A/N: Chapter written by avdubs - remember, she's posting this fic on her ao3 account too. Disclaimer: the mentioned poem is Le Voyage by Charles Baudelaire. Enjoy!
Hermione woke with a start Saturday morning. Her heart was pounding and she quickly discovered she was covered from head to toe in sweat. The last thing she could remember was seeing Harry dead on the ground in front of her. A nightmare, she told herself. You just had a nightmare. She brushed her bangs away from her face before letting her arms fall at her side. The dormitory was still dark which meant it was too early for her to get up and go anywhere, but there was no way she was going to be able to fall back asleep.
With a resigned sigh, she peeled back the covers and slid on her slippers before tiptoeing out of the dormitory and down the stairs to the common room. She grabbed a blanket from one of the sofas and curled up on the couch. The fire roared to life as she lay there, getting lost in her own thoughts. She thought about the danger Harry was in, and she thought about the Horcruxes. She thought about Draco and how ill he had been looking lately. He was disappearing more frequently, he wasn't talking to his housemates and quite frankly, she'd never seen someone look so defeated on a regular basis.
She let herself drift in and out of sleep as her thoughts whirled in her head until the sun started peeking over the horizon, and the common room was bathed in a pink glow. Knowing the common room would soon be littered with fellow Gryffindors, she snuck back up to the dormitory to collect her clothes and get ready for the day ahead.
Lavender and Padma were still sleeping when she went back upstairs, and for that she was grateful. She dressed quickly, determined to get down to breakfast by herself, and slung her bag over her shoulder. She had developed a long list of spells and other useful things she wanted to research in the library and was determined to get started as soon as possible. With the news of the Horcruxes, and a war looming over their heads, she felt it was wise to start preparing now. She wasn't oblivious to the size of her classes dwindling by the week; parents were terrified and there were articles every other day reporting attacks and murders.
With her mind feeling clogged, Hermione made her way down to the Great Hall, finding that she was just in time for the start of breakfast. No one else had arrived yet, save Professor Dumbledore, who waved at her from the Professor's table. She waved hello and collected a few pieces of toast, but as she turned to a leave an idea popped into her mind. She turned around slowly to face Professor Dumbledore, who was smiling politely at her. Hermione approached the table quickly and bade him good morning.
"Is it?" he responded. "I think it's rather dreary."
Hermione looked up at the enchanted ceiling, and sure enough, dark clouds had moved in to cover the rising sun. It looked as though there was another stormy day ahead of them.
"I suppose so, yes," she said breathlessly. "Erm, Professor, there was something I wanted to ask you."
"Ask away, Miss Granger. Ask away," Dumbledore said airily.
"There were some...things I wanted to start researching. And, well, some of the content might only be available in the Restricted Section, which we need a pass for, and I was hoping-" she stopped mid-sentence as Professor Dumbledore pulled out a piece of parchment and scribbled on it with his wand.
The old wizard smiled kindly at her as he handed her the slip of parchment. "I think you'll find that will suffice."
Hermione read what he had written and nodded in approval. Madam Pince would never question a note written by the Headmaster himself. "Thank you, Professor."
Dumbledore smiled at her again as he bid her farewell and Hermione stuffed the note into her pocket and set off for the library.
The Gryffindor team had Quidditch Practice today, which meant Hermione would have several hours of undisturbed research time in the library. The halls were slowly starting to fill with the first round of students heading down to breakfast as she made her way to the library. She slipped through the heavy doors, breathing in the smell of old books and fresh parchment. She said hello to Madam Pince before settling down at her usual table. She got out a fresh roll of parchment, a new quill and a fresh ink pot before picking up her pass from Professor Dumbledore to show Madam Pince.
The librarian's eyes grew wide as she read over Hermione's pass but didn't question her. Hermione thanked the older witch and set off towards the Restricted Section. Her first task would be to see if there were any books on advanced defensive magic, something Hermione knew she would need to brush up on. She had nearly arrived to the Restricted Section when she heard the all too familiar voice of Pansy Parkinson somewhere to her right.
Hermione stopped dead in her footsteps. She'd only known Pansy to use that whiny tone of voice on one person: Draco. And sure enough, it was Draco she could hear talking back.
"Stop asking me questions!" he snapped. "It's none of your business, how many times do I have to tell you that?"
She heard Pansy sniffle and Hermione rolled her eyes. "There's no need to be an arse about it."
Draco must not have found her comment worthy of a response as he remained silent, until Pansy continued to press him. "Why didn't you come home for Christmas? I was hoping to see you over break…"
Hermione's stomach churned at the sultry undertone to Pansy's voice. Her blood was starting to boil. She couldn't see them and she wouldn't dare shift some books just to sneak a view. Her lack of view was only making this worse, as she couldn't see what Pansy was doing, and her heart was pounding in her chest as she waited with bated breath for Draco's response. What exactly would he say about his holiday?
"Have you forgotten who's living in my house?" Draco retorted angrily.
Pansy fell silent at that and even Hermione found herself at a loss for words. Did that mean what she thought it meant?
"I forgot, I-" Pansy stammered as Hermione stood hidden by bookcases, her mouth hanging open. She'd never heard Pansy sound so apologetic before.
"Lucky you," Draco said quietly.
"But that means…" There was a loud thud followed by an ouch from Draco and mumbled cursing. "You left your Mother there then!"
Draco didn't respond to this; Pansy must have known she hit a nerve because when she spoke next her voice had adopted a softer tone. "Did you manage to have a good Christmas at least?" Pansy asked.
Draco paused. "It was alright, yeah."
Hermione smiled down at the stone ground. She could practically hear the smile in his voice. At least he had enjoyed their time together as much as she had.
"Why are you smirking?" Pansy asked, sounding annoyed.
"Why are you asking so many questions? Don't you have work to do or something?" And with that, Hermione could hear the sound of retreating footsteps. Pansy's sputters of disbelief followed soon after as she followed Draco away from where she stood.
Hermione waited until their footsteps faded to enter the Restricted Section, her thoughts now distracted by the way Pansy had been talking to Draco - that whiny, flirtatious, pitiful tone that just grated her brain like nails on a chalkboard. To make matters worse, she hadn't been able to see a thing, and just the thought of Pansy touching Draco made her want to disfigure that smug face like she'd done to Marietta the year before.
At least Draco brushed her off, she reminded herself as she mindlessly searched the tomes before her. And he'd said he'd had a good Christmas. Though this thought cheered her up slightly, she tried to convince herself that none of it should matter. She shouldn't care that Pansy was such a concerned friend, and she shouldn't care if Draco had enjoyed their time spent together. He's Harry's enemy. They hate each other, she scolded herself silently. But did she care? She was allowed to have her own friends! They could have other friends besides each other.
When she realized she'd walked around the Restricted Section three times, she pulled herself away from her thoughts and forced herself to focus on the faded and stained spines in front of her. You have a job to do, Hermione.
Miraculously, Hermione managed to accomplish a decent amount of research after the conversation she'd overheard. She'd spent at least ten minutes scolding herself for getting distracted. She was supposed to be helping Harry after all.
With a list of wards and other defensive spells to practice, Hermione felt slightly more cheerful as she left the library close to lunch time. It felt like she was finally getting somewhere, and all Hermione had to do now was find an appropriate time to summon that book from Dumbledore's office. She practically raced to the Great Hall to tell Harry of the news, so long as he had already turned up for lunch. Quidditch Practice should be over by now, she thought.
When she finally entered the Great Hall she was pleased to see the familiar tuft of unruly black hair sitting at the Gryffindor table, Ron was nowhere in sight, and as she grew closer she noticed Harry watching Ginny and Dean talk quietly further down the table. Hermione shook her head; she felt sorry for Harry. He and Ginny never could seem to get the timing right...and there was the slight problem that she was Ron's sister.
"Hey," Hermione said brightly as she sat down next to her best friend.
Harry greeted her with a distracted smile, his gaze still on Ginny, who was now laughing at whatever Dean had just said.
"Harry," Hermione said sternly and cleared her throat. She shoved him the list of spells she had copied down over the past few hours.
He looked down at it, his eyebrows scrunching in confusion. "I don't understand."
Hermione sighed and pulled the list to her. "It's a list of defensive spells. I'm going to practice them. You know, for preparation. Wards and such."
Harry's eyes grew wide as he stared down at the list again. "Brilliant," he said. "You are the best, Hermione. Really."
She beamed at Harry and at that precise moment, her eyes caught sight of white blonde hair. She averted her gaze from Harry just in time to see Draco bustling down the row between tables. When she looked back at her best friend, guilt settled into her stomach as she remembered the plan she and Draco had come up with. This already makes up for that, she told herself. Because really, both things were for his own good.
The remainder of the weekend passed uneventfully for Hermione. She didn't see Draco for the rest of the day on Saturday, and she had spent the majority of the day down at Hagrid's hut with Harry. Monday arrived quickly, casting blinding rays of sun over the castle grounds. It was still bitterly cold, and she was quite thankful they did not have Herbology.
When she didn't see Draco at breakfast, her hopes fell. Would he even turn up for Ancient Runes? Harry had asked her if she was alright while Ron completely ignored her, and Hermione had managed to brush off her concerned best friend. The three of them left the Great Hall together and Hermione waved good-bye to Harry as she set off for her first class of the day.
Hermione tuned out the incessant chatter around her, pushing her way past students who felt the need to stop in the middle of the corridor. She kept her head down and her arms wrapped around the books she was clutching to her chest. She had been in good mood when she woke up that morning, eager to get on with a day filled with learning, but her spirits had fallen at the sight of the Slytherin table without that familiar head of blonde hair.
So it was quite the surprise when Hermione entered the classroom and looked up to see Draco sitting at his usual seat in the back. Hermione didn't hesitate as her footsteps lead her to his table. He watched her make her way over, but his expression was unreadable. It always seemed to be a guessing game with him; a game she was clearly not growing tired of.
"Good morning," she said briskly, sitting down beside him.
He mumbled something she couldn't make out as he pulled his textbook towards him.
"You weren't at breakfast this morning," she said slowly. "Everything alright?"
Draco shrugged. "I wasn't hungry this morning."
Hermione pursed her lips but didn't press him. There was a stabbing pain in her chest as she remembered the conversation she'd overheard in the library. Pansy already knew more than she did, and all because they were in the same social circle.
Professor Babbling told them they would partner up today and work on some translations from chapter seven. Hermione was thankful she'd chosen to sit next to Draco today, as at least that would give them a chance to talk, but before they could get to work, their Professor approached their table. "Mister Malfoy," she addressed sternly. Hermione kept her gaze down at her textbook. "May I speak to you out in the hall for a moment?"
There was a loud scraping sound as Draco rose quickly from his chair and strode out behind Professor Babbling. The door shut behind them and Hermione couldn't stop staring at it. Why had she wanted to talk to Draco privately? The other students hadn't noticed the absence of their Professor and fellow classmate, as they were discussing Runes quietly.
It wasn't long before Professor Babbling returned with Draco on her tail. As he grew closer, Hermione saw that he looked positively livid. He shoved his chair back angrily before sitting down. His hands were clenched tightly into fists and she could practically hear his teeth grinding together.
"What happened?" she asked.
"I've got detention for the next two weeks," he said through gritted teeth. "All because I missed a homework assignment."
"But I thought you were caught up on your homework?" she said.
He didn't look directly at her and she wondered if he was worried she would reprimand him. "I may have fallen behind again."
"It's the second week of classes, Draco!" she whispered.
Draco sighed and rubbed his eyes vigorously. "Can we just focus on this assignment please?"
Hermione's mouth snapped shut at his pleading tone. She felt guilty for nagging him, but she was worried, and clearly, she had good reasons to be. They'd just started their second week of classes and already he was behind on work and it seemed the Professors were growing tired of this behavior.
She fetched a fresh roll of parchment from her bag and opened her textbook to chapter seven. Draco was already flipping through pages of Spellman's Syllabary, and without another mention of missed meals and incomplete homework, they set to work.
Despite her homework beginning to pile up again, Hermione was having a pretty good day. Draco, on the other hand, did not seem to be. All during their Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson, Snape stared down Draco and told him to remain behind after class was dismissed. Hermione waited outside the classroom for twenty-minutes, pacing up and down the corridor, but when Draco emerged, he had stormed right past her, as though he hadn't seen her at all.
She wanted to try and find him during her break, but she had too much homework she needed to get started on. After worrying about him for forty-five minutes while trying to start her Runes homework, she set off for double Arithmancy. Draco had shown up, but had gotten scolded by Professor Vector for falling asleep in class.
Hermione had watched with an empathetic look on her face as he left with sagging shoulders and a stoic expression. She wasn't going to let him slip away this time. Not after the day he was having. Hermione kept her eyes fixed on his retreating back as students hustled by her on their way to their next class. Her stomach was growling but lunch could wait. She wanted to call after him but there were far too many people around.
He was turning left now as Hermione picked up her pace. The halls were beginning to clear now as students filtered into the classrooms. She had broken into a run now, determined to catch up with him.
"Draco!" she shouted once she was a few feet behind him.
He stopped in his tracks. The corridor was empty except for them. He turned around slowly as she closed the distance between them. Her breathing was ragged as she pushed her hair out of her face.
"Meet me in the room later?" she asked. "After Potions?"
Draco nodded before turning around and stalking down the corridor, leaving Hermione to stare after him.
Potions was going the same as it always did. Harry consulted his book despite her constant disapproval and Draco looked as annoyed as he always did during this class. Hermione worked diligently on the Potion bubbling in her cauldron and she was determined to give her sole attention to the task at hand. The only downside to her hard work was her hair tripling in size and frizz. She huffed impatiently as she tried to tame her unruly hair.
She heard an obnoxiously loud snicker to her left and when she looked up, she saw that Pansy was looking right at her. "My Gods, Granger, has that thing taken on a life of its own?" the Slytherin giggled, looking around the room for support.
Hermione let out a low growl of frustration and just as she was about to retort, another familiar voice spoke up. "Gods, Pansy will you shut up already?" Draco snapped irritably from her left.
Hermione's gaze flickered to Draco, who looked at her briefly before glaring down at Pansy. Blaise and Theo were shooting him curious looks from the table behind them. Pansy looked hurt for a moment before she narrowed her eyes at the blonde.
"What has gotten into you?" she hissed so quietly Hermione was amazed she'd been able to hear it.
"Nothing," Draco said quickly. "Maybe I'm just sick of hearing you make fun of people. It's gotten a bit old, don't you think?"
Pansy looked as though this pastime of theirs had certainly not grown old for her. Hermione watched as Pansy studied Draco with scrutiny, as if she were trying to find where the Draco she knew had gone, but all fell quiet as the seconds passed and Pansy remained silent. Hermione turned back to her work and felt her cheeks burn. Draco had stuck up for her...sort of. Though she would have preferred that it hadn't happened in front of the entire class.
The rest of the period passed in silence, except for the occasional slip of foul language when someone messed up their potion. Every so often she would glance over at Draco, who looked tense standing next to Pansy. The two hadn't spoken since their little incident. When the bell rang and Slughorn gave them their homework, Hermione packed up her bag and followed Harry and Ron out of the dungeons.
As they were walking up towards the Entrance Hall, the group of Slytherins passed them, with Draco in the lead. Pansy was fighting to keep up with him. "You're not the same anymore Draco!" she heard Pansy shout as Draco picked up speed.
Harry stopped to watch Draco stride past them. He didn't even glance over at her as he passed, though she didn't expect him to. Pansy practically ran past them while Blaise and Theo picked up their speed, murmuring to one another.
"Apparently I'm not the only one who's noticed Draco's been acting strange, then," Harry said grimly.
"Harry, please," she begged, tugging on his arm. "Don't get started on this again."
"Yeah, mate," Ron said. "There's really no need to-"
"Oh come on!" Harry said exasperated. "Neither of you can deny that he's up to something!"
Hermione fell silent. Harry was right. She couldn't deny that Draco was up to something, because she knew that he was. Ron shook his head and muttered to himself as he started to walk away, urging Harry to come with him. Harry looked frustrated with the pair of them as he begrudgingly followed Ron up the stairs of the Grand Staircase. Hermione felt tears prick at the corner of her eyes. She cleared her throat and set off towards the seventh floor corridor to meet Draco.
Draco was leaning against the wall when she arrived almost fifteen minutes later. He smiled at her warily as she approached. Hermione shot him a sympathetic smile while trying to hide her own frustration.
"Ready?" he asked.
She nodded and stood back as he paced in front of the wall. She wondered how many times he did this; paced up and down this stretch of wall. A few seconds later the door appeared and Draco held it open for her like he always did.
Once inside, they tossed their bags on the floor and simultaneously plopped down on the sofa. Draco let his head fall back and closed his eyes. Hermione wanted to say something, anything, really, but everything that popped into her mind sounded ridiculous or cliche. He'd had such a tough day, but there wasn't anything she could say to make him feel better. Instead she reached for his hand and squeezed it gently within her grasp.
She was already looking at him when he opened his eyes to look at her. He looked surprised, and although she felt the muscles in his hand tighten, he didn't let go. A warmth had started to spread down her fingertips to the rest of her body. She rubbed her thumb back and forth against the back of his hand, studying the scars on his knuckles.
"It's been a rough day," she said, her voice hoarse from not speaking.
"I think rough is a bit of an understatement," he replied dryly.
Hermione didn't want to press him too much, so she switched topics. "Thank you for shutting Pansy up in Potions earlier."
Draco snorted and rolled his eyes. "She's been getting on my nerves lately anyway," he sighed heavily and looked down at their hands again, his gaze becoming transfixed on the movement of her thumb. "She really ticked me off the other day actually."
"What happened?" she asked, even though she had a feeling she knew where this was going.
She could hear the hesitation in his voice when he spoke, and she knew he was second-guessing if this was the best idea. "I should have gone home for Christmas."
Hermione inhaled sharply. She wasn't sure how to respond to that, especially when his words stung a bit.
"It's not a pleasant place to be right now. There's-I just shouldn't have left her alone, that's all," he said, the words practically pouring out of his mouth, each one coated with guilt.
"Draco," she began warily. "That's not...Don't put that blame on yourself," she finished. "We're just kids."
He scoffed. "No one else seems to realize that."
Hermione let out a mournful chuckle. "No, they don't, do they?"
Their hands were still latched together, her thumb still tracing circles on his skin and once again, his gaze landed on the slow movements. When he started to mimic her motions with his thumb on her hand, her stomach did a flip and she hoped Draco wasn't able to see the heat that had rushed to her cheeks.
She had no idea how long they sat like that; holding hands, not speaking, lost in their own thoughts. She could hear Draco's slow, deep breaths next to her. His eyes were closed again with his head resting against the back of the sofa. She couldn't help but think his cheeks looked like snow covered plains. And she thought he was asleep, until he peaked at her out of one and tilted his head.
"Who was that other poet you said you liked? The French one?" he asked, sounding tired. "Charles something?"
Hermione bit her lip in attempts to stifle her smile. He remembered something that she liked? "Charles Baudelaire," she answered. "Why do you ask?"
He swallowed and she watched his Adam's apple slide down his throat and back up as he did so. She could see the blonde stubble covering the bottom of his chin, descending towards his throat.
"I've never heard his poems before," he said, the corners of his lips twitching upwards. He opened his eyes and smiled at her warily, silently pleading with her.
Hermione nodded in understanding and let go of his hand before standing up. She made her way over to the large bookcase and rummaged through the titles, wondering if there was even one of his books already here. It wasn't until she got to the bottom shelf that she found a copy of Fleurs du mal. Hermione returned to the couch, sat down and flipped through the pages until she found one of her favorites.
"Do you speak French?" she asked.
Draco nodded. "Mother insisted I know it. I studied it before Hogwarts."
"Right," she said. She cleared her throat and nestled into her spot, fully aware that their sides were now pressed against one another. "This one is called Le Voyage."
She looked over at Draco, but his eyes were still closed. He seemed to sense her looking at him as he nodded once, gesturing for her to begin.
"Pour l'enfant, amoureux de cartes et d'estampes, L'univers est ègal à son vaste appètit…"
"Do you know what we haven't discussed yet?" Hermione asked later that evening as they walked their rounds. They were on the fourth floor and all had been silent so far. Hermione enjoyed these nights; when her fellow students actually behaved and she and Draco could just talk. She walked with a smile on her face and a lightness in her chest that she hadn't felt in months.
After hiding out in the Room of Requirement earlier and reading to herself while Draco napped for a bit, they had stopped at the kitchens for a quick bite to eat before leaving for the Grand Staircase separately to arrive for rounds. It'd been a pleasant evening; something she hadn't had for a while, and she had the feeling that Draco hadn't either.
"What's that?" he asked.
She looked around the corridor to check that they were completely alone. When all looked clear, she leaned in closer and whispered, "How we're going to steal that book."
Draco perked up at once. He too glanced around the corridor as they walked. "It's not going to be easy," he murmured, his lips barely moving. "Especially if he's as obsessed with it as you said he is."
Hermione grit her teeth, recalling how often she'd seen Harry take that book everywhere. Godric, it drove her up a wall! She sighed heavily and ran a hand through her hair. "This is impossible isn't it?" she said meekly.
"No," Draco said firmly. "There's always a way."
The determination in his eyes unnerved her a bit. Of course she was glad Draco was willing to help her get rid of it, but she found it odd how eager he seemed to be about this non-existent plan. She looked at him curiously, but he avoided looking directly at her.
"Perhaps," she said, breaking her gaze from his profile. "Or perhaps not."
Draco stopped her in their tracks, his hand gripping her arm tightly. She yelped and swatted him with her free arm. "Careful!"
He loosened his grip immediately as he stared at her with a fierceness in his eyes she'd never seen before. "Trust me," he growled. "We will get that book."
Hermione returned to the common room an hour later, feeling uneasy. Her thoughts felt jumbled. She felt blocked up. As soon as she walked in, Harry was in front of her, looking worried.
"Where have you been?" he asked. "I haven't seen you since Potions."
"Hm?" she said, shaking the image of Draco's face during rounds from her mind. "Oh, I was in the library for a while and then I stopped by McGonagall's office for a bit."
Harry stared at her, studying her for any signs that she was lying. She stared back at him, hoping he couldn't see the guilt she was currently pushing down. She was going to steal from her best friend. And his enemy was assisting her. "I don't feel well, Harry. I'm going to head to bed," she said, giving him a small smile.
Harry simply stood there as she walked past him and climbed the stairs to her bed, where she could finally lay down, draw her curtains, and hope for sleep to steal her away.