A/N – I might have teared up reading your reviews from the last chapter because they were so kind. Writing this has been so much fun and I am just thrilled that you have been along with me for the journey. Thank you all for reading each chapter and for your lovely words!

PS This chapter pushes us over the 100,000 word mark for The Binding!

The next chapter is called The First Lesson and will be updated 04/12.

Chapter 22: The Room of Hidden Things

December-January

Year 6

Hermione squinted, trying to peer through the gaps in the fingers which covered her eyes.

"Stop trying to peek, I can feel you trying to peek."

She fluttered her eyelashes against the hands, feeling a warm chuckle behind her.

"If you would just let me see, I could walk by myself." She huffed impatiently, "There is really no need for the theatrics."

Draco scoffed, "I am a Malfoy, we live for theatrics."

A noise rustled to her left.

She paused.

"…You better not be swishing your cloak right now, because that's a signature Snape move from which you will never sexually recover."

She heard the smirk in his voice, "That's not a cloak."

"Then what's swishing?"

Light flooded into her view, she squinted as her eyes adjusted.

Not swishing, she mentally corrected herself. Fluttering.

A swarm of white doves flew overhead, her eyes drifted to Draco, "What is this?"

He grinned widely, throwing his hands out in front of him, "This is a Malfoy Christmas."

Hermione held back a gasp as she took in the design of the Room of Requirement. Draco had insisted on arriving a half hour before her today and now she knew why.

She hardly recognized the large living space from her summer at the manor under the ornate Christmas décor. In the center of the room was a massive black fireplace with a red and green crackling fire. Garlands were strung above the mantel, interwoven with white Christmas roses.

Hermione's feet moved of their own accord towards the floating village to the right of the mantel. There were over a dozen miniature homes complete with trees, villagers, owls and fake snow. It was enchanted; the villagers were walking around, the owls flying past, the snow scattering on the buildings below.

The Room of Requirement had three massive fir trees, one in each remaining corner of the room. In each tree, white silk ribbons, red berries, and fluttering doves rested on the branches. Snow floated from the ceiling, disappearing just before it touched her skin. Two life size nutcrackers stood on each side of the doorway. Candles lined the room, mingling with the snow.

Above her, a mistletoe grew.

Hermione was awestruck, she turned back to Draco with an open mouth, "You're telling me this was your Christmas?"

"Every year," he nodded proudly, admiring the room, "though the decorations varied. My happiest memories from childhood are around Christmas—it's my favourite holiday. The house elves used to spend weeks planning and organizing to make it perfect."

She playfully smacked his arm, "I can't believe you let me go on about Granger family Christmas last year when you had this for your holidays!"

He chuckled, "I did enjoy the eggnog and sugar cookies. I had never seen a muggle Christmas before, it was delightful. I'd gladly recreate fake Christmas with you. One year we can make our own Christmas traditions."

Hermione's heart swelled at the thought. Their own family Christmas. She wondered what their holidays would look like, what the traditions they would create over the years. A week ago, she had expected to spend the holidays without Draco. It felt surreal to be discussing their future again, as if nothing had changed.

So much had changed.

"I love this village," Hermione murmured, bending down to inspect a tiny villager, who turned and waved to her. She smiled and waved back.

The air in the room shifted.

Draco's tone was low and heavy, "The village is the best part of Christmas. Each December, Mother and I would select a new building to add to the collection. It was our annual tradition, just the two of us." He watched the villager with sorrow, "I wonder if she went without me this year."

"What did your mother say when you wrote home and told her that you were staying at school over the holiday?" Hermione asked quietly, "Was she upset?"

He pulled his eyes away from the village and back to her, "She wrote that she understood, given the circumstances at the manor. I know that she is disappointed I won't be home for the holidays. It wasn't so much what she wrote but how she wrote it."

His voice was laced with guilt, "I could practically read the tears in her letter. It might be good to send Pinky a message or two for her later today. I woke up this morning to a pile of presents taller than my bed." He grimaced, "She tends to guilt-shop."

A small, reminiscent smile grew on his lips, "Once, when I was a child, she forgot to bring me back a present from their trip to Germany and she felt so remorseful that she built a mini-quidditch stadium in the open lot by the greenhouse. There was even a set of stands; she sat in the audience and watched me play a game of one-man quidditch for a whole week."

"That sounds exactly like your mother. I'm so sorry you're spending the day without her. She must really miss you today."

He let out a dry laugh, "It's not exactly your fault." His voice took on an artificially cheerful tone, "Anyway, enough with the sad stories, it's Christmas. I hope you're hungry, I took the liberty of recreating a Malfoy Christmas meal."

Though the table could easily seat twenty, only two sets of china were arranged at the center. There was a turkey, dozens of sides ranging from roast potatoes to stuffing, a dish of cranberry sauce, and several puddings. It was an overwhelming amount of food for two people, even excluding the pile of chocolate desserts available at the end of the table.

"How many people are at the manor for the holidays?!" Hermione exclaimed, eyeing the stacks of food, "This is enough food to feed an army!"

"It's only us and the house elves." Draco shrugged, "Father always insisted on this particular meal, said it wasn't Christmas without a Christmas feast. It's a tradition his parents used to have when he was growing up."

She stared, wondering what she was missing. Did they have a hundred hidden house elves? How could anyone eat all this food?

His mouth perked into a smile as he read her thoughts, "I know it's excessive. This may come as a bit of a shock to you, but father can lean towards the dramatics occasionally."

"Occasionally?" Hermione mumbled under her breath; her mouth was watering at the smells wafting by them.


"I can't move," Hermione threw her arms above her head dramatically as she laid on the hardwood, her curls splayed around her face, "I think I live here now. You're officially dating a floor person."

Draco clutched his stomach on the rug next to her, "Honestly, I shouldn't have challenged you to an eating contest."

"Obviously."

"It was foolish of me."

"You know that I'm competitive. You did this to yourself."

"Yes, but to be fair, I had no idea what I was up against."

"You've never been to a meal at the Burrow," she said matter-of-factly, "Mrs. Weasley will fill your plate thrice over and insist on dessert. I told you I would win."

"You did."

"You didn't listen."

"I know."

"And here we are."

"Yes. Floor people."

Draco's eyes focused on the snowflakes falling from the ceiling. He leaned over, taking Hermione's hand before laying back down.

"Draco?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you for showing me your family Christmas."

He hummed, turning his attention back to the snow.

"I hope next year we can go see our families together in person," she mused quietly to herself.

Draco's stomach clenched anxiously at the thought, "Yes. Next year."

He really hoped there would be a next year.

He squeezed her hand tighter.

"Speaking of," he raised his wand, "accio gift."

"How is that speaking of?" Hermione asked in amusement.

Groaning, he sat up. Draco took her hands in his and pulled her up in one movement.

"How dare you. You're tearing me away from my new homeland," she grumbled.

Draco let his smirk do all the talking while listening to her food-drunken ramblings.

"I told you I'm a floor dweller now. You have to accept me for who I am, lest I expose you as a flooraphobe. The damage to your reputation would be irreparable, complete social-pariahdom. We are a protected class."

"Just open the gift, Granger," Draco gave her a quick kiss to her temple, placing a small package in her lap.

She tore off the wrapping to reveal a small red velvet box.

Hermione stilled, she looked up at him, "What is this, Draco?"

Draco frowned, "Your gift? What did you think it—" His eyes widened in realization, "It's not—I mean not that I wouldn't—but we're just—I would definitely—"

She cut him off with a nervous laugh, "It's okay, love, I wasn't expecting anything like that. I just hope you didn't go all out for Christmas."

With slightly shaky hands, Hermione opened the box. Inside was a sparkling black and dark purple stone encased in gold with a small loop at the top. She looked up at Draco with a large grin, "More jewelry?"

He shrugged sheepishly, "I saw it and knew it was already yours. It's a pendant—a charm—it connects into the chain for your locket. The center is hematite and amethyst."

Love and protection. She thought with a small smile, wondering if he even knew the meaning behind the gemstones.

"It's perfect, I really love it," Hermione insisted, "and it looks like we went along the same idea for gifts." She mentioned casually, her lips curling up slyly, "Great minds think alike."

"Hermione Granger, are you also trying to seduce me with jewelry?" Draco asked teasingly, "Because if so, I don't have to even open this present to tell you that it's working. Consider me seduced."

She rolled her eyes, amused as she mockingly rephrased his earlier command, "Just open the gift, Malfoy."

His eyes narrowed as his brows raised suggestively, "Oh, back to calling me Malfoy, are you? Try it again and see what happens, Granger."

She grinned widely, "Malfoy," she emphasized, squealing as he playfully tackled her back to the ground.

He paused to brush her hair from her eyes before smirking slightly. She chewed on her lower lip, watching a myriad of emotions cross over his face. Her heart flipped in anticipation.

Draco tugged her lip from her teeth, his thumb lightly tracing the fullness. Hermione held her breath as he lowered himself slowly, his lips brushing ever so slightly against hers.

Hermione nudged her present between them with a mischievous smile, "You still have a present to open, Malfoy."

"Yes, I do, Hermione." He pronounced her name mockingly, "I hope your gift of seduction meets my impossibly high standards."

He impatiently ripped off the careful wrapping from his gift, pulling out a leather band. Draco looked to her curiously, "I hadn't actually anticipated jewelry, I thought you were teasing me."

"It's a leather band," Hermione corrected; she wrapped her arms around her knees as she watched him.

Draco inspected it, turning it around in his hands. It was two thin leather straps intertwined to meet at a thick gold capsule in the center.

"I love it," he slipped it on his wrist, "I've never had anything like it. All the other blokes at the Slytherin table will be envious of me." He declared, twisting the bracelet in place.

A bit of guilt tugged at her stomach as she watched his excitement over her gift, knowing that he did not fully understand that it had more purpose than aesthetics.

She just hoped he would never have to use it.

"Happy Christmas, my love," he murmured, capturing her lips with his.

She intertwined her arms around his neck, pulling him against her, "Happy Christmas."


Draco stood at the edge of the room, the closest possible position to the door without standing in the doorway. His arms were crossed, his muscles tensed, his face stoic.

He swallowed, feeling strained as he observed Hermione surveying the room before them. It was filled with thousands of stacks as far as the eye could see. Each stack was filled with miscellaneous items, magical and non-magical alike.

"The Room of Hidden Things," he supplied softly, not meeting her gaze.

He watched as she wandered from pile to pile, inspecting items old and new. From the corner of his eye he could see the vanishing cabinet. His pulse raced beneath his skin as adrenaline pumped through his veins. The longer Hermione was in this room, the warier that he grew. His head was screaming to get her out of here, to bring her somewhere safe—somewhere away from him.

Hermione turned, her gaze catching on the cabinet. She looked to Draco for confirmation; he sighed deeply in acknowledgement. Analyzing the design, she slowly walked around the cabinet.

The cabinet was tall, made of ancient-looking wood. The structure formed sharp angles with a border on the head and base of the cabinet. At the bottom was a space open for additional storage. Two identical half-moons displayed on opposite sides of the doors, facing each other. Excluding the perceived age, it appeared to be a traditional stand-alone cabinet.

"I can't believe it's been here all along. In our place." She murmured under her breath, dragging a hand across the wooden door.

Draco's voice caught in his throat, "No."

She looked up in surprise at his interjection.

"This is the Room of Requirement but it's not our place. It's a warped version of our place. I shouldn't have brought you here," he ran a hand across his ragged face, "this was a terrible idea. You should go. Please." He begged quietly.

"Stop it." She instructed, her hands rested on her hips, "What's a terrible idea is leaving you to handle this alone. You're not alone, not anymore. Also, I'd like to remind you that you don't get to tell me what to do."

"I wasn't—" he sighed, massaging his temples, "Hermione, I just—"

"I want to be here." She insisted, standing her ground, "I'm not leaving."

Draco frowned, "I'm ruining everything. Our place is supposed to be a safe space, an escape. I'm defiling it. I'm using it for all the wrong reasons." He looked up to the ceiling, pausing, "Our memories should be happy here. I can't—"

"Wanting to save your family is not using it for all the wrong reasons." Hermione interrupted, "Wanting to save me is not the wrong reason."

"You are my family. I would do anything for you." He admitted quietly, raising her hand to his lips.

"I know."

The small hand of a broken clock filled the air.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

"How did the death eaters even know about the vanishing cabinet?" Hermione asked, carefully opening the creaky door and peering inside.

The interior appeared to be a plain cabinet. A layer of dust had settled at the bottom. She traced a fingertip through the dust.

"Graham Montague." Draco rolled his eyes to the ceiling.

"Montague?" She wondered aloud, "He was on the inquisitorial squad with you, wasn't he?"

He nodded silently, "Yes, the Weasley twins shoved him into the cabinet at the end of last year during one of his patrols for the squad. Umbridge was furious with the twins for all their practical jokes. She suspected they were providing illegal pranks to younger students and asked Montague to tail them. I don't blame them for pushing him into the cabinet, he was being a right foul git. Cocky bastard."

He chuckled a bit at the memory, "Anyway, when he was stuck in the cabinet, he realized that he could hear two sets of sounds from within it. He heard noise from this room, but also noise from Borgin and Burkes. He recognized Borgin's voice."

Draco continued, "He told his father about it over the summer while he was recovering from his botched apparition from trying to escape the cabinet. The Montagues identified that the cabinets were two halves of a pair; they leveraged that knowledge to try and raise their standing in the death eater ranks. His father mentioned the cabinet and its potential use during one of their meetings at the manor. The Dark Lord was apparently quite pleased with his observations."

"I don't understand; if he's the one who proposed the idea then why didn't they give the task to Montage instead?" Hermione chewed the inside of her cheek nervously, "Why you?"

"My father failed in his mission in the Department of Mysteries last year. Even though he escaped after following you to our prophecy, some of the other death eaters were not as lucky." He let out a bitter laugh, "I suppose this is a bit of punishment for the family. To be honest, we are probably only still alive due to my parents' actions in the first war, the current occupation at the manor, and Bellatrix's unwavering fanatical support of the Dark Lord."

Hermione felt the air leave the room; she had not realized how quickly Voldemort's loyalties could shift. It made sense in retrospect, that his only loyalty is to himself. She had been under the impression that the Malfoy family had been in high standing within the death eater ranks, at the very least she thought they would be protected. She was wrong.

"When the Dark Lord calls, we answer," he quoted dryly, "I obviously wasn't involved in the original meeting. Auntie Bellatrix had the honour to tell me about my newfound glory after I had already been designated as the sacrifice. This was after weeks of her 'lessons' and, fuck, I didn't have it in me to fight anymore."

Hermione tried to swallow the lump forming in her throat, "And your parents didn't try to change Voldemort's mind? They helped you avoid the mark."

"The mark was merely a delay, and it had not been decided by the Dark Lord yet, which gave them bargaining power. It he had decided before discussing it with my parents, I would be marked right now. No one argues with the Dark Lord's instructions, it's insolence like that which gets you killed as an example to others."

She shivered at the thought.

Draco posed the question, "How do you think he's managed to keep so many people in line even when he's been dead over a decade? Fear. I wouldn't be surprised if more of the Dark Lord's followers died by his hand than from fighting the other side."

"What happened with your parents when they found out?"

He crossed his arms, "Mother cried. Father told me 'it must be done'. I told my father that I would never forgive him. I said that he can never again claim to do this shite for the good of the family because none of this is good for our family. It's only good for him. I called him pathetic and weak."

She gasped, "You said that to him?"

"I could die if I fail, I could die if I succeed. Either way I lose." He said quietly, "Once I realized I didn't have you anymore, I stopped caring about much of anything."

Silence reclaimed the room.

His previous words echoed in her mind "Theo's the one who forced me out of bed, made me bathe, made me eat."

She could never thank Theo enough for caring for Draco over the past few months.

"After that meeting, my parents brought me to Knockturn Alley so I could visit Borgin and instruct him to keep the vanishing cabinet on the store floor. We had to make sure that it was available whenever I fixed its partner. Wouldn't do to have someone purchase the other half."

"Harry saw you this summer, at Borgin and Burkes." She mentioned softly, "He's been suspicious this entire year because of something he overheard you telling Borgin."

He stilled, "I…hadn't realized he was there." He cleared his throat uncomfortably, "Were…were you there too?"

Hermione shook her head, "I was with Ron and the rest of the Weasleys. I didn't see you."

"Didn't see me…on death eater business. I really hate this." Draco closed his eyes, feeling nauseated, "I think I'm going to be sick."

He bent over, holding his knees with his hands, breathing in through his nose and out of his mouth.

She rushed over to him, rubbing slow circles into his back as he regained control of his breathing.

"I don't know what to do, Hermione." He mumbled pitifully, "These people are beasts. You don't want to know the things I saw and heard over the summer. What they would do to you if they knew about us, it's fucking horrifying."

She cringed at the thought, remembering the stories from the first war. They would not only torture Hermione, but Draco as well, for having his pureblood magic mingling with hers. He would be considered 'tainted'.

"Would you ever agree to talk to Dumbledore with me?" Hermione asked softly, continuing to comfort him with the gentle movements, "All the students will be away for the holidays for at least another week, we can go to his office the first thing on Monday morning."

He barked out a laugh, "That's going to go over splendidly. You're proposing that we just show up at his office and tell him that I've been tasked to murder him? I'll be expelled with my wand snapped clean in half before I even finish retelling the story."

"Not you." Hermione corrected, "Us. We will tell Dumbledore together. Draco, I know Dumbledore, he will understand if we explain. You're only a student, he won't blame you for something out of your control. We can figure a way out of this together. He's brilliant and he will know how to help us, I have full confidence that he will have a solution."

"I know that you like to believe the best of people, love, but—"

"Do you trust me?" She asked gently.

He looked at her seriously, "That's not fair."

She waited patiently, raising a single brow.

Draco huffed in defeat, "You know that I do."

"Then trust me on this, let's go to Dumbledore. Together."

He took her hand in his, the pair turned back to face the cabinet.

Several beats passed as he considered her words.

"I haven't made progress on the cabinet in weeks, and to be honest, I'm not sure I even want to succeed. If there's another way to get out of this predicament then we can try it. Let's go to Dumbledore." He conceded begrudgingly, "I trust you."


Dumbledore's twinkling eyes drifted down to Hermione and Draco's hands, clasped together as they stood before him in the large headmaster's office. He tilted his head ever so slightly, his lip twitched as if amused.

"Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore began, "Miss Granger. I heard that you two were staying over the winter holiday. What a pleasant surprise it is to see the pair of you in my office together."

Hermione looked over to Draco whose face was hardened. The grip on her hand tightened. Her fingers were tingling, quickly losing circulation.

"Headmaster," Hermione began, with a nervous look between Dumbledore and Draco, "may we sit down?"

"Of course. Help yourselves to some dragon claws, if you feel so inclined." He gestured to the bowl of sweets on his desk.

The uneasy pair took the seats in front of Dumbledore.

"So, we—"

"I just—"

Their voices overlapped before stopping abruptly.

"You go—"

"How about—"

Dumbledore looked down his half spectacles at the couple, his grey brows raised slightly.

"Miss Granger, perhaps you would like to elaborate on your reason for today's visit?" He prompted softly, holding one of his hands in the other, "You appear rather distressed."

"I feel rather distressed." She admitted softly, "We have something to tell you and I believe it is critical that you know before it is too late. It's about Voldemort."

She felt Draco shift in the seat next to her, fidgeting uncomfortably at the name.

"Is this about Mr. Malfoy's mission?" Dumbledore asked, turning to Draco.

Draco's eyes widened; his face dropped all colour.

"You know about his task?" Hermione asked in bewilderment, her mouth falling open.

Dumbledore placed his hand on the desk gently, her eyes caught on his blackened finger.

"I have known for several months, yes." He pushed the bowl of sweets closer to Hermione, "Please, if you will."

Hermione's stomach turned, but she took a dragon claw anyway, sucking on it lightly.

"You will find that there is not much of significance that goes on within the walls of Hogwarts that does not make its way back to the Headmaster's office," Dumbledore glanced to the portraits on the wall and back to the pair, "and you are here to…warn me?"

She was at a loss for words; in all the ways she had imagined this conversation to go, in no scenario had she considered that Dumbledore already knew about Draco's dilemma.

"I just thought…" she trailed off, her shoulders slumping slightly.

"I must say, I pride myself on my observations and even I did not anticipate Mr. Malfoy confiding in you, Miss Granger." Dumbledore mused, leaning back in his chair, "Even considering your relationship."

"We're…He—well we…" Hermione's voice trailed off, looking to Draco helplessly.

Words tumbled through her mind, she was having difficulty forming proper sentences through the shock.

He finally broke his silence; a flood of words fell out of his mouth.

"We are closer than that, Headmaster. It's…more than a relationship." His eyes focused on the bowl of sweets in front of him, "My mother performed a magical binding on us, sir. A Black family ritual, because of my Black blood. There was a curse. We had no idea until a few years ago; it was completely against her will; the blame is all on me. Hermione is only here because of me." Draco grew increasingly animated, "She's innocent in all of this, it's my fault."

She scrunched her nose, "It's not your fault—"

Draco cut her off, pleading, "If you're going to expel me and snap my wand, please don't punish her too. She didn't know about any of this until I dragged her into it. She deserves to stay at Hogwarts, she's going to change the bloody world. She's your brightest student and if you expel her the—"

"Draco!"

Dumbledore raised a hand slightly to silence Hermione's protest and Draco's rambling, "I am not going to expel you, Mr. Malfoy, and certainly not you, Miss Granger. I have to say that I am taken aback that Narcissa performed a core binding, though in retrospect I had not considered the phrasing to be literal." He paused thoughtfully, "A bond of blood."

The phrasing of what? The question was on the tip of Hermione's tongue as he continued.

"I don't believe I've heard of a successful binding in over a hundred years, that is extremely volatile magic your mother harnessed." Dumbledore cleared his throat softly, "However inevitable."

The pair remained tense, stiffly in their chairs.

"Inevitable?" The word stuck to her lips.

"Are you aware of Mr. Potter's prophecy?" Dumbledore questioned, looking to Hermione.

She blinked at his transition.

"He told me about it, yes." She confessed slowly, "About him and Voldemort. That neither can live while the other survives."

"Yes, there is more to the prophecy, but that is at the heart of it."

Hermione straightened her back in her chair, taking a breath. She had to tell Dumbledore, to make sure he had all the facts about their situation.

"There was another prophecy," Hermione added hesitantly, "I heard it that night in the Department of Mysteries when I was in the Hall of Prophecy with Harry. It was about the two of us…at least, I believe that it was about us; it mentioned a bond."

She was confused by Dumbledore's lack of reaction as Draco repeated the prophecy from Hermione, Draco's gaze fixed on the ground, "A bond forged of blood and desperation will forever change hearts and minds—the final blow at the last hour to the one who has never known love, twice befallen by the love of a mother."

Suddenly, Dumbledore's words rang back to her.

A bond of blood.

Her mouth ran dry. What did he know?

"Have you heard of sister prophecies?" Dumbledore prompted, unwrapping a candy and popping it into his mouth.

Hermione and Draco shared a look, she shook her head as her stomach lurched nervously, "I dropped Divination during third year," she mumbled, "we hadn't covered that yet."

"It is not taught in the core subject material." Dumbledore mentioned, his eyes drifting over her shoulder for a moment, "It is a rather…extraordinary circumstance."

"As you know, the future is everchanging. A single moment is riddled with options, each decision we make cascades into another set of choices and reactions." Dumbledore explained seriously.

He continued, "Divination is incredibly complex and volatile for even the most seasoned seers; this is because the very nature of time is unstable. Prophecies are unique in the fact that they foretell a future that can be changed by the very knowledge of a prophecy."

Hermione nodded slowly, processing his words. It was common practice to keep prophecies hidden from the subjects. Even knowing about a prophecy could trigger events that cause it to occur or prevent it from happening at all.

"The seer who proclaimed Harry's prophecy had just one other prophecy. Marked for the fifth of June."

"1980." Hermione finished, her chest deflating in realization, "You already knew."

Draco froze in her peripheral.

"A sister prophecy is the catalyst for a timeline that would not exist otherwise; the prophecies are joined, one and the same. Without one, the other cannot exist. The path simply is nonexistent."

She heard Draco swallow.

"You are saying that without our prophecy that Harry's prophesied future will never even exist? The Dark Lord would most likely win the war?" Draco asked, barely audible.

"It is impossible to predict the future without a measure of uncertainty, but this is what I believe it means, Mr. Malfoy."

Fawkes cried out in the corner of the room, ruffling his feathers.

"I don't understand," Hermione's brow furrowed as a flood of questions came out, "if our prophecy impacts Harry, then what do we have to do? The binding already happened. Is this about the end? The final blow at the last hour? How do we know what that means? What if we don't know what to do and we miss the moment?"

"The events are already transpiring, Miss Granger, a chain reaction with which we are already in the middle."

His words felt cryptic. Her head pounded with the possibilities. Their bond, their prophecy, their future.

Harry.

"Harry doesn't know." Hermione whispered, "About the binding, I mean. We haven't told him."

Dumbledore nodded slowly, "I believe that is best. Less potential for…complications."

Complications.

Her heart skipped a beat.

"You are just children. It is an unfortunate circumstance, to say the least. But you have been pulled into something much bigger than just the two of you. Something that has been in motion since before your conception. It is admirable that you sit before me, attempting to prevent the future. Sadly, I must inform you that it is inevitable."

"Inevitable?" Hermione gasped as the word took on new meaning, "Sir, you can't possibly mean what I think you mean."

"Have you been studying occlumency?" Dumbledore turned abruptly to Draco.

Draco looked as if his thoughts were elsewhere, "I—yes. I have, since the summer. My mother has been teaching me."

"Good." Dumbledore asserted, "If I recall correctly, Narcissa has quite the natural gift for occlumency. I will arrange for you to continue your studies with Professor Snape, he can build upon your lessons while you are here at school. I cannot press the importance that you are able to close off your mind during this next year. You know far too much for your own safety and the safety of Miss Granger."

"Headmaster," Hermione interjected, "you cannot truly mean the only way forward is to…to murder you." The words fumbled on her lips.

He inspected her silently, "Miss Granger, I am already dying. I would say under a year, speaking generously." He gestured briefly with his hand; the blackened area surrounded by strands of grey—as if it was spreading.

The room closed in on her, her eyes fixed on his hand.

"As I have already explained to Severus, there are worse ways to pass. He is prepared, if need be."

A lump formed in her throat, "You have been in this together? You and Professor Snape? How does he know?"

"My mother had him take a vow this summer," Draco muttered, grinding his jaw, "an unbreakable vow to protect me and help me with my task."

Hermione turned to Draco sharply, confusion filled her gut. He continued to stare ahead, away from her.

He had not mentioned an unbreakable vow.

"Did she mention your bond with Miss Granger to Severus?" He asked pensively.

Draco hesitated, "Not that I know of, but maybe. She tends to take matters into her own hands."

"I'll speak with Severus, perhaps she told him. Either way, I find it appropriate that he is made aware, given the circumstances of his vow." Dumbledore nodded to Draco, his blue eyes piercing, "As for your task, the arrangements have already been made, Mr. Malfoy. You will not be alone in your ordeal, lean on Severus in the upcoming months. I will arrange all that you need for your occlumency."

He turned to Hermione, "Miss Granger, do not look so distraught for I have made my peace. I will happily go, knowing what is to come."

"What is to come?" Her voice was nearly inaudible.

Dumbledore smiled kindly at Hermione's tear-filled eyes, "The end."


The statue of the Griffin twisted shut.

They stood in the empty corridor.

"Will you teach me occlumency?" She asked numbly, her lips curled downward.

"I can try. I have only used legilimency a few times in practice."

He shuffled a bit in place, "What happens now?" Draco asked hesitantly.

She blinked, unmoving.

A tear tumbled down her cheek.

He pulled her into his arms, wrapping them tightly around her as her tears wet his sleeve.

"Now, we have a cabinet to fix."