An Unexpected Connection

Synopsis: Draco and Hermione magically correspond anonymously via an enchanted parchment, confessing their hopes, dreams, and fears to one another starting in their fifth year. A short multi-chapter that was expanded from my one-shot "Anonymity."

A/N: Standard disclaimers apply. I hope you enjoy! Feedback, favorites, and follows welcome! This first chapter will detail Draco's perspective of the events while chapter two will delve into Hermione's perspective. From there we might see one or two more chapters and then an epilogue. Any chapters beyond the first two will likely be significantly shorter than the nearly 10,000 word monstrosities that chapters one and two are. Hermione's perspective (chapter 2) will be up in a few days.

….

Draco Malfoy, only son of Lucius Malfoy and Narcissa Black, heir to the Malfoy estate, fifth year student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, pureblood, and all around red-blooded Slytherin male rolled the quill around in his fingertips with a distinct look of concentration and curiosity. He had purchased the parchment in secret on a trip to Diagon Alley to purchase school supplies for his fifth year at Hogwarts. How he had snuck it past his parents that day, he never knew. It had sat discarded in his trunk for the better part of several weeks when curiosity suddenly got the better of him on a particularly boring Saturday morning. He dipped his quill in enchanted ink and set about putting words down onto the novelty parchment.

Hello.

It seemed like an adequate way to start. It was how one typically began a conversation or an interaction, so why shouldn't he try it out on the parchment? The parchment grew warm under his hand and pulsed as another word took life on the page.

Hi.

Well, this was already turning out to be a riveting conversation, "hello" and "hi". The awkwardness was nauseating and Draco was tempted to push the paper away from him when a sentence appeared, capturing his attention once more.

How are you?

How does one respond to such a mundane question? What does that kind of question even mean? Should he answer truthfully or was it simply an obligatory question? He opted to go with the former and give a truthful response.

I am quite well, term started not that long ago. How are you?

He sincerely hoped that whoever was on the other end of this two-way parchment knew what "term" meant without him needing to clarify. Then again, if the person on the other side didn't understand, they probably weren't worth associating with given a lack of intelligence.

Much the same. What is your name?

Oh good. They understood which meant they were likely a student. He strongly hoped the person on the other end wasn't an adult.

Back to the question of his name. He knew he could've give his real name to whoever was on the other side, so Draco waved his wand over the book on Greek mythology he had been reading, the pages fluttering until they settled on the pre-Heraclean hero, Cadmus, founder and king of Thebes, the first Greek hero, and slayer of dragons. Draco wasn't certain why Cadmus had stuck with him. Perhaps it was simply because he was a hero and his mythology encompassed serpents, dragons, and blazing heroism or perhaps it was because he was frightened of his own monsters and demons and was desperate in some corner of his soul to drive them off.

Cadmus.

I'm Lyra.

Lyra. His own constellation Draco, from where his name was derived, bordered the Lyra constellation to the north. In mythology, Lyra was said to represent the lyre of Orpheus and then when played could charm everything from Gods to people to the very earth itself. He wondered if the choice was intentional, or if she had simply thought the name sounded pretty. He decided to find out.

"Dwell on the beauty of life. Watch the stars, and see yourself running with them." – Cadmus

He wondered if she would understand the quote or simply interpret it as non-sense. He fully expected the latter, but a smile spread across his lips at her response.

"I know that I am mortal by nature, and ephemeral; but when I trace my pleasure the windings to and fro of the heavenly bodies I no longer touch the earth with my feet: I stand in the presence of Zeus himself and take my fill of ambrosia." – Lyra

She not only understood, but she completely blew any expectations he had out of the water.

Ptolemy. I'm impressed. - Cadmus

You quoted Marcus Aurelius. It seemed fitting. How old are you? – Lyra

Again, Draco found himself in awe of the person on the other size of the parchment. She not only understood his reference but also knew who had made the reference. But then, she had asked for his age. What if she was much older than him? He decided that it was important to be honest in case he needed to end this quickly.

Fifteen. – Cadmus

Same. Which school do you attend? – Lyra

He breathed a sigh of relief when she indicated they were the same age. This only served to make her seem more impressive with her knowledge. Of course, she had to ask what school was attending. Draco wasn't certain why he did it, but he decided in that moment to conceal the truth.

Durmstrang. Mum wanted me to attend Hogwarts, but Dad won out eventually. You? – Cadmus

It was only a partial lie, except that his mother had won out of his father. If there was anything that Narcissa Malfoy could be, it was highly persuasive.

Beauxbatons. – Lyra

"Damnit." he swore, aloud. Draco found himself desperately hoping she attended Hogwarts even though their conversation had lasted no more than five minutes. If she had attended Hogwarts he could've found the captivating witch and spoken with her face-to-face. He suddenly found himself intensely curious about the witch on the other side of the parchment, especially because he was unable to see her. He had never really had a conversation before with someone he was unable to see.

What do you look like? – Cadmus

I'm rather petite with brown hair, brown eyes. Nothing special. – Lyra

Draco frowned at the minimalist description of herself as it certainly wasn't much to go on when he tried to imagine her. He frowned even deeper when he saw that she had called herself "nothing special." Could she not see her own brilliance?

"Beauty of whatever kind, in its supreme development, invariably excites the sensitive soul to tears." Anyone who can quote great scholars and philosophers on a whim seems rather special. – Cadmus

"I'm trying to think, don't confuse me with facts." – Lyra

With that, Draco could almost hear her laughter and see the smirk on her face as she quoted Plato. He attempted to conjure an image of her in his mind. Even with the limited information she had provided, she was beyond lovely.

….

Lyra, are you around? I need to talk to you about something. – Cadmus

Draco wrung his hands, waiting for her to reply. He needed her to reply because he wasn't certain he would have the courage to say what he needed to say if he waited much longer. His life had never been a charmed one, but it was beginning to go down-hill much faster than he could've imagined following the resurgence of the Dark Lord.

I'm here. Is everything okay? – Lyra

He breathed a sigh of relief at her fast response and gathered his courage, pressing his quill to the parchment.

Not really. But I need to tell someone and you're the only one I can confide in, right now. – Cadmus

Talk to me. – Lyra

I must pretend to be something I am not in fear of my own life and the lives of my family. I come from a long line of pure-blooded wizards and my parents have fallen under the spell of Y-K-W and the vitriol he spews about muggle-borns. I used to believe it simply because it was how I was raised but I can't say that I support it any more. I'm afraid that before too long, I will be made to take the mark and do all that is required of one in that position. If I run or try and go against them, they will kill me and all those I love. - Cadmus

Draco pulled his fingertips through his hair, waiting with baited breath for her response, fully anticipating she would reject him following his confession. He wasn't certain he could bear her rejection were it to come to pass, but he needed to tell someone and Lyra was the only one who might understand. She was the only one who might not judge him based on the sins of his parents and his lineage. He would, of course, continue to play the part of the perfect pure-blood, hater of muggle-borns if his worst nightmare was to come to pass. He had a reputation to uphold no matter how much he loathed himself for the things he did and what he said. He didn't have a choice in the matter. His family was simply in too deep.

"He had two lives: one open, seen and known by all who cared to know, full of relative truth and of relative falsehood, exactly like the lives of his friends and acquaintances; and another life running its course in secret. And through some strange, perhaps accidental, conjunction of circumstances, everything that was essential, of interest, and of value to him, everything in which he was sincere and did not deceive himself, everything that made the kernel of his life, was hidden from other people." – Lyra

Of course, she would know the perfect quote, this time pulling from Chekov. She always knew exactly what to say. He had never met anyone as well read as her. Her brilliance shone like the light of a thousand stars and he frequently found himself in awe of her.

You must do what you must in order to survive, Cadmus. "Man is what he believes." – Lyra

He thought about survival more than he cared to admit these days. It had been nearly a year since he had been confiding and speaking with Lyra about anything and everything. He was desperate for an escape and sometimes his conversations with her through this two-way parchment was his only way to push aside the life he was living and simply be himself.

I certainly don't believe in the rhetoric the DE's desperately cling to, but I'm forced to play along with it. I'm forced to be uncaring and cruel and it's slowly killing me, Lyra." - Cadmus

"Confront the darkest parts of yourself and work to banish them with illumination and forgiveness. Your willingness to wrestle with your demons will cause your angels to sing." You have to survive, Cadmus, for me if not for yourself. It's never too late to turn to the light. – Lyra

"My life is a perfect graveyard of buried hopes." - Cadmus

I've already been forced to do some terrible things. One of the smartest witches I know is a muggle-born and while she grates on my nerves in other ways, it eats at my soul when I have to make threats against her in order to save face.– Cadmus

I'm muggle-born, as well. – Lyra

This revelation made Draco's stomach drop out of his abdomen with worry. He knew what the Dark Lord had in store for muggle-borns and blood-traitors alike and he wanted no part in it. What if something happened to Lyra? He couldn't let that thought invade his mind, right now. She was his only link to sanity.

And you're absolutely brilliant which just goes to show that those who follow Y-K-W are off their rockers. It is in these precious moments that I can steal away and just be myself, I feel whole when I'm talking to you. – Cadmus

"To be yourself in a world that is constantly trying to make you something else is the greatest accomplishment." - Lyra

Draco released the breath he had been holding with a sigh and calmness flooded his body. He wanted nothing more than to simply be himself, not the mask of the boy he had conjured for so many years.

How is it you always know exactly what to say? - Cadmus

"What is a friend? A single soul dwelling in two bodies." - Lyra

Draco smiled contentedly his thoughts drifting to the image of her he had conjured in his mind. While he could never picture her face, her presence and her soul were breathtaking. "I think it might be more…" he murmured to himself, not daring to bear that part of his soul to her. At least, not yet. For now, he was simply grateful to have a friend.

….

Draco was thoroughly grateful that Lyra would be unable to see the teardrops littering the parchment as he wrote to her, his forearm burning with a fire that had yet to extinguish. He wasn't certain if he was crying due to the pain, the loss of himself, or what he knew was sure to come.

"Let me not pray to be sheltered from dangers, but to be fearless in facing them. Let me not beg for the stilling of my pain, but for the heart to conquer it." – Cadmus

They made you take the mark. – Lyra

I had no choice. – Cadmus

And he really didn't. His family had gotten far too involved to be able to back out now. The Dark Lord wanted Draco as a way to punish Lucius for failing in his own task and no one resisted the will of the Dark Lord. When he made it a point to bend someone to his will, one either went willingly or suffered a fate worse than death.

I know. "Some of the greatest battles will be fought within the silent chambers of your own soul." – Lyra

At any time when he had confided in her, she always saw the best in him and consistently offered optimism when his life was nothing but darkness. She was the light, the stars, the sun. She knew him better than he knew himself, at times.

You know me too well, Lyra. – Cadmus

"Let my soul smile through my heart and my heart smile through my eyes that I may scatter rich smiles in sad hearts." - Lyra

….

I'm on the run and won't be able to keep in touch, for now. – Lyra

As the words spread across the parchment, he felt his heart clench in agony and his stomach twist into uncomfortable knots. It was exactly as he feared, his brilliant muggle-born witch was fleeing for her own life. Well, she wasn't his per se, but his feelings for her went beyond simple friendship, that much he knew. He cared for her deeply – likely more than he cared for anyone or anything else. She was his best friend and his confidant and he had never even seen her face nor did he know her real name. He was grateful for that. At the very least, the Dark Lord wouldn't be able to use it against him if he was ever subjected to legilimency.

"Do not be afraid, our fate cannot be taken from us; it is a gift." Please stay safe out there. You don't seem like the type who would do something foolish, but I need you to come out of this alive, Lyra. – Cadmus

"There is a stubbornness about me that never can bear to be frightened at the will of others. My courage always rises at every attempt to intimidate me." I will do what I can to keep myself safe as long as you promise to do the same. I need to know you're safe so I can do what I have to do. – Lyra

Draco knew very well that he couldn't offer a full-fledged promise, but if it was what she needed, he would give it to her. He wouldn't put himself in any dangerous situations on purpose, but given that the Dark Lord was occupying his home, he hadn't much choice in the matter.

I promise. – Cadmus

If you haven't heard there's a taboo on Y-K-W's name, don't say it aloud or the Snatchers will find you. - Cadmus

I'll see you on the other side of this war. – Lyra

"Hope smiles from the threshold of the year to come whispering 'it will be happier…'" On the other side, Lyra. – Cadmus.

If only he could make himself believe what he was telling her.

….

Draco Malfoy had spent two excruciating weeks in Azkaban following the end of the war while waiting for his trial to commence. Given the testimony of what he assumed were several unknown persons, he was miraculously cleared of all charges against him. It had been determined he was simply a product of his circumstances and that the actions he had taken during the war were due to his will to survive and the threats made against his family. He certainly had a firm sense of self-preservation and had honored his promise to Lyra to come out of the war relatively unscathed, though he wasn't certain how he had managed it. His parents had not been so lucky. His father, Lucius Malfoy, had been sentenced to life imprisonment while his mother, Narcissa Malfoy, had received no less than five years with a chance of parole after three. Draco struggled with the fact that he would not be able to see his mother for several years, especially knowing how difficult Azkaban would be for her. His father could rot in the pit of Hades, for all he cared.

He knew that the world would likely not be kind to him, following his trial given the circumstances which occurred during his sixth year and all that had happened when he was supposed to be attending his seventh year. He was, after all, marked as a Death Eater and it was the mark that everyone would see; not to mention his family name was tainted with the sins of his father. They wouldn't see the lost boy beneath it all who was just trying to find his own way in the world.

The only stipulation attached to his release was that he return to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry to complete his education. After passing his N.E.W.T.s, he would be allowed to do as he pleased. While the Ministry was carrying out investigations of several artefacts discovered at Malfoy Manor, his family assets had surprisingly not been seized. He was still the heir to the Malfoy fortune and had the world as his disposal, however lonely it was proving to be.

The moment he returned to the Manor, he knew exactly what he had to do. He hadn't had time to write to her before his brief stint in Azkaban, but he desperately needed to know if she had made it out.

Lyra, if you've made it out this mess alive, I wanted to let you know that I survived, despite everyone's efforts. - Cadmus

The ink seeped into the parchment curling into an elegant script before disappearing before his eyes. Given the turmoil caused by the war and the part he had played in it, it had been nearly a year since he had received any messages from her. She was never far from his thoughts, but his lack of correspondence with her made the ache greater than he had anticipated it would be. In their last conversation, she had confided in him that she was going on the run and he knew just how dangerous it would be for muggle-borns especially while the Dark Lord was still in power.

He felt the characteristic pulse of the parchment beneath his palm as crimson ink spread across the parchment forming her words. She had replied. She was alive. The breath he had been holding suddenly released and he felt relief wash over him.

"When I despair, I remember that all through history the ways of truth and love have always won." – Lyra

Draco smiled, noting the quotation she had choose and finished the line which Gandhi had spoken with relative ease.

"There have been tyrants and murderers, and for a time they can seem invincible, but in the end, they always fall. Think of it – always." – Cadmus

Were you able to finish school? – Lyra

No. I will be going back to finish this year. But I have a confession to make. I lied to you all of those years ago. I never attended Durmstrang. I attended Hogwarts." – Cadmus

He hoped she wouldn't be cross with him over that little white lie from when he was fifteen. He wasn't too keen on giving out information about himself given that he barely knew her then.

We must have passed one another in the corridors a thousand times, never knowing. – Lyra

Draco stared at the words for several moments before they fully disappeared from the page. His eyes grew wide with the possibilities. Did that mean what he thought it meant?

But, you said you attended Beauxbatons. – Cadmus

I know. I lied. – Lyra

Oh, sweet baby dragons. She had been right under his nose for years and he had been oblivious. What if he knew her? What house would she be in? Oh that was a stupid question, she was probably a Ravenclaw given how utterly brilliant she was. His heart leapt at the possibilities.

Will you be going back? – Cadmus

"Please, please, please, please let her say yes." Draco whispered to himself in the silence of his room while waiting for her reply.

I will. "Learning is not attainted by chance, tt must be sought for with ardor and attended to with diligence." – Lyra

Draco pumped his fists into the air in triumph. She was going back to Hogwarts which was exactly where he was headed in just a few short weeks. He could see her, speak to her, confide in her, tell her how much she meant to him if only she would give him the chance.

"Educating the mind without educating the heart is no education at all." - Cadmus

Draco turned the parchment over and tucked his quill and ink away, hoping she would understand the significance of his last reply. He slipped beneath his emerald sheets and with a murmured nox, his room was enveloped in a serene darkness. He closed his eyes and drifted into the tumultuous abyss known as sleep, dreaming of a woman he had never met but who filled his own heart with her song. How often had he seen her? Spoken to her? Who was she?

….

Draco stepped through the barrier from Kings Cross and onto Platform 9 and ¾ where he gazed upon the familiar outline of the Hogwarts Express, the train he hoped would carry him to his destiny and possibly to Lyra. He purposely arrived to the platform early to avoid the crowd knowing that his presence wouldn't be welcome given his family's involvement in the war. Draco simply wanted to keep his head down, complete his studies, and move on with his life as so many others in the wizarding world were trying to do.

Tucking his trunk away, Draco slipped into an empty compartment and pulled out the two way parchment which connected him with the only light in his life. He stared at the piece of parchment in his hands, resting his head against the wall of the compartment.

"The feelings that hurt most, the emotions that sting most, are those at are absurd. The longing for impossible things, precisely because they are impossible; nostalgia for what never was; the desire for what could have been; regret over not being someone else; dissatisfaction with the world's existence. All these half-tones of the souls' consciousness create in us a painful landscape, an eternal sunset of what we are." – Cadmus

Draco wasn't certain what had made him choose that particular notion by the Portuguese poet, Fernando Pessoa, but it firmly encompassed how he was feeling. He longed to go back to the time before he had been branded as a follower of You-Know-Who. He desired a path of what could have been, had his father not succumbed to the Dark Lord's will and entangled his family in the web of lies created by Voldemort and his followers. Not to mention, he was thoroughly dissatisfied with his life and world. The sunset of his own future was looming and he wasn't quite ready to see what happened when the sun sank lower than the horizon. Would it be a peaceful night with a sprinkling of stars or a frantic, cloudy existence where the stars were hidden just beyond reach?

Muggle-Born, Half-Blood, Pureblood, what did that rhetoric matter now? Draco closed his eyes, aching to feel the parchment pulse with her reply, especially knowing she was only a few compartments away from him.

Pansy Parkinson and Blaise Zabini entered the compartment together not long after Draco had tucked the parchment back into the safety of his school robes. If the looks on their faces were any indication, this would be a solemn year for those in Slytherin given that many of their parents were also involved with Voldemort.

What was it he had said to Lyra when the war started? It was something about old men starting the wars and leaving the younger generation to fight them. They were all broken in their own ways, no matter on which side they fought.

….

The sorting had been relatively uneventful and before he knew it, Draco was back in his familiar dormitory in the Slytherin dungeons. He unpacked swiftly and was now laying silently in his bed, his hands resting behind his head, thought swimming through his mind at a rapid rate. He looked over at the parchment beside him. The ink had long since disappeared from the parchment, but the message had remained with him.

"Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul and sings the tune without the words and never stops at all." - Lyra

He closed his eyes, hope. Of course, she would respond to him with something about hope. If he had learned anything from their conversations it was that she was a persistent optimist, always convinced of the good in others. He searched his soul, trying to find any ounce of good within him after everything he had been through over the past year. Finding himself sorely wanting, Draco turned over and grasped his pillow, settling in for another night of tenuous sleep.

With any luck, her essence would invade his dreams and calm the turbulent nightmares which kept him awake most nights.

….

Draco turned the small velvet box over in his hands before tucking it safely behind a dusty copy of De Gradibus Maledictio in the Restricted Section of the Library. He didn't know where he had mustered the courage, but he had written to the family jeweler and had commissioned a necklace for her. Sitting at the base of a thin golden chain, was a delicate golden lyre with a single emerald set into the base. It was simple, yet perfect and he hoped he captured her spirit within it. Before depositing the necklace behind the ancient tome, Draco had left a handwritten note in the velvet box: "After silence, that which comes nearest to expressing the inexpressible is music. - Cadmus"

If anyone would understand it, it would be Lyra. Pulling out the enchanted parchment and ink, he left her a note and made for the exit of the library before he completely lost his nerve and retrieved the small velvet box.

I've left you something behind a very dusty copy of De Gradibus Maledicto in the restricted section of the library. – Cadmus

He added the next part because he knew that they had never spoken about meeting face to face, even though they both knew they walked the halls of the ancient castle. It was entirely possible they might share classes together, but neither had gathered the courage to introduce the idea to the other.

"I'll be at the Quidditch pitch this afternoon if you're worried that I might be watching when you go to find it. – Cadmus

He fully expected some sort of reply detailing the fact that she couldn't possibly accept his gift, but it never came. He tucked his hands into his pockets and headed out towards the pitch. He wasn't playing this season, eighth years were barred, but he could at least guide the current team to a hopeful victory in their next match against Ravenclaw.

They were several weeks into the fall term and the change of the season from summer to autumn was noticeable everywhere. The trees were turning from a brilliant green to a sea of dusty orange and brown which rustled like a melancholy music when the wind blew. The air was growing cooler, but the smell of the earth remained fresh at the changing of the seasons. It was one of Draco's favorites times of the year. Draco walked across the grounds towards the Quidditch pitch, shuffling his feet and idly kicking leaves, his thoughts elsewhere. Before he knew it, he had collided with a small, warm figure with tousled curls and a wide-eyed expression who was now a tangle of limbs opposite him on the path to the pitch. Clearly, her mind must've also been somewhere else because their collison had knocked them both to the ground.

"Damnit, Granger. Watch where you're going." He said with a mild sneer of irritation. Standing up from the pathway, he brushed the dirt from his trousers and jumper, before offering her his hand. The look of surprise on her face was enough to elicit a smirk; there was nothing more that he loved than pushing Granger's button's.

She took his hand and stood up, brushing off her skirt. "Thank you".

"I'm sorry for running into you, Malfoy. I was in a hurry to get to the library and wasn't paying attention to where I was walking." She said, picking up the two books she had dropped on the ground and arranging them carefully in her arms. Draco noted one of them by was Thoreau, the other by Austen. He was honestly a bit surprised to see that they weren't textbooks given the amount he knew she studied.

"Don't worry about it." He mumbled, turning to continue toward the pitch where he knew the Slytherin team was practicing today.

"Malfoy, I…" she started. She sounded hesitant as though she as nervous about something. He breathed an agitated sigh and turned around to face her.

"Granger, just go…" He said turning around once more to continue on his way, with the hope that she would do just that. But of course, she was Hermione Granger and she had to say whatever it was that was on her mind.

"I'm-sorry-about-your-parents-and-I'm-glad-you-didn't-get-sent-to-Azkaban. Thank-you-for-what-you-did-for-us-at-the-Manor." she blurted out so quickly, he almost didn't understand her words. It wasn't like Granger to be this flustered about anything. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he turned around, staring down the witch before him. All of this shifting back and forth was beginning to make him dizzy. She was exactly as he remembered. Her tousled chestnut curls were out of control, her brown eyes were bright with the spark of intelligence and passion, and tiny freckles dotted her blushed cheeks. She wore as set of standard black robes over a neatly pressed uniform and of course, she was holding books.

Draco took another look at the books in her hand before staring straight into her brown orbs. "Make the most of your regrets: never smother your sorrow, but tend and cherish it 'til it comes to have a separate and integral interest. To regret deeply is to live afresh." He replied calmly and turned on his heels, leaving Hermione's mouth agape.

….

The pitch was buzzing with activity from the members of the Slytherin Quidditch team as they flew in formation above the soft grass beneath them. Draco had discarded his school uniform for a pair of track pants and a simple jersey and was perched on his broom, watching as the team ran various flight drills. Soon, they would pull out the quaffle, bludgers, and golden snitch and they would take up their position and run a few more drills.

"Oi! Greengrass, watch where you're going!" He called out, watching as chaser Astoria Greengrass nearly collided with beater Andrew Vaisey mid-flight. She quickly rolled away to avoid the collision, but it was still too close for Draco's taste. It was probably Vaisey's fault, but Greengrass needed to pay a bit more attention to where she was going. If his suspicions were correct, she was making disgusting lovey-dovey eyes to Theodore Nott who sat perched in the stands with a book in his lap, pretending to study as he did every Quidditch practice. Really, they weren't fooling anyone.

He felt the pulse of the parchment concealed within the pocket of his track pants and took his eyes off of the team momentarily to see what her response might be.

"Music should strike fire from the heart of man, and bring tears from the eyes of woman." I will cherish it, always. Thank you. – Lyra

Draco felt a heat rise to his cheeks and a flush of warmth overtake his body as her words sunk into his core. He carefully refolded the parchment, tucking it back into his pocket, and gazed across the landscape which had never looked quite so beautiful. There was something about her words which always brought a glimmer of hope to the surface. It was something to which he found himself clinging desperately. It was something he needed, she was something he needed.

….

Draco spent the next several weeks idly glancing at the neck of every female he passed, attempting to get a glimpse of who she might be, but his efforts had failed thus far. He hadn't seen once hint of the necklace he had sent her. If she was even wearing it at all, she was taking great pains to conceal it. He idly wondered if she had told the truth about her appearance, all those years ago. Petite, brown hair, brown eyes. Of course, that seemed to be half of the population of Hogwarts which made narrowing her down all the more difficult. He ducked into an empty classroom after feeling the parchment pulsing in his pocket.

How are your studies, going? – Lyra

Well, enough. High marks, for the most part. Yours? – Cadmus

Fairly well. I'm expecting to pass my N.E.W.T.s, but there's always more studying to be done to be certain. Sometimes catch myself wondering if you're in the library when I'm studying. – Lyra

Lyra had never made such an explicit statement before, but then again, they mostly spoke in riddles, proverbs, and flowery quotations with hidden meanings and subtle connotations. It was just how they were and it was all Draco's fault, he had started it after all.

Draco idly wondered if she was a Ravenclaw given her propensity for wit and knowledge. He was fairly certain she wasn't in Gryffindor or Hufflepuff. The only person he knew of in Gryffindor who would've been able to match him so perfectly on an intellectual level would have been Granger and the thought of that was just absurd. There was no way after fighting in a war and studying for examinations that Granger would do something like use a two-way parchment to communicate with a random person. She was much too sensible for that. The only Hufflepuff he knew who was well read was Ernie MacMillian and if he was being played by that tosser he would find himself lacking a certain body part necessary for procreation.

"He who lives in our mind is near though he may actually be far away; but he who is not in our heart is far though he may really be nearby." – Cadmus

It really was possible they had been in the library at the same time. He spent a bit of time in there away from the hustle and bustle of the Slytherin common room.

"Sometimes the heart sees what is invisible to the eye." – Lyra

Did she mean that how he interpreted it? He silently cursed himself for starting this tradition of how they communicated. It was utterly infuriating, at times and he was finding more and more he wanted to be done with the riddles. He wanted her, to see her, to know her, to just simply be in her presence. He knew the chances of her reciprocating anything once she found out who he was were slim, but he needed to try.

I need to see you. Please, Lyra. – Cadmus

The silence lasted for longer than expected and to him, it was beyond deafening as she stood motionless in the empty classroom. Draco could feel the tick of the clock on the wall, the pounding of his heart in his chest, the ring of anticipation in his ears waiting for her response, any response. He wrung his hands together until her words began to flow across the parchment.

I'm not ready. I will be one day, but not today. – Lyra

His heart fell and he leaned against the door in defeat. He knew the chance was slim, but at least he had put it out there and he had been hit with temporary rejection, not just full out rejection.

"For it was not into my ear you whispered but into my heart. It was not my lips you kissed, but my soul." – Cadmus

I know. - Lyra

Draco cradled his head in his hands, sliding down the frame of the door to the floor. She was in his head, in his dreams, in his heart. She listened every time he needed to talk. She was kind no matter what he said to her, no matter what darkness he confided in her. She was intelligent and witty when their conversations were more lighthearted. She was everything, she was it, and yet he wasn't even certain she was real. For his own sanity, he desperately needed to find her.

….

The wind was starting to get that biting chill to it that signaled the end of autumn and the beginning of winter. Snow flurries had been starting and the Christmas holidays would be upon them in only a few short weeks. Draco sat in the in the library near the fire, thumbing through a novel, attempting to concentrate on the words marring the page without much success. His mind was on the announcement that Professor McGonagall had made that day. The Headmistress of Hogwarts announced that in the spirit of inter-house unity a Yuletide ball would be held during the week prior to the Christmas holidays.

His search for Lyra had proven completely futile over the past several weeks and neither of them had mentioned meeting in person again. This ball would be an opportunity to meet and he certainly didn't want to take anyone else, though several members of his own house had been dropping hints left and right. She might very well reject him again, but he had to take the chance.

"It is not in the stars to hold our destiny, but in ourselves." Will you do me the honor of accompanying me to the ball, Lyra?" – Cadmus

Draco was not a patient man and the silence that lasted between his question and her response seemed eternal. He stared at the parchment tucked in the pages of his book for what seemed like hours (when it reality it was closer to a few moments), before her words began to flit across the page and he felt the parchment pulse.

"This one night we will be mad – dance lightly – raise our hearts as the beat strengthens, grows buoyant – careless, defiant. What matters anything so long as one's step is in time – so long as one's whole body and mind are dancing too – what shall end it?" – Lyra

It took all of the strength Draco could muster to not jump out of his chair by the fire place in the library and pump his fists in the air upon reading her response. His stormy eyes thundered with triumph as swiftly exited the library, completely missing the flush of Hermione's skin as he passed her, and the delicate lyre pendant pressed between her fingertips.

….

"Yours is the light by which my spirit is born: you are my sun, my moon, and all my stars." – Lyra

Draco felt like he had read the text one thousand times over before the words finally faded from the parchment. How could one simple sentence elicit the myriad of emotions that were currently flickering through him? Blissful, petrified, anxious, and elated were just a few of the adjectives that came to mind as her words echoed within his mind.

"If I had a flower for every time I thought of you, I could walk through my garden forever." – Cadmus

"So, she said yes?" Pansy smiled, resting her hand on Draco's shoulder, reading the words as they faded. Draco had confided in her several weeks ago after she had caught him in one of his exchanges with Lyra. She had even gone so far as to keep an eye out for whoever it might be, but neither of them had any success.

Draco nodded, giving the hand on his shoulder a friendly squeeze with his own before folding the parchment and tucking it into his robes. "She did."

"Any idea who she is yet?"

Draco chuckled and shook his head, "Absolutely none." "I know very little about her personal life compared to how much I know about everything else that represents her. She's highly intelligent, that much is for certain."

Pansy laughed, a sly smirk spreading across her pouty lips an idea surging to the front of her mind that she simply couldn't hold back. "What if it's Granger?" She asked. "That insufferable know-it-all is smarter everyone else in this wretched place. If the Prophet isn't praising Gryffindor's precious princess for being a war hero, she's "the brightest witch of her generation." Pansy mocked, making a retching noise.

Draco's brow creased in thought at Pansy's revelation. As much as he hated to admit it, the fact that Lyra could possibly be Hermione Granger suddenly made a lot of sense and it wasn't as if the thought hadn't crossed his mind in the past. He had simply dismissed it earlier thinking it absurd. Lyra and Granger shared many similar qualities given that they were both fervent optimists, fiercely intelligent, and kind to others. What if Lyra was Granger? Rejection was almost certain at that point. While he found Granger to be annoying, she was less so this year with the absence of Potter and Weasley. She seemed somewhat subdued and distracted, probably by her studies or maybe by missing the pair of idiots she called best friends.

"I'm not sure I would mind." He replied quietly.

"What do you mean you wouldn't mind? She's a mudblood, Draco, remember?" Pansy scoffed. Despite all of the growth she had made over the past year, bits and pieces of her previously held prejudices slipped out, no matter how she was working to change them. Her calling Granger a mudblood was likely an automatic response rather than a true reflection of her feelings towards the girl's blood status.

Suddenly, Draco was very offended by Pansy's slip. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her close to him, his silver eyes daring her to disagree with him. "Do not say that word in my presence again, do you understand me, Parkinson?" he hissed.

Pansy's eyes widened as she found herself nose to nose with her blonde best friend. "I get it, I'm sorry, it just slipped out. Old habits die hard, you know?" She frowned.

Draco released Pansy's wrist and embraced her, exhaling a breath to soothe his own anger. He and Pansy had been friends since before they could speak and he felt a tender, brotherly affection for her. He knew just how hard she had been working to change and he felt bad for snapping at the witch. "I know, Pansy. I'm sorry I snapped."

Pansy rested her head on his shoulder and pulled her arms around her friend. "So, you really wouldn't mind if it's Granger?"

With a sigh, Draco said, "No, I don't think I would. But I still think the chances are incredibly slim that it would be her."

….

Draco made his way down to the courtyard from the Great Hall, slipping into the shadows as he rested his back against a nearby pillar. He cast a warming charm on himself before he tucked his hands into the pockets of his tailored suit, having opted for a more modern style of dress robes. He stared out across the landscape and up towards the stars, quickly picking out his own constellation as well as Lyra's, mulling over the possibilities the night might bring.

They had agreed to meet out here, in the courtyard, just after the first dance, but Draco wanted to make sure he was outside before she came. The cool air was helping to clear his head and calm his nerves and he needed his head to be firmly atop his shoulders when he met Lyra.

Movement to his left caught his eye and a figure gowned in emerald rested her hands upon the ancient stones of an archway. Draco wondered why she had come out here when she should be inside dancing and enjoying the night with the rest of her pride of lions. He stepped out of the shadows and closer to the witch.

"Waiting for someone, Granger?" He asked idly, watching his peers move about the courtyard, waiting for any possible sign of Lyra. He had heard the music strike up just before Granger crossed the courtyard.

"Wouldn't you like to know, Malfoy?" She quipped, keeping her focus on the snowy grounds beyond the archway in which she was standing.

Draco shrugged his shoulders with a smirk, figuring he might as well get a moment of fun in to calm his nerves while waiting for any sign of Lyra. Granger had always been a good sparring partner and maybe a bit of back and forth with her would make him forget that his stomach had taken up permanent residence in his throat. "Anyone's better than Weasley and Potter. It's been so much more pleasant around here without those two buffoons causing havoc every other day."

"Shut it, Malfoy. I could do without your vitriol tonight." Hermione hissed, taking in a deep breath and exhaling it slowly. She was clearly agitated about something, but he pressed anyway.

"C'mon, Granger." He pushed, taking a step towards her. "Who is it? Longbottom? Corner? MacMillan?

As he stepped closer, Draco could just make out that Hermione's dress robes were a stunning shade of green, the color complimenting her complexion in a tantalizing way. They were modest, yet alluring as they hugged her waist and flowed out delicately over the curve of her hips. And what had she done to her hair? Soft curls cascaded down her back with pieces swept back here and there into golden hairpins. He allowed himself the thought that she looked rather lovely, much as she had on the night of the Yule Ball back in their fourth year, and turned his attention back to the open courtyard, waiting for the end of the first waltz and the appearance of the woman he was so desperate to meet.

Hermione shook her head and waved her hand dismissively, though Draco merely heard her words given that his attention was directed elsewhere. "He's more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of…"

"…his and mine are the same." Draco finished quietly as he tore his gaze from the courtyard, letting it fall over the woman in the archment, a realization taking hold inside of him. The conversation he had with Pansy a few days ago flashed inside the quiet of his mind.

"What if it's Granger?"

"I'm not sure I would mind."

He felt his heart quicken and pound within his chest as he flushed with anticipation and longing. Was this it? He had to know for certain. He took a few tentative steps towards Hermione and placed his hand atop hers, leaning close to her ear, whispering before she had a chance to pull away from him. "I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look, or the words which laid the foundation. It is too long ago..."

"…I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun." She finished, her breath barely above a whisper. Her stared into her eyes, watching as every emotion he had been feeling moments before flashed through hers as Hermione Granger and Lyra melded into one person before him.

"You." They breathed in unison. Confirmation. If anyone had asked Hermione and Draco what had happened the moment they both came to the realization of who the other one actually was, they would've said that the world seemed to have stopped spinning in that very moment. Everything simply stopped as though they were the only two people to remain in the world. The cool air crackled with the electricity of their silence as though a lightning bolt had struck nearby.

Draco grasped her hand and pulled her to him, his strong arms encircling her petite frame. He lightly pressed her forehead to hers and closed his eyes, breathing her in, relishing in the feel of her safely within his arms after so many years. "You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope. Tell me not that I am too late, that such precious feelings are gone forever." He pleaded, knowing that she could still very well reject him, but to his surprise, she had yet to pull away.

He felt her lips brush his own as she whispered, "The very first moment I beheld him, my heart was irrevocably gone." He wasn't certain if he pulled her against his chest or if she moved closer on her own, but she was suddenly flush against him as their lips parted in a kiss so gentle and loving, it was more ethereal than real.

When they broke apart, she leaned into him as if it were the most natural thing in the world, resting her head on his chest as her arms encircled his waist. He stroked her back, watching the moonlight and feeling completely content for the first time his life. He had finally found the woman who had thoroughly captured his heart, though she was more than he ever expected.

Doubt began to creep in to Draco's mind, despite her calming presence. "The world will be against us, you know." he murmured quietly against her curls.

"A happy life consists not in the absence, but in the mastery of hardships, Draco." Hermione replied with a sigh. He knew the road ahead would be difficult. They were from two different words and given their respective pasts, it would take all they had to make things work. Their respective pasts. Where he had always treated Lyra with respect and reverence, he had consistently treated Hermione Granger with persecution and repugnance for the past seven years. He suddenly felt ill.

Draco turned and took her hands in his, his voice soft, pleading, desperate. "Hermione, I am so sorry, for everything that happened between us. Can you ever forgive me?"

"Draco, I forgave you a long time ago." Hermione squeezed his hands reassuringly and released a bright, clear peal of laughter. Draco stared down at the witch and quirked a confused eyebrow at her reaction to her own forgiveness of him.

"Always forgive your enemies; nothing annoys them so much." She choked out, between her fits her laughter.

"Do I not destroy my enemies when I make them my friends?" Draco replied as a genuine smile rose to his lips for the first time in recent memory.

Hermione stopped laughing at met Draco's eyes with her own which were shining as brightly as the stars twinkling above their heads in the vast expanse of space. The way she peered into his soul when their eyes met took his breath away. "A friend is someone who knows all about you and still loves you."

He pressed his lips to his witch's forehead. "I love you too, Hermione."