~*~Fourteen~*~

March dragged into April, the grounds slowly emerging from their winter hibernation. As the sweet perfume of newly sprung flowers drifted into the castle, Hermione continued her quest. There were three more birds in the graveyard beside the Forbidden Forest and although she'd created a ward that told her of movement within the cabinet, she'd been unable to tailor the wards to tell her the type of movement. She'd be just as likely to descend on an apple as a person.

She imagined she spent as much time as Draco in the room of forgotten things. She avoided the area when he was there, not willing to risk him seeing though her disillusioning charm. It might have worked the once, but Hermione knew he'd eventually notice her. So she worked at odd hours, always making sure to borrow the map from Harry before she departed for the seventh floor.

Harry and Ron were still trying to figure out what Draco was up to, although Harry had managed to get the complete memory out of Slughorn thanks to his use of Felix Felicis. The truth of the Horcruxes was more twisted than they'd feared. To cleave one's soul once seemed an abomination, but seven times as Tom Riddle had aspired to do? That was inhuman indeed.

When she wasn't hunting through the restricted section for better warding incantations, she was pouring over whatever tomes included even the slightest mention of soul cleaving. The act itself seemed to stem from only one root, the purposeful taking of human life through magical or ordinary means. It turned out one didn't need a wand to achieve such an act of pure evil.

And now Riddle had scattered his flimsy soul across the world, leaving them desperate for even the smallest clue as to the identity and location of his Horcruxes. The diary and the ring were gone, but with five more they were a long way from any sort of victory.

Hermione sighed, turning the spoon in her cold porridge. Luna looked up from where she sat beside Hermione, nose buried in the Quibbler.

"It's not the Nargles, is it?" Her luminous eyes were wide as she stared at Hermione.

"I wish," Hermione replied, not having a clue as to what Luna was referring.

"He's been staring at you again, you know," Luna offered idly, her pale eyes back to scanning the paper.

Hermione glanced around before leaning closer. No one else was at the Griffindor table; in fact, most of the hall was empty except for a rowdy group of Hufflepuffs at the opposite end. "Draco?"

Luna nodded. "I think he misses you. Sometimes he looks so sad when he sees you. He hides it well, but I can see. What did you do to make him so sad, Hermione?"

"Nothing," Hermione hissed, annoyed at Luna for drawing ridiculously naïve conclusions. "It just didn't work out. The issues were entirely his."

"That explains why you look at him like you've lost your favorite Crumple-Horned Snorkack," Luna replied mildly, her eyes sliding to look at Hermione.

Fine. Neither of them was exactly innocent, but Hermione wasn't about to tell Luna any of the iniquitous details. "It just wasn't the right moment."

Not that it would ever be the right moment when a madman bent on murdering both of them was loose with his seven soul fragments. Hermione sighed again, willing herself not to think of Draco, if only for a moment.

It was painful enough not being able to sit beside, to touch him, to show him how hard she was fighting for him. He stole through her dreams on a nightly basis, his lips caressing her skin, his voice making promises he would never keep. Some days it took all of her self-control not to march into the room of hidden things and tell him everything, beg him to let it all go, kiss him until she forgot why they were there. But she didn't, couldn't. His life was at stake and now more than ever, she recognized the power of Voldemort. This was no longer a child's game. Draco had been right up on that lonely tower; this was war.

Still, her need for him was greater than ever, thrumming beneath her skin. She knew better than to act, so instead she dreamed. She satisfied herself with whispers of him across her skin, memories of their brief time together replaying in hopeless loops in her imagination. She dreamed that one day she would surrender to him in a proper bed with all the time in the world to explore each other. She felt his pale flesh against hers, his sinful lips tracing the future into her soul. She imagined them alive, their breath mingling in quiet harmony.

"You miss him." Luna was looking at her again, her pale eyes full of gloomy understanding.

Hermione didn't want to admit it, to acknowledge how painful it was to stand aside and let him march toward devastation. Of course, he wasn't truly alone, but to not tell him, to not share the fight with him was often unbearable. "Yes."

"Don't lose hope." It felt as if Luna could see inside Hermione's soul. Her eyes were focused, the unusual clarity adding gravity to her words.

Hermione nodded, her heart twisting in her chest. "I won't. I promise."

Satisfied, Luna turned back to her reading, eyes going cloudy once more. Hermione stared at the empty Slytherin table. With only a two months left in the term, they were running out of time.