Preface: Trigger warning for a light, physical altercation.

Chapter Eight - The Perils of a Bond

Like all sentient beings, Hermione had been given her whole life to hone her intuition, and she'd made the most of those years. The gift had saved her life on many occasions; had saved embarrassment, and conflict. There were blind spots, naturally. But sometimes, particular alarms refused to be ignored. These were the instincts that always wound up substantiated.

Mere minutes before Harry, Ron, and Hagrid (Katie Bell in tow) barreled into the entrance hall, there was an absolute, hair-raising certainty that something terrible was on its way.

Katie wasn't necessarily close with Hermione and the others, but they'd all see the girl every day, nine months out of every year. It was a most grievous thing, to have been right to fear in advance. A generally sweet person had now become a victim, had become irrefutable proof that every one of them were in mortal danger which could culminate at any time.

Then, to cap it all off, Harry seemed to have lost all sense.

Here was the thing about Harry: he was very much a hot-head. One could pretty easily say that it usually took quite a bit for him to lose his temper. Yet when that boiling point was reached, he could rocket to Mars with the steam that shot from his backside. His sense of justice may have been his greatest downfall, emotionally. If anyone tampered with what was right and what was wrong; if anyone so much as questioned his integrity or his merit; Harry was liable to take it as personally as he could. Hence the hiatus he and Ron took from their friendship fourth year, and his constant state of war with Umbridge (although she had deserved all she got) in the fifth.

Harry was not a fool, but he was stubborn. His fixation on Malfoy had had plenty of time to steep over two and a half months.

Silence pervaded the group as the lengthy trip came to an end. McGonagall swept over to her desk the moment she was through the door, and sat down. The remaining four stood before the professor in a line, and with every second anticipated her first words. Hermione took a moment to sneak a glance at Malfoy. To look at him, he was merely politely concerned. But surely everyone else knew better.

"Well?" McGonagall's gaze pierced them all in turn. "Who's to open the floor? I leave it to you."

Harry spoke up at once. "May I, Professor?"

McGonagall nodded and Harry launched into the full account that Hermione had awaited with bated breath. He, Ron and Ginny were on their way back to the castle after exhausting what little attraction the village of Hogsmeade managed to maintain; they'd followed not far behind Katie and her friend when, all at once, they began to fight. Katie touched the necklace, fell under the curse, and floated into the sky with anguished screams. According to the friend, in the time which led up to the fight over the parcel, Katie had come out of the lavatory in Rosmerta's pub with a strange demeanor. The parcel was suddenly in her arms, out of nowhere.

"She was put under the Imperius Curse, obviously. She had orders to take the necklace to the castle - to Dumbledore." Harry stepped forward, as a fervent wash saturated his tone. "It was Malfoy, Professor McGonagall. He bought the necklace at Borgin and Burke's, we all saw him." His head swiveled to look first at Ron, and then at Hermione. His expression plainly showcased the absolute confidence he had in their corroboration.

"Is this true? Did you two witness Mr Malfoy purchase this necklace?"

"We did see him go into the shop..." Ron said.

"I asked if you saw him buy the same necklace carried by Miss Bell." To this Ron gave a sort of noncommittal grunt. McGonagall gave him a put-upon look, then asked, "Well, Miss Granger?"

"Well, not exactly." All focus was suddenly on her, which made her voice small. Her face fell to her feet.

"That's bullocks," Harry cried immediately. "You were there! We all saw him - in Knockturn Alley! Professor, he slipped his mum and went off to Borgin and Burke's while we were school shopping."

"No, that's not what I meant." Hermione said. "Let me finish, Harry. As Ron said, Professor, we did see him enter the shop after we'd followed him. We heard a conversation between Malfoy and Mr Borgin, but we couldn't see him, and they never mentioned any object in particular. We don't know what he bought." She finished with what she hoped was a steady gaze to Harry.

"That doesn't matter," Harry countered. "You'll really try to tell me this is all coincidence? That necklace was in sale for that shop!"

"I've a right to shop anywhere I please, Potter." Draco said, before he'd straightened his shoulders and returned his attention to McGonagall. "Just because these three imbeciles decided to invade my privacy doesn't mean they've got any proof. Hundreds of people have been in and out of Borgin's shop since that day of mediocre spy-work. I went in to buy an item I've had my eye on since I was a child."

"Which was?" McGonagall questioned.

"A Hand of Glory - I consider myself a collector of artefacts. It's not any sort of weapon, it can't hurt anyone."

McGonagall, after an evident struggle to decide the next course she could take, eventually sighed and looked to Harry.

"Mr Potter, I am afraid this accusation against Mr Malfoy is immensely serious," She said heavily. "Yet you have not much evidence, besides chancing to overhear him buy an object - which you cannot even identify - from the same shop the necklace was for sale; not exactly a coincidence in the realm of disbelief. While it is certainly... unconventional, to frequent Knockturn Alley, it is not illegal."

"Hermione," Ron interjected. "Didn't you ask about that necklace, when you went inside?"

"You went inside?" Draco's indignant outburst was promptly followed by a pinched expression, as though he hadn't meant to say anything at all.

There was no room in the current circumstance to pay him any mind, as Ron brought back a detail that had been nearly forgotten. "Yes, I did see the necklace. And I got the impression that he would have sold it to me."

"Think for one bloody moment," Harry refrained from yelling, but this low, aggrieved utterance was somehow worse. "Picture you're Mr Borgin, Hermione. Would you not be on your guard, if someone walked into your shop and asked questions about an object he'd literally just been discussing? He knew what you were up to."

Before Hermione could formulate a response (because really, there was no way to directly refute his point), Harry addressed McGonagall once again.

"My guess is he left it there so that it could be delivered."

"That's impossible, Mr Potter." The Professor replied. "A cursed object of that magnitude would never have made it into the castle, let alone into the hands of a student."

"Can he even say where he was when it happened?"

Hermione folded her arms around her chest and squeezed. If only a portal into another time and place could materialise beneath her feet. There hadn't been much, but there'd been some hope that if Harry was presented with enough logical evidence, he'd maybe let it go.

"Actually, yeah, Potter, let's talk about that, shall we?" Draco raised his eyebrows at Hermione, a silent message: Well?

"Harry, it could not have been Malfoy." Now she forced herself to keep steady contact with Harry's incensed stare. "He was with me - the entire time you all were away. When Katie was cursed, I imagine he and I were still in the Potions classroom."

"Why were you with him?" It was Ron who spoke.

"We were forced to move our Thursday lesson to this morning. I didn't tell you because I didn't want to argue."

"So that's why you wouldn't come with us." He stated, to which Hermione could only offer a helpless shrug.

"Well then, as far as I am concerned, this matter has been cleared up. I will speak to Miss Bell if and when she recovers; rest assured this situation will receive a sound investigation. I expect to hear no more of this from any of you." She cast a meaningful look to Harry as she finished. "This is as far as your involvement goes."

"I'd like to talk to Dumbledore," Harry said mechanically.

"I'm afraid that you cannot, Mr Potter." McGonagall replied stiffly. "He is away from the castle at the moment. Aside from that, I feel inclined to remind you that even if he were present, the Headmaster is not at your beck and call."

"I never said he was." Harry said. "But you can't expect me to drop this Professor. He is up to something. I can feel it."

"That is precisely what I expect you to do, Potter." McGonagall rose from her chair and drew herself to full height. "I mean it - I don't want to hear anymore about this. Now, leave my office - quietly, and peacefully, unless you want to earn a harsh detention sentence."

For a moment the four of them just stood there; united by the apparent, and unanimous conviction that nothing felt resolved enough to leave behind.

"Out! All four of you." The professor barked.

One by one they filed out of her office; the only one whose head didn't hang was Malfoy - who was clearly too smug.

He was in the lead, and for a while they all went in the same direction, a soundless tension suspended tightly between them.

Hermione breathed a quiet sigh as they finally came to the point where Draco ought to have split off towards the Slytherin Common Room. But, instead, he spun on his heel, his eyes instantly lighting upon Hermione. They slid away carelessly before a second had even passed, however, as they shifted to Harry.

"I'll just admit it before I leave, shall I?" He said. "I sincerely hope you feel like an arse."

Hermione darted a quick glance to Harry, whose hands had tightened into fists. She was prepared to seize onto an arm in the event he lunged forwards.

"Let's just go, Harry." Hermione pleaded. "He isn't worth it."

"You heard what McGonagall said." Ron's agreement was half-hearted, but appreciated. "I don't much fancy detention this early on."

Harry ignored them both. "You're too bloody proud, Malfoy." He said. "You think you've got everyone around here fooled. You think you'd have learned from your father that that's the very thing to make people slip."

"Are you giving me advice, Potter? Really, I'm touched. But I think we've established that you're a basket case, and your little followers over there are mindless automatons who can't think for themselves."

"Who're you calling mindless?" Ron demanded, with a quick step towards Malfoy.

"I'd love to spell it out for you, Weasel, but I haven't got the hours that would take."

"Just shut up, Draco!" Hermione cried.

The woman in the white dress, in the portrait over Malfoy's shoulder, seemed to enjoy the melodrama of the scene as she peered at them all in a rotating sequence. As Hermione began to shout, the painted woman gave a scandalised smile.

Hermione paid the painting little mind. "Don't you think we've all had enough for one day?"

"Was anyone talking to you, Mudblood?" Draco rounded on her with assiduity, his mouth twisted into a grimace that made him quite ugly. "Your kind are at the top of every Death Eater's list, right? If I am one, wouldn't I have done away with you by now? Especially considering the way you follow this nutter about..." He thrust a hand in Harry's direction. "You'll get her killed, you know, Potter. Her and the rest of your band of heroes."

"I wouldn't be surprised if you were the one to do it. Just because you haven't yet, doesn't mean you never will." And then, nearly as a form of punctuation to his reasonably uttered sentence, Harry brandished his wand and intoned, "Flipendo!"

There was no opportunity for anyone to block the jinx, let alone Malfoy; who remained oblivious up until the spell hit him. He was knocked back so violently that his head went first, and his body gave a clumsy half-flip. The position he'd landed in was nearly comical enough to elicit a laugh from Hermione, but there was no time for that, either.

Malfoy had regained himself quickly, and began to fumble for his own wand - and Harry, no doubt catching sight of the attempt, made to lunge at him. Hermione stepped between them, however, and braced her hands against Harry's shoulders.

"Are you insane?" She struggled against Harry's height, as it seemed as though he had every intention of mowing over her, if he had to. It was likely through sheer frustration that Hermione was able to push him off her, shouting as she did. "Get ahold of yourself, Harry Potter!"

She looked to Ron, who merely stared between them all, similarly to the painted lady, but with none of the glee. "Any help, Ron?"

"I'm not sure who I'm meant to be helping," Ron said quickly.

"Out of the way, Hermione." Harry said darkly. He wouldn't look at her, wrapped as he was with trying to get a good look at his target (who could be heard rising to his feet).

"He's done nothing wrong, Harry!" Her hands gesticulated wildly of their own volition. "He hasn't cursed anyone! I don't know how much more proof you need - is it me you don't trust? D'you think I would lie to you?"

"Come off it, Hermione," Harry said. "Why would you even ask me that? I think you're being fooled. I think you're being close-minded. I never called you a liar."

"Close-minded?" Hermione could hear the melodramatic tone of her own voice, but he'd hit a nerve.

"Look at the evidence - he goes to the shop where that necklace happened to be for sale; he brags to his friends about an important mission he has to carry out for the other side - the side fighting against us, Hermione, the side who want to kill every last one of us; then, just two short months later, one of our housemates end up with a deadly necklace and orders to take it to the Headmaster. That's the mission! He's got to kill Dumbledore."

Draco laughed scornfully from behind Hermione. "You think I've got to kill Dumbledore?" He said. "You really are as stupid as I thought, Potter. I've got no more chance of killing Dumbledore than you have of becoming an international pop-sensation."

Harry once again made as if to bolt forward and Hermione's grip immediately returned to his shoulders. There was one moment where she was certain he was going to throw her off him - but he instead took a breath and stepped back.

"What is wrong with you?" Harry said, looking at Hermione as though she'd betrayed him. "How can you let him sit there and threaten you - how can you let him get away with it?"

Hermione stalled in her answer as she willed her mind to produce some evidence in Harry's favour - and it came up with nothing.

"It's not that I don't understand where you're coming from, Harry. I can see the path you've taken in your logic." Hermione said. "I just can't imagine how he could possibly have been in two places at once. He was with me -"

"Polyjuice potion?" Ron said, which actually managed to throw Hermione for a moment until she remembered.

"No, I've been with him since this morning. We separated maybe one minute before you and Harry came into the entrance hall. It's now been several hours." Aside from that, there was a certain assurance in her head that she would have been able to tell if this Malfoy was a decoy. Malfoy's brand of insolence was quite particular - easy, therefore, to identify.

"Snape could brew a strong enough batch to take him through half a day." Harry said.

Then, with a grunt of disdain Malfoy shouldered past Hermione and began to stalk away. He'd started saying, "I've had enough, and I have no oblig-" before he was interrupted with his own gagging sound: Harry had made a swipe for Malfoy and wound up with a fistful of the back of his shirt. Harry gave a yank and Malfoy's shirt collar choked his esophagus as he was pulled backwards. Harry whirled a bit and threw Malfoy a few paces down the opposite end of the corridor.

"You're not going anywhere." Harry said. He slid the strap of his bag from his shoulder and passed it off to Ron. "Find the map - we'll see for sure."

"I said, I've had enough, Potter." Malfoy raised his wand. "Let me-"

Harry had reacted the moment Draco raised his wand. The former now aimed his wand at the latter, and cried, "Melofors!"

And Hermione, who was standing just to the side, actually had the time to throw up a shield. It was hastily cast, and nearly not enough to repel the jinx; but it worked. She stepped between them once again as she disarmed Harry.

"Really, Harry, the Pumpkin-Head Jinx?" She reproached, holding his wand. "That's where your instincts take you?"

"Why are you defending him?"

"He's just being a prat, as always! Is that any reason to get yourself in trouble?"

For a long moment Harry just stood there. His breath came in jagged heaves, as Ron quietly muttered, "It's Malfoy. No potion." He quickly folded the map before Draco could get a proper look at it and returned it to Harry's bag.

Still, Harry was silent for several moments longer. When his breath evened, and he looked away from Draco, Hermione sighed with relief and thanked Ron from her heart.

However, as soon as she stepped from between them, Draco tittered in his patented method of haughty superiority. And Harry apparently allowed this to snap him right back into aggression, as he took one massive step forward and swung his right fist straight for Malfoy's face.

The impact was ferociously audible, and once again Malfoy toppled over, this time onto his back. And, this time, he did not rise - his eyes were open and his head was up, but he appeared to have lost all comprehension of what was going on. Yet still, Harry knelt over him -

"Harry, no!" Hermione's cry fell on deaf ears as he raised his fist once again. "Impedimenta!"

Her spell was squealed with fervent desperation; it hit Harry with enough force that he was shoved backwards. He was torn from Malfoy and sent flying back half a metre, where he landed on his bottom with a healthy smack.

His mouth had fallen open in shock. "Did you just-"

Hermione's chin set in defiance. "Yes, I did. You are completely out of line, Harry, and I am a Prefect."

She appealed mutely to Ron, but found that he was looking at her as though several limbs had sprouted from her abdomen. There was no anger over his visage, but his confusion was nearly more palpable than Malfoy's.

Silence engulfed them. If Malfoy had been fully conscious, he probably would have said something snide and provoking. As it were, he'd merely let his head fall completely to the floor beneath him and gave the occasional incoherent groan.

"What's up, Hermione?" Ron asked quietly.

"What do you mean?"

"There's something odd about this... about you..."

"Nothing is up with me Ronald." She snapped. "Harry is beside himself. He's wrong, and so are you, if you think jinxing Malfoy is the proper thing to do."

"This, from the girl who hit him-"

"I was thirteen!" Hermione cried - then, muttered madly more to herself than anyone else, "I cannot be the only person who's since learned that self-defense is the only acceptable time for bloody violence."

Her friends merely exchanged looks with each other - Harry was indignant, Ron was suspicious, and both were dumbfounded. They rose; Harry held out his hand for his wand, and Hermione gave it to him - and then they left without a word. Only Ron looked back, but it was absent of any reassuring note.

Once they'd disappeared round the corner, Hermione turned suddenly burning eyes down to Malfoy, who'd slipped away completely into Dream Land. She knelt beside him, though the cold stone floor was unforgiving to her kneecaps as she turned her wand upon Draco.

"Rennervate." She frowned in distaste as Malfoy's eyelids began to flutter. The moment he was conscious, he sat up and looked about cautiously.

"They're gone." She informed him curtly, and made to get back to her feet.

But his hand closed round her wrist.

"You know I'll have them hanging by my toes for this." He said.

"No, you won't." Hermione stated.

"Oh, I won't?" He spoke rather softly - where only minutes ago his tone had been nearly petulant in all its adamance. "I forget sometimes we're strangers, and you clearly know nothing about me."

"You won't, because yet again you owe me a favour." Hermione retorted - though all interest in this little scene they perpetuated had dissipated.

"How do you reckon that?"

"I saved your skin. Without me, you'd have a pumpkin strapped round your head right now." She assessed him for a moment; his left cheek was beginning to swell, and already bruises bloomed beneath his eye. "Though, that probably would have been the better outcome."

"I could have handled them myself." He shot.

Hermione sighed and pulled her wrist from his grasp - which drew a shocked expression from him, as he'd likely failed to notice he'd maintained his grip on her.

"If you can't thank me, Malfoy, the least you can do is let the whole thing go." She said. "It would be easier for everyone, I think. Especially for me because, thanks to you, I've got two sullen teenagers to deal with for the foreseeable future."

He'd turned his face away. His jaw worked with visible exasperation.

"Just let it go, please."

When he didn't respond, she simply cleared her throat and got shakily to her feet. She was practically fit to pass out, but she wanted her bed more than any other Earthly thing at that moment.

She left without another glance, yet before she'd turned the same corner Ron and Harry had taken, Draco half-called, "I'll let it go."

Hermione gave him no indication that she'd heard, from some foreign instinct that he would prefer it that way.

Author's Note:

Hello all! This chapter is the shortest yet by about two hundred words, but that only means the next one will come quickly! This was just the most reasonable point at which to break the chapters, so that the storyline could seem cohesive. But, shorter chapters will not be the new trend.

I saw in the reviews that many of you did, in fact, make guesses, which were fun to read. The most common guess of all was the upcoming use of sectumsempra; but I don't feel that Harry and Draco have quite reached that point with each other. No, no, my lovelies. I'm saving that for something special.

Feel free to keep guessing, though. And please, as always feel free to give honest feedback.

(This little message is for those guests, to whom I can't send a direct message) thank you for the support! M and James Birdsong are regular guests, and typically I like to send a personal message to those who are frequent visitors, but it appears neither of you have an account for me to message. Your contributions are very much appreciated.