frowned in returned. "Malfoy, I need more than that. I'm sure I'm not going to just be locked up in your bedroom all day. What if...What if I'm summoned somewhere? How am I supposed to get around?"

"I've taken care of that before boarding the train," he said to her, keeping her arms crossed stiffly still. "I sent an owl directed to Veda, my house-elf, and gave her specific orders to escort you anywhere you wished." And right as he saw his lips about to move, no doubt Granger about to argue, he added, "You may not like it, but it's going to keep you rooted, Granger. Just trust the house-elf and leave your righteousness when we're in our own bodies."

It was her turn to cross his arms in annoyance. "I figured owling is going to be a bit problematic, so I made these for us." Digging into the pocket of the Slytherin-robes she was wearing, Hermione pulled out two galleons. "I'm sure you know how these work, right?"

At her sarcastic tone, Draco extended her palm open and just let his fingers hand him the coin. Immediately, a silence took over them, a tension in the air that was suffocating.

Taking the silence as a signal to be able to take his leave, Draco rose up on Granger's small feet and headed for the sliding-door. Right as he'd pushed it open a few centimeters, a flash of something seeped into the interior where he was trapped.

He put her hand on the glass of the door, holding it there for a few seconds. In that moment, he didn't move; he zeroed in on how pale and soft her hand was,  how slender and fragile her fingers looked. That really was the thing about Granger wasn't it, her frailness? He knew that now by the way everything hurt when it impacted into her, whether it was a nudge from Potter, a tight embrace from Weasley, or his own hands doing damage on her. He can't begin to imagine what it felt like when Bellatrix—no.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, stopping his thought before it triggered an unwanted memory. His words were low and he did not turn to look back, he just looked at her hand. "I'm sorry if there's anything you're forced to do while you're me, Granger."

Raising a blonde brow, Hermione was about to ask what that meant, but Malfoy had marched his way out in his favorite fashion of exit. He left her there in his body, wondering why his heart was beating erratically and almost painfully in his chest from the words he'd just made her lips say.