Panic attacked Malfoy's brain. And when he became aware that what he was doing was, in fact, panicking, the panic turned to annoyance. Granger and her disappearing act were messing with his mind. Why should he care if she disappeared? Why should he care if she wasn't around anymore? Why should he care if she died?
"Granger!" He felt along the rows of books, stopping to listen for a response.
"Malfoy, could you please get me out of here?"
Relief rushed through his body, but he tried to ignore it. "Where are you?"
"The book, Malfoy! Push it back in."
He looked around wildly until he spotted the blue book he had pulled out a few moments before. It was leaning outward in an awkward position, as if it was bolted to the bottom of the shelf. Cautiously he pushed it back in, stepping back and tightening his grip on his wand as the rumbling noise echoed again, and one of the bookshelves slowly revolved. Hermione was on a section of rotating floor, a bookshelf on each side, hiding the room beyond. She hugged the book to her chest and stepped back into the room with Malfoy, eyeing him suspiciously again. "Did I worry you?" There was a hint of sarcasm in her voice. She put her book back and pointed at the rotating bookshelf. "There's an entire room behind that bookshelf! The only problem is, it looks exactly the same as this room does. And there could be another room beyond that..."
Malfoy felt his jaw drop. "We have to search both rooms?"
"To start with." She crossed the room and pulled the blue book out again, causing the shelf to revolve again. "Let's work our way out, starting with this room."
She turned and entered the room, but Malfoy didn't follow her. "Are you coming, Ferrethead?"
He narrowed his eyes. "Brilliant, Granger. If we're both in there, how the hell do we get out?"
Hermione bent down to the bottom bookshelf in the extended room. "There has to be a book in here that does the same thing." She began pulling out books while Malfoy watched, one eyebrow raised.
"Are you actually as lazy as you look?" Hermione asked snidely, and Malfoy was next to her in a second.
"It's a little something called 'not living on hot coals', Granger. You should try it sometime."
Hermione ignored him, continuing to pull out the books until finally, the door began to revolve again. She smirked at him and pushed the book back onto the shelf, but he pulled out the blue book on his side of the room, and the door revolved inward again.
"Malfoy! Let me out!"
He chuckled. "Maybe I should just leave you there for the night!"
There was a short silence. "You wouldn't dare," she growled menacingly.
But the unfortunate thing was, her tone made him want to do just that. He rolled his eyes. "See ya in the morning, Granger."
"Malfoy! Get me out of here!"
He continued laughing and conjured a pillow and blanket on the floor before reaching for a stack of books to search.
"Silencio," he muttered, pointing his wand at the opposite bookshelf.
He spent the next several hours searching each book for a clue about the Horcruxes, but he found nothing.
"Granger?" He called finally, reaching for the blue book to release the revolving bookshelf. There was no reply. "Granger, this isn't funny."
He entered the small adjoining room, but Hermione was nowhere to be seen.
"Granger? Granger, come on!"
He ran his hands along the shelves of the bookcase, his eyes widening. "Hermione!" When there was, again, no reply, Malfoy closed his eyes. "Don't panic," he muttered. "Don't panic." He leaned against a bookshelf, massaging his temples. "Why am I so worried about the stupid Mudblood? She's beautiful, smart, and—Damn, she's still just a Mudblood!"
There was a low rumbling sound, and Hermione emerged from yet another room filled with shelves of books. And she was laughing.
"Beautiful? Smart? Hardly the words I'd expect you to use when describing me, Malfoy." She continued laughing.
"I didn't mean anything by it," he sneered unconvincingly. "We're supposed to be working together, Mudblood."
"Oh, okay," Hermione returned, still laughing. She put her hand over her stomach.
"What if I did mean what I said?" Malfoy whispered, reaching her in two strides and towering over her. All signs of laughter were gone from her face in an instant as she stared up at his intimidating figure.
Her heart raced as he glared down at her. She felt butterflies in her stomach, and that's when she began to curse inwardly.
No, no, no, no, no, she thought desperately, shrinking into the corner. He's a selfish Slytherin idiot, with no consideration for anyone else…but he can be sweet when he wants to be…and the way his hair rests across his forehead—
Malfoy turned back toward the shelves and tossed a book behind him, effectively hitting Hermione in the head.
"Watch what you're doing, Ferret!"
"Make me," he muttered, smirking at her.
She drew her wand and murmured a spell, causing a whole row of books to fly off the shelf, smashing into Malfoy and knocking him sideways.
"You—messed with the wrong—wizard," he grunted, struggling to his feet and drawing his own wand.
Within the next minute, the two were engaged in an intense battle involving flying books and shouts of "Protego!"
Hermione laughed as a book knocked Malfoy's wand out of his hand, but the flying wand shot a spell at the top of the bookshelf, sending all of the books toppling to the floor, right on top of Hermione.
"Granger."
Hermione opened her eyes. She was back in the Room of Requirement, lying on a couch in the living room. Again.
"Malfoy?"
She made to sit up, but a gentle hand pressed her back into the pillows and held an ice pack to her forehead.
A blond head swam before her eyes, and she blinked. "Malfoy, what are you doing?"
He snorted. "You got hit by a book. A two-foot-thick book."
Noticing that the fire was lit, she groaned and leaned back, closing her eyes.
"Are you—are you feeling alright?"
She opened her eyes. "What?"
His expression was blank as his eyes stared into hers.
"Did you just ask me if I'm feeling alright?"
He didn't answer.
"How did you get me in here?"
Malfoy's jaw twitched. "Levitation," he said shortly, then handed her the ice pack.
"How long have I been out?"
"Less than fifteen minutes," he said offhandedly, then turned purposefully toward his room. "I'm going to bed. See you in the morning, Granger."
She sat up and stared after him, and he turned around to face her again. "Keep ice on your head for the next little while."
"And if I don't?"
His eyes narrowed, but he smirked. "You will, Granger." His robes billowed behind him as he entered his room and quietly closed the door.
"Mudblood!"
Lucius Malfoy stood before Hermione, his wand pointed at her chest. "What do you think you're doing?"
Hermione glared at him. "Drop dead," she hissed, leaning forward to spit the words at him.
He scowled and raised his wand, his lips forming the words of the Killing Curse.
Before Draco even knew what he was doing, he had shoved Hermione aside and taken her place. He felt life leave him just as he registered the look of pure shock on his father's face…
He sat up with a start, his face covered with sweat. It had all been a nightmare, a horrible dream.
Draco slowly and shakily climbed out of bed, grabbing his wand as he headed for the door.
Everything was quiet and peaceful in the living room; there was no sound at all. Draco made his way to the couch and sat down, dropping his head into his hands.
"And what, may I ask, are you doing up at this late hour?" the table asked, somewhat rudely.
When the boy didn't answer, the table made a "tsk" noise. "Perhaps," it continued, "the Pureblood would be able to fall asleep if he was sure that the Mudblood knew how he felt about her."
"Don't call her that!" he snarled, then swore under his breath.
"Oops, I seem to have struck a nerve. Of course, I, too, find the term 'Mudblood' highly insulting and disgusting—I simply said it to confirm my suspicions."
"There's nothing for her to know," Draco whispered, but the table heard him.
"The Pureblood may have been able to fool the Muggle-born, but I am fully aware of the truth."
Draco's jaw tightened. "What do you mean?"
"The Pureblood told the Muggle-born that she was levitated into this room."
The boy turned to face the table. "Your point is?"
"She doesn't know the truth. She doesn't know what really happened after the books fell on her. Does the Pureblood intend to hide that from her forever?"
"Yes," Draco answered through clenched teeth. "And I'm going back to bed." He stood up and almost ran to the bedroom door, but he stopped at the sound of the table's voice.
"If the Pureblood should wish to examine his thoughts more closely, he might try looking in his study."
Draco rolled his eyes, but he quietly approached the door of the study and pushed it open, pointing his wand at the candles on the table.
Next to the candles sat a metal basin that hadn't been there before. And inside the basin was a silvery liquid.
A Pensieve.