"Would you hand me that vile?" Hermione asked, as she stirred the boiling potion.
Draco looked up from the text he was reading, Dark Minds of the Twentieth Century, and walked over to where Hermione was motioning.
"Does this work?" he questioned, holding up one of the shelf's contents.
Hermione looked up from the potion. Her thick hair was sticking to her now sweaty face as the steam from the cauldron continued to rise.
"Yes, that will do fine."
Draco walked over and handed her the vile.
Hermione took it gratefully, "Looks like it's all done," she reported, happily.
Draco smiled as he turned back to his book.
But rather than focusing on, Chapter 5: Grindewald: A Driven Destiny, his mind wandered over the events of the past week.
It had been one hell of a week.
Now there's the understatement of the century.
While waiting for the Polyjuice Potion to finish simmering, Draco had insisted that Hermione continued to hone her flying skills.
And at first, she was extremely hesitant.
"Why are you stalling?" he had asked her, "Don't you dare deny that you weren't having the time of your life up there."
"No, I was...it really was brilliant, it's just that...what...what if I get caught in another gust? That was a close call..."
But Draco cut her off, "Trust me. I'm keeping you away from the cliff until you've figured everything out. Do you think I enjoyed the acupuncture you inflicted on me? We'll go down by the tree line."
And so, they flew.
To her own startling amazement, Hermione was gaining agility and finesse by the minute - her long time fears of flying seemed as though a distant nightmare of the past.
She dove and climbed, twisted and turned, until her trembling wings could no longer lift her off the ground.
Draco, already a proficient flier, was extremely impressed by her progress.
"There's another good day's practice. You're doing brilliant Hermione, really," he had told her.
"Draco," she panted, a few days into her training, "I can't go an inch further. My wings are...burning. I don't think I've ever been so exhausted in my entire life - and I went through the Auror Training Program!"
Draco, in his fully fledged dragon form, landed abruptly beside her, "You're using muscles that have never been used before," he said while retracting his massive wings, "It will take a little time to build up their strength. And anyway, I don't think that the A.T.P. is as horrible as everyone makes it out to be," he scoffed, dismissively.
Hermione, now completely transformed, was ready to retaliate.
"Come on, we'll take a rest," Draco quickly cut in, pointedly avoiding the inevitable argument.
And every night, they returned to Muron Castle with Hermione barely managing to walk on her own accord, while Draco checked over the Polyjuice Potion.
"Sweet Merlin," Hermione had groaned, while gingerly rubbing her lower back, "I feel like I've been trampled by a herd of rampaging Hippogriffs."
She plopped down on her favorite sofa by the fireplace with excessive gratitude.
Draco had smiled down at her, "Don't sweat it. Before long, you won't be able to feel a thing. The muscles build up quickly."
"Yeah," Hermione grimaced as she shifted her position, "Well, 'quickly' can't come soon enough - I don't want to feel anything at all right now. Tell me again why we don't have any fire whiskey?"
He chuckled lightly, as he sat on the edge of the sofa, "Because you told me that you'd murder me with your bare hands if I drank any, you might recall. But if you're changing your mind..."
"No," Hermione said firmly, "I'll tough it out."
"That's what I thought."
Hermione glared at him from her prone position on the sofa.
"Hey," Draco teased lightly, "If if makes you feel any better, you're getting quite good. I can't believe I'm saying this...but you're a natural - just like everything else that you do, of course," he added with mock sarcasm.
"I am not a natural at everything," she retorted, indignantly.
Draco looked at her with incredulity.
"Sure you are. You were the brightest witch at Hogwarts and - "
"Because I worked hard!" Hermione shouted defiantly, as she pushed herself into a sitting position, "Not because grace had so kindly bestowed knowledge upon me. It was because I read and studied and threw myself into the work...not because I was a 'natural'."
Clearly affronted, she folded her arms and settled back into the soft, malleable sofa.
Draco was extremely bemused.
Why do women always make it so damned hard to give a compliment?
He looked down at her in her emerald robe - his favorite, and regarded her quietly. He had a feeling that despite the extensive effort, work, and studying that she had just mentioned - beneath it all, Hermione Granger was still completely and utterly brilliant.
Have you always been so afraid to acknowledge your accomplishments?
Her eyes had now closed, and her breathing was deep. Her dark lashes were resting comfortably against her freckled cheek. A chestnut curl had fallen from it's proper place, and was strewn recklessly across her cheek. Draco leaned forward to move it, but stopped, abruptly.
What if she woke up?
He chewed nervously on his lip before he lost a fruitless but valiant inner battle and went to move the curl.
It was astonishingly soft.
More so that he would have ever imagined.
He tucked it gently into it's proper spot behind her ear and leaned...even closer.
Closing his eyes, he breathed her in. She smelled of...
Suddenly, she moaned quietly in her sleep, causing Draco to back up in alarm.
Eyes still closed, she settled back into her slumber. Her full lips, slightly parted...
"Hey!" Hermione shouted from the cauldron.
Draco jumped in alarm and dropped his book. He was clearly startled from her recent memory that had constantly been playing through his mind since that moment, two nights ago.
"Whatever you're reading better be good," Hermione said irritatedly, as she tilted the massive cauldron on it's side, "I've been trying to get your attention for the last minute and a half."
Draco was now standing on his feet, brushing off his robes, and shaking his head.
"Err...I was just..."
"I've read Dark Minds of the Twentieth Century," she continued as she struggled with the hefty pot, "though I don't remember being as completely engrossed in it as you just were."
Draco blushed slightly, but then regained his composure, "Well, may I ask what was so important that you needed my undivided attention?"
Hermione scowled, "What I was trying to tell you, while you were off in Neverland, was that I just finished with the last vile. While I was failing to get your attention, I was hoping to have your help with moving the cauldron," she said, while giving the pot one last, massive heave. "All we need now are the hairs," she added, whipping her brow with the back of her hand.
Draco was still reeling with the embarrassment of Hermione catching him in a daydream. But as reality settled around him, he cocked his head and stared at her, "Why didn't you just levitate the cauldron?"
Hermione laughed ruefully, as though he had just told an extremely amusing joke, "And deal with the mess as it spilled on it's hinges? I don't think so. Plus, we can't afford to lose any of the potion - it takes ages to make. We may not have time like this again where we can dedicate an entire month to brewing it."
"You still could have levitated it," Draco said stubbornly, as he squished a spider that had been running frantically across the stone floor with his shoe.
Hermione rolled her eyes, exasperatedly, "Well, regardless of what I could have done, everything's finished. I'll go upstairs and get my cloak. The wind is blowing like there's no tomorrow out there, and I want to be in and out of Hanoock as quickly as possible."
Draco's expression instantly changed, "Hermione..." he began.
"Oh, for the love of Merlin! Not again," Hermione complained as she strode up the spiral steps, taking them two at a time, "Draco, I'm going to get hairs from muggles, not up to Voldemort to challenge him to a duel. I'll be fine," she hollered over her shoulder.
But Draco was right behind her, "I wasn't going to say anything!" he retorted as he came to the top of the stairs.
"Yes, you were," Hermione countered as she whirled around to face him, "I saw that look. Trust me, I know the look. Harry has it perfected."
Draco scowled, "Please, whatever you do, do not compare me to Potter."
Hermione sighed, loudly as she pulled out her wand, "Accio Hermione's cloak!"
Draco was still frowning as Hermione grabbed her cloak from the air.
"What?" she asked, as she pulled her arms through the sleeves.
"Nothing," he shot back.
"Fine," she said, while crossing her arms.
"Fine," Draco mimicked.
"Well," Hermione said, as she walked purposefully to the massive front doors, "I'll be back in a bit, then."
And with a skillful flick of her wand, the doors creaked open on their great hinges.
The wind blew in several dried leaves that swirled around Hermione's dark cloak as she walked through the entryway.
"Wait!" Draco called, as he jogged to catch her.
Hermione turned, slightly annoyed, and looked at him quizzically.
"Be careful, okay?" Draco implored.
Hermione tried her best to fight her eyes from rolling, but to no avail. "I'll do my best, Draco - but I'm not making any promises," she said with a smirk.
This time, Draco rolled his eyes.
"See you," Hermione called over her should as she strode into the tempestuous dusk.
Draco stood like a statue framed by the massive post and lintel with his robes billowing around him as he watched Hermione shrink into the distance.
Without warning, in his now atmospheric perspective, the small form of Hermione transformed into a fabulous beast that flew skillfully to the apparation point.
Despite himself, Draco smiled.
"Show off," he muttered quietly.
When he could no longer see Hermione, Draco returned to the cool confines of the castle.
Immediate he lighted a fire with his wand, and then strode down the spiral stairs to the shadowy dungeon.
The pungent smell of the Polyjuice Potion filled his senses as he turned to the corner bookcase, which housed a sizable portion of the Malfoy Library texts.
He deftly ran his fingers over the spines of the retched tomes until he stopped on the very one he had been seeking - hidden surreptitiously in the shadow of a larger text.
The Darkest Secrets: A Pureblood's Guide to Immortality.
Draco pulled the thick volume from it's place on the shelf as dust seeped in from the empty space it created.
Brushing off the front cover, he re-read the title.
...Immortality...
Draco remembered seeing this particular text in his old library - most notably in the hands of one, Severus Snape.
"Reserve caution in reading the books in here, Draco," Snape had told him, long ago.
"Some will lead you on a dark path - to a bottomless pit of torment of which there is no end. But there are some, however," he paused, as he looked up from the dusty tome with his piercing ebony eyes, "...that can bring redemption."
Snape had fingered the text lightly before returning it to it's proper place - high on one of the innumerable shelves in the library.
That had been the summer before his sixth year at Hogwarts.
Draco had largely forgotten Snape's warning during his infamous final year at school. For his part, the text had been long since forgotten, until a certain day several months ago when he and his former Potion's professor emptied the Malfoy Private Library. Snape had grabbed the abandoned tome from it's precarious residence on the high shelf and gave Draco a knowing look.
"This book is dangerous to muggle-borns," was all he said, before unceremoniously tossing it into a pile with the rest.
Draco had nodded, and immediately hid the book where he was certain Hermione wouldn't see it. He had given her an ample selection of texts to choose from when she first arrived at the castle, knowing her curiosity at the given texts and thirst for knowledge would win out. Unfortunately, there was one volume in with the rest that proved just as harmful - and which he blamed himself for.
Opening the book, he found where he had last marked his place, walked over to the old wooden bench, and began reading.
He read in silence for several minutes, scratching the back of his head with his wand, until he came upon a footnote.
And there is was- hidden perfectly. Disguised so that you would just miss if if you weren't careful enough. In small fine print - where horrible teachers, like McGonagall, would draw questions for tests.
Horcruxes: Known means of destruction:
1. The Avada Kedavra curse.
2. Fangs of a basilisk.
3. Powerful magical objects (See Notes Below)
Although a vague description, a widely popular theory regarding the subject of the destruction of Horcruxes, are magical objects so powerful that they destroy the Horcrux beyond repair. Popular speculation includes: The Sword of Gryffindor (location unknown), The Sorcerer's Stone (location unknown), flames from The Goblet of Fire (held in the Ministry of Magic), and the actual wand belonging to the witch or wizard who created the Horcrux.
And that was it.
Before Draco could even begin to comprehend the implications of what he had just read, he heard the massive entry doors open and slam shut above him, followed by delicate footfalls gradually crossing the expanse of the entryway above and stopping at the top of the spiral stairs.
"Draco?" Hermione's voice called out from the stairs, "Are you down there?"
"Yeah, I'm here," he shouted a reply.
Hermione's footsteps continued down the stone stairs until her windswept head peered around the corner.
Her hair was a complete disaster.
Draco looked up from the text, slightly amused, "It looks like you were blown all over Scotland," he smirked.
Hermione scowled, "I practically was. Getting some of those hairs was more difficult than I anticipated. I managed to get the clerk's hair who runs the market place while he was bending over to pick up a bag of flower, the pudgy elderly woman that I already told you about that will be your new alias, the blacksmith's hair, two townspeople that were walking through the mud - "
"Hermione," Draco cut off, "I found something."
Hermione, who looked slightly affronted that Draco had interrupted her while she was reiterating the lengths that she had gone through to get the hairs, immediately looked intrigued the moment her brain processed the statement.
"What is it?" she asked, eagerly, as she set several small bags down on the bench.
Draco held up the text so that she could read the front cover.
"The Darkest Secrets: A Pureblood's Guide to Immortality?" Hermione questioned, as she squinted to read the verbiage, "I've never seen this text before."
Draco nodded, "I know. Snape specifically told me when we were emptying the library that this particular one is dangerous to muggle-borns."
Instead of looking frightened, Hermione simply looked all the more intrigued.
"What does it say?" she asked, peering around the cover.
"Don't!" Draco said, loudly, as he pulled the book to his chest, "I don't want to take any chances. Who knows which passages might be harmful to you? It's not worth the risk when I can just read it."
Looking slightly exasperated, Hermione put her hands on her hips, "Well, are you going to read, then, or would you like us to play twenty questions?"
Draco scowled, and found the passage again. With his finger grazing over every word, he re-read the section aloud.
Hermione sat on the bench as he read, looking thoughtful. When he was finished, he looked up from the text, "Well?" he asked, "What do you think?"
Her brow was furrowed as she subconsciously wrapped her thumb and forefinger around a disheveled curl.
"Why," she began quietly, "wouldn't Snape have just told you about that information?"
"What?"
Hermione stood from the bench and crossed the length of the room, "You said that Snape told you this book was dangerous to muggle-borns. Well, how could he have known that if he's never read it before? And if he's read it, why didn't he just tell us - or at least you, the bit about the Horcruxes?"
Draco looked at her, slightly dumbfounded.
"Wait, didn't you hear what I just said? The means to - "
"Of course I did," Hermione interrupted, as she waved her hand dismissively, "I just don't understand why he never told you information if already knew it himself."
Draco pondered that for a moment, "Well, maybe it's because he never had read it before. Maybe someone told him the book was dangerous to muggle-borns."
"Who? A Death Eater?" Hermione mocked, "Not likely. What Death Eater would care about protecting a muggle-born?" she added, as she sneaked another glance at the text.
Draco shut the book firmly before she could look any further, "Snape...Snape told me about this book before," he began, as his brow furrowed, "...you're right. He must have read it. He told me once...long ago, that it could possibly mean...redemption."
"Redemption?" Hermione questioned, her eyebrows high, "For what or who? Destroying Voldemort?"
"Possibly," he shrugged, "But you're right, why wouldn't he just tell me?"
"Well," Hermione began, as she sat back down on the wooden bench, "Maybe he couldn't tell you."
Draco looked confused, "What do you mean?" he asked, as he sat beside her on the bench.
"Maybe...maybe Voldemort would know if he said something about Horcruxes," Hermione said, as she looked up at Draco.
He seemed to be pondering that thought for a moment before he spoke, "Yeah, but Hermione, no one is supposed to know that he has Horcruxes - let alone seven of them... plus Snape is a master Legilimens. The Dark Lord has penetrated his mind before, so why would this be any different? Snape's been a spy for years and the Dark Lord doesn't even have a clue."
"And," he continued, "Snape has spoken to both you and I about Horcruxes, so why would this book be any different?"
Hermione's brow was furrowed in concentration, "What if...what if Voldemort knew about this particular book?" Her eyes widened with her own, startling realization, "This could be the book where he first read about Horcruxes! He originally learned about them from Professor Slughorn - Harry saw that in Dumbledore's pensieve..."
Hermione was standing now, and pacing the length of the small room.
"But surely," she continued between paces, "he would have needed to read more about their creation, their properties...and ultimately...their destruction. Maybe Voldemort put some kind of spell on this book...where he would know if any of his Death Eaters had read or spoken about them - like a taboo for the text. It's extremely complicated magic, he would have had to of performed about a dozen..." she trailed off before she found Draco's eyes, "And surely, Snape would know that better than anyone."
Draco looked at Hermione, incredulously.
Completely and utterly brilliant.
"Hermione! Of course!" he exclaimed, excitedly, "Snape's been hinting at that book for ages! He must have known that I would have taken special notice or care with it if he told me that it was dangerous to muggle-borns. It probably isn't even dangerous! I bet that it was the only way he knew I would finally pick up and read the damn thing!"
Draco was walking the length of the dungeon, hands flying in the air, as the realizations kept coming.
"And of course, you're right! The Dark Lord would do anything to protect his Horcruxes - Snape must have known that. Snape would have told me first thing in sixth year about that passage if he could have. But he couldn't! But that didn't mean that he wasn't able to hint to me!"
His chest was heaving deeply up and down, "Bloody hell!"
Hermione looked at him with bemusement, as he continued to pace the the room.
"It sure doesn't take much to excite you, does it?" she questioned, light heartedly.
Draco turned to face her and blushed slightly, "No, it's just that it all fits. Finally, something makes sense."
"I wonder, though," he added, "Why the Dark Lord doesn't have this book anymore..."
Hermione shrugged, as she went to grab the discarded text on the bench, "Maybe Snape 'misplaced' it."
"Don't!" Draco yelled, as he threw himself between Hermione and the text.
"What?" You just said it yourself! It's not dangerous! That it was the way that Snape - "
"No," he cut off, "I'm not taking any chances."
"Bloody hell," Hermione repeated, slightly annoyed.
But Draco merely smiled, "I never remember you cursing back at school."
She laughed, ruefully, "That's because I never did. It used to drive me crazy... I think Ron was a bad influence."
Woah, did I just talk about Ron willingly?
Odd.
It's not really sadness anymore, though is it? More like...nostalgia.
Draco was still smiling, "Well, I'm glad that he was. I not sure if I'd be able to stand you if you were still a prude."
"I was not a prude!" she retorted.
Draco laughed, "Whatever you say, Hermione. Now would you stop horsing around so that we can get to work?"
Hermione's face looked so shocked that Voldemort could have just strolled down the stairs and entered the room, and Draco wouldn't have been able to have known the difference.
"Okay," he began, "So basalisk fangs? The Goblet of Fire? How are we - or you, I guess, supposed to break into the Ministry of Magic or Hogwarts - "
"The Avada Kedavra curse works just fine, " Hermione interrupted, "It's worked on every Horcrux that we've encountered before."
"Did you cast it?" Draco asked.
Hermione looked slightly surprised by the question and shifted uncomfortably on the bench, "No. But I don't see how - "
"Trust me, Hermione," Draco interrupted, "Only certain people can cast the Avada Kedavra. Whether it's on an object, or a person, it doesn't make a difference. Sometimes there are blood sacrifices involved, and you have to have that same hatred within you...I don't think you could do it."
Hermione stared at him blankly before he whispered, quietly, "I couldn't do it."
Hermione's sorrel eyes locked into Draco's ashen ones for several moments. "But...why could Harry do it, then?" she asked, softly.
Draco regarded her momentarily, "Well, he's the 'chosen one', isn't he?" he spat, acidly.
Hermione's eyes widened at the bitter tone in his voice.
"No," he said in a much softer tone after a moment, "Potter has a connection to the Dark Lord that no one can explain. Dumbledore probably didn't even know the extent of it. But the Dark Lord completely destroyed Potter's childhood - his parents, his mentors...his friends..." he trailed off.
"I suspect he would have it in him to do whatever was necessary to kill the Dark Lord."
Hermione nodded in agreement.
She didn't mention the rage that she had once felt in her heart over the death of Ron. Regardless of whatever place she was in now, she knew that it that moment of rage, that she would have been able to cast the killing curse in an instant - heaven help whomever stood in the way.
"Right," Hermione said, while glancing at the book, "Well, this is in then, isn't it? We have our means of destruction - but still, I have no clue as to where that last unknown Horcrux could be. I think...that's where we should focus our efforts. All this is for naught if we don't have the actual object to destroy."
Draco nodded, "How did you find the last ones?"
"Well, Dumbledore had already destroyed the ring," she began as she counted off on her fingers, "Harry had the diary from Ginny, and it just took some extensive research to track down the real Slytherin locket and Hufflepuff's cup. But that's the thing - we knew what we were looking for. We already knew about Slytherin's locket, and Dumbledore had a hunch about the cup, so we just followed those leads. Dumbledore mentioned an idea that Voldemort would collect something from all the Founders of Hogwarts, but - "
"Well, that just leaves Ravenclaw and Gryffindor, then," Draco interrupted.
Hermione nodded, "I looked for ages for something Voldemort would have taken from either house, but I always came up empty handed. And then Harry thought it might be too obvious an idea, so we started - "
"Too obvious?" Draco asked, loudly.
"Well yes, he said - "
"Hermione! Potter is supposed to have a connection with the Dark Lord for crying out loud! Does he know nothing at all of his character? The Dark Lord lives for the dramatics. It would be his final triumph to have something from every house to throw in the Founders' faces - not only that he was Slytherin's heir, but that Slytherin was justified with all his 'pureblood superiority' rubbish! I would bet every galleon I have that the missing Horcrux is something of Ravenclaw's or Gryffindor's.
Hermione smiled, widely, "Well, let's get to work, then."
So completely different from Harry.
Draco returned the gesture, "Deal. And by the way," he added as he stood from the bench, "Don't even attempt to go looking for this book - you'll never find it."
He waved The Darkest Secrets dramatically in the air.
"Is that a challenge?" Hermione pressed, as she too, stood.
"A warning," he said, sternly.
Hermione picked up the small bags of hairs from the bench and walked toward the newly bottled viles, "And you said that I was a prude?"
Behind her back, Draco sighed loudly, "Can't you ever resist the idiocy of running head first into danger?"
Hermione turned around with a seductive grin, "Where's the fun in that? I am a Gryffindor, after all."
Draco rolled his eyes, "Trust me, I know. You don't need to remind me."
"Slimy Slytherin git."
"Bossy Gryffindor know-it-all."
They both turned to each other and chuckled softly.
"Do you need help with those hairs?" Draco asked, as he came up behind her.
Hermione nodded, "Uncork the viles, and I'll make labels."
Draco had the viles ready while Hermione was still muttering softly to herself, "Let's see...the market man...check...the two younger women in the street..."
"Oh, so I get to be a nice young woman, now, do I?" Draco asked, as he folded his arms and leaned his back against the table.
"Fat chance. I've already told you who you are. Who knows what you would do with those women's bodies..."
"Hermione! I'm not that sick! What kind of pervert do you think I am?" he interrupted, looking for all the world, genuinely shocked.
"You tell me. You were the one that insinuated it," Hermione replied as she finished with the last of the labels.
"Well, that's disgusting. I would never dream of - "
"Everyone said that during fourth year you spied on the Slytherin girls in the prefects bathroom," Hermione said with a smirk, as she pocketed her wand, "What do you have to say to that?"
Draco's eyes shot up a mile on his forehead.
"Did you even see the girls in Slytherin while you were at Hogwarts! They were trolls! Why would I want to see them without any clothing when I could barely stomach them even in all those ghastly robes?"
Hermione was laughing loudly, "How am I supposed to know? We all just assumed that you liked larger women."
Draco looked much like the time that Hermione had slapped him in the face - staring dumbfounded at nothing in particular.
"Well, I'm heading up. It's freezing down here," Hermione informed him as she passed by the bookshelf, "Let's see... oh!" she exclaimed, as she pulled a thick tome from the shelf, "I'm glad the two of you had enough sense to bring Hogwarts: A History with you. There could be some information about the Founders in here that I've overlooked."
Draco, still reeling from Hermione's last comment, shook his head, "Wait, don't you have that thing memorized by now? You were always carting it all over the school. I'm surprised that you don't look like Quasimodo with all of those books that were slung over your shoulder."
"Funny," Hermione spat as she climbed the spiral stairs, "You're a real comedian."
Draco smirked to himself as he heard Hermione climbing the stairs. He walked toward the bookshelf and grabbed The History of Magic, along with Nature's Nobility: A Wizarding Geneology.
He thumbed quickly through the two texts, scanning over a few chapter headings, and then too climbed the steps to the entryway.
Before he came around the final bend in the stairwell, he immediately felt the shift in temperature, and the warmth that was emanating from the fire. Hermione was sitting in her usual spot on the sofa near the fireplace, with her feet tucked up under her robes, and her head bent in concentration over Hogwarts: A History. She did not look up when he walked over and sat in the reclining chair.
"I don't think that it's anything from Gryffindor," she said, her head still in the book.
"Why not?" Draco asked.
"Because the only known relic of Godric Gryffindor is his sword, and if that's one of the possible theories of objects that can destroy the actual Horcruxes, then that wouldn't make any sense. You can't have an object be a Horcrux, and have it be the thing to destroy it at the same time. It's impossible."
Draco set The History of Magic on the floor beside him, "And there's nothing else of Gryffindor's the Dark Lord might have used? You're sure?"
Hermione looked up from the thick text, "Well, I was in Gryffindor house. And yes, I am sure. If it's not the sword, then there is nothing else that has ever been mentioned or written about that I can think of that Voldemort would even know to use for a Horcrux. And you just said it yourself. Voldemort lives for dramatics. I don't think it would be some obscure little thing...like Gryffindor's handkerchief or something."
"Well, then we've just narrowed it down. Ravenclaw it is. What are some known artifacts?"
They discussed well into the night various artifacts from Rowena Ravenclaw that could possibly be linked to Horcruxes. A diadem, scepter, dagger, and compass were all likely candidates.
Hermione yawned widely, as she set the book she was reading on her lap, "Here, read this."
Draco looked up from his own text, and then got up from his chair to sit by Hermione on the sofa. She wordlessly handed him the text and pointed to a passage.
Rowena Ravenclaw, known for her extreme intelligence and wit, was an essential asset to the four founders of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. From an early age, Rowena demonstrated obvious signs of aptitude and intellect. Rumor has it, that on one brisk autumn morning, when she was merely five years of age, Rowena...
Draco continued reading until he felt his eyelids growing heavy. And suddenly, wonderfully, he felt a slight weight leaning into his side. Draco slowly turned to the left to see Hermione's head resting slightly against his shoulder. Her breathing was deep and spaced, and she looked utterly peaceful. Draco sat for a moment, watching her sleep. He observed her closely - something he could never do when she was awake. She somehow always seemed to know when his eyes were on her.
Her dark lashes were strangely fascinating. So soft in appearance, but Draco was sure if he ever grazed them, they would tickle. And then there were her lips. Her perfect, rich, lips.
She sighed deeply in that moment, and subconsciously nestled closer into Draco's side. He set the book down on his lap and closed his eyes with contentment.
Maybe the late night researching wasn't going to be that bad, after all.
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