Hogwarts.

Oh, how she adored this place, especially now that the construction wizards had proven the skeptics wrong. The castle was just as it had been, perhaps with a bit more polish.

But where in the castle had they landed?

"Drac—,"

"You took me by surprise today, Hermione," he interrupts gruffly, tearing himself from her side with an irritated huff. She realizes that instead of stirring passion, she'd accidentally baited him into releasing some pent up frustration. "You do realize, Granger, that this isn't the right time for us?"

She stares at him, not quite sure how to answer.

Looking at his own hand resting on the stone wall, he speaks, "As much as my situation has improved, it is not yet ideal. I have not battled all of my demons. I still..." He stops himself and shakes his head. He turns to her and continues, "To be plain, Hermione, I do not believe I can give you what you want."

She makes a small sound of confused frustration and he speaks before she can raise any questions.

"It is just that you took me by surprise today. You were there in the garden with Teddy—"

"...and you invited me to join you, Draco," Hermione finishes with some impatience. "So, why are we here now if you can't be...?"

"The first night, remember, Hermione?" he responds evasively, turning from her again, opening his arms wide and moving them in an arc as he swings 'round on his heel. Hermione examines her surroundings more closely.

Could this be the very same place she'd faced down Draco on her own, so very long ago?

"You despised me then," he continues without gauging her response. He moves farther away from her to walk the perimeter, rediscovering the old alcove. "I can honestly say I felt the very same for you. On that night, there was no part of me that wished to console you and wipe away your dirty tears. In truth, I intended to make you feel far worse. Yet—"

"...you were intrigued by me," she finishes for him, touching the memory of first becoming sexually aware of the Slytherin Prince and discovering the heady power she wielded over him. "Frankly, Malfoy, I felt the same about you. It was a sickening feeling, really. I wanted to touch you. Sick , dark, twisted—"

"But arousing for you?" Draco questions in a sneering tone. "Addictive, perhaps?"

"I'd never touched a boy the way I touched you, then," she admits with some reluctance. Then, in an effort to lighten the mood, adds more playfully, "You incite such wickedness, Malfoy."

"You have an unhealthy desire for things that are bad for you, Granger," he replies derisively. "That's why it never worked out with Ron or anyone else," he observes, shaking his head. "What would you have done if I had taken you up on your naive offer that night? I could have ruined you!"

"But you didn't, Draco," Hermione reminds him. "You were immobile against that wall, and not because of some magical spell, either. I was the one who did the sensible thing. I walked away from the vile temptation of you that night," she retorts tartly, running her palm against the roughly hewn stone wall. "That was a long time ago, Draco. We were sixteen then. Why the trip down memory lane? You told me that you're not the same person you used to be and I can see that for myself. After all, I'm not the same girl I was back then, either."

"Why do you fail to understand? I am not different enough to be good for you," he growls irritatedly. "I was an evil little bugger when I prowled these halls. You should not have had anything to do with me our Sixth Year." He glares at her, his lips form a familiar arrogant scowl that raises her hackles. "And you are wrong to feel anything for me now. It appears, Granger," he adds more menacingly, "that you need some proper schooling on this fact. That is why we are here, you see. It is obvious you must learn the unfortunate lesson that some things never change."

"Some things?... You mean, things like how despite your thorough enjoyment of my touch, you pull away every time you might lose control?" she inquires, purposely needling him to cause him some pain in return for inflicting such stinging sentiments on her. "Or how about every time we actually start discussing how we truly feel about one another, you resort to kissing me until I can't think straight?"

She spies his unmistakable masculine pride clash with his fury at her retort. The muscles in his jaw work. He is obviously annoyed by her far too insightful observations. His hands clench and unclench as he strides the half-length of the small hall.

"We are here to play out that night again!" He announces this with such force that it causes her to flinch. He approaches her, stalking. A frisson of fear skitters up her spine. "Go on, Granger! Begin!"

"You can't make me do anything," she protests weakly, taking an instinctive step back from his roar. "Besides, we're out in the open. People will see."

"The school is on holiday and that means Filch is in his cups out past Hagrid's hut, carousing with his poor excuse of a cat. Stop stalling." A malevolent little smile plays on his lips. "We are here to remind you that you need to walk away from this... from me. You need to remember the reasons why you were the first to walk away and you need to realize how important it is that you do the walking away again. Merlin knows, I am selfish enough to keep you from leaving me. I'll destroy you if you stay."

Belatedly, she realizes she shouldn't have pushed him at dinner. Maybe this is what Harry was talking about. "Be careful with Malfoy," Harry had warned, "because he's not quite over his post-war issues." Well, it sure as hell would have been nice to know whether or not Draco had violent tendencies, she sends these bitter thoughts at her best friend, suddenly worried for her safety. When she fails to respond, Draco grows angry.

"Play it out again, Mudblood!" he snaps. Her head whips up. She is further shocked silent by his use of the hateful epithet, hurt tears threaten to flow.

"I don't like this game, Draco," she announces stiffly, her fingers inch toward her wand at his unrelenting approach. She blinks furiously, refusing to show him any signs of weakness.

"We'll see if you still feel the same about me after we're done. You believe you care about me? You think I'm worth... redemption?" Draco laughs out the last word. It is a maniacal and hollow sound that causes Hermione's stomach to plummet to her feet. "I believe you're simply infatuated with the idea of me," he continues, "I'm poison for you, Mudblood! To think otherwise is stupidity at its extreme," he bellows. "Find your blasted courage, you bloody Gryffindor, and PLAY IT OUT!"

Though Hermione is quite fully aware that Draco is testing her, the sound of his last furious shout echoes down the empty corridor, making her cringe. His voice, rough and taunting, acts a time-turner, transporting her through time, sending her back to the years she fell victim to his Sixth Year bullying. Draco moves ever closer to her. The look on his face softens as he nears, but instead of the apologies and reassuring arms she half-expects him to offer, he purposely crowds her, invading her space.

Menacing.

Hermione's heart leaps to her throat and she lets out a small sound of dismay when he shoves her against the wall. She watches as he examines the evidence of her silent tears.

"What's all this incessant wailing about, Granger?"

Eyes still wet, she scowls at him, taking great exception to his exaggeration about her show of emotion. She is further annoyed that he seems to remember the script from that night long ago. He chuckles lightly at her perturbed expression, but the sound lacks mirth. "Regardless, Granger, I've come to ensure that I'm the cause of it," he shrugs. The sneer in his voice is real enough to set off another stream of infuriated tears and the one sob that accompanies the torrent. "Are you going to flee in despair, now, Mudblood? By all means, do what is best for you and leave. GO!" he barks.

His taunting command rings in her ears and she is mightily tempted to do as he says, but she glimpses a fleeting yearning look in his hardened expression. She'd run once. But not this time. She digs in her heels and witnesses, again, the momentary softening of his grey gaze. In this split-second he appears to be begging her to stay. It is this look, one Hermione hopes she hadn't imagined, that keeps her feet at a standstill. She takes in a huge gulping breath and decides to fight back, just as she did that one night. After all, he had some nerve pushing her like this!

How dare he taunt her!

Recalling how her fury had fueled her boundless courage, she reaches back into her memories to summon some glorious anger. She knows she needs its strength to fight against the growing hurt Draco is causing to blossom in her chest with his carefully chosen words.

Why is he doing this? she wonders, knocking the back of her head against the stone wall as she gazes up at the ceiling.

Well, whatever the answer to her question, the fact remains that Draco means to continue. Because of this, Hermione refuses to back down. Again, she works to gather the rage that started her dance with this particular devil. Unfortunately, she is unable to call up old anger toward Ron. Instead, she focuses on how she feels about Malfoy's many misdeeds. She remembers the agony of wrenching herself away from him five years ago and the echoing pain of leaving him at St. Mungo's after the one searing one she thought might change the course of her life. Of course, she remembers the more recent, long and lonely months after the auction when she'd eagerly awaited his owl. All of this, she realizes, amounted to years of her life she can never reclaim. Years of pining over one infernal man, constant in only one thing: his ultimate belief that their pairing would be a road to hell.

But hell is what she'd already lived through without him and for Hermione, tonight is her do-over, her chance to right some wrongs, to at last discover joy, no matter how hard won it might be. Yet, the man who once claimed she was his alone, is again repudiating her, standing there in all his Pureblooded arrogance, proclaiming he knows what is best for her, that, in fact, she is stupid for having the audacity to care for him and his stubborn arse.

Oh yes, all of this is enough to set off some fine sparks flying from the ends of her hair. No one ever told Hermione Granger she was stupid!

"Stop calling me that vile name, Draco. I am not some dog you can order about, nor am I one of those many unfortunate witches you cat about with!" she shouts indignantly.

There is a spark of something in the depths of his gaze, something that she recognizes as defiance. The sight of it baits Hermione into entering the duel.

"And to be sure, Draco, of late, you are always the cause of my crying," she adds hotly, mentally pulling herself up and angrily swiping away the wet from her face and poking a finger toward him. "Frankly, there's nothing more you can do to make my entire life any worse!" except leave me for good and tell me once and for all that you don't love me like I love you, she adds silently.

She begins her offense now, firming her grip on her wand, drawing it out for attack. His gaze doesn't hold terror today, though. In its place appears a smug satisfaction at having riled her. He takes a step back, his look of mock fear further incites her. She throws her arm forward and her wandtip nearly jabs his Adam's apple.

"Stop provoking me!" her voice rings a strong warning.

"I'm doing nothing of the sort, Granger," he chides, still retreating. His flinty stare catches the light of the corridor's flickering torch.

When had those been set aflame?

His scornful expression gives rise to her anger.

"What do you want from me, Draco?"

"Nothing," his icy curtness slices her. "I don't want anything from you." But I know I cannot live without you, he thinks guiltily.

"You're a liar," she snaps, blinking back another threatening tear. His expression falters and as she watches him trip backwards away from her stalking approach, her confidence soars. Hermione doesn't stop until her body is flush against his, does not stop pushing until his back presses flat against the cold stone wall.

"You happen to need something from this Mudblood, Malfoy," she insists. As a familiar, aroused expression crosses Draco's features, her voice turns husky, filled with a dangerous seduction. She is pleased to watch him flush as she draws impossibly nearer. His gaze turns smoky and he lets out an involuntary moan as he watches her tongue flick out her mouth— a mouth that is on the move.

"You've needed something from me for a long time, I think, Draco" she breathes, knowing full well what his name on her lips does to him. He rewards her with a throaty sound. She glides her open mouth against the rapid pulse at his neck. Her fingers thread into the hair at his nape, while the length of her wand lies beneath the strength of his jaw. "You've needed what I have to offer. If you didn't, you wouldn't keep coming back," she adds, nipping at the spot she'd once marked. She feels him greedily suck in a staying breath. He gulps deeply when he feels her touch. His hands, however, remain glued to his sides.

Her other hand rakes a rough path from the side of his throat, down to rest a moment atop his erratically beating heart. Then, with as much bawdy intent as the first time, she proceeds to glide her greedy fingers farther south. She's pleased to feel his muscles straining toward the heat of her palm, but she is ultimately robbed of her intended goal when his fingers catch her wrist in a vice-like grip before she can capture the hardened prize she feels against her abdomen.

"Stop!" he rasps, his expression quite clearly pained. "You never should have touched me that night. It is your fault that I feel...I feel..." He seems unable to go on and he sighs tiredly. "Just stop, Hermione."

"No," she glowers, nipping at his neck and wrenching out of his hold to clutch onto his wrist. She pulls his hand up between them, placing his palm against her heart. He seems shocked to be touching her and she moves her hand to his bicep. "You started this, Draco, so let's finish it. Your turn now to correct history, unless you're still that coward of a Hogwarts boy I left in this corridor once upon a time. And for the record, you failed at teaching me your ill-conceived lesson. I'm not leaving."

Draco's expression contorts with something akin to insulted anger, but before he can fully form his trademark sneer, they leave the corridor with a pop.


A resulting bang echoes in the darkened depths of the Hogwarts library.

She waits for her eyes to adjust to the darkness, well pleased by the wordless side-along disapparation spell she'd just accomplished.

Exactly where she wants him... to show him he'd made a mistake when he left her.

The pitch black is cut only by the colored shards of moonlight streaming through the stained glass windows high above the stacked shelves. She hears Draco's strained, but amused, chuckle when he at last recognizes their surroundings.

"Naughty, Granger. But, this place is one of your kinks, isn't it? Very well," he says roughly, still stinging from her last accusation. "But before we begin, let's sum up. You left me in that corridor, terribly aroused and had piqued my curiosity to distraction, so much so, that I failed nearly every class we shared that term. But I'd discarded the thought of revenge until you landed in my arms that night in the library. You let me touch you. You were wrong for allowing that."

He describes this as he none too gently removes his arm from her grasp. Suddenly, she feels her hands fly up above her head, a wordless spell has her wrists held together, the edge of the shelf bites into her skin. She scowls. She hadn't expected this move to happen so quickly.

His voice draws away as he talks, but he doesn't stray far. She can feel his wand tip lightly tracing the outline of her neck, shoulder... breast... nipple. "That night we found ourselves here, in your most favored part of the castle, I was of the belief that you deserved a little payback, Bookworm. Do you recall?"

"All too well," she shouts, fighting against her invisible restraints. "Release me, Draco!"

"You looked just like this, clawing and spitting to be let out of the invisible chains I'd placed on you," he whispers darkly, leaving her side. With uncommon masculine grace, he moves to lean against the edge of a nearby table, taking in the full view of her. "You brought me here, Granger. A mistake. Do you not recall how I held the cards on this night?"

He smiles, thoroughly pleased with his quick wand word. He tilts his head and realizes a few details are missing. With a flick of his wrist the small buttons that hold the top of her sundress together come undone. The revelation of delicate lace does little to conceal her own puckered arousal. Heat surges through him, his gaze grows darker still. Another flick of his wand and a carefully directed Wingardium Leviosa has her skirt lifting, swaying to and fro, as though caught in a playful breeze. The light movement, gives him teasing glimpses of her matching knickers beneath. He moves his wand again, to correct her hair, pulling it out of its up-do, allowing it all to cascade down her shoulders.

A few months ago, she might have loudly protested his proprietary behavior. Tonight, however, her chin is held high, proudly displaying herself before him. The stance is no longer that of the needy virgin he'd left yearning after him so many years ago. In all honestly, Draco doesn't quite know what do with the emotions that has his chest squeezing at the sight of her in all her enraged, confident, self-righteous glory.

"Are you quite done?" she inquires, watching him carefully. At his silence, she clears her throat loudly and clarifies, "Have you looked your fill, Malfoy?"

She wrinkles her brow, worried at how lost he seems. Despite his play at dominance, Hermione knows better. Her heart reaches out to him. Something about the way he looks at her makes her remember an important detail of that other night in the library.

"You're not remembering the truth of it, Draco," she whispers, careful not to disturb him with a rougher protestation. "I was the one with the power that night, wasn't I?" The gentler tone makes him wary and she watches his frown form as he discovers she's no longer upset with her immobility. She appears far too comfortable for his liking and he narrows his gaze at her while she continues. "You eventually undid the Incarcerous without me realizing. My wrists were set free before you left... You were testing me, weren't you? You wanted something else from me that night?" she asks this with a voice that is suddenly soft, despite her inner annoyance at still being tethered. She stares directly at him, arcing against her restraints. His body throbs at the sight of her and the knowledge that the words she speaks graze too closely to the truth."You wanted more than my body, I think, Draco. Otherwise, you would have stayed and taken advantage of me without a second thought."

With eyes at last adjusted to the darkness, Hermione sees Malfoy startle. The racist retort she expects never comes. His stillness is unnerving. Regardless, she decides to press on. "You see, that night, after you left, while I was making myself presentable, and despite swinging between mortification and rage," Hermione continued carefully, "I realized you'd freed my hands for a reason and... perhaps you'd left because I'd failed your unspoken test."

He snorts at her, hiding his astonishment at how she'd somehow so clearly realized what he had refused to see that night and for years after. Concerned, Hermione, still trapped, watches him jerk out of his semi-reclining stance to give himself some space. He sighs heavily when he places his hands against the shelves at the far end of the room. His back is to her, yet, she notices his hand unconsciously trail to his other side, moving to rub at his forearm, the one she knows holds the faded mark of his dark past.

"Come, let's try this again, Draco," she beckons, tempting him to close the distance between them. His head moves only slightly at the sound of her voice, just enough to spy her in his peripheral vision. He waves his wand and has her lifting farther up. When she lets out a startled gasp, his smile turns predatory. With her toes just touching the ground, her dress rides up, presenting him with a living image of a memory that he has never quite forgotten. Much like on that other fateful night, Draco approaches her on legs that seem to move of their own accord. His hands roughly tangle in her mess of hair, tilting her head back so her graceful throat is his. She locks gazes with him through lowered lashes, watching him examine her. To his eyes, she seems annoyingly unbothered by her shackled state.

"Let me do it right this time," she dares to gently offer. His expression remains rigid, fierce, the hand in her hair tightens. "Draco, let me show you how much I lo—"

Quickly, he lowers his lips to hers, claiming her mouth in a desperate effort to shut her up. His kiss plunders, seeking something he dares not examine, yet he can feel it consuming him. It is a fiery need that seems unable to be contained or vanquished. He is angry that his fascination for the witch in his arms refuses to flicker out, no matter how many times he touches her.

At last, he rips his mouth away from hers and his stare hardens at the flush of color he's put on her cheeks. He gentles infinitesimally when he realizes her frustrated confusion in her open-mouthed stare.

He is confused, too. Frustrated. Aroused. Enraged. Too many emotions fill him and he wants to hit something because he most certainly refuses to cry. To calm himself, Draco uses a fingertip to trace the outline of her lips. He dips his touch, resting against the skittering pulse in the hollow of her throat. He allows his hand to travel into the valley between her most delicious curves. His head bows and through lace, he captures a tender peak in the moist heat of his mouth. His fingers continue to caress, brushing against the hem of her short summer dress. His palm meets the fleshy part of her thigh. She squirms toward his touch, but his hand lightly smacks her bottom, staying her.

"Stop moving, witch," he grumbles, lifting his mouth away from her heated skin to speak the words. She gasps when his teeth graze her again. She longs to be allowed to dive her fingers into his hair, to pull him closer. She feels his questing hand beneath her skirt and mentally commands herself not to respond too wantonly to his movements, for fear he might stop altogether. His fingers brush against the matching lace at the juncture of her thighs. She bites her bottom lip, biting back a needy moan, praying he'll continue.

She feels his his fingers delve beneath the moist material there to discover the essence of her. His fingertip caresses her most sensitive folds. She releases a sigh, but claps her lips together when his fingers stop their discovery of her.

"So ready, Granger," he murmurs, a note of disapproval in his voice. Her eyelids threaten to fall at the rapturous friction he creates. When he notices her languor, he moves swiftly to take her chin firmly in his free hand. The crescent moons of his fingernails dig into her cheeks. His eyes, a thunderous grey, bore into hers. His teeth are bared. She sees two emotions clashing in his unblinking stare.

Roughly he shoves two fingers into her, causing her to gasp and clasp her legs together.

"This is what you want, isn't it, Mudblood?" he demands, working his fingers in and out of her in an harsh imitation of a primal and far more intimate act. Without thinking, and despite being on tiptoe, she widens her stance, brazenly allowing him more access. Though she will never admit it, Hermione had earlier decided to take pleasure where she might, in whatever little contact Draco would allow himself with her. And because of this, despite his rough handling of her, Hermione yearns to cry out in pleasure. His fury is at least an expression of his true emotion, she reasons, one that isn't hidden under carefully cultivated, aggravating dispassion. All the same, though, she refuses to give him the satisfaction of hearing her pleasure at his carnal ministrations.

"Tied up, you can't fight, right? Tied up, you have to submit to whatever I wish to take from you. Tied up, you can tell your friends you had no choice but to do my evil bidding, to allow me these liberties. Let me make myself clear, Granger, it is wrong for you to want me! And even worse that I feel the same." His voice is steely against her temple, the movements of his hand below punctuate the frustration she senses in his words. "You want me to give you an excuse for this unseemly desire for me. Isn't this why you brought us here, Hermione? " He snarls this accusation while his knowledgeable hand works her into a sensual frenzy "Admit it, Granger! Tell me that you know I'm wrong for you. Tell me that once you've slaked your unholy desire for the forbidden I represent, you will walk away! Tell me that all you want from me and all I have to offer you is just a finger flick away."

His eyes turn a dark slate, watching her fight to take the pleasure he holds just out of her reach. He purposely keeps her poised at the edge, on the cusp of rapturous flight. Draco knows what he is doing is wrong, but in this state of heightened sexual frustration, he knows that Hermione is robbed of her senses and cannot do as he demands. Though he needs her to be the first to pull away, he knows it will shatter him if she actually does.

"You belong with a wizard who can fill you in more ways than this," he says gruffly, thrusting his fingers into her one more time, pulling a frustrated moan from the most beguiling witch he's ever known. To drive his point home, he snatches his hands away, only to grab onto her waist pulling her hips against his in a lewd mimic of an act they both know she would instantly agree too, regardless of the violence he employs. Hermione looks at him dazedly. Her expression calls him back to her and he snarls, incredibly furious at the both of them. "You need someone who would never resort to this."

With desire for fulfillment clawing at her, Hermione uses her legs, to grab hold of the wizard before he can pull away. They both gasp remembering a moment like this long ago. She arcs against him, keeping him close as she opens her mouth to lambaste him.

"How dare you do this to me!" she accused. "You didn't apologize to me in the library that night, Malfoy. You didn't offer up any poor replacements for the wizard you were. You knew who you were then," she admonishes. He is distracted by the sight, smell and feel of her, clearly wanting him, hot in her anger. "You quite nearly ravished me where I stood. And now? What? You are who you are now, Draco! I can accept that. Why can't you? Stop your damn whining! End the indecision for both of us! Or for Merlin's sake, just bring back that other Slytherin," she demands furiously, tears now flowing freely. "Give me back the Draco you used to be. He's the one I want! At least, he knew what he wanted. He had other reasons for leaving me alone than your pathetic, secret brooding ones. At least I could respect that!"

Draco's grip on her waist hurt... almost. She feels the trembling aggravation her words bring him in every one of his straining muscle that still touches her.

"He's gone, Granger," he snarls, feeling pushed into an emotional corner without escape. "And come to think of it, I don't want you anymore."

He can feel her instinctively flinch away, but contrary to his pronouncement, his hands clasp together behind her back, refusing again to release her. This contradictory behavior gives rise to Hermione's own irritated fury.

"Denial does not make your feelings for me disappear!" she shouts, forgetting herself and where she is. "Thanks to you, I've had to learn this the hard way. Damn you to bloody hell!" Her body is shaking from emotion and exhaustion. "The old Malfoy couldn't quite disregard his desires for me then, and tonight, you can't seem to either!" She calls his attention to this fact by creating some friction where she quite clearly feels his raging desire. "Now it's your turn to stop stalling! You were the one who started this little game of Remember When. Continue, Draco! Or don't you remember how it goes? Decide if you're going to change history. Let's play this out!"

He closes his eyes, bends his head, and groans. Draco remembers all too clearly how close he'd been to taking her in the dark confines of the library back when they were sixteen and innocent to the horrors of war. If it hadn't been that night, he bemoans, if only it had been before he'd been Marked, maybe then—

"Kiss me, Malfoy," she entreats more gently. "Let's finish this properly."

At her soft request, Draco can no longer restrain himself. He walks her back vertical and gathers her up close, but instead of capturing her mouth, he drops his head to her shoulder, touching his cool lips to her heated neck. He murmurs something she cannot understand, but the touch of his mouth against her skin has her swiftly drawing in breath. With her pleased little sound, he forcefully pulls her into his embrace, curious to witness her response. Immediately, her hands drop to his shoulders, snaking around to clasp the back of his neck. She wraps herself around his lithe frame, smiling in triumph, pleased with herself for guessing the exact moment he'd lifted the spell. He makes a small noise that seems to emanate from deep within. It sounds suspiciously like a sob. Her arms tighten around him in loving comfort as gravity pulls her into him. Against the side of her neck, Hermione feels the wet warmth of a tear he will later surely deny. She pulls him close.

"I want you, Hermione. I need you."

His voice is hoarse, honest, needy, bewildered. Hearing him this way makes her heart constrict and she feels his hand move to grip her arm. Plastered all over him, Hermione knows what might happen now. She knows she must to put a stop to it before they follow a destructive pattern they might never be able to end.

He moves to place his mouth against hers and when their breaths mingle, she feels it, this elusive thing she desires most from him. She struggles for sanity despite the thought-clearing desire his touch invokes. Before she allows herself to lose her mind to the undertow of his rising emotions, she moves her lips against his to speak.

"I know you do, Draco, but this time, want and need simply aren't enough."

She says this as her brown eyes capture his silver. He'd just finished delivering the spell, one she expected since his grip on her arm tightened. Draco's gaze clouds with confusion before she claims his lips again. Then, she feels a familiar tug at her navel.