Days pass in the Room and Draco spends countless hours with his witch. She is light and beauty and discovery. She is summer days during winter nights and sunshine devouring a cold moon. She is joy and excitement. She is distracting.

Perhaps too distracting. Perhaps that is why he makes such poor calculations regarding his task.

Draco is in the Slytherin dorms when the rumour hits his house about Katie Bell.

He hadn't meant for that, of course. Granted, he didn't exactly expect to succeed either. Dumbledore would surely be able to sniff out the dark curse on the necklace right?

It had been an admitted long shot; really nothing more than a stalling tactic. Just to show his heart is in the game, even if his heart has been distracted by something else entirely. When he Imperiused the girl and sent her on her way to deliver the package to their headmaster, he had hurried back to the castle and spent the rest of the day in the common room, making sure he is seen and acting as aloof and uninterested in the world around him as possible.

He played over and over in his head the way it would most likely go down. Katie delivering the necklace. Dumbledore, ever-present twinkle in his eye, realizing something wasn't quite right. An investigation into the piece and where it might have originated. His attempt at contrition to his parents as they tell him they appreciated his efforts but he had to be more careful, far more clever, with the wily old wizard. The Dark Lord disappointed in dreams but urging him to return to his work on the cabinet and, with any luck at all, acknowledging his gumption.

Instead, the guilt is crushing. Far worse than the vague notion that he has been "up to something" the past weeks but now he has something truly evil on his conscience. He knew Bell, a little. She was a fierce chaser but a good sport and he respected her on the pitch as much as a rival can.

"They found her hanging in mid-air, screaming her fool head off!" Pansy is delighting in, if not the poor girl's fate, then at least her ability to share interesting gossip with her compatriots.

"Is she dead?" The callous question comes from Daphne Greengrass. Only half paying attention, she is leaned over her propped-up foot, painting her toes an electric green (the muggle way because she's rubbish at color charms).

"No," Pansy shakes her head. "They got her to Pomphrey, but they're not sure when she'll wake up. Transferring her to Mungo's in the morning if Bulstrode is to be believed."

"She's asleep?" Draco asks, feigning only a mild curiosity but thrilled to hear she survived. Touching the necklace should have been an instant death. The girl is lucky to be breathing at all.

Pansy waves her hand around. "Asleep. Unconscious. I don't know, something. Millie said she heard Bell was holding a cursed necklace."

Daphne snorts, "Necklace? Well that alone is suspicious. That witch wouldn't know an accessory from her own flat arse. Someone must have it out for her."

"Who do you suppose...? You-Know-Who maybe?" Theo has been scanning the collection of magazines in the bin next to the fireplace and flops down next to Daphne with a copy of Which Broomstick in hand. She glares at him for the jostling effect he has, causing her to streak a green line across her toes.

Draco tries to deflect with his usual put-on arrogance accented by his signature sneer. "You think the Dark Lord is worried about hexing some half-blood bint?" He is sure to use Voldemort's Death Eater title of reverence to keep up appearances.

Theo is thoughtful before he answers, "Not necessarily but what if... what if she was just, you know, collateral damage? Wrong place, wrong time sort of thing."

Draco shrugs as if he could not possibly care less and falls into silent thought, pretending to become absorbed in the book in his lap. He turns the page after a moment to give the impression he's actually read any of it. Around him, the conversation morphs through class complaints and Professors' behaviors and Witch Weekly articles and finally settles on Theo flirting with Daphne and Pansy sulking, unbeknownst to both.

After what feels like a relatively safe amount of time, Draco leaves as casually as possible and makes his way to see the results of his sloppy handiwork. He's lucky Crabb and Goyle are serving detention and the biggest majority of his housemates are less interested in involving themselves in his goals.

Sneaking a look through the doorway, not daring to enter, Katie is pale and immobile, laid out stiff on one of the uncomfortable beds of the hospital wing. He can see that the rise and fall of her chest is even, if a little shallow, and her skin looks dark beneath her eyes. He notices her hand twitch once during the time that he stares before backing himself away and tearing down the hall to the Room. He paces in front of it but this time he doesn't ask for the mess of Hidden Things. He just wants a quiet room. He especially doesn't want to see Hermione Granger and is sure to emphasize that in his head. He can't face even a ghost of another person right now.

The Room provides him a bare-bones dormitory with white sheets, no windows, and dim light. He doesn't sleep, afraid of who might join him, but instead stares listlessly at his own hands for what must be hours. When dawn breaks, known to him only by the time on his pocket watch charmed to chime at the first rays of sun, he sneaks back into his own room in the dungeons. Silencing his bed and pulling the curtains so no one disturbs him he sneaks in a couple short hours of sleep before class.

He finishes the week and in fact many days after in much this same way, avoiding the cabinet, avoiding Hermione Granger, avoiding the Room, avoiding Her.

XXXXX

"Where the hell have you been? You've been gone for days!" Draco looks up from his table, seated outside at a small café his mother used to frequent when he was a boy. He'd be pulling at her sleeve, begging her to take him to a toy store or to look at Quidditch gear as she calmly sipped her café au lait. Narcissa Malfoy was never one to be hurried; never one to pander to anyone. He supposes those were different times when she could afford her pride.

He's been tracing the metalwork pattern of the table top, wondering if he's done the right thing by falling asleep in the Room.

"Granger," he greets her calmly, shuttering the trepidation from his face. Inside he is vibrating with nerves and fear and want.

She stops in front of his table and perches her hands on her hips. "Well?"

He looks down at her tapping foot and rewinds a moment to even remember what she asked. Draco shrugs and looks down the street, eerie in its emptiness. "I've been busy."

"I- why?" There is a beat and he doesn't know how to answer; then she asks, "Have I done something?"

He looks up to see her studying him, a look of concern on her face. "No," he answers simply, reassuring. "It's nothing you've done."

She moves around the table and pulls out the chair beside him, the legs scraping loudly on the stone. He winces at the screech of it and she looks sheepish, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Merlin, he's missed her. Even still, he's not sure he wants to face her.

He expected the Room to attack him immediately. He thought it would dig through his head until it found his guilt and then strangle him with it, turning his beautiful dream of Hermione into an accusing harpy. He anticipated it, maybe almost yearned for it. He is hungry for penance that might lead to grace.

Instead, she acts as though nothing has changed save his odd lack of appearance these last few nights.

After a moment she blushes and says, "I've missed you, you know."

Here's familiar ground for a pureblood princeling. He takes in his shy beauty and slips into a semblance of what would be his typical swagger. "Have you now? Then why are you sitting so far away?"

His witch blushes deeper when he pats his knee but she doesn't deny the challenge. She perches on his lap and wraps her arms around his neck. For just a moment this is all he is. There is no Katie Bell. No Dark Lord. Draco thinks if he could die in this room, he would happily spend eternity haunting the space, seeking out ghostly images of this Hermione Granger.

They come together on instinct, their lips meeting softly and his hands reaching around her to hold her closer. He pulls back and she lays her forehead against his, eyes closed and a small smile on her lips. His bravado morphs into sincerity and he whispers, "I've missed you too, Hermione. Gods, you can't know how much."

"Then why did you stay away?"

Her eyes are open now and he stares into them before his shame makes him look away. He shifts her so she is not quite as close, not quite as intimate. "I…I don't know. Didn't want to talk about what happened to Bell I suppose."

"Did-" She grips his face and turns him back to look at her. "Did you curse Katie?"

"No," he immediately denies. He did of course but not intentionally so it's more an omission of truth. "Why would I want to hurt Bell?"

Her eyes search his until finally she relaxes her hands, caressing his face instead of grasping it. "I'm sorry. Really. I know you wouldn't. I know that… it's just you've been gone and you seemed so sad and that's right when you disappeared." She studies his face with such honest regret, such abject apology, that it hurts him.

Draco swallows the guilt and says, "It's alright. I wouldn't have any faith in me either."

She huffs but says back with a grin, "I've tons of faith in you! You're the one I keep having to argue with that you're not so bad."

The Room delves into his head every night to create this illusion of what he needs. What he wants. Why it allows him to lie to its face he can't imagine but he's grateful for it. "Would you like some coffee?"

She wrinkles her nose in that adorable way she has. "Never developed a taste for it. Tea maybe?"

He nods and signals to a motionless waiter with an eerily featureless face in this otherwise unpopulated world. He brings them exactly what they wanted without even being told. Hermione climbs off his lap and takes her seat so they can enjoy their drinks and indulge in conversation. The rest of the dream is spent like nothing has changed. Like he hasn't nearly murdered an innocent girl. Like he didn't just lie to the only good thing in his life.

Like this could just continue forever and he never has to go back to being the villain in this romance.

"I hear Cormac is taking you to Slughorn's little holiday soiree. I'm surprised you agreed." In fact, he was jealous when he heard and berated himself for once again staking any claim to the real Hermione Granger in his head. He's beginning to understand that if the Room is as realistic as it seems, Hermione might actually be this perfect for him in real life…if only he was someone else.

"Well, I didn't very well want to go alone. How pathetic would that look? I have enough trouble with everyone treating me like a social pariah as is."

"Yet you seem to regard him with distaste whenever I see you in the same vicinity."

She smirks at him. "Watching me that closely are you?"

He rolls his eyes. "It's a small school, Granger. We share meals and classes. It doesn't take any level of effort to see you often. And you've not answered my question."

"Oh right, about Cormac. Well… I was going to take Ronald."

Draco curls his lip but tries to at least partially reign in his disgust. "You don't still fancy him do you?"

"Not really but we're friends and I thought it would be fun."

"Not really?" He parrots back, waiting for clarification.

"Oh stop it. What am I supposed to do? Pine away for Draco Malfoy and bat my lashes when he shoves me around in corridors and calls me a mudblood? You're not allowed to be jealous."

He scowls at her answer. She didn't deny it. When he doesn't speak she huffs and says, "Fine, I'm not sure that I really fancy him anymore alright? I mean, I have for years but I'm finally seeing how ill-suited we are. Anyway, he's been a complete arse lately. I was going to take him but he irked me so I decided to take someone to irk him back."

"So you're going with McLaggen to make Weaslebee jealous… but you don't fancy him."

"I- well when you say it like that it sounds stupid," she pouts. He laughs and she joins him after only a moment.

They both take a sip of their drinks and consider each other in the tranquility of the quiet café.

"I wish I could go with you." She looks at him with those soulful dark eyes and he continues, "If things were different of course. I'd be more than pleased to escort you and stick it to Weasley. That's a win-win if ever I heard one."

She offers a soft smile, giving him a pass for the slight against her friend and clinging only to the original sentiment. "I'd love to be on your arm, Draco. At the very least, you'd make a very handsome date." She winks at him and he grins back.

"You do know McLaggen is going to try to get in your knickers."

She snorts. "Yes I know. I've heard he's bragging about being my first. Boy is he going to be disappointed."

"Just so we're clear, he'll be disappointed because you won't let him touch you, not because you're not a virgin in real life, right?"

She laughs again and takes his hand across the table. It's not lost on him she doesn't actually answer the question. "Don't worry, I won't let him near me. I'm the brightest witch in our class. I know how to read the less than honorable intentions of a teenage boy."

He quirks his eyebrows. "Oh yes? And what do you suppose my intentions are, Miss Granger?"

The devil himself couldn't match the sinful smile on her lips. Draco finds that taking her on top of a metal café table is difficult, but not at all as impossible as he would have guessed.

A/N

Good morning, night, or afternoon, depending on your respective location. Many additional follows and faves today and nearly to hit 100 follows so thank all of you for those! I think I gave everyone a direct message for reviews but if I ever miss you, I apologize and there will always be additional gratitude mentioned here. Love to hear from you as always!