Of two things Hermione Granger was absolutely certain.
First, that she was in danger.
Second, that she needed to make up with Harry and tell Ron the truth.
Her stomach sank at the thought of what she must do, but she knew that she couldn't work through this – the anonymous hate mail promising harm to her – by herself. She needed her best friends back. There had been a new message this morning, somehow slipped into the pocket of her robes:
Remember, Mudblood. I'm watching. You will be nothing soon enough. I will kill you and wipe out your tainted existence from the Wizarding world as well as the filthy Muggle one. Watch your back.
The words had made her stomach turn over and caused sweat to bead up on her forehead. She had shoved that note, as well as the one from last night, in her robe pocket to show to Harry and Ron when they forgave her.
If they forgave her.
Sighing, Hermione made her way up the staircase of Gryffindor Tower that led to the dorm room that Harry and Ron shared. She paused outside the door of their room, then, taking a deep breath, knocked loudly once, twice, three times.
She heard footsteps inside the room, the muffled sound of male laughter, before the door swung open to reveal Harry standing there with his hair sticking up everywhere as usual, looking dishevelled with his tie askew and his top buttons undone.
He looks like his father, Hermione thought.
Being the studious person that she was, Hermione had researched about James Potter, finding out his ancestry and how successful a wizard he had been. She had seen pictures of him holding the Quidditch Cup, laughing, while Sirius Black ruffled his hair and Remus Lupin stood to the side, embarrassed at having his picture taken alongside Peter Pettigrew, who was looking eagerly up at James and Sirius. The resemblance between James in that photo and Harry now was striking. The only difference was his eyes. He had his mother's bright green eyes, contrasting against his black hair.
Those green eyes now were cold as he stared at her, silent. From behind him, she heard Ron say "Who is it, mate? If it's Neville again, looking for that bloody toad, tell him to bugger off. I'm tired."
"It's not Neville," Harry said in an even voice, devoid of emotion. His tone was so odd that Ron pushed into the doorway beside Harry to see who it was. When he saw it was her, his face went blank with shock.
"What do you want?" Harry asked.
Hermione cleared her throat, which felt thick and unusable. "I just… Can I talk to you?" she stammered, anxiety coursing through her like a tidal wave.
Harry pursed his lips, thinking, before nodding once and stepping out into the hall with her, closing the door behind him. He leaned against the wall, face unreadable.
"Talk," he said.
"I'm sorry," she began, her voice strong. No more crying.
"I lied to you, and I went behind your back when you deserved the truth, and I'm sorry. I'm sorry if my relationship with Draco upset you, Harry, but who I date is my business and not yours. And it certainly isn't your place to get angry at me for my choice of partner. I am here to apologise for lying to you and going behind your back, and to ask for your forgiveness and your friendship again, Harry, because I really need you right now. You and Ron, who I am going to tell the truth to as soon as I'm done talking to you. Just be my friend again and give me one more chance with your trust. Please." Hermione said in a rush, trying to get everything out in the open before he began yelling at her.
Harry stood there silently, looking at her. Certainly not yelling. Just accusing silence.
"Say something," she begged, looking up at him.
Harry let out a long breath that she hadn't realised he'd been holding. The blank mask dropped from his face, revealing a hurt so deep that it choked her up.
"Hermione, I…." Harry began, running a hand through his already messy hair, "I'm not angry at you anymore. Just hurt. But I understand. I'm glad you apologised. Just promise me you'll never lie to me again."
"I promise," Hermione said with conviction. She meant it. She would never break Harry's trust again.
"Then… I forgive you. Just don't expect me to get all buddy-buddy with Malfoy," Harry said, his voice lighter.
Hermione laughed, giddy with relief. "I don't care if you tear up his homework or something, Harry. You don't have to change. Are we friends again?" She asked, uncertainly.
Harry smiled and reached out to ruffle her frizzy hair. "Of course," he said.
Hermione sighed. "Now I just have to tell Ron," she said dismally.
"Don't worry about it, Hermione," he said. "'I'll be there with you. He'll be angry at first, but he'll come around. Trust me."
"I do," she said, gratefully.
With that, Harry opened the door to his dorm room where Ron was waiting and ushered her inside.
Time to face the music.
"WHAT?!" Ron exclaimed, jumping to his feet, face bright red.
"Please tell me I heard you wrong, Hermione! Please tell me you're playing some sick joke!"
Hermione shook her head, eyes down at her feet.
"So you mean to tell me that you've been seeing Draco Malfoy? The Draco Malfoy? Tall, pale, pointy face, white blond hair, looks like a git and acts like one too? The Draco Malfoy who calls you Mudblood? The Draco Malfoy who has been our worst enemy since we stepped off the Hogwarts express in our first year? That Draco Malfoy?" Ron shouted, pacing around the dorm room frantically.
Harry was leaning against his bedpost, watching Ron's outburst with a concerned expression on his face. Hermione was perched on the end of Ron's bed, eyes downcast.
"Mate," Harry began, reaching out and grabbing Ron's forearm. "I understand why you're angry – believe me, I understand. But this is Hermione's choice, and we can't hate her or slander her because of it. It's not fair to her. Can you just calm down for a minute so that we can discuss this?"
"Calm down?" Ron asked incredulously. "Calm down?" She's getting around with Draco Bloody Malfoy!" he spat, throwing his words like weapons towards Harry.
"That might be true, but Hermione needs us right now, mate. She still has to explain what she means by that, however," Harry said, throwing a glance in Hermione's direction.
Hermione lifted her head. The notes. The threats.
"Somebody's been leaving my anonymous hate mail, threatening my life," Hermione explained in a scared tone. "Somebody who knows about me and Draco."
"What? When?" Harry cried, moving over to sit next to her.
"There was one last night and another one this morning. I don't know how they got into my room, because only Gryffindors can enter Gryffindor Tower, and I can't think of anyone in Gryffindor who would want to hurt me," Hermione explained.
Ron looked shocked. Harry looked ashen.
"Hermione, we've got to report this!" Ron exclaimed, his rage forgotten.
She shook her head. "If one teacher knows, then the rest of the faculty and then the school will find out about me and Draco. No," she said, "We're going to work this out on our own."
Draco Malfoy paced around on the plush silver-grey carpet of his Slytherin dorm room, mind racing with panic and anger. Hermione had told him earlier about the threatening hate messages that had been appearing, and he was livid. How dare somebody threaten her? If he found out who it was, he would kill them. Literally.
He would do anything to keep her safe. He was going to find out who was leaving the ominous notes, no matter what it took. And he meant that. Hermione had warned him that it could involve working with Potter and the Weasel, and he had readily agreed. Anything to keep her safe.
Draco checked his watch. He was supposed to meet Hermione at Hagrid's cabin at seven. They had decided that it wasn't safe to meet at the Astronomy Tower anymore – they had to meet somewhere new each time. Potter was going to walk her to the cabin. They had agreed that Hermione was not to be alone at all anymore. She had protested at that, but in the end practicality had won out. He knew she was scared. This was how to keep her safe.
Draco reached Hagrid's cabin at seven on the dot and saw two figures making their way toward him down the hill, one with very frizzy hair and one with very messy hair. Hermione and Potter. Potter's face was twisted into a scowl when they reached Draco, and handed Hermione over with a simple nod, before turning and walking back the way he came. Hermione took Draco's hand and led him toward the greenhouses, where they were going to spend the evening.
As soon as they got inside the empty greenhouse, Draco backed her against the wall and caught her up in a kiss that was equal parts desperate and hungry, pouring all of his fear and anger and passion and uncertainty into the embrace, pulling her tighter against him, kissing her harder, down her neck and nibbling at the edge of her jaw, causing her to giggle.
"That tickles," she whispered against his lips.
"Good," he said, catching her mouth with his again, kissing her fiercely, sliding his tongue into her mouth. Hermione responded with equal passion and enthusiasm, yanking up the bottom of his shirt to trace the defined shape of him, lightly digging her nails into his back. He made an odd moanish noise, and slowly moved his hands under her shirt.
Hermione froze up at the feeling of his hands on her skin. She'd never gone much farther than kissing with a guy before, and this new sensation stopped her in her tracks.
"Is this okay?" Draco whispered?
Mustering up her courage, she nodded, and returned to kissing Draco with a passion that couldn't come close to describing how she felt about him, letting his hands roam under her shirt. When they finally pulled away, their clothes were rumpled, their cheeks flushed, their lips swollen and their chests heaving.
"That was… intense," Hermione said.
"If it was too much, I'm sorry," Draco began. "I'm just so scared for you and I needed to feel you alive and safe in my arms. We don't have to do that again. I'm sorry," he babbled.
Hermione pressed a finger to his lips to keep him quiet. "It was perfect," she said softly, combing his hair back with her fingers.
Draco sighed and pulled her into a hug, holding her close. They stayed like that for about a minute until Hermione gently pulled away.
"We have a job to do," she reminded him.
They had decided earlier that they were going to discuss who was behind the threatening notes. With a sigh, Draco pulled back and leaned against a bench of potted Mandrakes, folding his arms across his chest.
"Right," he said. "Do you have any theories?"
"Well, I have one," she said, "but it's kind of a long shot.
"It's the only shot we've got," he reminded her.
"Well, I was thinking: It has to be somebody with a fair amount of blood prejudice, right? So that makes me believe it could be a Slytherin. Sorry," she added, seeing the look on Draco's face. "You know it's true."
He sighed. "You're right," he said. "Continue. I love watching that beautiful brain work."
"Well, I thought it could be a Slytherin, but how would a Slytherin know the password to Gryffindor Tower? And how could they get in there without being spotted? I can't think of any student who would be powerful enough or skilled enough to cast an invisibility spell that would last any longer than ten minutes. Which made me think it could be an adult. And since the only adults at our school are teachers, then it must be a teacher. And the only teacher with enough power and blood prejudice to fit the description of my stalker is… Snape.
After a long silence, Draco said "You're right. It is a long shot."
"It's the only theory we've got to work on, and you've got to admit it makes sense," Hermione said.
"Of course it makes sense. I just can't believe that Snape would…." He trailed off into silence. Hermione remembered that Snape was head of Slytherin House, and that Draco was probably close to him. She felt a pang of pity toward him.
"I'm sorry if it's hard to hear, Draco. It just makes sense."
He put his nose close to hers. "I know," he whispered, and then took her hand and led her out of the greenhouse and into the castle.
Harry met them in the doorway of the Great Hall at the appointed time, ready to pick her up.
"I feel like a child," Hermione complained, but secretly she felt glad that somebody was protecting her. Truth be told, she was scared. Draco kissed her goodnight, just a peck, but it was enough to set Harry's mouth into a thin line of anger and disgust. Draco dropped her a wink and walked away, leaving her with Harry, who silently walked her up to her dorm room in Gryffindor Tower.
"Goodnight, Hermione, he said, opening her bedroom door for her.
"Goodnight, Harry," she replied, closing the door between them and turning to face her bed – and gasped.
Her red Gryffindor curtains had been shredded. They hung in tatters over the open window of her room – the window she had closed before she left. Sitting on her bed, as if on display, was an unsealed envelope. Fingers shaking with trepidation and fear, she pulled out the letter inside and read it.
Not even close. Keep guessing, Mudblood. You haven't got much time left.
The room spun around Hermione. Her breath came in shallow gasps, as if she couldn't get enough air. She was hyperventilating. She collapsed into bed seconds before her knees gave way completely and pulled the covers over her head. She was shaking all over, tears blurring her vision, as the words played over and over in her head.
Knowing she would never sleep alone, Hermione conjured up her Patronus and gave it a message to deliver: Come to my window.
Fifteen minutes later, Hermione heard a knock on the window she had just closed. She sprang out, wand at the ready, before seeing who it was. Relieved, she put her wand away and opened the window, letting Draco fly his broomstick into her room and dismount. He took in the scene before him: shredded curtains, note left open on the floor, promising her demise.
He pulled Hermione into his arms.
"Will you sleep with me?" She mumbled into his chest.
"Of course," he replied, and led her over to her bed, pulling her down so she lay beside him, spooning him. He held her tightly until she finally drifted off to sleep, keeping watch over her, more protective than any Patronus ever would be.