september 14th 1998
8.30 am

Cold pumpkin juice in the early mornings before a tiring day of classes was one of Hermione's favourite aspects of her daily routine. It was a rather cold morning and she had joined the Gryffindor table for a change as Hermione had enjoyed most of her meals during the first two weeks of the school year next to Hannah. She had told her Hufflepuff friend everything she had learnt on Friday, informed about Draco's absence and their vile exchange after The Form of Mind class. Hermione had returned later, after Draco's departure, to the library and checked out the text he had hidden from her eyes for the past years and decided that she is not going to let it out of her sight ever again. As it was the only information she knew and could cling to apart from what she had concluded herself. The young Abbott had reread the small paragraph in the ashy-blue book more than a dozen times, leaving her each time as confused as Hermione.

"I do not think this is true, Hermy," Hannah had shaken her head, disagreeing with what she had learned from the ancient text.

"This is the only thing I have found that supports what has been happening with me, Hannah. If I cannot believe this, then I am right back where I started," the Gryffindor had clutched her head in her hands and sighed in defeat.

"This must be a hoax. There are too many details that do not add up with you and Malfoy," she had given Hermione a squeeze to her hand and slid the book back.

"I know. But then what about Pansy? She seems to believe it. Her father had told her. And Draco did not deny any of it," Hermione had tried to rationalize. To think of something good enough to make Hannah believe her.

"This information has no backbone, no references, no possible truth to it," Hannah had given her final.

Was it not Hannah who from the start had suggested that their connection must be a curse? Dark magic?

Draco Malfoy had been gone the whole weekend, at least Hermione had not noticed him joining his house's table at meals. She could have asked Theo about his whereabouts, but the Gryffindor did not want to come across as bothered by his cruel blonde friend's absence. That is why she kept quiet and spent her Saturday and Sunday hidden in her spot in the library, where Theo had silently joined her. As he always did.

Hermione chewed on her toast and from the corner of her eye saw that Harry and Ron were approaching her. They sat down just a meter away from her, seemingly chosen the spot on purpose. Both of her old friends had been trying to squeeze in some small talk during their lessons or when passing in the hallway or even during their meals when Hermione had decided to sit at her house's table. It was an amusing sight, to see Ron squirm while trying to come up with a sentence to pass to Hermione. A sentence that would not seem forced, but the Gryffindor sweetheart saw right through him. She knew him all too well. Harry had been a little cleverer and picked his words more accurately. He had chosen to obtain Hermione's attention by loudly exclaiming the wrong answers to their homework in the Gryffindor common room or during lunch, as he knew that his bushy-haired friend could not possibly refrain from correcting him, thus inclining a small but meaningful conversation. And when the little chats started to accumulate, all three of them noticed progress being made. It made Hermione feel hopeful, though she did not want to let them off the hook that easily. Even if she found it all too familiar and sweet, to be somehow around her two friends again.

Her eyes had been fixed on the entrance door of the Grand Hall for the past twenty minutes she had been there, waiting for Draco's return. Hermione had a lot to ask from him and as she knew he would not throw even crumbs at her regarding the subject, she had thought of a better approach to their lack of communication. She knew it was a rather risky and stupid thing to do, but it was the only strategy she had managed to create during the last two days. Hermione could assist him, she was sure of it. And after her little stunt, he would have to oblige. She hoped. With whatever he was researching or searching for, the intelligent Gryffindor could be of help.

Draco Malfoy entered the large and brightly-lit room. His usual stance of tall figure and broad shoulders now replaced with slumped and defeated posture. He looked pale, even a shade paler than his aristocratic cheekbones usually were. His deep greys were accompanied with dull coloured bags under them. Draco looked worn-out just like the book he had hidden from Hermione. He looked like had not slept at all during these last days. It was an unusual sight, as his muscular and stoic build never faltered to represent the boy in the most immaculate way. Even during their previous year, with everything that he had been going through, his perfectly starched shirts and his profile's exquisite angles never failed to accompany him.

What had he been doing? Was his current state of tiredness tied to their bondage in any way? To his presumed investigation and findings?

He relaxed into a seat at the far end of the Slytherin table where his friends had been sitting. He was greeted by everyone and side-hugged by Theo who was perched next to him. The serpentines were very protective of each other, a loyalty that was a luxury. A quality so rare, one could only feel honoured to be a part of a company like that.

8.46 am

9.37 am

Emmeline Vance was the new teacher at Hogwarts for Defense Against the Dark Arts. The stately-looking witch was an Auror and a part of both the first and the second Order of the Phoenix. It happened to be their introductory lesson to Dark and Discouraged Curses and the timing could not be more perfect. Of course, they had learnt about all of the Unforgivables and their usage from professor Alastor Moody or rather Bartemius Crouch Junior under the disguise of him. But that was an out of curriculum erudition that should only be visited in their sixth year, that is, now.

Professor Vance was a lovely woman who often wore an emerald green shawl and taught her course in a more reformative and progressive way, "And that concludes Antonin Dolohov's' curse. Remember that inventions like that come with a price tag. Any questions, class?"

Hermione had caught Draco just before he had entered the classroom earlier today.

"Explain this," she had whipped the text covered in greyish-blue and shoved it into his face.

Draco had leaned nonchalantly against the wall like he could not be more unbothered by her and looked blankly at the nagging bush of curls in front of him, "Trouble understanding words now, Granger?" If it were not for his exhausted features and the surprisingly not-ironed-out suit, she would have believed his cockiness.

Hermione ignored his insult and continued, "The Soulmate curse."

He pouted his lips and shrugged his shoulders, "First time hearing about it. Is it included in the new module?"

She had then stepped forward and warned him, "You know, Malfoy, two can play at this game." And with that, the Gryffindor had turned her back on him and made her way into the class, leaving Draco behind.

Hermione's arm shot immediately in the air and Theo who had, as per usual, taken the vacant seat beside her, chuckled to himself. "Yes, professor Vance. I wanted to ask about the mythology of ancient curses," she glanced sideways to see Draco slowly shaking his head and shooting daggers at her, "I came across a curse originating from the 16th century, that ensures the bondage between two people. It is called the Consort Beshrew."

"What about it, Ms Granger?" the professor tipped her head sideways at Hermione, a reluctant look on her features.

"Well, I wondered whether it is a lie," the Gryffindor replied.

The older witch watched Hermione intently and nodded when the Gryffindor had finished her sentence, "Ahem. To be honest, there has been a lot of talk from time to time about this particular curse. It is thought to be taboo and not a lot of Wizards or Witches dare to openly discuss it, but those who have done it.. had come to awful endings. As you probably have found out so far it was invented by one of the 28 sacred families and used by their members for centuries. For all of our sakes, the Consort Beshrew should be a topic we refrain from discussing, be it a myth or truth, playing with the future like that is a slippery slope and should be left to those who are bold enough to venture with it."

It was invented by one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight? Malfoys were one of them. As well as Abbotts and Weasleys. And Nott family. Did any of her friends have more knowledge about the subject than they had let Hermione know? Of course, she had asked only Hannah. This piece of information has not been provided in the dry text of the old book. Whatever this curse was, was real, Hermione believed. It was not uncommon for pure-blood lineages to do or come up with something appalling in order to secure their pureness and aristocracy.

After the class had ended and everyone had exited the classroom, Hermione approached professor Vance once more, "One more question regarding the Consort Beshrew, professor. Is there anywhere where I could find more information about it?"

The witch adjusted her green shawl, even though it did not require any more arranging, and swallowed hard, "The Hogwarts library does not hold any more additional texts other than the one you have already come across."

"But there must be something more, anything," Hermione pried.

"While I do not advise to, if you insist on searching for more, I believe the only place who carries more books than the Ministry's library is located in Malfoy Manor. It is thought to hold more texts than even known to the Wizarding World."

"Thank you, professor Vance," Hermione called over her shoulder, hurrying out of the class as she had Divination next. The offer of visiting Narcissa Malfoy seemed more appealing to her now than ever. Surely Draco had already raided every corner of his house's bookshelves and she would need to do the same if he did not come around. Which she doubted he would.

She heard a faint "Be careful, Ms Granger!" behind her, turned on her heel when she had exited the class to continue to the stairs but on her way, Hermione ran into something firm.

"Oh, sorry," she muttered, not looking up and side-stepped the person she had bumped into. Though a strong set of fingers grabbed her upper arm and dragged her back in front of him.

"You will be," Draco made a low guttural noise in his throat and his eyes blazed warningly at Hermione, "Are you out of your fucking mind, Granger? Are you not supposed to be the smart one?"

"Well, you left me no choice," she put her arms on her hips and watched him with her eyebrows raised, "You need to tell me everything there is to know. Everything you know."

The blonde Slytherin glared at her furiously, his dark grey oceans transfixing Hermione, "Are you deaf too? It is dangerous to get involved."

"This concerns me too. You cannot leave me in the dark, Malfoy," she explained in a calm tone, trying hard not to lash out on the arrogant and secretive boy.

He backed her into the wall and put his arms over her head, so she would not be able to escape. "I will say this for the last time," he hissed, his minty breath gliding over Hermione's face, "Let it fucking go."

"I will not." Hermione's breath hitched at the end of the sentence, she could not think straight with him so close to her, an inch away. Draco's foresty aroma clung in the air around them again.

In response, outrage poured over his dark glare and he stepped in closer, pressing their chests together. "This is not another agenda you and the fucking orphan and the ginger tumour will amuse yourselves with," his lip curled into a scowl, "Fuck off."

A wave of courage washed upon Hermione and she cocked one of her eyebrows, "Make me."

Draco's facade quickly turned from threatening to teasing, as his scowl formed into a coy smirk. He fixed his eyes intently on hers and leaned dangerously close into Hermione's face. His lips were almost touching her mouth and he whispered against her, "Do not play with me, Granger. I most certainly bite." He recalled Hermione's earlier statement.

Something about the proximity of their bodies reminded her very much of how they had ended up almost a week ago, an exchange that had lead Hermione to a nervous breakdown in the Prefect's bathroom. After which she had come to her senses about being more aware of what triggers that type of behaviour from her. She had to get out. Hermione pushed the muscular Slytherin fiercely away from her heaving chest, still shaken from his words and his captivating persona. Draco took a few steps back, visibly not affected much by her weak strength and let the perplexed Gryffindor sweetheart hurry away from him. She almost tripped on her own feet, but brushed it off and took off in a sprint.

Without a doubt, Hermione would definitely play with him. She will get to the bottom of it. With his help or without it.

10.04 am