It was three days. Three goddamned days of silence and then, he got hauled in a broom closet, and no, oh not for a feisty snog-session with a beautiful girl, but instead for a widely smiling Hermione Granger who threw a blanket at him, as if that would solve all their problems. She behaved like she'd had amnesia – forgetting that she could die by any day. And she still had strength to smile... no, scratch that. She grinned at him victoriously! The gall that girl had, hah!
What he didn't know was that Hermione Granger spent the last three days in utter hysterics in the Room of Requirements, crying and vomiting in turns, spiked with screaming tantrums and throwing books, lamps or really anything that the room had offered for her. She – for a moment – even considered using a bit too much of medicines for her aching forearm. But it was not the time to get the cat out of its bag.
Without further explanation, and thus, stopping her wandering thoughts, she blurted out, "We can speak with Snape!"
Draco knotted his brows in confusion, letting the thick blanket hit the floor with a thud, "I won't summon a ghost. It's illegal."
She actually sneered at him – it was very familiar for Draco, given it was a reflection of his own, "When has it ever bothered you when something was illegal? Anyway, don't worry your pretty blonde head about it, we won't do that. But, we need that," and there, she pointed at the blanket, unceremoniously dropped at his feet, "for breaking in, in McGonagall's office."
For a moment he swore his heart had stopped beating, "Are you crazy woman? Of course we won't!"
Turns out they most certainly would.
"I'd rather we had summoned Snape's dark soul," he whispered in her hair.
Hermione shivered at the sensation, but was stubborn enough not to let herself go all red. Under Harry's Invisibility Cloak with a fairly decent-looking boy – who was too tall so he needed to be constantly hunched and always in her back not to let the his shiny leather shoes be seen by the portraits – was getting hard for Hermione to bear. Start with his alluring scent of dark chocolates he simply radiated and the heat of his lean, but muscled body so close to her that she was sure no microbe could worm itself between them... She felt everything, amplified.
"This is safer," she chided back in whisper-shouting and stomped forward, only for Draco's hand stopping her. He had a grip like a safety belt around her waist as he dragged her back, into a close alcove.
She was about to protest, but heard the nearing footsteps just in time. It was Filch and his blasted cat.
Even unconsciously, she tensed at the sight, her breathing slowing down in fear of getting caught. Even if she had been using the cloak for years, it was still weird for her to see everything, but still not to be seen.
"That was close," Draco muttered and suddenly she became painfully aware of his muscled chest pushing against her back. Even through the several layers of clothing, she could tell he must be an eye-candy.
Shaking those sickening thoughts out of her head, Hermione slapped his hand away, as that was still resting on her stomach. He rolled his quicksilver eyes and mockingly bumped his shoulder to her head. Hermione huffed and pulled him with her toward the vacated office of McGonagall.
The gargoyles' eyes were inspecting the empty corridor for students, but obviously in vain. However, they couldn't resist moving away, when Hermione muttered the password: pop rock. A new candy McGonagall discovered when she was in the Muggle world, and with that, continue on Dumbledore's tradition.
Malfoy looked dumbfounded at the lot of junk sitting everywhere not leaving an ounce of free or uncovered place in the entire room. His eyes widened and couldn't help himself, but wonder how they had managed to get that much of thrash squeeze into one room. Yes, magic, but still.
"Have never been there?" Hermione asked and yanked off the Invisibility Cloak of them. She suppressed a smile at his childish, surprised expression. It was surely a change compared to his ice cold mask.
"I've, but... all these junk are actually troubling," he gestured weakly to the overstuffed shelves and waited for explanation.
The deputy Head Girl rolled up the cloak and hugged it, her head lolling to the side, "No, these are not junk. All these are from the students who took part in the Battle of Hogwarts." Seeing his mouth open, she cut him of even before his question, "I mean... the dead ones. McGonagall wanted to remember, so she asked the friends or families to give her something to not forget her brave students."
"It's just became a lot more troubling," Draco said after a while, looking around cautiously as if afraid the things could hurl some curses at him, like people did nowadays. He tried not to think which of these could have been Crabbe's. He gulped.
"Mr. Malfox, Miss Granger? It's sure surprising to see you together without wands drawn out," boomed a voice above their head, sneering and condescending just like they had remembered Snape to be. "What can I help you with in the middle of the night?"
Without hesitation, Hermione stepped forward, "We need your help, Professor. It's urgent."
The portrait 's eyes narrowed suspiciously at both of his former students. Snape seemed to debate as he studied the two – and they refused to squirm under his heavy gaze! – his greasy, black hair falling forward in the process.
Before the potion master could have said his verdict, Draco spoke up, "Essence of Spurius. Granger'll be dead soon if we don't do anything."
Realization drawn at the pale face of Snape and he couldn't resist grimacing at the revelled truth – he watched the pair, Granger looking extremely uncomfortable and hugging herself with her arms, looking anywhere but at them, and his godson, tilting his head at the side expectantly. He was sure he got him by these words.
"You want the antidote, I assume," he said after a few minutes, their eyes shining in anticipation as their eager-beaver nature came out to the light. It was a sharp turn compared to their former behaviour. He was hardly able to resist rolling his eyes, "The recipe is destroyed, but I remember part of it. I'll help."
Those words were all they needed. The deputy Heads paid attention to everything sitting on Potter's cloak and writing down every of his words, be that the recipe, his suggestions, different herbs that could slow down the effect of the Dragging Death or literally anything that had something to do with their problems.
They didn't even notice when Minerva McGonagall strolled into her office. Her bewildered expression worth everything but, Snape just nodded to her, signalling that he would handle these two troublemakers. McGonagall left them there, probably too shocked to actually do anything against it.
You sure know how to make a girl smile! Thank you for all your kind words - I swear I'll answer, I just still not over of Prague. I hope you had fun with this one though! ;D