They kissed the same way they fought.
A gentle teasing, a calculated barb and followed by a nagging need to one up the other.
It was also surprisingly soft in the same way their interactions had been in recent months.
In between seeming pleased with himself and triumphant, there was a certain reverence with which he regarded her that Hermione did not think she could ever tire of. He was worshipping her mouth with his, his deft thumb applying a teasing pressure to her pebbled nipple and an overarching sense of rightness while doing something she so often though of as wrong.
Because she had found herself often thinking of this.
His lips against hers reaffirmed all of the words he had been saying before they'd both dipped their heads and began this battle. They were damaged goods, really, everyone from her generation who'd had a role in the war was damaged - a ruined generation.
Strange that they would find solace in that fact, together.
He would never be looked on with any regard and she, now playing a dangerous game because she has no money, no parents, and a strong sense of never belonging - could see the similarities that he had apparently been checking off of his own mental list.
She could see it in the way his tongue caressed hers.
She could see it in the way he looked at her like he didn't know what exactly she was.
She could see it in the way both of those things somehow fractured her entire world - everything she knew to be true about herself and everything she knew to be true about the world, and yet somehow promised with a reverence to piece it back together again, however long it took.
A loud cry of outrage or surprise sounded from down the hall and echoed against the stark tile in the empty room, drawing her attention away from Malfoy. After years on the run she had become attuned to the threat of foreign noises whilst in a vulnerable position and she drew away, breathing heavily against Malfoy's shoulder, while he groaned in irritation at her departure.
"I thought I heard something." Her lips brushed his shoulder as she spoke and there was an unmistakable shiver that ran through his spine.
"As untimely as it might be, I do believe you are right."
.
Hermione doesn't even look at Malfoy as they enter the crowded dance floor, she is wet and in her hurried attempt to slip on her dress over damp skin it looks misshapen on her body. She feels his hand on her back guiding her and then the familiar pressure is gone. When she looks over her shoulder, so is he.
Ginny waves her down and Hermione pushes her way through the gathered crowd. They are muttering and whispering amongst themselves and Hermione feels that she has missed something important, something that has created this chaos among the chaos.
"It's the next challenge!" Ginny slurs, throwing a wayward arm around Harry who rolls his eyes in tempered annoyance while attempting to keep his girlfriend upright.
People make a path for Hermione, another 'perk' of being in the lead and when she walks past the last layer of onlookers she sees a crack in the floor that spans the entirety of the makeshift dance floor.
The crack in the shiny marble somehow makes her want to laugh.
She doesn't.
She is immediately impressed by the judges, as hard as it was to charm the moving staircases, this is something else altogether - to outmaneuver the Room of Requirement . . . well, if she wasn't playing to save her family home she would have been angry to not have been selected as a judge.
Everyone goes quiet when a slight whirring noise seems to echo from the large space in the middle of the crack. It sounds like a slight hiss as though Hermione and her parents are packing up from their camping trip in the Forest of Dean and her father is letting all the air out of the air mattress.
A deflated balloon appears to float up from the depths, a beautiful bit of magic. It hovers in the air for a moment before it starts to inflate itself with air, becoming larger and larger until it's not a balloon at all anymore, but a beautiful rendition of a full moon, glowing with all of its natural intensity.
Everyone is entranced for a moment before its breaks apart, popping with the force of itself and the pieces of it are left to float uselessly down wherever the chasm ends.
She meets Draco Malfoy's eyes across the divide and he smiles, quirking his brow quickly for no one else but her.
She smirks back.
The crack snaps back together suddenly, blasting the entire room with a great burst of displaced air, sending her hair flying around her shoulders and causing a sizeable chill to wrack her body so much so that she wondered why she ever jumped into the pool at all.
.
"It's got to be the Whomping Willow or the Shrieking Shack." Harry comments, agreeing with Hermione's earlier statements.
The message at the party was followed by a room wide debate on the time and place.
Some players had made a hasty exit, hoping to puzzle out the clue on their own without tipping off any of their competitors.
It had been decided widely that the challenge was likely to be held at midnight as had been the custom this far. The day was also likely to be the next day because that had been standard practice as well. The only thing to debate was where.
"We would know that, wouldn't we?" Asks Ron, reclining in the plush red sofa in front of the Common Room fire. "Lupin taught us Defence Against the Dark Arts and we saw what the Boggart turned into - the seventh year, the real seventh years wouldn't know that."
"If you'll recall, the class below us joined our lessons because of Remus' . . . unusual schedule. Dumbledore had him condense classes because of his monthly . . . time off." Hermione says as diplomatically as possible. She remembers the unusual class size vividly because she had been next in the abnormally long line to face the Boggart - but then Harry had seen the Dementor. Due to their horrifying nature, Remus had stepped in front of him allowing everyone to see his greatest fear right before Hermione's turn and then promptly dismissed the class.
She had been very disappointed.
"I forgot about that." Ron mumbles while kicking his feet onto the table. She resists the urge to scold him for it but isn't at all surprised that he doesn't remember something that specific . . . well, something she would consider specific.
"Logically it has to be the Shrieking Shack - it's where Lupin spent nights of the full moon." Hermione has been turning the clue over in her brain since the party earlier that evening and her deduction makes the most sense.
Even though the alcohol still running rampant in her bloodstream has saddled her with the most horrible headache.
"For generations rumour circulated about the Shrieking Shack and it's haunting - the aim of the game is to scare us and what better way than to lock us in a haunted old building . . . not to mention the shoddy structural integrity." She fixes her gaze directly at Harry because he is the least likely to mention how she had slurred her vowels and tripped over consonants.
"You're drunk." Ron snarks - exactly the person she knew would point his stubby, accusatory finger at her. He looks surprised, like he's upset because he couldn't ever imagine her letting loose or taking a moment to be more like them . . . and less like, well, her.
"We all are, Ron." Sighs Ginny, recognizing the signs that indicate one of Ron's fits is on coming.
"Is that why Malfoy keeps hanging around you like a horny Hippogriff?" Ron's face, usually some shade of red looks like a sunset on the water.
"I'm not quite sure what you are trying to imply, Ronald." Hermione is drunk - Ron is right, but it only makes her more indignant. "I don't remember scolding you for any of your drunk interludes tonight and I expect the same decency from you. If you'd care to berate me further, I'd highly recommend fucking off."
Ginny bursts into uncontrollable giggles the same instant that Ron and Harry both look at her incredulously. Hermione has never been one to swear - maybe it was the drink or perhaps how intensely Ron irritates her - but it feels freeing to stun her friends, like someone had let her off her leash.
"Alright, alright." Ginny wipes the tears from her eyes and dampens her laughter. "It's agreed then? Shrieking Shack at Midnight tomorrow?"
They all concur and stumble to bed, with the exception of Harry who is sober and yet swears all the way up the stairs while trying to shoulder most of Ron's weight. Ginny and Hermione stifle laughs when Ron bumps into something and judging by the yelling and cursing - causes Harry and himself a great discomfort.
.
"I know there was never anything to be afraid of - but I really don't like this challenge." Ginny comments as they walk up to the dark silhouette of the Whomping Willow.
Hermione agrees.
There is something about this time of night at Hogwarts - after all her years here, she expects something bad to happen after midnight.
Dean Thomas, Blaise Zabini and Draco Malfoy are already waiting by the swaying branches of the excitable tree. Lee Jordan is collecting wands and wearing a grin that makes Hermione wonder if the Wizard might be off the rails - or at the very least sincerely enjoying watching his peers risk their lives.
"Wands, drop your wands here!" He shouts, laughing through each word.
Hermione wonders if the jovial look on Lee's face should bode well for her and her fellow contestants - that maybe this challenge is easier than the previous, but then she realizes she knows this game and nothing about it is easy.
Hermione watches the dark outline of the other players as they convene before the Willow - even in the dark it's easy to tell that everyone is on edge. They've been warned since their infancy about this particular Hogwarts oddity and no one is eager to be on the receiving end of one of its branches.
Her eyes drift to him of course, its an annoyance - but not entirely unexpected after having her tongue in his mouth. Their shared night in the pool had been something Hermione had found creeping into the forefront of her brain since it happened - and she has been unceremoniously shoving the thought back down to whatever depraved part of her body it came from in the first place.
Without much luck, it seemed.
Malfoy, standing with perfect posture and his hands in the pockets of his trousers.
How annoying she found him.
Zabini, smoking a muggle cigarette - the smoke curling around the air like it's trying to be corporeal.
Dean Thomas, picking at the skin of his thumbs and flicking what he can to the ground.
Hermione eyes eyes are then drawn to the moon - something she had been looking for since leaving the castle this evening.
It isn't full, thank Merlin.
The last thing she wants to have to endure is the unpredictable nature of a werewolf and judging by the clue they were given she is happy to know that her gut feeling was wrong - an unusual feeling for Hermione, but present nonetheless.
Lee Jordan taps his wand to his throat and his amplified voice echoes in the small clearing, loud enough for everyone to hear but not so loud as attract any other attention.
"Rules are simple, witches and wizards!" His smile is bright. "Get to the Shrieking Shack through the secret passage way at the base of the Whomping Willow." Lee pauses a moment to gesture at Hermione, Ron and Harry. "Found by none other than our Golden Trio in their third year, thanks for that mates."
His gaze returns to the rest of the players.
"You must spend the whole night in the shack. Sounds easy, I know, but it isn't just our late Professor Lupin who haunted this shack in his day . . ." He trails off with a smirk that Hermione knows is only meant to scare them and leave them wondering what other horrors might be lurking in the corners of the ancient building.
"Bonus points for those brave enough to stick it out and puzzle out a few riddles the judges have left for you. I'll be back tomorrow to collect what's left of you!"
Lee giggles manically as he walks away and Hermione can't help but roll her eyes at the theatricality of it all.
Harry corrals Ron, Ginny and herself into a private huddle away from the other players.
"There's that knot at the base - if you can get to that you'll be fine."
"Fat chance." Ron snorts. "Paves the way for everyone else too, doesn't it?"
"Either give everyone else the leverage or suffer the three ton consequences when one of its branches uses you as a bludger." Hermione scoffs. "Tough choice."
"Easy for you to say." Ginny remarks, unkindly. Hermione's back instantly stiffens against the coldness of Ginny's stare.
Ron nods his head in agreement with his sister when Hermione looks to him for understanding.
"You're in the lead." He says simply.
Hermione pulls her sweater tight against her chest to fight off the unusual chill in the air and turns her gaze from Ron - unhelpful as ever, to Harry.
He puts his hands up in a show of surrender and remains silent.
"Fine." She sounds indignant but she's past the point of caring. "Any other ideas, then?"
"Run?" Ron offers with a slight smile.
"And duck." Ginny adds.
.
The clock strikes midnight and all of the players start edging closer to the Whomping Willow.
No one seems to be willing to make the first bold move.
Hermione eyes stray to Malfoy, who is watching her curiously - like he's waiting for her to make a choice. Whether to determine if it's a good one and follow suit, or just simple curiosity - she doesn't know.
Ron and Ginny have separated from her and she feels a twinge of annoyance.
Over the past few weeks, since the game started really, she's felt them subtly pushing her out of their alliance and its making her more nervous every day. She can't think about the politics of the game now, though - she can't think about how her friends are pushing her aside or leaving her behind, like they always have.
Harry and Ron and their stupid boys club.
But she doesn't have the time to think about that now.
Malfoy starts to move towards her, sure and smooth - always so sure of himself and he steps right in her direction. She doesn't know what his intentions are and her heart has started to race rather uncomfortably and she doesn't have the time to think about that either.
The mere idea of him creates more panic than this bollocks game has so far and so it spurs her on when she digs her heels into the ground and makes a beeline for the hidden entrance to the Shrieking Shack.
Hermione actually feels sorry for the violent tree - a feat she can't believe she can manage in her current state, but it just seems so confused as to whether it's being attacked or if it's being tricked. Branches are heaving wildly through the air in response to the sudden onslaught of students running towards it and it seems to be trying it's best to eliminate as many threats as possible.
Hermione hears someone scream and a cold sweat breaks out across her forehead.
It reminds her too much of the war.
Screaming and chaos.
The tips of her fingers starts to tingle, a numbness working it's way steadily through her extremities and she has to remain focused - she knows this.
The war is over and this is a game.
Not war.
Not war.
NOT WAR.
She just misses being flatted by the specific branch of the Whomping Willow she's come to know very well. It looks almost like a muggle baseball bat.
She hits the ground, her arm and shoulder smarting with the impact and rolls deftly out of the way as the Whomping Willow rears one of its loyal branches back, to gain momentum and then lets it fly towards her in a sweeping motion that has her holding her breath in anticipation for what she is going to try to do.
The first time was sheer dumb luck . . . the second - suicide.
She reaches her hands out and grabs the air where she thinks the branch is going and lets out a shout of surprise when her hands close around the smooth wood and she is lifted violently into the air.
She hears someone, she thinks it might be Blaise Zabini shout something in her general direction.
"Granger is a nutter!"
She thinks that is what he said but currently she has other things to think about besides what that spoilt Slytherin has to say about her. Her journey through the air is less jarring than the first time and she expects the assault on her face by stray branches and the accompanying sting.
However, it's still just as terrifying when she lets go, flying feet first into the darkened hole at the base of the tree.
Hermione hits the floor, her tailbone barking in protest and slides a few feet into the safety of the secret passage.
A manic giggle trickles from her mouth at the incredulity of that stunt having worked for a second time. The odds were astronomical and the payoff not nearly as important as it was in her third year.
"Are you in fact, a nutter, Granger?" A drawling voice oozes out of the shadows and when Hermione's eyes adjust she can make him out, leaning against the dirt wall and appraising her with an amused smirk.
"Honestly?" She says, standing and brushing off her legs. "I'm not certain anymore."
He just shakes his head and turns his back to her, disappearing down the tunnel.