Trophy Room

The gossip circulating around Hogwarts the next morning is consistent, suggesting it might, for once, be accurate. It says that D.A. stands for Dumbledore's Army, and that Dumbledore himself has taken the fall for Potter's illegal group.

Illegal group. Draco struggles to wrap his head around that, but supposedly that's how the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, sees it. According to Graham and Lucian, Fudge was in the castle last night trying to arrest Dumbledore and take him to Azkaban. But Dumbledore overcame him, his junior assistant, two Aurors, and the High Inquisitor herself, Professor Umbridge, in order to escape.

Now Dumbledore, like Theo, is missing, and in his absence, Educational Decree Number Twenty-Eight has passed, naming Umbridge the new Head of Hogwarts.

It's all anyone can talk about at breakfast and between their morning classes. The circulating gossip also says that Harry Potter and a girl called Marietta Edgecombe were the only students who witnessed the scene in Dumbledore's office. Marietta's since been admitted to the hospital wing, which is sure to mean she's suffering from a jinx that 'makes Eloise Midgen's acne look like cute freckles.'

Draco thinks of Hermione and how she'll have more details. Maybe - hopefully - she'll even know something about Theo. They don't normally meet up in the middle of the day, but Draco figures, given the circumstances, he'd better at least give it a try. He uses his master silver-sickle to ask her to skip lunch so they can talk in the Trophy Room. But when Draco arrives around noon, he's surprised to find it's not just Hermione who greets him. Professor McGonagall is there too.

"Theo left with Tonks last night," Hermione tells him at once.

Draco's not sure what to make of this. This possibility had occurred to him, and he's glad his friend is safe, but if the saying is true that drastic times call for drastic measures -

"Is his name on a piece of parchment really as drastic as that?" he asks.

Hermione looks at McGonagall, but only briefly. With her attention back on Draco, she says, "You don't take Voldemort seriously enough. You were afraid when he first returned, and you're discreet about us because your mother insisted on it. But he's been back nearly a year and, in that time, nothing terrible has happened to you personally. So you forget how dangerous he is. It's different for Theo, though. How could it not be? He never forgets the danger he's in because Voldemort -"

"Murdered his mum. Yeah, spare me the reminder, I don't need it. I was there when she was buried, and I saw how broken up Theo was about it."

Draco's irritated. He hadn't expected a lecture, and he's not entirely sure why he's getting one. He'll admit, begrudgingly, that Hermione's made some fair points. But that doesn't mean he's convinced Theo's late night disappearance is a necessary move.

"All I meant was that I don't really get it," he says, trying to reign in his tone and avoid an argument. "I mean, Theo's a Most Sacred Son like me. And you said - Professor, didn't you say we'd be safe because of that? If I don't have to go into hiding, why's Theo have to?"

"I fear I gave you the wrong impression," says McGonagall. "I stand by my belief that Lord Voldemort would prefer to keep your family's lineage intact, even if he learns you are a so-called blood traitor. However, I must remind you, dear boy, that the Killing Curse is only one of three Unforgivables."

They're silent for a moment while Draco processes what McGonagall has said. Even if the Dark Lord never wants him dead, there's still the Cruciatus and Imperius curses to worry about. And - Merlin, it makes Draco sick to consider it, but knowing what happened to Cecilia Nott, it makes perfect sense. The Dark Lord doesn't need to keep Draco's parents around to preserve his family's lineage, does he? He could, if given a reason, take their lives as a way of punishing him.

That's the difference between him and Theo, then. Theo doesn't care if going into hiding, avoiding the two lesser Unforgivables, results in the third being used on his family. Because 'What family?' Draco can almost hear Theo asking this question. And how can he blame him? If his own father was largely responsible for his mother's death, and if he'd joined Dumbledore's Army and all of Slytherin House found out about it, he'd probably go into hiding too.

But why haven't Hermione and Professor McGonagall explained circumstances more along these lines? Why, instead, have they piled on much more than Draco's comments warrant? Had they already decided he needed a lecture before he asked Hermione to meet him? If that's the case, what prompted them?

Draco grasps at all he knows, considers how it fits together.

Wait a second. This is Snape's fault, isn't it?

"Snape thinks I've plateaued in Occlumency lessons. He thinks I'm not trying hard enough. He told you that, didn't he?"

Draco asks this of McGonagall, but it's Hermione who replies.

"He also said he advised you to spend less time with me. His theory is that the more confident you become about us, the harder it is for you to conceal the fact that we're together. Draco -"

She pauses, probably wanting him to look at her. He doesn't. He can't.

"Why didn't you tell me?" she finishes.

If he stood closer to any of the trophy cases, Draco would probably punch the glass right out. That's how angry he is that Snape's run his fat mouth.

"Because I didn't want you to know. Because, obviously, I want us spending more time together, not less."

Hermione looks at McGonagall a second time, and in that moment, their conversation starts to really sink in. A wave of emotion crashes over Draco. His heart plummets. Suddenly, he doesn't care that they're not alone, doesn't care if McGonagall hears him beg. He's got to convince Hermione not to do this.

"Please don't push me away," he says, his voice cracking.

"I'm not, I just -" Hermione looks at McGonagall yet again. "Professor, I… I don't know what else to say. Isn't there something -"

McGonagall holds up her hands as if to tell them to hush so she can think. Soon, she says to Draco, "Is it correct that you sent the house-elf, Dobby, to warn Miss Granger and her friends that Professor Umbridge was coming for them?"

Draco nods and explains how he got away for a minute by pretending he'd left his wand in his room.

"And to be clear," says McGonagall, "Professor Umbridge has not, at any point today, invited you to be a part of her Inquisitorial Squad?"

"Her what?"

"It's sort of like Prefects," says Hermione, "but with more privilege. And she's only included those she trusts are loyal to her. She's been pulling Slytherhins out of class all morning and giving them a shiny new badge."

Draco hadn't noticed. He'd been in a fog, replaying the same questions that plagued him as he fell asleep last night. But that fog has started to lift.

Umbridge must suspect he's the reason Dumbledore's Army had a heads up and were already running away when she and the Slytherins showed up last night. And Umbridge, though not a Death Eater, probably isn't too far removed from them. She works for the Ministry, and Voldemort - Dammit! The Dark Lord probably has allies who work at the Ministry too. If not, he's at least got allies like Father who are close with Ministry employees. So if Umbridge thinks he, Draco, is supporting Dumbledore and Potter, it's only a matter of time before word gets around about it.

The Cruciatus Curse. The Imperius Curse. Mother and Father going the same way as Cecilia Nott.

Draco's mind races at top speed now. Is the level of danger Mother was referring to at Mont Blanc? If so, how is it he's always months behind, not realizing the seriousness of situations until it's damn near too late?

Because he's used to life being easy. Because it always was for him before the Dark Lord came back. Because Harry fucking Potter, a boy his age, has thwarted this supposed villain on more than one occasion. Honestly, why should anyone take the Dark Lord seriously?

"Dumbledore is gone," says McGonagall, "which means it is more important than ever that we have someone who knows what Umbridge is planning. Draco, you must go to her and convince her to trust you. Convince her you'd like a spot on the Inquisitorial Squad and that you deserve one."

"It's what the old you would do," Hermione adds. "Meaning it would help us, but it's also probably the best thing you can do to keep yourself safe."

It sounds logical but it feels all wrong. Draco's still debating everything in his head. Plus he's worried about his relationship with Hermione. Thanks to Snape, it seems to have been knocked unstable. And then there's the way he overdid it in the past when he faked being on Umbridge's side. The Weasley is Our King song, the comment about Hagrid during the thestrals lesson -

Thinking of all that, Draco's sure he won't be able to strike the right balance to pull this off. He's sure he'll ruin everything that's important to him if he tries.

"Isn't there another way?" he asks. "I mean, I can't even picture it. What am I supposed to do, march up to the Head's office and - And what? Lie through my teeth until I've convinced Umbridge I'm -"

Another wave of emotion crashes over Draco as he considers the different ways he could finish that sentence. 'Convince Umbridge I'm a pureblood supremacist. That I'm an Albus Dumbledore and Harry Potter hating bigot. That I'll blindly follow the Ministry wherever they lead, even though they're a bunch of incompetent fools. That I'm someone Hermione Granger could never love because I never changed the trajectory I was on. That I am, in fact, the horrible person nearly everyone believes me to be.'

Fuck.

Draco puts his hands over his face and turns away from Hermione and Professor McGonagall, feeling as though he's truly about to cry. He's trapped. He's weak.

"Hey -" says Hermione gently. She crosses the room and, even though her Head of House can see them, she tugs at Draco so that he has to turn around and face her. She puts her hands on either side of his neck and gives him a short but sincere pep talk. "It's going to be okay," she says. "You can do this. You'll be great."

Draco doesn't speak the response that comes to mind, which is, 'I don't want to be great at pretending I'm something I hate.' Instead, because it's somehow finally settling in that he has no real choice, he pulls Hermione into a hug.

They hold each other until Draco remembers Professor McGonagall is watching them. He glances at her and finds she's got her hand over her mouth and tenderness in her eyes. Embarrassed, he pulls away.

"I guess it's off to the Head's office for me," he says.

"Oh, no, dear," McGonagall pipes up. "That office has sealed itself against her. She's still on the second-floor."

"Right. Off to the second floor for me," he says. But he can't make himself move, not quite yet. He takes one more look at Hermione and, impulsively, kisses her on her forehead. There. Now he can leave the Trophy Room.

Umbridge's Office

He heads for Professor Umbridge's office, still displeased with the situation - and that's the understatement of the century - but, with each step, growing more determined to get the job done right. A few minutes later, he sits in front of the new Head, confidence bubbling just below the surface.

It might have something to do with this setting, the bubbling confidence. Because Umbridge teaches Defense Against the Dark Arts, for Merlin's sake, but her office is covered in doilies and lace. And on one wall there's a collection of ornamental plates, each with a technicolor kitten wearing a bowtie.

How could anyone take this woman seriously?

"I figured I'd see you today," says Umbridge as she prepares them each a cup of tea.

"Then you know I'd like a spot on the Inquisitorial Squad?"

Umbridge smiles, nods, and says, "I must admit, I'm rather conflicted on the matter."

"Why's that, Professor?"

She passes one of the teacups to Draco. "Drink up," she says.

Draco does as he's told, realizing only after a hearty gulp has gone down his throat that he's a complete idiot. The truth potion. Veritaserum. Umbridge is exactly the type to use it on students.

He's an idiot, but not necessarily set to fail the task ahead because of his mistake. Snape once told him that Occlumency strategies work against Legilimency as well as Veritaserum. In fact, if a witch or wizard is clever with words, they're better off going against the latter form of interrogation. And even though he's plateaued in recent lessons, that doesn't mean Draco's without any talent for Occlumency at all. He takes a deep breath and tells himself Umbridge is no match for him. He can pull this off.

She saw him drink the tea, so Umbridge moves ahead, addressing her concerns more directly.

"Miss Parkinson brought it to my attention that you might have pulled some sort of stunt last night," she says.

"Pansy Parkinson? Really? That's interesting. A stunt such as...?"

"Such as pretending you'd left your wand in your dormitory so that you could sneak off and warn Harry Potter the jig was up."

"But how could I have done that? I'm not old enough to Apparate and even if I were, everyone knows it isn't possible to do so within the castle."

Already, Umbridge seems more satisfied, if only slightly. "Yes, of course," she says. "I wasn't sure what to make of Miss Parkinson's accusations. They conflicted with what I've seen of you this year. But she had quite a lot more to say on the subject. Drink up, Draco, drink up."

Draco smiles, enjoying the way Umbridge thinks she's more clever than she is. He takes an even larger gulp of tea than before because he knows the amount of potion he consumes will make no difference.

Then, guessing it will serve him well to proactively offer information, he says, "Forgive me for bothering you with the trivial details of teenage romance, Professor. But Pansy's under the impression I'd like to court Astoria Greengrass in the future. As you might imagine, she's not too pleased about it. And she's not known for managing her displeasure in mature ways. She might have just wanted to make me look bad."

Umbridge smiles and nods again, and Draco thinks it won't be much longer. But then -

"Mr. Malfoy, are you involved with Miss Granger?"

Draco's eyes nearly pop out of his head.

C'mon, keep it together, he tells himself. Play it off like you find this absolutely ridiculous.

He forces a laugh. "Is that what Pansy thinks? Well, I did change seats in Arithmancy. See, it's one of only two classes I find truly challenging. Yours being the other, of course. And since I'd like to continue Arithmancy at the N.E.W.T. level, sitting near the front is a good idea. Helps me concentrate, you know. My new seat is next to Granger's, which I guess some people find noteworthy."

"But Miss Parkinson told me you changed seats last school year. Are you telling me you were thinking of your exams at that time already?"

"Of course. I'm a forward thinker. That's why I'm here, Professor. Like my father, I like to associate with those I trust to do the right thing. Those I believe will be instrumental in ushering in a new era for the wizarding world. And I know I'm only fifteen, but I like to help where I can. That's why I'm asking you to include me on the Inquisitorial Squad. Please say you'll consider it."

The longer their meeting goes, the more skilled Draco believes himself to be. Hermione was right. He is great at this.

"And Theodore Nott?" asks Umbridge. "I'm told the two of you are close. Did you know about his involvement in Dumbledore's Army?"

"Theo… Theo's been different since he lost his mother. I suppose, because of that, I shouldn't have been surprised by his actions. But I was. I really didn't expect him to go that far."

They stare at each other after that, Umbridge apparently nearing a final decision.

"Professor, I try not to care what others say behind my back," says Draco, deciding to play one more angle for good measure. "But when false accusations and ignorance limit my opportunities, I have to do something about it. I am Draco Malfoy, after all."

A veiled threat, a reminder of who his father is and how that, in and of itself, should get him what he wants. Umbridge doesn't seem to mind it. In fact, it might be exactly what she expected and therefore exactly what she was waiting for. She opens one of her desk drawers, takes a shiny badge from it, and hands it over to Draco.

"Welcome aboard," she says.

Entrance Hall

The badge is in the shape of the letter I, and it's not long after Draco pins it to his robes that he has to put it to work. As he passes through the Entrance Hall in route to his last class of the day, Crabbe and Goyle flanking him now, he hears Hermione and her friends discussing the new headmistress.

Ernie Macmillin repeats what McGonagall said about Dumbledore's office shutting itself off from her and adds, "Apparently Umbridge had a right little tantrum about it."

"Oh, I expect she really fancied herself sitting up there," says Hermione. "Lording it over all the other teachers, the stupid puffed-up, power-crazy old -"

"Do you really want to finish that sentence, Granger?" Draco interrupts. "Either way, I'm afraid I'm going to have to dock a few points from Gryffindor and Hufflepuff."

"You can't take points from fellow Prefects, Malfoy," says Macmillan at once.

"I know Prefects can't dock points from each other, but members of the Inquisitorial Squad -"

"The what?" asks Hermione.

Draco nearly laughs, but more than that he wants to kiss Hermione. Wants to use his lips to thank her for the tiny hint of a smile she wears, which lets him know they've both got parts to play, and she won't hold his against him.

"The Inquisitorial Squad, Granger." Draco points at his new badge. "A select group of students who are supportive of the Ministry of Magic, hand-picked by Professor Umbridge. Anyway, members of the Inquisitorial Squad do have the power to dock points. So, Granger, I'll have five from you for being rude about our headmistress. Macmillan, five for contradicting me. Five because I don't like you, Potter. And Weasley, your shirt is untucked, so I'll have another five for that."

Ron pulls out his wand, but Hermione pushes it away, whispering, "Don't."

Wait. The expression on her face. Are her feelings hurt? Draco thinks she appears wounded, and that, of course, sends him into an instant panic. Has he gone too far? How many points was that total?

"Wise move, Granger," he says, hoping he sounds casual. "New Head, new times. Be good now, Potty - Weasel King -"

And then he gets away from them as fast as he can, before he does anything worse. It's just too easy. Once he gets going, pretending to be his old self, it comes back to him like riding a broom. But that's not good. That's not how he wants it to be.

Trophy Room

Maybe Hermione can give him some advice on striking the right balance. He approaches the Trophy Room that night trying to imagine she will, trying to convince those familiar knots in his stomach to untangle.

They come upon each other in the corridor, walking from opposite directions, and Draco blurts out, "I took it too far, didn't I? I've been worried for hours. Kept thinking -"

"Stop worrying. You were perfect," says Hermione, and she throws her arms around him and kisses him.

Draco returns the kiss immediately, pulls her tight against his chest, and deepens it.

Finally. Their first real kiss.

In the corridor.

Where anyone might walk up and see them.

"Fuck - Hermione -"

As quickly as he can, Draco shoves her into the Trophy Room and up against one of the cases, and their lips lock again. To his delight, she's as greedy as he is, both of them wanting everything they can get from the other.

As they kiss, their hands explore. She touches his Adam's apple and then she's under his shirt, her nails digging lightly into his bare skin. And he's grabbing her roughly on her thigh, sliding his hand higher under her skirt, closer to her knickers.

The soft sound she makes, something between a sigh and a moan -

He quivers. Blood rushes -

He moves his mouth to her neck and his hands higher still. Now, only the thinnest piece of fabric separates his fingers from her clit. He rubs her gently, notices that she's damp down there, and delights in the knowledge that he made that happen.

He finds the edge of her knickers and briefly fondles her there before tugging them aside.

"Hang on," says Hermione breathlessly.

Draco stops moving his fingers, but doesn't pull them away. He presses harder into her, kisses her firmer.

"Hang on," she repeats. She puts her hands back on top of his shirt. "Not all at once," she says, and she sounds like she really means it.

"Right," says Draco, collapsing into the crook of her neck. "Not all at once," he agrees.

They hold each without saying anything for a moment, their haggard breathing the only noise in the room.

"I don't want to make Occlumency lessons more difficult for you," she says after a while.

Draco groans. "Don't even think about it, Hermione Granger."

"What? Suggesting we spend less time together?" She asks this with a laugh, thank goodness. "Don't worry, I can't do that. I'm no better at resisting you than you are at resisting me."

"Good," says Draco. "That's what I like to hear." He tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear, leans in, and -

"Draco?"

He stops. "Hermione?"

"I said not all at once, but also… Maybe not until at least next term? Would that be alright?"

"You're talking about -" Draco chuckles nervously. "You're talking about sex, right? Not kissing? Because I was really hoping all the kissing we've just shared means we've moved past that hurdle. Permanently."

Hermione nods. "You can kiss me anytime you want," she says. After a beat, she clarifies. "Within reason, of course. You probably shouldn't kiss me in front of Crabbe or Goyle, for example."

"Right. Probably not."

This time, when Draco leans in to resume, he gets further. His lips make it back to Hermione's neck. But then she's saying more.

"Harry's got an Invisibility Cloak, you know."

"What? No, I - Granger, why on Earth are you talking about Harry sodding Potter right now?"

"Because he's got an Invisibility Cloak. And you'll have a room to yourself next year, right? You told me that's a tradition among purebloods in Slytherin. So I've been thinking…"

She trails off, intentionally teasing him it seems.

"You've been thinking?"

"I could make up an excuse to borrow the cloak sometime, sneak into your room, and we could - Well, you know . And it would be nicer in a bed, wouldn't it? Better than this dusty room or the boathouse, which is always so cold."

Alright. Draco's finally listening. Really listening, not just halfway while waiting to get back to snogging Hermione senseless. So he gets it. It's rather obvious, actually, what she's trying to do. Obvious and -

"You're adorable," he says.

"Am I?"

"Uh huh. It's adorable that you think I can't see right through you."

She mentioned Occlumency earlier, so Draco would bet anything she wants to put off sex until he's doing better in his lessons with Snape. Probably thinks it'll make a difference.

"It might help if we wait," she says unapologetically. "And anyway, I do rather like the idea of our first time being in a bed. Don't you?"

The biggest smile of Draco's life stretches across his face. "Honestly, I'm thrilled you're thinking about it all," he tells her. "I got carried away before, and I'm sorry about that. But whatever pace makes you happy makes me happy. As long as in the meantime -"

Hermione stares at his lips. "Lots of kissing," she says.

"Exactly. We could get back to it right now, in fact. Unless you've got more you want to say about Harry Potter?"

"Oh, shut up," says Hermione, and she presses her mouth against Draco's once more.