----
"Books don't change people, paragraphs do. Sometimes even sentences."
~John Piper
----

Draco was reading through his collection of prized alchemy and potions books. He would beat Hermione at it. He would beat her at it so splendidly that she would regret challenging him. Who did she think she was? Did she really think that she could beat him, the great Draco Malfoy, at a game related to potions? He hadn't been top of the N.E.W.T class right alongside her for nothing.

"Draco, come on, will you?"

"I'm reading."

Astoria made an exasperated face and turned to Blaise and Pansy as if to say can you believe him?

"You promised to go out with us today," Pansy said curtly, looking down at Draco with suspicion evident in her gaze. 

"I did, but," Draco sighed and ran a hand over his face, finally looking up from his book, "I'm not feeling that well anyways."

"You've probably caught muggleborn germs," Pansy sniffed snootily. Apparently Astoria had told both Blaise and Pansy about Draco having to work with Hermione Know-It-All Granger. Blaise fixed his collar, and Pansy went on, "I told you to stop working there."

Draco willed himself not to react harshly, "Was an entire war not enough to change your views?"

Astoria stared at him with her mouth hanging open, while Blaise looked confoundedly at Astoria.  

"Let's just leave him all by his lonesome," Blaise said, standing up and heading to the door of the flat. Pansy followed, not sparing Draco a second glance. Astoria looked at him one last time with a question in her eyes, then followed the other two.

Once the door was closed, Draco laid his book down and pinched the bridge of his nose. His mind clouded with frustration and pent up anger, and he wished he had a way to let it all out. 

He and Astoria had been forcibly engaged after the war by their parents. Lucius and Narcissa wanted to get back the Malfoy family's lost grandeur, and the Greengrasses wanted access to the Malfoy vaults. Hence the arrangement. Draco had had no choice but to agree. He was not happy, but it was what he needed to do for his parents. 

He did not love Astoria. They were friends, yes. But he did not love her in the way that was required of him. 

He knew very well that Astoria felt exactly the same way. Only, her way of coping was different. She pretended to be in love with him. She displayed physical affection, she went out with him and she spent time with him in hopes of one day convincing herself that what they had was real. Draco knew that , and he understood, he really did. Every time he behaved in the way he had just a few moments previously, it made things more difficult for her. 

Draco picked the book up again in hopes to forget his worries, atleast for some time. 

As he read, making mental notes of all the interesting things he came across, he thought of Hermione Granger. 

She was the most annoying, irritating, know it all bookworm in the entire world. He would never let an opportunity to get rid of her hair in any way pass by him. Nd that stupid defiance in her eyes whenever he insulted her that plainly said she wasn't as affected by his words as she had once been.

They bickered continually, had a fierce competition in everything Mr. Blak asked them to do, and their arguments were stimulating and exhausting to the mind due to the need of coming up with speedy insults. Draco found that, while he worked at the apothecary and argued with Hermione, his other worries lifted from his shoulders momentarily.  Unknowingly, she had helped him ease his worries.

But they weren't friends. That was never going to happen.

Aha, that was one thing that would undoubtedly be unknown to her. 

He would show her just who was more knowledgeable. 

Knowing that his friends and fiancée wouldn't be back until midnight, when they would be completely drunk, Draco decided to take a walk in the park. 

It wasn't a grand or highly elegant park like the ones he had been used to visiting as a child. It was just across the street from the apartment building where he had his own flat, and was one of his most frequent haunts. He had even become acquainted with a cat who often prowled amongst the strolling people.

Draco wrapped his prized black woollen scarf around his neck and stowed his wand in his pocket. Down the corridor, down the flights of stairs, and out into the chilly night he went.

He puffed out a breath as he crossed the street, stepping nimbly onto the sidewalk on the other side. 

He spent a long time strolling along the path, watching other people. The buzzing of insects filled the air, and occasionally a gust of wind would cause the leaves of the trees to rustle. A family of three were laying on a blanket over one of the grassy dunes. The child was placing blades of grass on the father's head, while the mother laughed. The cat Draco had taken a liking to darted towards him, making sure to weave through his legs once before continuing on its way. Draco smiled fondly at its retreating form. 

To anyone who passed him, he would look as though he was leisurely strolling. But he was doing just the opposite. His mind was teeming with thoughts, each fighting against the other to come to the forefront, only to be pushed back by other thoughts. 

Theodore had once again repealed to Draco for financial needs. This was the third time Theo had had to crush his pride and come to Draco for assistance. Draco had, of course, agreed. Theo was struggling to pay off the maintenance of the Nott estate. He had no job, because nobody wanted to employ him after Nott Senior had been revealed as indebted to pay heaps of taxes.

Draco's father wasn't well. He had been released from Azkaban the year before, and was now living in the Manor. His health looked to be steadily declining. His mother was left to herself on most days. Draco went to visit on some weekends. Sometimes Astoria went along. 

Thinking of Astoria worsened his headache, and he pressed his hands into his temples as he walked. 

He knew he was making things more difficult than they already were. But could he really help it? 

His ears caught the sound of merry laughter a little ahead of him. He recognised that voice, unless he was very mistaken-

Her brown, bushy hair was not exactly unnoticeable, even in the dark. There was a scarf wrapped around her throat, and one of her arms was around the shoulders of who Draco instantly recognised as Ronald Weasley. 

They were talking and laughing rather loudly. Something stirred weakly inside Draco, as though begging to be given attention. 

At that moment, Hermione happened to glance back over her shoulder. 

"Hey- Malfoy!" 

Both she and Ron turned around. 

Draco thought of greeting her the same way she had greeted him. But he decided against it.

He scowled. 

Her smile from laughing moments ago faltered. 

"Malfoy," Ron said, eyeing him cautiously. He seemed mildly surprised that Hermione and Draco were on speaking terms. 

"Weasley," Draco said, ignoring Hermione. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw her smile disappear completely. 

He didn't want to speak with her in front of her friends and other people. People were sure to speculate. And he was sure she wouldn't appreciate him talking with her in public either. 

Still, perhaps he ought to have said something to her too. 

"How come you two are here?" Draco asked instead, keeping his eyes fixed on Ron. 

"Oh, we - us and Harry and Ginny - were out for a stroll," Ron said slowly, and although there was no loathing or anger in his voice, he still sounded unsure, "They asked us to leave them alone for a bit, so- there they are, I think."

He pointed to two people stood under a tree a long way ahead of them, clearly snogging. Draco wrinkled his nose. 

"So, how come you two -" Ron asked, turning his head to look at Hermione, while vaguely waving his hands through the air. 

"We're frie-"

"We're colleagues," Draco said, speaking over Hermione. She threw him a strange look. 

"'Mione, you never said anything about having to work with him," Ron said, his voice still oddly devoid of any negative emotion other than bewilderment.

Draco finally turned to look at Hermione. She was already looking at him. 

Then, she shook her head, "He's nothing important."

Draco's scowl deepened. 

Ron looked from Hermione to Draco and back to Hermione, as though trying to understand what had actually happened. 

"Come on, Ron," Hermione said, lacing her arm through his. She looked coldly at Draco, "See you at work."

Hermione pulled Ron away before Draco could respond. 

What was the matter with her? Usually she didn't mind not speaking with him at all. And now she had become so bitter just because he hadn't greeted her. And she had thrown his own words back at him. As if she really cared whether or not they spoke to each other. As if-

Then it struck Draco. 

He had been colossally ungrateful. She had taken pains to cheer him up in the afternoon. And it had worked splendidly (not that he would ever tell her that) And here he was being an ungrateful brat.

He watched Hermione and Ron reach the tree under which Harry and Ginny had been snogging, before the four set off together. 

Draco swallowed. He should have said something to her, just out of courtesy if nothing else.

Their forms grew smaller in the distance. Soon they went around a clump of trees and out of sight. 

Draco flexed his fingers semi-consciously. 

Then he furiously kicked a pebble and continued walking. Who was she to him? Nobody important. Nobody at all.

Draco took several more rounds around the park with a stormy expression on his face, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, thinking, thinking. 

When he reached home, he found a note left from Astoria. 

You weren't there when I came back. I had to go home. See you tomorrow. Love you.

Draco crumpled the note up. He was sick of seeing such lies. He was sick of her pretending that those lies were true. 

He tossed the note into the waste paper basket. Since he wasn't particularly hungry, he prepared himself a glass of milk and grabbed an apple. 

Perhaps he could cut slack on his fact tomorrow and let Hermione win the first point to make it up to her. 

He bit a large chunk out of the apple and took a swig of milk.

Never in a million years was he going to apologise verbally to her. He shuddered at the thought. 

He racked his brain for a way to apologise without her completely realising that he had apologised. 

Draco recalled that there had been several splinters all over her arms the day she had made the St Mungo's delivery. Out of experience, he knew how painful splinter cuts were, and how unusually long they took to heal. 

But then she would think he was giving it to her with repentance. 

He wasn't repenting anything. He just didn't like a guilty conscience anymore. 

Draco downed his glass and stood up. He finished his apple as fast as he possibly could, and tossed the core into the dustbin. It bounced off the sides twice, giving off loud thumps each time, before settling at the bottom over Astoria's note. 

Draco's eyes lingered on his overflowing bookcase. 

Deciding that he wasn't really sleepy, he grabbed a book off the shelf and sat down to read. 

Reading was almost the only thing he really enjoyed doing. It allowed him to escape into worlds which were full of happy endings, or pain and suffering that wasn't his. On occasions when he had been his worst, he had taken savage pleasure in reading about people who suffered. He felt reassured by the fact that he wasn't the only one who had to face problems. It was a way out of reality. A way to momentary peace. 

Draco read and read until his eyes burned and he could read no more. At around two in the morning, he fell asleep on the couch.