A/N – Honestly, I'm completely overwhelmed and delighted to read all of your lovely reviews and thoughts each update. A sincere thank you to everyone who has taken the time to read and review. Every comment and message mean so much to me.

PS I have an author account on the main Facebook Fanfiction groups under Curly Kay if you ever want to friend me/chat.

Also, a thank you to my lovely Alpha LKat719 for being an amazing person and working through the logistics of the next few chapters with me.

The next chapter is titled The Pairs and will update on 5/10

March-April

Year 6

The only sound in the room was the crackle and popping of the fire. Draco had walked into the Room of Requirement and silently made his way to the sofa. Without a word, he pulled Hermione into his lap and tucked his head into her wild curls. His arms wound tightly around her waist, as if he were afraid that she would disappear beneath him.

Leaning into his touch, she closed her eyes and memorised the way his body moulded against hers. They sunk into the sofa and each other, their breaths in sync as their chests rose and fell through the moments.

He never wanted to talk about his sessions with Professor Snape, but she could see the weariness in his body. The longer the sessions continued, the more time it took to erase the dull look from his eyes, to breathe life back into him.

It was futile to try to convince him to stop attending the Occlumency lessons. Hermione had tried instigating that conversation several times over the past month and was met with a blank look in his eyes. 'It's a matter of life and death' was all he would say, like a broken record.

Long after Hermione had lost track of time, Draco broke the silence.

"Where is your head today?" A lazy finger drifted over her cheek, his knuckle brushing along her jawline.

"You've been in my mind dozens of times now. I was wondering what it's like to be the one who is going through your mind," she admitted softly before clarifying. "To be the Legilimens."

His brows knitted as he considered her words. "Would you like to try?"

Hermione sat up in surprise, his hands settling on her hips. "It was just a thought—I don't know what I'm doing, Draco. Didn't you say it can feel like your head is splitting apart when dealing with an unskilled Legilimens?"

"When have you ever shied away from a challenge, Hermione Granger?"

She picked at her nails nervously, torn at his offer, "This isn't an examination in class—it's a real life unpracticed application of advanced magic. What if I flail through your mind like a bull in a china shop?"

"Who would put a bull—"

"It's a turn of phrase. I mean to say, I could hurt you, right?"

"You would never," he assured her. "I've practiced enough Occlumency with dear old godfather that I can handle any level of Legilimens with ease."

Hermione thought for several moments before conceding, "If you really don't mind…"

A smile quirked on Draco's lips and she lifted her wand. "You can push me out if you want, right?"

"Of course I can. Whenever you're ready, enter me," he teased, holding his arms out.

She fought the urge to roll her eyes at his words. "It was funnier when I said it."

His signature smirk spread across his cheeks.

Turning to face him, she straddled his hips with one thigh on either side of him. The two slotted together, his hands resting gently on her thighs.

"Legilimens."

If Hermione had been disoriented by Draco entering her mind, she felt a hundred times more overwhelmed by being the Legilimens. Even with him gently guiding her through his head, she had to pause for a moment to catch her breath.

Memories flickered past her eyes, images colliding in fractured pieces, sounds, smells… The sensory overload was indescribable.

"I don't think I'm doing this correctly," she bemoaned, trying to maintain her concentration.

"You're doing fine," she heard him murmur and his thumb stroked the top of her thigh in assurance.

Hermione homed in on the edge of a memory, pulling it to the forefront of Draco's mind.

Draco was running through the forest as fast as his small legs could move. She could not place his age but he was small, the wind rushing through his hair and drying out his eyes. He was laughing, a full-deep belly laugh, as he continued weaving through the trees.

"Draco! I can hear you laughing!" Narcissa's light voice danced in amusement behind him. "I hope you have found a good hiding place!"

Spotting a massive oak which had cracked in half, he tucked himself up against the base, disappearing behind waist high wild grass.

Her footsteps approached, crunching on leaves and small twigs.

Draco hid a giggle behind his hand as the grass pulled back. Narcissa stood in front of him, grinning widely. "I found you!" She dove into him with tickles, he fell back and kicked his legs as he laughed.

Hermione's chest swelled with happiness at the sweet childhood memory. It tipped and swirled, she fell out of it and into the next.

It was bewildering to orient herself in the next recollection. He was diving through the sky, whizzing between blurs on broomsticks. Nearby, a red trail shimmered just outside Hermione's line of sight. His eyes focused only on the glittering golden snitch just out of his grasp.

She remembered watching this game, it was third year. Slytherin against Gryffindor.

Draco caught the snitch.

It was so vivid; she could almost feel the flutter of the wings against her skin as Draco's hand reached out and swiped it from the air.

The crowd erupted in deafening cheers around her and she felt herself grinning from the exhilaration of the moment.

"Wow…" she marvelled, pulling out of his mind as gently as she could. "That felt so real."

Draco's expression was unreadable.

Hermione felt a flash of panic. "Did I hurt you?"

"No," he reassured her, his voice tense. "It didn't hurt. It was just…"

"What is it, love?"

"There was a pulse—just for a moment. I thought I felt it during our earlier lessons in your mind, but it was stronger when you were in my head."

"A pulse?"

"Didn't you see it?" His voice lifted uneasily.

Hermione thought back to the memory, the flash of scarlet.

"Maybe. I wasn't looking. Can we try again?"

He hesitated before nodding.

"Me or you?" she questioned.

"Me. I'll try to find it again. Is your mind clear?"

A nervous laugh bubbled in her chest,\. "I suppose."

She shifted closer to him, taking his wand and placing it on the table next to them. Hermione settled her hands in his, clasping them tightly together. He looked at her curiously.

"Try it wandless," she suggested. "It might help you focus."

He gave an apprehensive shrug, "I imagine it can't hurt to try."

Draco's chest expanded with a drag of breath. "Legillimens."

Hermione was accustomed to the sensation; Draco moved through her mind with a comfortable familiarity.

"There," he said faintly.

The crimson colour was back and he pulled their attention to it. It had settled in the back of her mind, looping through her memories, strung tightly. It reminded her of a strand or a piece of a web. He moved closer and it hummed softly with a magnetic pull, shimmering with magic.

"A pull," she whispered in shock. "Draco, when we didn't have a name for this, for the binding, we called it a Pull—the feeling that tethers our magic together."

The strand thrummed, crackles of magic surrounding it. She felt a familiar tug in her navel, the one that had been with her for years, and it left her breathless.

He lifted out of her mind; his hands held hers so tightly they began to go numb from loss of circulation.

He looked at her incredulously. "It really was a Pull."

She left the Room of Requirement feeling excited and nervous at their latest revelation. They had practiced for hours, going back and forth and pulling at the strand in their minds until they could find it with ease. At the end of it all, Hermione was mentally exhausted after spending her entire day using Legilimency with Draco.

The sound of frantic footsteps caught her attention and Ron appeared out of nowhere with his hands on his knees as he caught his breath.

"Hermione! Bloody hell, where have you been?" Ron's face was filled with worry. "I've been looking for you everywhere."

"I—I was in the library," she fell back onto her usual excuse with ease. "I was studying, what's wrong?"

His face squeezed in uncertainty. "I checked the library and asked around everywhere. You weren't there. I couldn't find the map."

"I was constantly moving through the sections, looking for different books," she compounded on the lie. "Lots of dusty books, no one is ever in that area."

"It's Harry," he said, visibly white and shaken. "He's been hurt. He's in the Hospital Wing."

As she considered everything that could have happened, she felt like the world was moving in slow motion.

Her legs were carrying her down the corridor before she had fully processed his words. Her mind immediately went to the cabinet; there was no way anyone had come through yet. It was not even functional.

Could the Room of Requirement and Room of Hidden Things even exist at the same time?

She felt her heart skip a beat.

"What happened?"

He jogged next to her as she made her way towards the Hospital Wing.

"It was a bludger during the match against Ravenclaw today," Ron explained.

Hermione felt guilty at the relief she found in his words. "But he's going to be okay? I mean, surely it can't be worse than the time he lost the bones in his arm because of Lockhart…"

"He'll heal, thanks to Madam Pomfrey. Mione, I know you don't like Quidditch, but I thought you would've been there to support us…" his voice trailed off.

She tried unsuccessfully to swallow the lump in her throat.

Ron's voice grew low. "It was scary. Harry was really high in the air when he fell. Charlie fell from half the height once and he was unconscious for weeks."

"Have you seen him yet?" she asked, her tone high and anxious.

"I just came from visiting him. Madam Pomfrey sent me away so she could change his bandages and give him another round of potions. Said he's only allowed one visitor at a time until his condition approves. I've been looking for you for nearly an hour."

"Thank you for telling me, Ronald. I'll see you back at the Gryffindor Commons?"

He nodded numbly; she picked up her pace and ran the rest of the way to the Hospital Tower.

The closer she got to Harry, the more Hermione's conscience screamed at her; she had spent so little time with her mates this term because of Draco and the cabinet. Ron was right — she should have been there for Harry.

As she made her way across the stone floor of the Hospital Wing, a pit of fear grew in her stomach. Quidditch was incredibly dangerous; players had died from injuries in the sport.

Only one bed was occupied and the privacy curtains were wrapped around it.

"Harry?" Hermione hissed. "Are you awake?"

A shushing noise came from behind the sheet. Frowning, she separated the fabric, peering inside the space.

Harry was laying in the bed, his arm and torso bandaged. There were empty bottles of pain potions and unidentified liquids on his bedside table. A smile bloomed on Hermione's face. In his bed, Theo was tucked around him. His arms were splayed across Harry's torso, carefully avoiding his bandaged areas.

With a quick look, Harry mouthed, I'm okay. He stared down at Theo who was fast asleep. Even in his sleep, he had worry lines etched into his brow.

Hermione's chest filled with warmth at the sight. She moved her mouth silently, I'm sorry.

For everything, she added mentally.

He gave her a reassuring smile. I know. It's okay.

She sidled up to Harry, placing a quick kiss on his cheek before giving him one last look and exiting the wing.

Hermione pushed her hair out of her face impatiently, flustered and covered in dust. "This isn't working," she muttered angrily.

Glaring at the green apple sitting in the Vanishing Cabinet, she considered throwing it across the room. It was in the same position that it was in nearly two hours prior when they had begun their work.

"I'm well aware, thanks," Draco snapped in reflex, squeezing his eyes shut. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—it's just that it's been weeks and we have nothing to show for it."

She felt aggravation rise under her skin. Hermione did not often struggle so completely. In fact, she could count the topics she had a hard time with on one hand. Divination, because it is bollocks, she mentally added, and flying had been her two biggest weaknesses before this year. Now she was confident in adding Vanishing Cabinet repair to that list.

After taking a deep breath to steady herself, Hermione looked to Draco. His hands were clenched into twin fists of frustration, and his face was creased with worry lines.

Recognising the signs of stress and weariness on him, her features softened. He had been working so hard lately between classes, Occlumency, the cabinet. Had he even taken any time for himself? If he had, she had not been there to see it.

"Love?" She walked over to him, gently unfolding his hands and placing them around her waist. "Let's stop for tonight, okay? I think we have done all we can for the night."

Draco's chest curled inward as he pulled her into a tight embrace. "Back to our place?"

Nodding, she echoed, "Back to our place."

After several sessions in the Room of Hidden Things, Hermione and Draco discovered that whoever was the original designer of the room could revert the room back to their common space without having to leave and come back.

Since she had arrived first today, it was up to Hermione to change the room. She closed her eyes and leaned into Draco's chest, inhaling her most favourite scent in the world. When her eyelids fluttered open, the room was their place once more.

The Room of Requirement had been a haven for them during the past few years, and Hermione was not sure how they would have survived without it. Perhaps they would have found a replacement meeting space in a Quidditch closet or in a grove of trees by the Forbidden Forest, though Draco would have been appalled to spend an inordinate amount of time there.

"Honestly, Granger, I'm not a centaur!" She could imagine him complaining.

During nights like these, when they failed to make progress on the cabinet, the heaviness visibly wore on Draco. He was not talkative and often fell into himself, introspective of their situation. Hermione grew accustomed to spending time after their working sessions in the comfortable silence.

She pulled her books and parchment out of her bookbag, prepared to use the time on her essay for Charms. Draco eyed her curiously. "I haven't noticed that one before." He gestured to her pocketbook which was propped open in front of her. "What course is that for?"

"It's not technically for a particular course," she replied. "It's a sort of reference tool."

His curiosity piqued, Draco reached over her and picked up the booklet, flipping quickly through the pages. "It's blank."

"Not always."

He stilled. "Granger, what kind of reference tool?"

"What is the Fidelius Charm?" Hermione asked aloud, looking expectantly at the book.

The page filled with words.

The Fidelius Charm is an advanced, multifaceted, and potent charm which is used to conceal a secret inside a single, living soul, known as the Secret Keeper. During the initial casting, it is possible to use more than one person as Secret Keeper, and once they die, everyone who learnt the information from the deceased Secret Keeper become Keepers themselves.

Disclosure of the secret must be given voluntarily; various methods of coercion such as truth serum, Legilimency, or torture have no effect on the charm.

It is most common to use the Fidelius Charm in regard to a location, which becomes invisible, intangible, unplottable, and soundproof as a result of this enchantment.

Origin unknown, the Fidelius Charm is one of the most ancient spells of written record.

"What is this?" Draco sounded breathless. "How long have you had it?"

Hermione frowned. "It's just a reference tool I use for my schoolwork. You ask it questions and it pulls information from the books that have been loaded on the partner. I wouldn't get too excited; it has limitations."

"Why haven't you just asked, 'How do I fix a vanishing cabinet?'" he enquired, looking down at the book.

"Draco—" Her voice caught in her throat, guilt ebbing at her for giving him false hope. "It doesn't work like that. It can only repeat information you've provided in its stand, not generate new information."

His eyes were impossibly wide as he went slack jawed, his eyes darting back and forth across the page.

"What is it?"

He turned the book towards her in response, showing her that pages had filled with information on Vanishing Cabinets.

Hermione nearly fell back in shock. "That's…not possible, Draco. I asked it for information on Vanishing Cabinets weeks ago. I asked nearly a dozen different ways in case it misunderstood me. It only takes imprints of other books. There was no information. How…"

"Ask," he urged her with a nod, thrusting the book back into her hands. "Try again."

"What information do you have on Vanishing Cabinets?" Her voice sounded wobbly.

The pages remained blank.

"Vanishing Cabinet history." Her voice rose in frustration. "Lore and mythology on Vanishing Cabinets." She tapped it impatiently with her wand. "How do I fix a Vanishing Cabinet?"

Nothing.

Draco turned to her gravely. "Where did you get this pocketbook?"

She shrugged. "It was in the safe house, just after I left the Manor in fifth year. Sirius let me take it home because he said it was just gathering dust in his house otherwise. I brought it back with the dancing shoes I told you about."

Running his hands over his face, he said, "Sirius Black. Merlin, Granger. You're telling me that you took an incredibly powerful family heirloom from the ancestral House of Black that is filled with an archive of generations of knowledge and you have been using it for schoolwork."

Hermione remained silent, staring in bewilderment at the filled pages. "It would appear so, yes. In my defense, I also used it to prank Umbridge."

"Sometimes I forget that you know nothing about Pureblood culture," he muttered, taking the book back into his hands. He thumbed the cover gently. "Do you remember all the conversations we have had about pureblood families and how they are notorious for keeping information in their families and passing it to their children? They have their own societal expectations, courtship traditions, the unwritten rules we talked about?"

"Yes. They are protective of sharing information from outsiders." She swallowed hard. "If I'm an outsider, why would a Black family heirloom let me glean any information from it at all?"

"Honestly, it might be a result of our bond, considering the magical connection is akin to a marriage."

Her stomach flipped in a delicious manner at the phrasing.

"The house-elves acknowledge you because of the bond. You are tied to me, which is similar to what happens in a wizarding marriage. In the old days, I mean, the really old days, most marriages were made completely for alliances between estates. The early magical protections were based on blood magic, not marriage bonds or shared family magic, because the relationships between husband and wife were often precarious. They were forced together as part of a treaty, not in love."

"They didn't want to be betrayed by giving their spouse open access to their heirlooms," Hermione realised. "The blood magic is for one parent and their offspring, not the spouse. It's a blood barrier to keep everyone else out."

"Exactly. This must be ancient; this sort of thing is rarely done these days. Not that people don't try, but goblins highly frown upon a witch or wizard locking their spouse out of the family vault with blood wards—it's barbaric, I know," he added quickly at her look of indignation. "My guess is that this pocketbook identifies you as a sort of spouse and responds to your generic questions because of it. Outside of that, it has generations of ancient Black family information in it that is completely unavailable to you. It only shows you the information that is unprotected. It answered to me—"

"Because of your blood," she finished dryly. "This pocketbook has generations of dark magic and classified information probably inaccessible in any library in the world, and I've been using it for schoolwork."

His eyes caught on the page. "Yes. And now we have it for the cabinet."

With a sharp inhale, she turned her attention back to the book. "We finally made some progress."

They had spent the first few months trying to repair the cabinet using the books available in the library, including the Restricted Section with a permission slip from Snape, but that ultimately yielded little information.

The pocketbook had more information than they could have possibly hoped to find in any schoolbook. It seemed someone in the Black family had designed Vanishing Cabinets, or that they had received the information from someone who had intimate knowledge of the process.

"Love," Hermione caught Draco's attention. "There's a core!"

"A what?"

"I never questioned it, because magic, but the Vanishing Cabinet in the drawing here"—she held up the rudimentary sketch up so he could see it—"indicates that there is a wooden core that powers the cabinet in the bottom, just below the baseboard."

"It's not the same model or even created in the same century." He eyed the sketch. "But it's certainly somewhere to start. Think there's any harm in breaking open the bottom?"

"I mean, it's our best bet so far. It's already broken, so disassembling it won't hurt. It's not like we can make it work any less."

Turning to the cabinet, he nodded. "Let's try it."

Half an hour later, Hermione tapped her foot impatiently. "Any luck?"

"No," Draco's voice reverberated off the old wood, his torso disappeared behind the door. "Cobwebs, lots of cobwebs. I think I inhaled particles of someone's gran down here."

"Ew." Hermione warped her face in disgust. "Poor gran."

He shifted his weight, tugging against the remaining piece of the base; it gave way with a heavy groan.

"Done!"

She steered herself through the bits of wood, pushing pieces aside with her foot. "God, this cabinet has to be ancient."

"Yeah," Draco agreed, dusting his hands together. "Half the wood in here is petrified. The matching cabinet in Borgin and Burkes looked much healthier than this; it must have been stored in a better environment."

Hermione swapped places with Draco—she was smaller and fit inside the cabinet more easily. He had removed the floor in an attempt to find the core that was displayed in the book. If the core was missing, there was no way they would be able to get the cabinet to work.

According to the pocketbook information, the cabinet worked using a core from the same tree from which it received its wood. If the core was gone, there would be no way that a replacement core would transmit magical energy through the wood of the cabinet. The cabinet was far too old and obscure to have documented information on the forest of its origin.

It hummed faintly, the dim sensation tingling through her as she inspected the centre. The wood of the cabinet encased the core; it was hidden just beneath the bottom panel and above the additional storage. It looked similar to a chicken egg in both size and shape.

She resisted the urge to touch it as she tilted her head around. "Lumos." She tucked her wand through the slats for better visibility.

"Draco!" She waved a hand to get his attention. "I see a crack." At the base of the core, the smallest sliver had begun to form.

"In all these months, I had never opened the base, never would've thought to look there," he mumbled under his breath. "Can I see?" He fit his head in the gap above her shoulder. "That is definitely not good. It looks like the power source is…leaking—is that the word?" He looked to Hermione who shrugged. "You can feel the energy seeping out."

"That means we need to repair the central power source. It should help the cabinet's magic stabilise." She balanced her wand between her teeth, pointing the shining end towards the dimly lit base.

He faltered. "Is that a simple Reparo? How do you fix a broken core?"

Continuing her examination of the centre, she corrected him. "It's not broken. I think you were right when you said it's leaking."

Hermione struggled to enunciate with her wand obstructing her mouth. "If your theory is correct, then step one is to stop the leak. Step two is to check the power supply and see if it's retained enough energy to continue working when it isn't hemorrhaging magic."

"I have an idea." She stuck her hand out behind her expectantly. "Check my expandable bag, top right shelf, in a wooden box. There's a container of wand sealant."

Draco shuffled through her stuff. Moments later, he placed a jar of paste in her open palm.

"I hope this works," Draco replied skeptically/ "This stuff is designed for mending aging wands, not sealing Vanishing Cabinet cores."

Hermione took her wand from her mouth and waved it, making a blob of sealant generously coat the core.

After sharing a quick look with Draco, she sat and waited.

"You don't think it's going to have a negative reaction, will it?" Draco asked, nervously eyeing the cabinet.

"I mean, wand wood and cabinet wood can't be that different, right?" she asked, sounding more confident than she felt.

"Yeah," Draco stated. "It isn't smoking yet, that's a positive."

After several moments, the egg twitched.

"Is it—"

The core began rotating, slow and jolting at first, but it smoothed out, continuing to spin.

Hermione let out a sharp exhale. "Is it…?" Her voice trailed off.

"We'll have to try." He swallowed the lump in his throat. "That's the only way we will know."

In silence, she pulled herself out of the cabinet. One by one, she handed Draco the baseboards as he pushed the slanted pieces together like a puzzle. The bottom formed as the last piece secured in place.

The cabinet was whole once more.

"Do you have the apple?" he asked, nodding at her bag.

"I've brought one to every session," she told him. "Just in case."

"Ever the optimist." He gave a faint smile, holding out a hand as she passed him the apple.

Hermione paced the room, her legs refusing to keep still. This was the closest they had been to having real results with the task.

Draco pulled out a charmed piece of parchment that had been given to Borgin for the purpose of testing. He tapped it once with his wand and the parchment burned a bright red. After a second, the parchment turned green.

"Borgin is ready." His throat bobbed as he swallowed, rolling the bright green apple around between his hands.

"Are you ready?" she asked, her voice feeling small.

His eyes grew hard and she immediately regretted asking. Hermione stepped next to him, taking his hand in hers and intertwining their fingers. He gave a gentle squeeze before leaning forward and placing the apple in the centre of the base.

He closed the door.

He turned the latch, which had an interior and exterior trigger. The cabinet buzzed and hummed to life. A gasp caught in Hermione's throat at the sound of the cabinet working.

They waited until the parchment turned red.

Draco's hand trembled as he reached out for the handle; the click echoed loudly in their ears.

He looked to Hermione, his eyes full of trepidation. She realised that he could not force himself to check. Nodding numbly, she stepped forward and pulled on the cabinet door.

Sitting at the base of the cabinet was an apple, ripped into shreds. The juice trickled out of the cabinet and dripped onto the floor of the Room of Hidden Things.

"We could always stop here," she quipped. "You know…bit of a nasty surprise for old Bellatrix."

His eyes were fixed in the distance, unfocused and glazed over.

"I didn't think we would be able to get this far." His voice sounded flat and lifeless. "We might actually be able to fix this cabinet."

They looked back at the remains of the apple, a sense of dread filling the air around them.