Hermione scowled. Perhaps she could send Pansy a doll for Christmas. It would be the same principle.

She slid on her denims after staring too long at a pale blue dress, and chose a new grey t-shirt that seemed innocuous enough — until she realized the neck dipped lower than she'd expected.

Rolling her eyes, Hermione stomped to her bathroom and began drying her hair. She spent the whole day in the library, yanking up her t-shirt, though no one was looking.

~*~

Draco returned on Sunday evening. Hermione had allowed herself a long walk in the late summer air to organize her thoughts. She was just coming in from the outdoors when the Floo burst to life. She yelped, jumping as the fire roared, and a figure stepped through it.

She stood frozen as he patted down his robes and ran a hand through his blond hair. Then his head turned.

"Granger." His hand dropped away. His fingers twitched.

She blinked back at him. "Malfoy."

He took a step towards her, his eyes running over her quickly, landing on the breezy knee-length skirt she was wearing.

"What's that?"

She looked down at herself, fingers brushing the fabric. "A skirt."

"Where did you get it?"

She arched a brow at him. "Pansy replaced my wardrobe. Against my will."

His eyes popped. "All of it?"

"Just about." Irritation pricked her skin as she watched him frown down at her. "Are you a purveyor of women's fashion, Draco? Should I run my wardrobe choices by you?"

His eyes snapped to hers before looking away, a blush rising to his cheekbones.

"Not at all. I was just..." He waved his hand. "Caught off guard." He looked around the entrance hall, searching for an escape. "I'm going to find Mother."

"You'll fill me in on Italy tomorrow, yes?" she called after him. He stopped on the first stair.

"I'll find you after breakfast," he said, still not facing her.

"I meant during our practice session."

An expansion of his ribs, then a slow turn back to her, as if meeting the executioner. "Granger, you can't be serious about continuing—"

"Absolutely I am." She waited for his reply, folding her arms. His eyes dropped to her skirt once.

"Look," she said tightly. "I know going to Italy wasn't your choice, but I've been locked away for months. I know you think I'm a stupid Gryffindor with a hero complex—"

"Granger—"

"Please, let me finish."

His gaze flickered, and he closed his mouth.

"What I mean to say is that I need to be at Edinburgh. I need to be able to move around there. I need to—" She swallowed. "…to play the game a bit better." She thought of Cho and Charlotte. Of Pansy's insistence that she wasn't just another prize to bid on, but the prize. She tilted her chin up. "My place shouldn't be in the background."

His eyes jerked up from her clavicles. "So what does that make me? Your little pet who runs around cleaning up your messes?"