~*~Eleven~*~

Hermione was staring at the latest transfiguration assignment, trying to prevent her mind from wandering to less productive places, when Harry flew into the common room. His black hair was more disheveled than usual and his bright green eyes held a hint of panic that sent adrenaline shooting her veins. He paused a moment to catch his breath.

"What is it?" Hermione couldn't help but think of Draco and pray he'd played no part.

"Ron," Harry managed to breathe out. "He got into the chocolates from Romilda Vane. Turns out you were right and they were laced with a love potion, a pretty strong one at that."

"Well, that's not-"

Harry held a hand up. "That's not the bad part. We went to Slughorn to get him the antidote, which worked fine, but then Slughorn split a bottle of mead with us. It was laced with a bad poison, one we only stopped with a Bezoar."

"Ron's okay?" She assumed Harry would have indicated otherwise if that were the case, but it didn't hurt to double check.

"He's in the hospital wing now, Madam Pomfery has him tended to," Harry assured.

Hermione nodded, relieved that Ron was out of danger. A frown tugged at her lips as she considered Harry's story. "Why in the world would Slughorn have a poisoned bottle of mead?"

"Peculiar, right? It turns out he was planning to give it to Dumbledore." Harry's green eyes glinted with anger as he continued. "Just like Katie's necklace was intended for Dumbledore. I know it was Malfoy. I told them all, but they didn't listen. We have to make them listen, Hermione!"

Hermione's blood froze in her veins. "I have to go."

"What?" Harry was staring at her like she'd transformed into a hippogriff.

"Just trust me, Harry, I have to go." She didn't give him a chance to stop her. Hermione flew out the portrait hole, pausing only a moment before heading toward the Astronomy Tower. If she knew him, and it was likely at this point she did, he would be there.

Her breath was coming in short puffs by the time she made it up the stairs, having had to circumnavigate several shifting staircase on her way. His platinum hair shone in the moonlight.

"Granger, to what do I owe the pleasure?" Draco didn't turn around. His hands clasped the rail as he surveyed the frozen abyss.

"You nearly killed Ron tonight," she hissed, closing in on him.

"The Weasel?" His expression was genuinely perplexed as he shifted to face her.

Of course, he didn't expect he'd harm Ron; the bottle had been intended for Dumbledore. "Your stupid poisoned mead ended up in Ron's glass, you bastard."

His eyes shuttered a moment, but he remained otherwise unmoved by her vehemence. "Trust Sluggy to foul up even the simplest of tasks. You can't truly say you're surprised, Granger. I never made any promises."

Draco was right of course. He'd warned her again and again, but that hardly lessened the sting. "Fine, don't make promises, Draco, but I'm not giving up. You aren't taking anyone from me."

The frost grew in his eyes. "You aren't in any position to stop me. Leave it, Mudblood."

The word hurt this time, stung in a way it never had before when uttered from his lips. She realized he hadn't called her that since the moment in the stairs below, since they'd traversed whatever barriers lay between them, if only for stolen moments. That meant it had been a calculated use of the slur, meant to wound. She would give him no such victory. "That's mature, Malfoy, let's resort to name calling. That won't keep me from figuring it out. I already know it's in the Room of Requirement. All I have to do is get in there and it's game over."

"There is no way in hell I am letting you into that room," he snapped, his pale features lined with tension.

"You can't protect me, Draco. You can't stop me." She moved into his space, steeling herself against the effect of him.

He growled, low and dangerous. "I bloody well can."

Hermione's wand was at his throat before his hand could even twitch. "You think I'm not willing to play dirty, to do anything to stop you, but you're wrong. Whether you like it or not, I care about you, and I am not letting Voldemort take you from me too. So I will find my way inside that room and I will do everything, absolutely everything, within my power to stop you. Do you understand?"

His eyes were blown wide with surprise, his expression caught between anger and bewilderment. "Don't be daft, Granger. I'm not bloody worth it."

"Yes, you damn well are," she snapped back.

"I told you before to stop trying to fix what was already broken. You need to listen to me. If you continue down this road then the mostly likely outcome is both of us dead." His voice was barely above a whisper, his eyes pools of agony. "Don't do this to us."

At least he'd acknowledged there was an us to discuss. "Perhaps you can't stop me any more than I can stop you, but that doesn't mean I'm giving up."

A veil of sorrow fell across his silver eyes. "So be it then. May the best wizard win, Hermione."

She stared down at his extended hand with incomprehension. "What?"

Ice slowly chased away the sorrow within his luminescent eyes. "This is the last time we meet like this. From now on, it's war. You and I, we're on opposite sides of this and it's time we acted like it."

He couldn't possibly be serious, but his hand didn't waver as his expression morphed into something still and inhuman. She grasped his hand, clinging desperately to the warmth of his skin against hers. She thought they'd moved beyond this violence, this cleaving of her soul as he faded before her eyes. Hadn't their moments together meant anything to him? They'd bared their souls to one another and yet, here he was, grasping hers and twisting with all his might.

"Leave now." She flinched at the cold steel in his voice, the latent aggression within his eyes. Her wand kissed his skin again, but he was faster now. "I don't want to Crucio you again, but don't think I won't. Leave."

Hermione glared at him as she retreated from the tower. "You'll regret this."

He didn't reply, his eyes silver daggers in the moonlight. She held his gaze as she backed down the steps, never blinking until she was out of sight. She fell back against the stairwell, a memory of their time together washing over her. He'd changed her, morphed her into something impossibly wonderful only to destroy her. The fire that burned within her was at once rage and passion, hope and doubt. She squared her shoulders, glaring into the abyss above. She would not fail.