Harry felt awful, standing in the room of requirement watching the DA practice conjuring Patronuses. They were brilliant, all of them just weeks away from astounding government examiners with their skills on their Defense Against the Dark Arts OWLs. Cho was there too, smiling sweetly at him over the silvery trails of her swan. She'd made up with him, kissed him again, and for now, they had found that delicate balance of theirs.
So of course, it was all about to explode.
Over jubilant voices calling out incantations, Harry was listening carefully for the first sound of impact at the room's entrance. It would be Malfoy pelting the door with a quaffle, a warning. From inside the room, it was meant to sound like someone about to break through the door. Once it came, Harry would send everyone scrambling before Umbridge and the prefects she'd recruited rounded the corner into the corridor, chasing the DA as they fled.
Even if no one but himself was caught, they had all signed their names to the parchment Pansy would hand over to Umbridge at the end of the chase. Caught or not, everyone here, everyone who trusted him, would have to answer for this.
In all the activity, no one but Harry, Ronald, and Hermione noticed the first thud against the door when it came.
No one was sure what Hermione meant when she called out, "We've been compromised."
Fred and George just looked startled when Ronald shoved Ginny at them and said, "Run."
But everyone knew exactly what to do when Harry shouted, "Umbridge!"
There was a charge for the door, Harry pushing at the mass of people from behind. "Go on! Hide!"
He was last out of the room, pulling the door closed and glancing up and down the corridor. Most everyone had reached the corner, about to turn out of sight. Only Hermione was hanging back as Ronald tugged her onward.
From the other direction, Harry heard shouting and the slap of footsteps. Umbridge was cheering on her prefect militia as they closed in on the DA. He couldn't just stand there, stupidly waiting to turn himself over to them. Where was Malfoy? They'd agreed he would take Harry down in an attack, so it looked authentic. But they'd never gone over the details. He must have been hiding, or in a Disillusionment charm. Umbridge's voice was closer now, that shrill, evil sweetness Harry had come to pair with the wounds in his hand at detention.
He ran. If Malfoy had chickened out, the others could come looking for him in the boys' toilets, just ahead. They were welcome to chase him - whatever it took to buy the rest of the DA some time.
All at once, without anyone speaking an incantation, Harry's ankles stopped while the rest of him kept going, sending him falling, sprawling onto the floor with a shout.
Non-verbal tripping jinx. Malfoy.
There he was, coming out from behind a dragon-shaped vase, where he must have been waiting while every DA member but this one ran past him. He was calling for Umbridge, announcing he'd caught Potter. She was delighted, awarding points to Slytherin, but not content to let the other students off. She took hold of Harry and sent her posse to bring anyone out of breath or otherwise suspicious back to her office for questioning.
Caught between Umbridge's grip and her drawn wand, Harry watched Malfoy scrambling to follow a wolfish looking Montague toward the library.
Umbridge gave his arm a violent jerk as she set off with him toward the headmaster's tower.
"Some of them will be in here," Montague hissed at Draco as they stepped through the library doors.
Malfoy gave a sharp nod. "Yeah, I've got it. You can check the boys' bathroom. Pansy took the girls'."
"Ten minutes until closing," Madam Pince announced as the boys clipped past her desk.
"Later. You're not going to have this entire place searched in ten minutes, Malfoy," Montague sneered as he launched into the stacks on his own.
Panic shot along Draco's arms to his fingertips. Yes, Hermione was going to be caught when they found her name on that list of DA members. But by then, they'd be distracted with Dumbledore. Mere students would be nothing. At this moment, however, if Montague caught her here, physically, with those meaty hands of his - it would not be nothing.
Draco had to find her. Heading toward the restricted section, he scrawled on their message galleon with his wand.
"Where?"
The coin grew warm as he held it. "Palmistry."
It meant she was on the same side of the library as Montague. Draco slinked after them, spying on Montague from behind bookshelves. Montague drew closer and closer to the palmistry section, as if he knew she was there. Watching from around the corner of a pillar, Draco saw him arrive under the stained glass window coloured to look like a massive human hand against the dark night sky outside.
Draco couldn't see Hermione anywhere, but neither could Montague. He mashed his hands against the bookshelves, muttering threats and obscenities. It was infuriating, but Draco had to calm down and think. Odds were Hermione hadn't had time to cast a Disillusionment spell on herself, but if she had, and she was standing obscured from view against the books, Montague would be grabbing handfuls of her any moment.
Draco's lip curled, the furious vibration in his throat rising to an almost audible growl. No. Draco still had the quaffle, shrunken in the pocket of his robes. He restored it to size and threw it as far as he could, over the tops of the shelves, between the chandeliers, toward the other end of the library. It crashed somewhere out of sight.
Pince let out a squawk, and Montague dropped his hands from the palmistry books. He glanced around the area one last time before darting toward the noise.
There was movement on the ground. Hermione was crawling out from underneath a table, tiptoeing away. Draco bolted after her. She gasped in panic, and without turning around, kept running.
In the distance, Pince was accusing Montague of throwing the quaffle. He argued back.
" - on official business from undersecretary Dolores Umbridge - "
"I don't care if you were sent by Herr Doctor Faustus himself, no quidditch in the library!"
"I've told you, it wasn't me - "
"Not you? The Slytherin chaser known for his low regard for rules?"
The pair of them were making enough noise that Draco dared to whisper, "Granger!" as he followed her.
She spun around, her race red, her eyes shining with tears she was not crying. The sight tore at Draco's heart and he did not pause, reaching her at full-speed, his arms around her waist, all but tackling her and landing the both of them underneath a study table large enough to be a stage. He flicked his wand to arrange the chairs around the table to screen them. He held her face, brushing the pads of his thumbs against her damp eyelashes.
"Are you alright? Did he touch you?"
She shook her head, biting her lip.
Draco breathed out his relief, gathering her face against his shoulder, listening for the loud, angry voices sparring afar off. Pince's shouting was cut short by the slamming of a door. An instant later, all of the library's lights went out. She must have thrown Montague out and shut everything down for the evening all in one stroke.
Under the table, Draco collapsed onto his back on the floor. Hermione let herself fall forward, her head on his chest, her own fast, panicked breathing matching his. Together, they quieted their heart rates.
"What happened?" he asked. "It's not so bad, is it? I thought everything went according to plan, so far."
She wasn't ready to speak yet, but she smoothed the front of his robes with her cheek.
His hand dropped into her hair, stroking and soothing her. "Don't worry. I didn't hurt Potter," he said. "I just tripped him and called Umbridge over. She took him away without any more violence than that."
She nodded against him.
He wrapped his hands around each of her upper arms and pulled her up, until they were face to face in the dark. "Don't regret it, Granger," he said. "It's a good plan."
She squeaked as she began to speak. "I know. And I stand by it," she said. "But to see everyone running and scared, and Montague and the rest of them so vicious. And to imagine what's going on in Dumbledore's office right now - poor Harry, still in the teeth of it. And everyone on the list may wind up left here at school without Dumbledore to protect them - we did that, Malfoy. I did it."
He squeezed her in his arms so hard he might have heard her crack like a Muggle at a chiropractic clinic. "You had to do it. You were the only one of us brilliant and brave enough to know we had to do it."
She groaned. "What if I was wrong?"
"So what if you are?" he said, rolling them onto their sides and kissing her forehead. "Everyone takes a turn at being wrong, even you. How many times has flaming Potter been wrong? The Dark Lord is wrong right now, chasing after that dumb prophecy. The Weasleys were wrong about trying to hide Ronald from himself. And Dumbledore, as you have shown us, was wrong about all the sitting and waiting."
"Was he truly though?" She sounded doubtful, but her voice was losing its whispery quality, its tone and volume rising to normal now the library was closed.
Draco shrugged against her. "Whether he was wrong or not, he'll make it right from wherever he is now, won't he? Isn't that what the noble idealistic children of Dumbledore's Army believe? Isn't it?"
She let her lips brush his as she said, "It's frightening, really, almost devilish how you always know the right thing to say."
He faked a scoff, his mouth bending into a wicked smile. "Devilish for saying the right thing? I can't win, can I?"
She tugged at the edges of his smile with her lips, melting them into a kiss. "You might win, eventually…"
A crash sounded - heavy wood falling on stone. The chairs along one side of the table had been thrown down and out of the way, opening Draco and Hermione's hiding place.
"Come out!"
The rough, raging voice was Montague's. Thanks to Umbridge's authority, Pince hadn't thrown him out of the library. It was him who had sent her away.
"I know you're under there," he barked. "Come out on your own before I flip this table." There was a flash as he relit the chandelier overhead.
They were cornered. Draco sighed noisily. "I'll take care of it," he whispered to Hermione. "And remember, no matter how I act, or what I tell him, I - you - you are my girl and I am mad for you."
With that he grabbed the table legs and swung himself sideways until he was standing to face Montague.
"Malfoy?" Montague announced as he came into sight. "Why is it always you I find lurking in dark corners when we're on patrol for Umbridge? Don't tell me, you've got another girl with you this time."
From beneath the table, Hermione heard Malfoy laugh. "Yes, actually."
There was a pause as Montague deliberated whether to force this moment into a confrontation. At last, he nodded. "Bring her out."
Malfoy laughed more quietly. "Like I told you last time: no. I'm entitled to privacy."
"Not tonight you're not. Bring her out, or I'm going in after her," was Montague's answer. "Umbridge demands a thorough search of this area, so - "
"I know what Umbridge said," Draco said, his voice less jovial, sharp. "Don't act like you didn't just stand there and watch me catch Potter for her. The rest of them are worthless."
"She wants them anyway. We need to - " Montague stopped mid-sentence, something dawning on him. "Your girl is one of them."
Malfoy scoffed.
"She is," Montague insisted. "This isn't about your privacy, your stodgy Malfoy manners. You're in here with one of Potter's Gryffindor slags and you're ashamed of her."
"You've got that wrong way 'round, mate."
"Look, bring her out, or I'll drag her out."
Malfoy folded his arms and bent slightly, as if to peer into the dark space beneath the table, like it was the den of a dangerous animal. He gave a low whistle. "I'd like to see you try, frankly. I didn't confiscate her wand before I took her under there. She's armed and deadly and already in a foul mood."
"You're not impressing anyone, Malfoy. Whoever she is, I'm bringing her to Umbridge."
"No, you're actually standing here stalling - "
"Shut up."
Watching their feet from beneath the table, Hermione saw Montague take a wide stance, as if about to undertake serious work. The light around him changed, glowing red with his magical effort. Above her, the table began to levitate.
"Oh, for stars' sake," Hermione called, scooting into the open on her own.
When her head was visible, Montague jumped, spooked, and dropped the table hard against the floor.
Still on her knees, she batted Malfoy's shin hard enough to make him flinch. "Give us a hand," she said.
He huffed. "You can do it yourself."
She scowled as she rose, slapping dust from the knees of her black tights. "You call yourself a gentleman."
He tossed his head. "A gentleman doesn't waste it on you."
"Well," Montague beamed. "The prince of Pure-blood with his muddy little secret." He looked Hermione up and down. "Can't say I understand the appeal, Malfoy. Though I have heard that Mudblood girls come with certain - skills."
"You could say that," Draco smirked, swiping his thumb against the corner of Hermione's mouth, slanting her bottom lip.
She beat his hand away as she jerked her head. "Don't you touch me."
Draco responded with that high, mocking laughter of his - the kind that made him sound like a hooting owl. She hadn't heard it since fourth year and fought not to laugh back at it.
Montague joined in instead, mocking along with him. "What does she get out of it?"
Malfoy shrugged. "Bragging rights no one would ever believe. A little amnesty on nights like tonight. Serious help with potions to make sure nothing disrupts her streak of straight O's on the OWLs. Unconnected nobody like her is going to need marks like that."
She punched at his arm, genuinely insulted by the idea of her needing to exchange favours for homework help. He bent over, hissing in pain as Montague laughed.
But then Montague was advancing toward her. She retreated, the edge of the table hard against the backs of her thighs. He was reaching, his fingers pinching the fabric of her sleeve. "Say, Malfoy, I'm rubbish at potions, but you'd wouldn't mind if I were to - "
"Yes, I would." Draco had thrown himself between them. Montague's fingers were no longer on Hermione's sleeve, and his wrist was clenched in Malfoy's grip. "It is well-known that I do not share my things."
Montague wrenched his wrist free. "No matter how filthy they are?"
Malfoy stepped more completely in front of Hermione, cutting off Montague's view of her. "That's right."
Hermione shoved him from behind, sending the boys stumbling into each other's arms. "Honestly, you two keep arguing about it all you like. I'm leaving."
Montague lunged after her. "No, you're not. You're coming with me. I'm taking you to Umbridge - "
All at once, there was an enormous crack, like thunder sounding from inside the castle. The room was lit with bright orange light, like a bonfire flaring to life. Outside, a streak of burning, flaming lightning split the sky. And as the rumble of thunder died away, they heard the high, keening call of a phoenix.
Montague jumped. "That's Dumbledore. He's - he's done a runner."
"Looks like it," Draco said.
"Umbridge - I - I didn't know she was - Potter," he stammered. "She only wanted Potter."
"No, I reckon Umbridge has got more than she bargained for," Draco said. "And it will keep her plenty busy for the rest of the night. Go back to your dorm, Granger."
"No, she's coming - "
"Montague, you must have missed the part where Pansy found the roster they all signed their names to. Go find her and ask her. Granger has already unwittingly confessed. Umbridge can come pick her up when she's ready," he said. He snatched roughly at Hermione's hand. "I'll take her back to her dorm."
"I said, don't touch me," she snarled at him.
Still holding her hand, he began to walk. "Don't act like you don't love it."
"I'm not finished with you, Malfoy," Montague called after him. "Umbridge is going to hear about you and that mudblood slut. You'll never be on her inquisitorial squad. She's starting it up right away. But not with you. Not anymore."
Malfoy turned back for a parting taunt. "Yeah? Why don't you run and tell her all about me then? Do it while she's still buzzed from my trip jinxing Potter for her, you useless, jealous git."
All through the library, Hermione continued to struggle against Draco's hold on her hand. She kept it up in the corridor outside, up the stairs, past the Gryffindor common room entrance and behind a tapestry. Even in the close, barely private space between the heavy woven drapery and the stone wall, he didn't let go of her hand, but bent it between them, rubbing her skin between his thumb and forefinger as he stooped to devour her mouth.
"I'm sorry," he said, pushing her against the coolness of the wall.
"Don't be," she breathed back at him, her mouth on his neck.
"But I was so mean," he said, his head tipped back, his eyes closed. He waited for her to reply but she said nothing, her mouth at work on his throat, her fingers free from his hand now, loosening his tie and collar, clawing for more of him. He answered for her. "And you were so good at being mean right back."
He felt her smirk against his flesh. "Had loads of practice." She was kissing upward, returning to his mouth. "Years of scrapping and snipping, fighting to make you feel something for me, even before we - "
Her words vanished into his kiss. His hands were in her hair, tugging gently, baring her neck now. "Stars, Granger. Fight with me any day."
She lifted her leg to tuck her heel into the back of his knee, the way she sometimes did. It wasn't enough tonight. While he ravaged the underside of her jaw, his hand rose as if automatically, his fingers closed just above her knee, lifting her leg higher, bringing her closer, holding her up between his body and the wall.
She panted out a soft, breathy laugh. "Are you still a gentleman, Malfoy?"
There was a click as his lips broke from her skin. He slammed into the reality of where he was, and who she was, and that this wasn't some vivid chemically induced teenaged dream. She was real, precious, important. He squeezed her knee a final time before he let her leg fall.
He kissed her lips, quickly and just once. "Sorry," he said. "Sometimes, because I'm mad for you, I can go a bit - mad." He leaned his forehead against the crown of her head, her hair moving with his quick breaths.
She held him in a tender hug, her arms around his ribs inside his robes. "Stop being sorry. Save it for when there's a need. Trust me, the time will come."
He cleared his throat, nodding. "I am sorry for the way Montague spoke to you."
"You're not responsible for him."
"Aren't I?" he said. "Wasn't it me, as a second year brat who helped bring that word back to Hogwarts?"
She scoffed. "Oh yes, Malfoy. Everyone here takes their social cues from the second years. Don't flatter yourself. It's good that you regret it. But don't hoard all the blame."
He bent to press their foreheads together, eye to eye. "Now who knows all the right things to say?"
She reached up to tousle his hair, already mussed by the tapestry at his back. "I need to get to the common room. I can't miss Harry. We need to know what's happened before we can decide what to do next."
He held her close one more time. "Hopefully, we don't do anything. The whole point of this was to force Dumbledore to do something."
She sighed. "This is my fifth year at Hogwarts. If there's one thing I've learned in that time, it's that our plans are always glitchy, and there's always, always something more for us to do."
The image in the drawing room fire was sinking back into the coals, the light dimming on the gruesome grin of the Dark Lord. He'd just received word from Severus at Hogwarts. Those Ministry buffoons had pushed the headmaster out of the school. Of course, to truly force him out was beyond their powers, but he had left all the same, in the interest of keeping Potter there.
His protections remained, the castle walls still impervious, Potter and the Malfoy brothers held out of reach for now. But surely Albus had been guiding them, shifting the shiny new pawns through the deadly game he and the Dark Lord had been engaged in for decades now.
With that influence gone, the chess board belonged to the Dark Lord. Lucius was free to mobilize his boys. Everything was falling into place. Nagini had chased the useless guards away from the Department of Mysteries, the headmaster offered himself to be cut off from the school, and while it was true there was much he could do to frustrate the Dark Lord's plans now he was at liberty, the Dark Lord and his forces were safe enough in this enchanted manor.
The most promising development was indeed that circumstances had never been more perfect for Harry Potter to fall into the hands of the Malfoy brothers. They surrounded him at school, as friend and foe, young Ronald sleeping in the bed next to him, night after night. Yes, Potter would deliver the prophecy soon, and by it, his own death.
"Lucius," the Dark Lord called. "Bring me your sons."
He dropped to his knee next to the Dark Lord's chair, still reeling with Snape's news about Dumbledore's departure from Hogwarts. Why had Draco helped, blindly following the Umbridge woman? Didn't he realize how he had exposed himself, and Ronald?
"My Lord, we agreed," Lucius stammered. "I will lure Potter to the Ministry myself. My sons are young and untried. They only complicate the matter. Allow me to fulfill our agreement without encumbrance. We're nearly there - "
"Cease your groveling," he snapped.
Lucius fell silent.
"Two weeks, Lucius," he said. "Two weeks and our agreement expires. Two more weeks of subtlety before your sons drag Potter, fighting and howling to the Ministry to obtain my prophecy. In the meantime, young Draco will continue to meet with me, to prepare to take your place should you fail me."
Lucius was bowing. "Thank you, my lord. Two weeks. More than generous. Yes, you will have it."
"I will have it," he said, "or you will have nothing."