My days were suddenly too busy. When I wasn't in class, doing homework, or practicing Occlumency, I was lying my way around my secrets and trying not to look too suspicious. Thankfully, Hermione was taking some of the burden off me by pulling her strange disappearing and reappearing acts, though that left a lot on my mind too.

I avoided Malfoy as much as I could, and wouldn't talk to him in Potions no matter how much he tried. I tried to spend time with Dean but my mind wasn't really there, and I think he was starting to catch on.

"Lila?"

I blinked back into the present. He was literally sitting right beside me, and there I'd gone, so busy thinking about how distant I've been that I'd forgotten he was there. I was very thankful in that moment that Dean was not a Legilimens.

"Dean," I said his name in response, smiling apologetically. "Sorry."

"Don't apologize," Dean patted my hand comfortingly. "We all can be a bit spacey sometimes. Just wanted to remind you that you have detention in ten minutes. You hadn't moved — I figured you'd forgotten."

"You're so right," I checked the clock with dread. Alone with Malfoy for two hours. I couldn't avoid talking to him now. I begrudgingly stood. "I'll be back, then. Thanks, Dean."

"Lila?" His voice made me turn. He seemed suddenly very serious, and his eyes betrayed his concern. "You know you can always talk to me. About anything at all, right?"

I swallowed. "I — yes. I know. Thank you."

"I don't want you to feel like you have to keep anything from me," Dean said, though something in his eyes pleaded with me. "Above all, I'm your friend. You can trust me, Lila."

Tentatively, I stepped forward. I opened and closed my mouth, not sure what to say. Finally, I opted for nothing, and just leaned forward and swept him into a hug.

"You really mean a lot to me, Dean," I told him. "Thank you for everything."

He couldn't know. As much as he promised, I wouldn't run the risk of my secret ruining our friendship. I'd never forgive myself, and maybe he'd never forgive me.

"Anything I can do for you, Lila, I'll do it." He replied to me. "Now you'll be late if I keep you any longer. Try not to kill each other."

Despite my woes, I smiled. "No promises."

I met Malfoy again outside the supply closet. Snape took our wands and locked us in, and while Malfoy tried to talk to me I went right to work.

"Holmes, I really think we should—"

"You start with the first thirteen letters and I'll go backwards from Z." I interrupted. "We can meet in the middle at M, deal?"

He was silent for a blissful moment before he furrowed his brow at me. "Wouldn't going backwards be a lot harder than—"

"Why do you think I gave you the easy job, Malfoy?"

He growled frustratedly. "Why are you being difficult?"

I couldn't help but scoff. "Why am I being difficult? I bet it's like looking in a mirror for you."

It was our second week in detention, though nowhere close to our last. There were thousands of ingredients still all over the floor, and it was difficult enough finding the ingredients before even thinking about sorting them.

I began at the bottom shelf on the rightmost wall and Malfoy began at the top shelf on the leftmost wall. We worked mostly in silence, aside from a few snappy remarks here and there.

I glanced over after a beat of silence. "You put an AJ before an AI."

Malfoy irritably switched the two jars. "Have you seen his handwriting? They look the same. It was an accident."

"Right. Speaking of accidents, you're missing an AC," I said, holding up a jar of dead accordion beetles. "Why don't you just gather up all the A items first and then sort them? You're wasting time constantly rearranging them."

"I'm doing just fine, thank you," he scowled at me, even though I was two letters ahead of him with the 'hard job.' "Worry about your own letters. And hand me those beetles."

He climbed down a few rungs and held his hand out demandingly. I decided I wouldn't comment on his manners and placed the jar into his hands.

"I'm just saying," I rolled my eyes. "You're supposed to gather all the evidence and then decide what you do with it. If you just keep switching it around when you find more—"

"Is everything a mystery with you?" He looked at me exasperatedly. "My Merlin how can anyone stand you—"

"You're not the most agreeable person yourself," I countered, crossing my arms and watching him as he climbed back up the ladder with the beetles.

"I'm not sure what's been up with you as of late." He said, his back turned to me. "You tolerated me just fine months ago."

"You weren't acting like a prick months ago," I told him flatly. "And I'm not sure why it matters. I thought we weren't friends."

"Holmes—" he sighed long and hard. "Would you stop saying that? You know that's not what I meant."

I could feel an angry heat start to flush my cheeks. "What else could you possibly have meant, Malfoy?"

"I meant I'm not like you, or Granger, or Golden Boy Potter, or Merlin forbid Weasley." He climbed down the ladder and leaned against it to level me with his eyes. "You and I aren't meant to associate with each other. There's too much — conflict."

"Says who?" I asked him.

"Everyone." He replied immediately, silver eyes flashing. "Let's be honest. Your friends won't let you get any closer to me or they'll ostracize you. My friends would do the same. But it's not their fault, really, it's just history."

I sorted a few more ingredients, unsure how to reply. I knew he was right, in a way. But he was also so, so wrong. "Only cowards are content to leave things how they are."

"I never said I was." He scoffed, now insistent. "I wish it was different. I," he paused. "Well I like you. And as mad as you make me sometimes you're really the only one that gets me."

My hand slipped on a jar in surprise and I steadied it. Control yourself, I thought, as hope started to rise in my chest.

"But think of what our friends would say if they were here right now, listening to us talk." Malfoy continued. "Think about what they'd do if they heard me say that."

"They aren't, Malfoy." I finally turned to look at him, stepping over jars to move closer. "It's just us. They can't do anything. And even if they were, it wouldn't matter, because I like you too."

I handed him his next jar, feeling his cold hand next to mine. "I don't know why that has to be such a crime."

Potions had been much less awkward from then on. I was hoping Professor Snape would notice and take us out of detention, but he acted as if nothing had changed. Maybe he just needed people to organize his storage closet and detention was an excuse.

We'd been tending to Flobberworms in Care of Magical Creatures. Despite my efforts, Malfoy was still wearing his stupid sling.

"No harm no foul, Holmes." He told me slyly. "Get it, because another word for a bird is a fowl—"

"What if that was my final straw?" I was tempted to rip his cast off myself.

"Lila!" Harry called me over to his and Ron's Flobberworm tank. Malfoy made a face at me as I walked away, but I rolled my eyes at him.

"Harry," I greeted him. "What is it?"

"I just remembered. The Dursleys are sending over the terrarium tonight, so I can help you set it up if you'd like," he told me. Then, lowering his voice, he added. "Also I wanted to pull you away from Malfoy. I'm not sure how you managed to get paired up with him and Pansy, but I felt bad."

"It's not horrible," I said truthfully. In fact, I was rather enjoying watching the two of them bicker. After being with them for a while, I could tell that they did really care for each other and had been friends a long time. They reminded me a little of Ron and Hermione, but if I were to tell either pair about that they'd both probably freak out on me.

My next Occlumency lesson went just about as well as the first. Professor Snape seemed disappointed, snappier than usual about my progress. I was starting to feel as though Wednesdays would become disheartening.

It's was bearable, though, because Dean and Neville and Seamus were always together in the common room afterward to cheer me up — Ron and Harry would sometimes be there too. Hermione was always working, and it became part of my nighttime routine to tell her to go to bed. Sometimes I was successful, other times I was not — usually these were the nights I was too worn out from my own long days to argue.

Detention started to feel like less of a punishment. Malfoy and I made some more progress in our third, though we also talked a lot.

"I like having conversations with you." Malfoy admitted about halfway through. "All Blaise ever wants to talk about is whoever he fancies each week."

I chuckled. "I know how it feels. That's why Hermione and I try to limit our time with Parvati and Lavender."

"I don't understand everyone's sudden obsession with romance," Malfoy scoffed. "Blaise wasn't bad before this year. I reckon I just don't think about girls the way he does."

A strange thought suddenly struck me.

"Oh." I began casually. "Are you—"

Malfoy seemed to understand where I was going, and quickly interrupted. "No, that's not what I meant." He paused. "Well—" then he shook his head. "No, I do like girls." Another awkward pause. "Obviously."

This made me turn around to look at him. His back was to me, but his ears were flushed pink. "Obviously?"

"Shut up." He huffed, climbing down for another jar. "I do like girls. I just put in the effort trying to attract as many of them as I can — I think it's a waste of time for everyone involved."

His response was satisfying to hear. Even though Dean and I were toeing the line of "more than just friends," his outlook on fancying people was very similar to mine. Usually I'd had trouble getting on with other people my age because of it, but Malfoy understood. Of all people.

"So you've fancied somebody before?" I asked him.

"Daphne, when we were younger." He admitted. "Not anymore, though. We don't really talk much."

"What about now?" I hazarded, curiosity getting the better of me.

He shot me a glare. "Not your business."

I grinned and pushed anyway. "What if I told you who I fancy—"

He scoffed to interrupt me. "Oh, everybody knows that it's Thomas. Neither of you could make it any more obvious." He climbed back up the ladder. "Either way, it wouldn't matter. Just know that she wants nothing to do with me."

We worked in silence for a few moments after that. Still, I was feeling optimistic for Malfoy. He wasn't bad looking, and clearly he respected other girls as people (the bare minimum, but I digress). If he fancied another Slytherin girl, surely she could get past the typical pure-blood supremacy.

Then again, something in me said that wasn't right. He should be with somebody that makes him think, that wants him to grow. I felt strangely proud thinking about how much he'd changed — I didn't want any relationship to flourish between him and a girl that would leave him content with the mentality his family had drilled into him.

I didn't know nearly as much about Malfoy as his Slytherin friends did, but I knew enough to know he was good at heart. If he let somebody in as close as he had me, surely another girl could easily think the same.

"How could you possibly know that?" I asked him.

He nearly fell off the ladder in surprise — it had been silent before I'd said anything.

"Quit startling me like that! If I'd fallen and landed in those centipedes—" he shivered. "Eugh. Who decided a creature that small should have that many legs?"

I snickered at his expression. "There are actually species of giant centipedes — Scolependra gigantia — that measure around 10-12 inches in length and are found in the Amazon —"

"Can we get back to who I fancy? I'd rather talk about that." He looked down at me, his face pale but scowling. I laughed.

"I can't believe you're afraid of centipedes," I shook my head. "But alright, if you say so." I studied him for a minute. "Why don't I set you up for Hogsmeade?"

"Why?"

"That's what friends do." I shrugged. "It'll be fun, planning a date."

For some reason, this made him scowl and turn away again. "Don't you have your own to worry about?"

I blinked. I actually had forgotten. "Yeah, I suppose so. But Dean asked me, so he can plan it."

"Right," Malfoy said, seeming eager to move on from the subject. "What do you like about him, anyway? I didn't take him for anything special — no offense."

"He doesn't have to be," I shrugged, organizing more jars. "Well, he is very talented, but that's not a requirement. He's," I paused to find the best word to describe him. "He's safe. And warm —  very kind and understanding. And patient. I think anybody would be lucky to have him."

"You have him," Malfoy reminded me, but something in me disagreed. Despite all the handholding and laughter and meaningful conversations we've shared, I'd never really thought of Dean as mine. We were our own people that just happened to fancy each other.

"I suppose," I said anyway, then went back to sorting ingredients in thoughtful silence.