Hermione and Ginny mingle with old classmates, laughing and reminiscing the past. It's an easy task to fall back in with their old friends and, as time passes, Hermione feels her anxiety ebbing away. It doesn't disappear, but it becomes easier to ignore. Not one person so much as sends her a foul look, and very few dare to actually breach the subject. The ones that do only ever express concern for her.

They've just finished speaking to Neville, who's now a professor at Hogwarts, when a voice sounds through the room.

"Please, find a seat at one of the provided tables. Dinner will commence once everyone has made themselves comfortable," the voice declares, seeming to come from all directions.

Ginny drags Hermione to a nearby table, wishing Neville a wonderful evening, and the two girls sit and wait for their respective partners.

Harry appears first, looking in higher spirits than he had before, and drops into the chair at Ginny's left. With Hermione on her right, Draco, when he comes stalking towards them, takes the fourth seat at the table on Hermione's right. Neither boy looks like they plan on murdering the other, so Hermione counts it as a victory.

As they sit, Harry shoots Draco a glare that no one else sees. Swallowing hard and bowing under Harry's gaze, Draco picks at the table cloth. Lucius would be furious in the face of this kind of cowardice, which is perhaps the only thought that keeps Draco from launching himself at Harry in a rage; the fear of acting like his father is a strong motivator to do the opposite of what Lucius would do.

"What did you two talk about?" Hermione asks, blissfully unaware of the tension between Harry and Draco.

Something jabs at Draco's shin, evoking a strangled yelp that is smoothly transformed into a cough. While Hermione and Ginny aren't looking, Harry smirks and waves his wand above the table this time. No hex is cast, but Draco still feels the sting of the last.

Growling under his breath, Draco turns his focus to Hermione. "Nothing too intriguing," he lies. "That git over there thinks the Chudely Cannons are sure to win over the Banchory Bangers, but I beg to differ." He grins like the conversation they had was really that simple.

"Well I think you're an absolute nutter!" Harry snorts, picking up the lie and going along with it. "How can the Cannons lose against the worst team in the League?"

"We've never lost to you in the past, have we?" Draco shoots back.

Huffing indignantly, Harry cuts the conversation off there before it becomes something genuinely friendly.

Hermione shares a look with Ginny before both girls burst into bright peals of laughter. "We leave you alone and the only thing you do is argue over sports?" She gets out between sharp gasps for breath. Draco is about to reply, feeling his dignity stung, but a voice behind them interrupts.

"You mind if we sit with you all? The other tables seem to be filled," Blaise points out, gesturing to the two remaining chairs at their table.

Quick to agree, Hermione smiles and lets them sit, without so much as a glance to the others at the table. Nobody else rejects, though, so Blaise and Luna settle down. Even still, Draco glares down at the table when Hermione grins so happily at Blaise. There is a chortle from Harry and Draco side-eyes him, wishing for a moment that looks could actually kill. At least then Potter wouldn't be an obnoxious blackmailing thorn in his side anymore.

Before conversation can pick up, plates appear in front of everyone. Silver platters piled high with the very favorite dishes of the eater, wisps of steam curling up and filling the room with a myriad of delectable smells.

Eyeing the food in anticipation, everyone dives into their meal with a fervor. There is little talk as they feast, savoring each bite with hums of satisfaction and half-hooded eyes.

"Merlin, I don't remember the food tasting this good when we were here," Blaise remarks. The five friends at their table murmur their agreement, but nothing else is said. Only the scrape of cutlery and soft music, now heard because the silence of the room, fill the Great Hall.

Even when conversation picks up again, after the plates are cleared and chutes of champagne are held in hand, Draco pays it little mind. His thoughts wander away to nothing, relaxing in the post-bliss of a wonderful meal and the impact of a bubbling champagne. Besides, he deserves it a little after his talk with Harry. He hardly notices when his name is called, not for the first or the second or even the third time. The only action he takes note of is the gentle nudge from Hermione that awakens him from his blank state.

Draco jerks, banging his knee against the underside of the table, and lifts his gaze to look around in confusion.

"It seems Draco has a few nargles prancing around his head," Luna says, staring at the space around Draco's head and smiling.

Cocking a brow, Draco peers curiously at her, not quite understanding what she means. Blaise, though, glances between his wife and his friend, a smile forming.

"You're right, he does seem a bit distant," Blaise agrees, tapping his chin in thought.

Flushing under the attention, Draco looks around. The others are watching him too, save Hermione, who's got her arms crossed in disapproval.

"He is a bit distracted," Harry replies. "Perhaps there's something he'd like to get off his chest? Something...important? Maybe even involving one of us?" He grins mischievously at Draco. "Draco, my dear friend, anything you'd like to share with us?"

Leaning close to her fiance, Ginny whispers a silent question to Harry. Her only response is a sharp flick of Harry's eyes away from a flustered Draco to the space at his right. Ginny gasps, quiet enough not to draw attention to herself.

Draco bursts from his seat. "I'm going for a walk," he announces, scowling at Harry. "You lot can stay here and enjoy your time." He turns a dark look on everyone but Hermione, who he can never seem to be mad at anymore, and assures that they all feel the full wrath of his glare before turning on heel and marching from the room. He disappears in the dimly lit corridors almost immediately.

There is a full minute of stunned silence before Hermione throws down her napkin and gave the remaining four a glare of her own, one that they all quickly decide is more dangerous than Draco's could ever hope to be. Only Luna doesn't draw back in fear.

"You're all awful," she declares, voice hard. Blaise, Harry, and Ginny turn their faces down. "He's done nothing but act good all evening, even made up with you, Harry." He get's the full force of her glare and hunches his shoulders. "Even after you promised, you and Ginny both, that you'd respect my friendship to him and treat him good, you still went and acted like that." The pair shrink into themselves and she round on Blaise. "And you, Zabini, are supposed to be his friend. Best friend, if I recall. Mocking him like that was cruel and unfair."

"Hermione-" Blaise tries, but is silenced when Hermione puts up a hand, palm facing him.

"Not a word, Zabini. Unless you three apologize to him, I don't want to hear anything you have to say," Hermione growls. Standing, she puts her hands on her hips. "Tonight was supposed to be fun and you've upset him. I'm disappointed, in all of you." No one says anything. "Now, I'm going to go talk to him. You sit here and think on what you did."

She stalks away, following after Draco.

Ginny peeks up, staring at Hermione's retreating back. "She's worse than my mum," Ginny mutters, cheeks as red as her hair. Clearing her throat, she looks at Harry. "Do you really think this is going to work, Harry? Who's to say he'll actually follow through with it?"

Rubbing the bridge of his nose, Harry glances to where Hermione had gone. "He'll tell her. I made sure to rile him up so he'll have to or face the thought of looking like a coward."

Blaise looks between the pair. "I just got mothered by Hermione Granger, who is, frankly, terrifyingly good at it. I think I deserve to know what you two are talking about."

Reaching for her husband's hand, Luna runs careful fingers over the top of his hand. "It really is obvious," she sighs.

"Please do explain," Blaise insists, leaning forward expectantly in his seat. Harry nods and launches into the story.

Hermione isn't entirely sure where to find Draco, but she has a hunch. Slipping off her shoes so she can move quicker, she leaves them at the base of the main staircase and begins the trek upwards. It takes along while to find her destination, not for lack of memory, but rather the long distance. She isn't disappointed, though, when she reaches the last step.

"Draco, are you here?" She calls, entering the lower deck of the astronomy tower. She hesitates before going up to the upper deck, wondering if she had guessed wrong in thinking he's here.

"How did you know where to find me?"

Hermione lets out a breath at his voice and jogs up to the upper deck. She finds him waiting for her at the top, leaning against the railing. "I didn't know," she admits with a shrug, lingering between the step and him. "It's where I would have gone if I wanted to get away, so I figured you wouldn't be too different."

Draco doesn't meet her gaze and she has half a mind to point it out--she didn't come find him only to be ignored, after all--but he still may be upset of their friends's teasing.

"Are you alright? You ran out rather quickly," she asks.

He sighs and, for a brief moment, his eyes flick up to meet hers before turning to the floor again. The single second is all she needs, though. His eyes always tell the truth, even if he doesn't want to admit it aloud.

"I'm fine. It's just..." he trails off with a groan, shoving away from the railing and walking around to stand in front of the opening to the sky so that his back is to her.

Hermione follows him slowly, biting her lip as she contemplates him. It's been so long since she's had to deal with an agitated Malfoy, especially one that acts upset with her, that she isn't entirely sure how to handle him.

"Just what, Draco? What's the matter?"

Huffing, he starts a tense pace, occasionally muttering or tugging at his hair in frustration. Hermione holds her breath, waiting for him to calm before questioning him again. The last thing she wants is for him to lash out because she's pushed him too far. Not that she feared him hurting her, that hasn't been a concern for months, but that he might destroy something irreplaceable in the room. Explaining that to Headmistress McGonagall would be difficult.

Several minutes pass like this, with Hermione poised to act and Draco moving much like a caged animal. From time to time, his gaze would meet hers before bouncing away again. Whatever is bothering him clearly is more than a bit of friendly teasing from their friends.

"Draco, are you-" she has barely opened her mouth before he comes to a halt, back still to her.

"Do you remember the game we played at your house. Not long before the attack?"

Her brow furrows. "What are you talking-"

He interrupts again, "do you remember?"

She draws back, lips parting in surprise. Then she takes a breath and squares her shoulders. If he's going to act this way, then she can play along. "Yes, I remember. The intelligence game. What does it have to do with anything?"

Ignoring her question, he instead asks, "what about the final fact you gave? The spell you told me about?"

Hermione blinks, tilts her head. "The one that controls who someone can love? Maledictus Amare, I believe was the incantation." She presses her lips together, keeping anything else from spilling out.

He nods. "Nasty little spell, that one," he mutters. "A curse, really. Controlling who the victim confesses their love to. Entirely irreversible, unless the victim dies of course. But by then, the freedom is rather useless, isn't it?" He sighs and turns partly to her, just enough so she can see a sliver of his face.

It's more than enough. Just that fraction shows her an array of emotions, half of which she can't put name to, and his mouth turned down. What he's saying is important, to him at least. She gives him her undivided attention.

"Do you know the side effects of the curse?"

No book she had ever read mentioned any side effects. She shakes her head.

"Rather horrid. Just as bad as the curse, if not worse. You see, when the victim attempts to confess their love to anyone other than the one designated by the caster of the curse, the only thing that comes out are terrible words that hurt both the victim and the one they love" He shudders and turns away again.

She's quiet as she considers his words, understanding their meaning but not the reason behind why he is telling her.

"Draco, the curse is awful. I understand that much. But why tell me this?"

A strangled sound escapes his throat and she fears he might be choking. Listening closer, though, it seems more like laughter. He's laughing at her, or her lack of understanding.

"I swear to Merlin, Draco, if you don't tell me why you think my lack of understanding is so hilarious, I'll-"

He whips around, facing her fully for the first time. "Bloody hell, Hermione! I thought you were a genius? Can't you connect the dots without me having to spell it out for you?"

Ignoring the jab at her intelligence, she stares at him in confusion.

What could he mean by connect the dots? How has anything he's said in any way related? He's only talked about the spell, and she can't see the importance of that.

But that's just it, isn't it? Why would he chose that spell to study so extensively on when there are so many others. And what's more, why share that knowledge with her?

Perhaps she's missed something. Or maybe he hasn't explained it as well as he thought he did. The only thing she can truly make out of the information he gave her was the extent of his knowledge on the spell.

It hits her then, practically slamming her in the face.

Hermione slaps a hand to her mouth, muddling her gasp, and turns wide eyes on him.

It can't possibly be true. She would have noticed something like that. She would have seen someone place the spell on him. He'd been living with her, for Merlin's sake! No one could have gotten to him without her notice. It would have had to have happened before he came to her home. But how long ago? And who had cast it?

"Draco, I-" she isn't sure what she plans to say, so she stops there.

Draco grins wryly. "Sympathetic now, are we?" He doesn't say it with cruelty, hadn't meant it harshly at all, but she winces as if he had said it to hurt her.

Hermione finds her voice. "I never knew. I never thought someone could actually use the spell, let alone on you, of all people," she whispers.

She reaches for him, but Draco is already lurching forward, pressing her back against the railing. A yelp slips out when she finds herself trapped as his arms come down on either side, capturing her between them. He doesn't touch her. Gulping, Hermione looks up. His face is guarded, showing nothing. Not even in his eyes can she see the meaning behind his actions.

"You don't have to worry. I'm fine now. The curse was lifted thanks to the weasel. Probably the only thing he managed to do right in his entire existence," he snarls the last part.

Frowning, she questions, "isn't the spell permanent?"

With her distraction from Weasley, he replies with, "I said the only way to break it was with death."

"And that's what happened when he attacked," she breathes, more to herself than to him.

"Only for a few minutes, but yes, I did die. The curse was broken." He leans close, whispering into her ear. "I'm now free to say what I please and love who I want."

Fighting a shiver, Hermione narrows her eyes. "The girl you love, and don't you dare say you aren't in love, is she here tonight? I can help you, as your friend."

He flinches and pulls away from her completely. "Yes, she's hear tonight," he mumbles, tipping his chin to his chest so she can't see his face anymore.

Outside, Hermione smiles brightly at her friend, pleased to hear that he's found love. Inside, though, some small piece of her shrivels away at his words. He's in love with someone down at the party, she thinks to herself, unsure of why her gut twists and writhes. She shoves the feeling down deep and focuses on him, dragging up a new determination to help him be with the woman he loved.

"What's she like? I can help more if I know her better." She prays she sounds more lighthearted than she feels.

Draco chuckles without mirth, shaking his head in an almost dismissive way. She thinks he might not share, but when he opens his mouth, she wishes that she had been right.

"She's the sunshine after a rainy day," Draco starts, staring somewhere over her shoulder. "Her smile alone can brighten every dark part of my life and fill it with joy. It's a rare smile, her real one, at least. To get the true, heartfelt smile is like winning the greatest prize in the world's most difficult game." He pauses and takes a breath, a pain-filled grin flitting across his lips. "From the top of her head to the tips of her toes, she is the most extraordinary beauty I've had the privilege of laying my eyes on. She's intimidating and demanding and cocky and, frankly, the most intelligent person I've ever known. Her intelligence far exceeds my own and I'm not afraid to say so." When he laughs this time, it's warm and soft.

Hermione wonders who he's picturing now, but stops almost immediately when a pang of hurt starts up in her chest.

"She's so imperfectly perfect and I love every flaw and perfection. She's everything I ever wanted, though I'm sure I mean little to her." He stops again, drawing in a raged breath to his heaving chest. "She's the epitome of everything good and pure and I'm...me. I'm dark and broken and I'll end up hurting her without ever meaning to. She deserves someone so much better, but I'm so damn selfish that I'm afriad I might just steal her for myself and that's why I can't let myself admit anything to her."

He looks her in the eyes. "Have you figured it out yet, Hermione?" He doesn't give her the answer she so desires, leaving her floundering as she's forced to figure it out herself.

Pansy Parkinson? No, the girl is dense as a rock and Draco claims the girl he likes is incredibly smart. Perhaps Astoria Greengrass, then. She'd heard that Draco and Astoria had been together for a while after the war. Astoria is certainly cunning and beautiful. But Astoria isn't in their year. She wouldn't be at the reunion. Flora Carrows? No, she's little more than a person powerful through her connections.

Who is it then? As far as Hermione can tell, there is no one that would really fit his criteria except...

"It's you," Draco finishes, hardly above a whisper, just as Hermione had come to the same conclusion herself.