A/N: New Dramione moment at the end of this chapter!
Updated: 6/10/2018
At lunch time, Bailey escaped back to her dorm to load all her necessities into her school satchel, (which Gemma Farley, a graduated Slytherin Prefect, had placed an Undetectable Extension Charm on in her third year). She carefully placed both her own and her father's mirror on the top. As she finished packing, the door opened.
"Had to run back for supplies—y'know, that time of the—Blaise," Bailey said in a rush, cutting herself off abruptly. "You're not supposed to be up here."
"Since when have Slytherins accepted arbitrary rules?" Blaise teased. He waved his wand at the door, muttering a Silencing Charm. "Now, would you like to tell me the real reason you're skipping lunch?"
Bailey bit her lip nervously.
"It's time, isn't it?" he asked, any trace of joviality lost from his features. Bailey didn't answer him, but instead fished around in her bag for her father's old mirror. With shaking hands, she handed it to him.
"Just say my name—but only when you're all alone," Bailey said in a rush. "And don't try to use it for a while, either, huh?"
"Bails, I—" he began. "Just stay here for a second, yeah?"
Before Bailey could give her answer either way, he had already rushed out of the room. She stood nervously in the middle of the room. He reappeared with a long, narrow box.
"Your seventeenth is in two days," he said handing it to her hurriedly. "And I got this for you."
Bailey opened it slowly. Inside was a finely wrought thin silver chain with a delicate pendant hanging from it—two small hands holding an emerald heart with a crown overtop of it. Bailey gasped and looked up at him.
"A claddagh," she whispered. "You know what that means, right?"
"It's a symbol of love, friendship, and loyalty, which I believe sums us up nicely," he said with a hint of a nervous smile. He picked up the necklace and unclasped it, gesturing towards her. "May I?"
She nodded, not trusting herself to speak, and lifted her hair so that he could place it around her neck. But, when he was finished, he did not remove his hands. Instead, he cupped her face gently and leaned in towards her. And finally, finally, their lips met in a sweet kiss, releasing the feelings that had been building and growing in the pair for six years. But, unlike she had dreamed of, when they parted it was not with smiles, but instead with tears on both sides. She did not think that she had ever seen Blaise cry before.
"That's not how our first kiss was supposed to go," he said in a scratchy voice.
"I know," she replied, sniffling as she tried to wipe away the moisture still clinging to her eyelashes. "I really mucked things up, didn' I?"
"Don't talk like that—just—promise me," Blaise said, holding her face firmly in place. "Promise me that we'll get a second kiss, better than this one. Promise me that you will stay safe."
"I—"
"Promise me, Bails," he all but begged. Bailey had never seen heard him sound so broken.
"I promise."
"Good," he said, wrapping both arms around her and clutching her close. Bailey breathed in the smell of expensive cologne and nutmeg, trying to memorize everything about him in that moment just in case she never saw him again. She could have stayed there in his arms forever.
But, of course, that was not possible.
"Bailey, are you in he—oh, Blaise!" Amelia burst through the door. She frowned at the scene before her. "Despite the fact that you two would make a very good match, this is really—are you crying?"
Bailey wiped her face dry as Amelia rushed to comfort her.
"What's wrong?" she said. "You've been acting so strangely lately—"
Bailey opened her mouth to offer up some sort of lie, though Amelia was now the only one of her friends to not know her secret, but Blaise beat her to the punch.
"It's been a year, 'Melia," he said softly.
Bailey froze. Everything that had been going on—she had completely forgotten that it was nearing a year since her father's death. But, Blaise had not.
"Oh, Bails, I'm so sorry, I didn't even think!" Amelia babbled, rushing to hug Bailey herself. Blaise took that as his cue to leave, giving Bailey one last meaningful glance before sliding through the door.
Bailey was out of Hogwarts by nightfall.
Draco waited in the corners of the prefect bath nearly all day, praying that he would be able to do what he wanted to before he had to leave. He had nearly given up when a girl with mounds of hair walked into the bathroom, immediately spelling her school robes into a plush house robe, her uniform folded in a neat pile on one of the benches lining the bath. Draco stepped out.
"Hermione."
The girl in question squeaked, clutching her house robe to her more tightly as she spun to face him. She seemed to relax when she saw him, but only slightly.
"Draco! How did you know I would be in here?" she gasped, still clutching her bath robe. He tried his best not smirk or give into the thoughts swirling around his mind at seeing her in this state. This was neither the time nor place for such thoughts.
"It's Monday," he said, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly.
"And?" she demanded.
"And you always take a nice long bath on Monday," he replied. "It's your night to unwind."
"How did you—have you been—Draco Malfoy!"
He chuckled.
"Don't worry, Mione, I've not been a peeping tom or anything," he said. "I'm just more observant than those buffoons you call friends."
Hermione huffed. "So what are you doing here now if you know that I'm trying to take a bath? And if you say anything remotely inappropriate, I swear to Merlin, Draco, I'll—"
"Perhaps one day, but not today," he said with a slight smirk before remembering why he had come. "I came to give you a warning."
"A warning? For what?" she had suddenly snapped to attention, loosening her grip on her bath robe. Draco forced himself not to be distracted by the smooth, tanned skin that was more exposed.
"For tonight," he said, shifting from one foot to another. "You need to stay in Gryffindor Tower tonight."
"But I promised Harry—" she cut herself off.
"You promised Potter what?" Draco demanded, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. He could not afford to have Harry bloody Potter poking his nose in where it did not belong tonight of all nights.
Hermione was biting her lips. "It was nothing—he was just concerned—wanted some old D.A. members to be patrolling tonight…"
Draco's heart almost leapt into his throat. He grabbed her by the wrist, this time not even noticing as more of her robe came loose.
"Please, Mione," he begged. "You have to stay safe tonight. You can't let Potter drag you into one of his hare-brained schemes—you could get hurt."
She pursed her lips. "Draco, Harry is my friend. I have—"
"I'm begging you, Hermione," he said, looking her straight in the eyes with more vulnerability than he had willingly ever shown anyone. "I can't protect you tonight. Please, just stay where you'll be safe."
"Draco, can't you just tell me what's going on?" she asked, taking another step towards him. "I can talk to members of the Order—if I vouch for you, they'd have to help you and your mum. You don't have to do whatever it is that you're planning."
Draco closed his eyes. What a dream that would be, to escape from the Manor, from the Dark Lord, just live out his life with his Mum and with Hermione. Be a normal seventeen-year-old again, free to do as he pleased. But, even as he was wishing, longing to say yes to her offer, the Mark on his left arm began to burn, reminding him of the schedule he had to keep, of the commitment he had unwillingly made that would undoubtedly follow him to the ends of the earth should he try to run.
Draco reached forward and placed a searing but quick kiss on her lips.
"I have to go," he said softly. "Just please—stay safe. And still love me after the war is done."
Hermione gave him an utterly heartbreaking look with those big brown eyes of hers. He forced himself to turn away and walk out the door, not looking back until he reached the doors of the Room of Requirement. Almost numbly, he made his way through the labyrinth of lost things to the Vanishing Cabinet. He sucked in a deep breath and opened it.
The war had arrived at Hogwarts by the hand of Draco Malfoy.
