Makes objects fly.

asleep when Draco returned to his room. For a moment, he simply stared down at her. Under the moonlight that streamed through the windows, she looked almost ethereal. Faint bruises still marred her skin; some scars lingered and would never fade away.

Draco realised that he had never been filled with more self-loathing than he had ever felt at that moment.

Suddenly, her breaths grew rapid and shallow. She twisted under the blankets and, sensing that she was about to have another nightmare, he quickly cast another muffling charm. It was just in time, too, because she shot awake. Her eyes were bloodshot and glassy as she stared at him.

"Draco?"

"It was just a dream, Hermione," he murmured, instinctively leaning into her touch when she brought her hand up to his cheek. "Go back to sleep."

He hadn't even realised his slip until her eyes widened in wonder. "You - you called me Hermione."

"You call me Draco all the time."

Her lips curved into a gentle smile. "Touché."

He made to move away, but she kept her grip firm on his hand. And for some unfathomable reason, he made a snap decision to not pull away this time. Transfiguring his leather chair quickly into a spare pillow, he laid it against the base of the headboard and leaned against it. With his other hand, he reached down and ran his fingers soothingly through her hair, marvelling in the way the frizzy ends curled instinctively around his fingertips.

Hermione stared up at him, a contented smile playing on her lips and he frowned down at her. "Go to sleep, Hermione."

She nodded and shifted, pressing her lips briefly against his wrist before letting her eyes fall shut.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

Draco awoke the next morning when he felt someone attempting to shift him. His eyes flew open, only to see Hermione's face inches away from his. She was leaning over him on her knees, one of her arms was wrapped tight around his shoulder, her other hand on his head, as she awkwardly tried to manoeuvre him down. Her lips were pursed with the effort and she didn't even notice that he was awake.

"Hermione." He stifled a smirk when she shrieked and loosened her grip. He managed to prop himself up on his elbow just in time, grasping her arms firmly so she wouldn't fall on top of him. "What're you doing?"

She blushed and sat back down. "You looked uncomfortable just sitting there. I wanted to help you lie down...it's your bed, after all."

"You could've used a wand."

The instant the words were out of his mouth, Draco wanted to slap himself. No, Hermione couldn't use a wand. He'd spent a lot of time observing her the past few days, and one of the things he noticed was that she no longer used magic. He mentally kicked himself when he saw the sadness in her irises.

"I-I wish I could," she whispered, her eyes straying to the wand he'd gave her. She had left in on the dresser just in case, but had never bothered to touch it. Her fingers twitched. "I just don't know how to - anymore."

Draco's jaw clenched. One more reason why he couldn't send her back to the Order. They were going to make her fight for them, and he'd be damned if he let her go into a war without any preparation whatsoever.

"I'll teach you," the words left his lips before he could even have a chance to think them through.

But the brilliant smile that spread across her face was so fucking worth it. "Really?"

"Yes - "

He didn't even get the chance to finish the sentence before she was barrelling right into him. Caught off guard, Draco's elbow gave and he felt his back hit the wall. The next thing he knew, Hermione had wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug.

"Thank you," she whispered. "Thank you, Draco."

Draco didn't reply. He simply reached up and threaded his fingers through her hair, resting his hand lightly on her head. He tried to pretend like his heart wasn't racing.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

Draco was distracted that afternoon as he stared at the Death-Eaters around him. When he thought about Hermione and what these arseholes had done to her... It was all he could do to keep the murder out of his eyes, especially after he'd caught Pansy's warning look at him from across the room.

But perhaps he'd gotten a little too distracted. And so he wasn't surprised when the Dark Lord told him to stay back after the meeting was over.

"You seem a little - on edge today, Draco," the Dark Lord said, once they were in the hall alone.

Draco's eyes flickered to the Elder Wand clasped between the Dark Lord's bony fingers, before he looked up. "My apologies, my lord. I was thinking of potential Death-Eaters to accompany me on the next mission to Azkaban."

"Don't we have our usual schedule?"

"Forgive me if I sound impertinent, my lord, but with the inner circle expanding and more Death-Eaters joining our cause, there's bound to be traitors. A fifth of the prisoners in our cells are defected Death-Eaters."

"What would you suggest, then?"

Draco's eyes gleamed. "I require a team that I can trust. The success of our patrol groups and bounty hunters have always relied on the quantity of Death-Eaters. I want nothing but quality, my lord. And I'm certain that you do too."

"Of course. Quality always supersedes quantity. I never wanted to expand my inner circle to the size it is now, but MacNair convinced me otherwise."

"Given the recent number of defected Death-Eaters we've captured, it's clear to see that MacNair isn't picking the right people. I would rather not work with people who could shoot a killing curse at me when my back is turned - not that I'll actually allow it," Draco added, in amusement.

"Nor will I," the Dark Lord said, before nodding in satisfaction. "You can pick your team at the next meeting, Draco. And I expect nothing but the best results you have to offer," he added, a silent warning in his quiet voice.

Draco leaned back in his seat and smirked. "You have my word."

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

"Pansy?"

The Slytherin witch looked over at Hermione. "Yes?"

It was afternoon, and Pansy had taken it upon herself to spend the rest of the day with Hermione, since Draco was clearly still busy with work. The rest of the house was empty, since Theo was on one of his patrols and Blaise had gone to the black market. So, upon arriving home, Pansy had undone the locks on Draco's door (all of them figured out Draco's locks a long time ago, they just had the courtesy to never barge in on him), and found Hermione.

Hermione had been shaking, but tracing words on the bedsheet to distract herself. Pansy figured she could do with some reading.

After all, Hermione Granger loved to read.

Even though the book she was studying was meant for a first-year student at Hogwarts.

"W-which house was I in? Back in Hogwarts?"

Pansy tried hard not to sigh. Closing her book, she chucked it onto Draco's bed and went over to Hermione, who was sitting by the window. Opening the glass doors of Draco's library with a flick of her wrist, she held out her hand. "Accio Hogwarts 1991 yearbook."

A dusty old book came flying to her. Pansy grabbed it and smiled at the look of pure wonder on the other girl's face. She sat down on the bed and flipped through the pages before landing on one. "You were in Gryffindor."

Hermione stared at the page. "I-is that me?" Her finger hovered over the picture of a beaming girl with frizzy, untameable hair.

"Yes. Always quite the sunshine back then, no matter the weather." Pansy pointed to another picture and couldn't stop herself from rolling her eyes. "Remember him?"

Hermione shook her head.

Pansy never did like that sodding boy, but she felt her heart sink. "Harry Potter," she told Hermione, pointing again to the picture, before pointing to several others. "The wea - I mean, Ron Weasley, Neville Longbottom, Seamus Finnegan, Lave - " Pansy stopped. Lavender Brown was dead. No use mentioning her then. "Parvati Patil and Dean Thomas. Remember them? They were all from Gryffindor too."

Hermione bit her lip, before pointing to the Neville's picture hesitantly. "This - this one...a little," but her attention was soon on the other pictures. Pansy blew out a breath through her teeth. Oh, boy. The Weasel was not going to be happy. But her thoughts were quickly interrupted when Hermione frowned. "Where's Draco?"

"Oh, Draco's not from Gryffindor," Pansy told her, with a smirk. Merlin, she'd give anything to see Draco's face if he were here right now. "Nor are any of us, for that matter." She quickly flipped several pages, skipping past the irrelevant Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws. "Here we are. That's me," her eyes misted as she saw her young self, and she hastily moved on. "That's Theodore Nott. Blaise Zabini. And - " she finally landed her finger on picture with the boy who had the best scowl. " - Draco Malfoy."

Pansy didn't miss the way Hermione's eyes brightened. "Hermione?" she started, at last.

The other girl glanced up.

"About your memories - " Hermione's eyes widened. " - I meant about Draco," Pansy hastily said, feeling a rush of relief when Hermione began to calm down. "I saw that you remembered Draco even during Hogwarts days. I specifically recall one very lucid memory of you clipping him right in the nose."

Hermione smiled and looked far more relaxed than Pansy had ever seen her. Her brown eyes were twinkling. "Yes. I don't quite recall why I did that...but I think - I think he deserved it."

Pansy grinned. Draco probably did. But then her smile faded as she thought of the repercussions of Hermione's mismatched memory. "You do remember that you hated him in the past, don't you?" She asked, certain that Draco had never dared address this matter before. "You two got on each others' nerves constantly."

"Oh, yes, I-I remember. Draco was rather difficult then." Hermione smiled. "He's good now."

And Pansy had to return Hermione's smile because, no matter how many bad things Draco Malfoy did now, she too saw him as a good person. "Yes, he is."

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

Draco spent the next few nights teaching Hermione magic all over again.

On one of the nights, Hermione watched with rapt admiration as he levitated a book without a wand. She asked him to do it three more times, eyes wide with wonder as he levitated several books simultaneously. But when he waited for her to do it, she hesitated.

"Hermoine?"

"Yeah, I just - " she exhaled visibly, biting her lower lip. Draco sat down next to her on the bed, reaching down to take her hand. He didn't notice the flush on her cheeks or the quickening of her breath.

He held her hand with the wand as he slowly showed her the precise movements. "Wingardium Leviosa," he said, and she could feel his hot breath on her skin. Then he dropped her hand and she suddenly felt cold.

Hermione inhaled. Gripping her wand, she pointed it at the book. "W-wingardium...leviosa."

The book didn't budge an inch.

Draco held her hand up when she began to lower it. "Again. Firmer and louder this time."

"Wingardium...leviosa..."

The book lay motionless and Hermione fought the tears in her eyes. She had hoped. But clearly it wasn't enough. She cast a discreet glance over at Draco, but his lips were pressed into a grim line.

"Again. More distinct movements," he traced his finger in the air to show her. "Don't hesitate," he added, when she tried again and failed. After her twenty-third try, Hermione was biting her lip to keep from sobbing out loud.

Draco glanced over at her, finally pulling himself out from his usual, detached professionalism he adopted when teaching someone and shifted closer to her. Without dwelling too much on it, he slid his arm around her and pulled her into his chest, feeling like a complete bastard for pushing her to try so many times. He didn't know why he did. Perhaps a part of him desperately wished that one of the best witches he'd ever seen in his life hadn't lost all of her magic.

But this new Hermione Granger was no longer the stubborn witch he knew (and sort of hated) back in Hogwarts. It was no longer in her nature to remind everyone that she was right or cleverer than them. Age and the horrors of war had mellowed her down. And, for the first time, she saw him as a good person.

"It's fine, Hermione," he murmured, pressing his lips briefly against her hair when she let out a stifled sob, clinging to him desperately. "We can try again tomorrow."

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

Hermione stayed awake that night, waiting until Draco fell asleep. When he finally did, she sat up and reached for the wand on the dresser. Tugging off the chain from her neck, she set it down on the bedspread and pointed the wand at it.

"Wingardium Leviosa," she whispered, making sure to keep her voice low so that Draco would not be disturbed.

Nothing.

"Wingardium Leviosa."

Still nothing.

Third time's a charm, she reminded herself, and pointed the wand at the chain.

"Wingardium Leviosa."

This time, the chain lifted. Just the slightest bit, before dropping back down on the bed again. But that was enough for her. Hermione felt a surge of joy spread through her and she smiled to herself in the darkness, only to drop her wand in surprise when a familiar, silky voice sounded beside her.

"Welcome back, Granger."

Hermione spun round, only to realise that Draco had been watching her. His silver eyes were like a cat's in the dark, missing nothing. He had the faintest trace of a smirk on his lips; his tone a familiar teasing.

She smiled brightly at him, reaching over to wrap her arms around his waist. Her action itself forced her halfway into his lap, and she suppressed a shiver when he looped his arms loosely around her, his palms sliding firmly against the small of her back.

Lifting herself up slightly, she pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. "Hermione," she reminded him.

His lips quirked in a brief, wry smirk; but she could've sworn he looked almost nervous about the tiny distance separating them. "Right," she felt the low rumble of his chest when he spoke. "Hermione."

Her smile widened and her mind reeled from the boldness of her actions. She couldn't quite rationalise what she was doing. Testing boundaries, she supposed. Seemed the boundaries weren't quite clear cut that night.

Then again, they hadn't been clearly set for a long while now.