There were five uses for unicorn hair. Peregrine Fell had deduced that much in all of his studies throughout his life. Hermione Granger, too, had memorized the uses and had reread his autobiography fifteen times in order to fully process and understand each use. The first, and far most common, was wandmaking. Though her own wand was made of dragon heartstring, unicorn hair was the core of her best friend, Ron Weasley's, wand. He was also more often than not her boyfriend. She hated the term. It sounded so primary school.

The war had made them grow up. They were no longer "boys" and "girls," but "witches" and "wizards." Though, the term was better than "wizardfriend" admittedly. And they weren't quite lovers, so that term couldn't be applied either. Snogfriend wasn't... well it wasn't a word, or any proper slang, so she supposed that, however accurate, wasn't what fit them, either. But he liked boyfriend. He liked it when she called him that. Perhaps it was his simple mind that couldn't keep up a constant conversation with her, or maybe it was his lack of interest. He was a boy.

But not even Peregrine Fell could keep her distracted from the anger that came along with thinking of her ginger friend. He was so infuriating. Always picking fights with her, teasing her for going to the library, or making good marks, or doing anything better than him. Why he thought she'd be a Lavender and dumb down so he could be smarter than her, she never knew. It wasn't like she was the type to not be competitive, or ambitious. He knew her better than that, or, at least, she thought he did.

So she had escaped to the library, to the cozy corner that was always where she went, and had lit a small candle and tucked her knees to her chest as she leaned against the stained glass window that overlooked the lake. The book was floating in front of her as she struggled to keep warm with the winter chill, her arms tucked tightly around her legs and her jumper entwined with a heating charm. It didn't seem to help.

"Trouble in paradise?" She didn't need to look over to know who it was. As she moved her wand minimally, the book turned a page. Only one other person had discovered her library hide out, and only because he studied within it as well. In fact, it was his study area at first, and she had invaded. Not intentionally, as they had always stayed here at separate times before. When they discovered that they had been using the same area - for the same amount of time - they had made a civil agreement to share it, as long as no one found out. So she took the window and he took the table. It was an agreement that had come naturally.

"Hell," she corrected. "Far from paradise." Her lips twitched into a smirk much like the one he always wore. "You don't have your bag," she observed with a quick glance in her peripheral vision as she turned yet another page she had already memorized. "Are you here just to interrupt my studies, Draco?"

The white blonde wizard with impossibly blue-gray eyes seemed amused by this. "If by you mean your father, then yes. You already memorized the book. Why you need to know that rubbish is beyond me anyway."

"Some things fascinate me," Hermione returned, turning yet another page as she pulled her legs closer to her. "For instance, I know twenty different ways to sabotage our potion tomorrow without you even noticing. And another thirteen to right it before you even start to panic as it melts the cauldron. Also, there are fifty-seven different elements in which we'll be using, and thirty of them are highly explosive when reacted together. Has Professor Slughorn realized this? Of course. Does he care? No. Why, you may ask. The answer is simple. He believes that in his classroom, his students are stars that are incapable of mishap. You and I, however, know better. With Seamus Finnigan in our class and the chemicals, there is no doubt that at least eighteen of us will be dead by the end of the period."

"Eighteen?" Draco smirked, leaning back on the table and resting his hands on the edge of the surface beside him. "That's a pretty high number."

"That's counting the immediate vacinity around Mr. Finnigan's cauldron and then Seamus and his lab partner themselves. The immediate vacinity is necessary because of the reaction time for them to get out of the way of the blast would be, regretfully, too long for them to properly shield themselves. And that is why you and I will be the only ones to survive our Potions class to the end of term." Hermione glanced at him, daring him to tell her she was wrong. He was wise and didn't.

"Your father does request a chat."

"And I had thought that my incessant rambling may provide a distraction so you forgot," Hermione smirked back, her book shutting as she finished it. She glanced at Draco fully for the first time and noticed that he was only wearing a white button up and black trousers. "Do you know why he wants to talk to me?"

"Do I ever know?" he returned. She had to agree with that. Dropping her legs, she blew out the candle and rose, her arms hugging to herself to keep her warm. "Where's the Boy Wonder and his slobby sidekick?"

"Quidditch," Hermione answered. Her fingers closed around her book and she shoved it on the shelf before she approached Draco. "I suspect they won't be back until just before dinner."

He smirked widely, then, reaching for her wrist and pulling her inches in front of him. His warm breath on her forehead instantly warmed her, and his hand on her wrist made her feel warm on the inside, flushed, and something else. Something great. He tucked a strand of her wavy hair behind her ear. "Have I ever told you that you need to dump Weasley and get done with? I'm much more better looking."

"It'd also give the entire school a heart attack and your reputation would be questionable to those that don't know the truth," she returned. "And you've told me quite frequently."

"Have I ever told you... that I like your hair better this year?"

"Yes," Hermione stated, rolling her eyes. "It's not as bushy, I'm quite aware. You can thank the Weasley twins. Shall I go write them?" She pushed away from him. "We need to be more careful. I may have knicked Harry's map for now, but he'll ask for it back soon." She reached for her bag. "I can't keep going to the Slytherin Common Room."

"We'll have to work something out, then," Draco admitted. He glanced at the expensive watch attached to his wrist, grimacing slightly. "I was supposed to get you to your father three minutes ago. Can we get moving?"

She nodded, shouldering her bag and placing a disillusionment charm over her, keeping her away from prying eyes. It wasn't just the fact that she met with Draco that caused the problem. He was happily dating Astoria Greengrass, not the Gryffindor Princess. Though they did meet in private, it was nothing more than a civil conversation and maybe some conversation that verged on academic debates. She only had the Marauder's Map so that when they met in the library, or when he took her to the Slytherin Common Room to use the Floo, Harry had no knowledge of it. But Harry would ask for it back, soon. It would be suspicious if she kept it for longer than necessary, in his eyes. As far as he was aware, it was just for late night excursions to the library.

She hated to lie to Harry, but that was a must. If he ever knew the real reason... She was screwed, Draco was screwed, everything was rubbish.

"Superiority," Draco stated to the portrait before the girl was allowed through. Ever since second year, when Harry and Ron had polyjuiced themselves to be Vincent and Gregory, and they described the Common Room vividly, she had a deep fascination with it. She hadn't seen it with her own eyes until the beginning of the year, her sixth. The windows didn't look out into the forest, but instead the Black Lake. If one squinted, the giant squid could be visible floating past in the murkey water. It almost made her wish she was in the Slytherin house, just so she could stare into the water's depths daily. Perhaps she'd frequent the windows more than the library?

"Oi, look, Granger's here," someone said from across the room. Hermione glanced in that direction and spotted Blaise Zabini, a dark skinned Italian with a proclivity in Arithmancy, just as Hermione did. They had been partners previously and were on the verge of friends before everything had happened this year. He wasn't a bad guy, like most of the Slytherins were raised to be. He was a romantic, more interested in literature and history and arts than the Dark magic that his classmates were learning. He hadn't taken the Mark as most of the sixth and seventh year Slytherins had. He claimed neutrality in the war, but would help his fellow Slytherins if needed in anything. Hermione had been able to save him from forcibly taking the Mark, something he would be eternally grateful for.

"And Zabini's catching up with the ladies, it seems," Hermione returned, a small smile on her lips. It was true. Daphne, Astoria's elder sister, was playing chess across from him, her white blonde hair draping down the side of the table as she leaned against it. Pansy was sitting besides Blaise, getting help on her Arithmancy homework. She knew he held no interest in either of them, despite Hermione constantly insisting that he and Daphne would be extraordinary together. They were practically the same person, just Daphne was female and Blaise obviously male.

"No time for chit-chat, Granger," Draco snapped, shoving her forward until she reached the blazing fireplace that was four times wider than that in the Gryffindor Common Room. It was the only source of light in the Slytherin Common Room, and it was Hermione's favorite place to curl up and read. It was so warm, all the time. The Floo had long ago been charmed by a few brilliant seventh years so that the Floo could be used without detection from Dumbledore. It was times like this that she was forever grateful for those Slytherins. She knelt before the fire, seeing the figure in it already waiting for her. Sticking her head into the flames, she was in the Floo call immediately, the serpentine face watching her.

"I have been waiting," he hissed.

"I know, and I apologize," Hermione winced. "I got caught up at the library. Madame Pince was being very watchful."

"See to it that you don't get caught up again. I can't wait for little children for hours on end," he snapped. His brilliant red eyes matched that of the fire and his pale, paper white skin reminded Hermione of the books she so desperately clung to her entire life. Refusing to take the bait, she waited patiently for the Dark Lord to get to the point of their meet. "The Christmas hollidays are soon approaching."

"They are," Hermione admitted carefully. "I've received an invitation to the Burrow."

"Decline," the Dark Lord said simply. "Also..." A wicked gleam appeared in his eyes before his lips contorted into a ghost of a smile. "Do what you must to get Potter to come to your Muggle home over the hollidays. I have plans for him."

Hermione ignored the gut wrenching feeling she was getting in her stomach. "The Order would never allow-"

"Then you make them allow it," the Dark Lord hissed. Hermione suspected that if he had nostrels, they'd be flaring. "Nemesis will arrive tomorrow morning with the outline," he said, referring to the owl he had gifted Hermione with just over the summer. "I expect it to be followed exactly... However, the part that must be completed before midnight tonight is you getting Potter to join you at your residence for the hollidays. Convince the Mudbloods later, but you must make him arrive at your Muggle home." She knew that would be next to impossible. "The Order need not know."

"They'll notice if he doesn't go to the Burrow, but he's on the train," Hermione reasoned.

"You'll think of a way," the Dark Lord said, complete faith in her. "You are, afterall, my daughter." Hermione hadn't forgotten. It was all she could think about since she had been informed of the news over the summer. The Dark Lord had ingrained it into her memory, and she had to do her part to act like she accepted it. "I do find blonde hair a very alluring trophey these days, my dear, don't you?" The Malfoys, then, were what was at stake. Maybe not Draco, nor Narcissa - they were too valuable to Draco's mission - but Lucius would be who he would harm for her to obey. And she and Lucius had becoming friends, if that.

He was just as teriffied as she was. "It will be done."

He was gone before she could utter a word of departure and she pulled out, biting her lip as she felt eyes on her. "What do you have to do?" Draco asked.

She stood, brushing her clothes of soot and faced the house that she had grown closer to. They treated her like she was a different person now, like she was some goddess. Hermione hated it, but she did nothing against it. She couldn't. They were good people to know. They protected her, they laughed with her, they respected her intelligence and didn't mooch off of it like Ron did, or very rarely Harry. They asked for help, if they needed it, and she taught them - and they listened. Though, she supposed none of her friends didn't do that. Neville listened as well and was a rather skilled learner, he just needed the confidence. And Dean was ... he was quiet, not at all dumb, and he asked for help and used the knowledge. She would say Dean was her favorite of the Gryffindor house just for that reason.

"Any idea how I can sneak Potter to my house?" Hermione asked casually. "Without the Order or Dumbledore finding out?"

Draco whistled, "Well... That's nearly impossible."

"Precisely," she muttered. She sank down into the sofa, where she had absently discarded her bag, and stared at the murky windows. "It would never work. I couldn't take him on the train with me and then take him home... Never in a million years would the Order allow him to be in my home unprotected. I'm just one witch. And then there's the Dumbledore factor. He's either too observant or he knows who I am. And I can't have the latter... So the former would be the best, but I still couldn't get Harry with it. I'm almost thinking I snog Harry, get it over with, and tell Ron that my parents want to meet him instead of my actual boyfriend."

"Would that work?"

"Considering Harry thinks of me as just his best friend, probably not," Hermione admitted. She groaned and covered her face with her hands. "I could kidnap him, I suppose. But then I'd have Aurors after me." She scrunched up her nose as she dropped her hands. "Ideas, people, are greatly welcomed."

"Sleep with him," Pansy stated, looking up from her homework, grateful for the distraction. "You both get really drunk tonight, right, and you just run off and sleep together... and then you make a promise that he comes over. And there you go."

She shook her head. "Harry doesn't sleep around. And I've never seen him drunk once in five and a half years. Too far fetched, but a good last resort."

"Ugh, you'd sleep with Potter?" Draco sneered, giving her a look of disdain. "I realize you're a Gryffindor, but do you all have low standards?"

She ignored the bash at her house. "I said it was a last resort." She glanced at Blaise and Daphne. "You two?"

"Tell him you need to bring a boy home," Daphne shrugged. "You're so prude that it's believable your parents are worried about you turning nun or monk or something. Whatever your Muggles call a religion."

"And it's obvious why Weasley can't go," Blaise continued. "He's never stepped foot in the Muggle world. He'd probably blow up the house trying to use the toaster."

"Muggles have machines that make toasts at celebrations?" Draco asked, confused.

"Do you ever pay attention in Muggle studies, mate?" Blaise laughed. He gave Hermione a pointed look. "See what I mean? Weasley would be useless."

"I like it," Hermione nodded carefully. But there was one problem. "The Order."

"You tell the truth. Your parents heard some great misfortune about Potter and want him over. You let them ward your house, patrol it, whatever. Your father doesn't even have to knock on the door to get in anyway. You have a fireplace in that panic room of yours."

It was true. Her parents had installed it because they were always gone and leaving Hermione on her own. When crime had reached a peak in the neighborhood, they had taught her how to use it. It would work.

"The Order doesn't know about it," Hermione agreed. She rose from her seat, grabbing her bag. Tucking her hair back, she fixed her clothing. "Thank you, all of you. What would I do without you?"

"So are you going to sleep with Potter or not? Because if you are, I expect you to tell me how good he is in the sack," Pansy stated. "You gave Blaise an eight."

Hermione blushed. She wasn't exactly promiscuous, but that didn't mean the Slytherins happened to rub off some of their traits on her. Not literally, of course. She had just been delighted to have been invited to a party at the Room of Requirement where they had gotten her right drunk and she had been a bit bolder than normal and she had snogged - and gone a lot farther - with Blaise Zabini. They didn't talk about it. Not because it was bad - opposite, really - but because there wasn't much to talk about.

"And I heard Krum was a seven," Blaise stated off handedly.

"Krum?" Daphne said in disbelief. "You slept with Viktor Krum."

"She likes Quidditch players," Blaise told the blonde across from him. "They're very good with their hands." Hermione groaned, rolling her eyes as she moved away from them all. "Oi, I'd try sleeping with Potter tonight, anyway!"

"You lot are embarrassing to be around," Hermione insisted. "We'll see," she ammended, though she knew her and Harry weren't getting close to each other like that. There simply wasn't anything between them. "And if anything does happen, Pansy will be the first to know." Daphne smirked. "Which means you'll all know in two seconds, after."

"And we'll meet in the Room of Requirement for details," Daphne said off-handedly as she moved a chess piece. "Checkmate."

She approached the Common Room door, placing a disillusionment charm around herself once more. "And I'm not prude, so don't even try it, Daphne." The door slammed shut behind her and Hermione grew silent, the pool of dread in her stomach feeling more like a hurricane. She'd have to bring Harry to her house, but she couldn't put him in danger. She couldn't just give him up to... to her father. She had to do something else. If she failed, Lucius was dead. She had to take her time and be cautious. She had to... she had to bring Harry to her house and escape before he could do something.

She needed to prepare.

It was nearly dinner time when she got back and the boys were walking down from their Common Room, hair wet from their showers and their clothing changed to their jumpers.

"Blimey, we were just about to wonder where you went," Ron exclaimed. He gave her a sloppy kiss on the cheek and she grimaced slightly. Was he ever just... just not obnoxious? She reached to put her bag down, as Ron had already ducked out of the portrait to go to dinner. Harry's hand took it from her instead, setting it down on the large wing back chair by the fireplace.

"He's just hungry."

"He's always hungry," Hermione muttered. Harry tried to smile apologetically, but she shook her head. "Look, Harry, I have a very serious question to ask you."

"I can't tell you what Dumbledore and I are doing at lessons, Hermione," Harry sighed, turning away from her as he approached the portrait.

"I know!" Hermione said exasperated. "I wasn't going to ask-" but she still did want to know. "It's about my parents. They..." She grimaced as if saying it was putting a bad taste in her mouth, when in actuality she hated lying to him. "They want me to bring someone for Christmas holidays. Of course, I can't bring Ron... He would blow my house up with just a phonecall." Harry laughed. "So... Do you want to spend Christmas holidays with me?" She bit her lip. "Mum and Dad have a movie outing planned, and a few other things like sledding and ... I'm asking you because I know how Ron gets in the Muggle world and he wouldn't last three days before he wanted to go to the Burrow."

"Yeah, sure," Harry shrugged. "I mean, the Order won't like it, but-"

"They can ward my house or whatever, but I really need to bring someone over for holidays this year. They miss not seeing me every so often." Truth was that they probably hadn't noticed much. They saw her just as much as they did before she started at Hogwarts. "We have a guest room, and you wouldn't need to pay for anything. It'd just be a Christmas party with my relatives, if it even comes to that. My parents don't get on well with them. What do you say?"

"Ron finds out, he'll blow up," Harry warned, running a hand through his messy hair. Hermione caught a spark in his green eyes though. He liked the Muggle world. He liked it because he wasn't Harry Potter in it. He wasn't some savior and nothing great was expected of him. She knew that, even if he didn't say it. He liked the Muggle world because he wasn't always on guard, he was able to be himself. She hated the thought of ruining that for him.

"I'm thinking last minute," Hermione admitted. "Like as we're getting off the train." Harry laughed at the apprehensive look she was giving the idea. Gryffindor bravery wouldn't extend her that far as to tell him right away.

"Or after dinner," Harry suggested. Harry's Gryffindor bravery would.

She grimaced. That soon? "Alright. But you tell him you're coming over. I'll just tell him I'm not going to the Burrow."

"Why me?" Harry muttered, fixing his glasses that rested at the bridge of his nose. She wondered what he'd look like if he got contacts. Not even contacts, but if his glasses weren't round. A different frame may make him look different. Harry was always handsome, of course, but she wondered how much would change. The way someone looked affected confidence. She had always been shy and mousy because of her exterior mousy appearance.

"Because," Hermione insisted, glancing towards the fireplace, "you are the one that agreed. And you're his best friend."

"And you're his girlfriend," Harry pointed out. "Precisely why you should-"

"And have him accuse me of cheating on him? No thanks," Hermione snorted. "He already thinks I slept with Dean because I helped him on his charms homework and he thanked me the next morning at breakfast." She had watched Ron get purple faced as Dean said, 'Thanks for last night, Hermione. I don't know what I would have done without you.' Though, Hermione gathered that her response of 'I'm sure you would have been able to handle it yourself, but I'm more than happy to help' was not the best she could have come up with. And then Ron had exploded as Dean walked away to join Lavender, Seamus, and Neville at the other end of the table, Pavarti appearing just seconds later. The entire school had witnessed the scene but Hermione had let him yell at her and make an idiot of himself as she just calmly replied - once he finished insulting her - that she had helped him on his essay and caught him up on a few notes he neglected to write down.

Dean had began to apologize about the misunderstanding but Hermione stopped him, insisting that he needn't because it wasn't his fault Ron was as thick as a brick wall.

Harry grimaced, remembering as well. "Alright. I'll do it."

She smiled brightly, taking his arm as she pulled him out of the portrait. "That's the spirit. Gryffindor bravery. You're well adept at throwing yourself to the wolves."

"He's going to be angry, you realize," Harry sighed, fixing his glasses as they slid down his nose.

"You're spoiling the good mood, Harry," she chided, though she knew that she had too much to think about to even stay in a good mood in the first place.