After Draco had agreed to the rules and regulations of their interactions—she didn't know what else to call what they were doing—Hermione had sat down and picked up a book from the clutter on the table. When he hadn't moved, she'd grabbed another from the pile and offered it to him.

Raising an eyebrow she asked, "You still want to know what happened to Regulus Black, right?"

He'd taken it and sat down on the other end of the sofa.

Every now and then she'd peak at him just to check he was still there, because being in this little secret room working together. It was all too surreal.

The fourth time she did it he smiled at her, the same way he had in Transfiguration, except now he looked a little tired around the eyes. She'd returned it shyly and then returned to the book. Over an hour had passed and the words were beginning to blur. She didn't think there'd be any use reading over the history of the Sacred Twenty-Eight families but thought it couldn't hurt to try. After all, there weren't any books written specifically about Regulus Black or the Black family, at least not one she could find in the Hogwarts library. In fact, Hermione could barely find any literature on the original wizarding families—perhaps an intentional exclusion of books that could be considered Pureblood propaganda or a degree of anonymity taken by the families themselves. The book she was currently reading, she then assumed, was Draco's.

Hermione had just reached the passage about the Flint family when suddenly Draco let out a groan of irritation, tossing his book onto the table. Throwing his head back he muttered how completely pointless this all was. She agreed but didn't want to voice how hopeless it seemed trying to unravel a mystery no one else before them had. Her eyes were growing tired but she forced herself to keep reading. They couldn't just give up.

His hand fell over the pages.

"Enough."

She wanted to protest but surrendered, closing the book on her lap. He gently took her hand, holding it in between his like a prayer and brought it to his lips. Hermione's breath hitched. Their eyes locked. It was so difficult to be this close and have the rules keeping them apart. Rules, she'd written and forced on herself.

1. Each party must prioritize the personal obligations written on their schedules i.e. class, prefect duties, and other miscellaneous activities.

2. Communication will be limited to twice a week via the Protean Charm, letters, notes and any other means of contact.

3. Physical contact will not go beyond hugging, handholding or kissing.

4. Either party can enter into relations with other persons without pre-approved consent from the other.

5. The rules and regulations may be revised and/or amended every five weeks.

Note that the violation of these rules, once agreed upon, will terminate any relations between the two parties, effective immediately.

Writing such things had been easy, until he agreed to all of them, including rule four. She hadn't been expecting that, not after his outburst over kissing Cormac. She wondered if she'd subconsciously included it as a means of ensuring that he wouldn't agree and then she could console herself by saying that at least she'd tried. Hermione was berating herself for being so quick to write the rules, for feeling she needed them and despising them so soon.

"Stay with me tonight," he whispered stealing away her thoughts.

Hermione withdrew her hand, startled by the suddenness of his words. She couldn't possibly, and she was just about to tell him so when he quickly added, "there's no rule to say we can't sleep next to each other."

Her mind went over them.

He was right. She had never said, nor thought to specify anything about sharing a bed.

Whispering she asked, "Won't we get caught?"

The corner of Draco's lips tugged into a mischievous smirk. "Not if we're both back in our dorms by six."

Hermione wasn't fooled by that smirk. She understood how risky it'd be for them to stay and yet she found herself consenting. He smiled at her and then closed his eyes; his expression one of deep concentration. A few moments later the room began to shift and change, it elongated, stretching. A four-poster bed appeared with sheets the color of emeralds. Hermione clutched to the sofa, bowing her head, feeling a little strange, like she'd just gotten off a merry-go-round. Magic could sometimes be nauseating. Or perhaps it was the knowledge that she was going to bed with a Slytherin.

Raising her head, she glared accusingly at Draco.

He simply shrugged. "I'm not sleeping with you on the floor again."

She gave an undignified snort. "Fine, but no funny business Mr. Malfoy."

Draco's eyes flashed. "The Malfoy's aren't in the same industry as the Weasley's, Miss Granger," he replied quietly.

Hermione pursed her lips, confused but before she could think more of it he asked, "Aren't you going to get ready for bed?"

She looked down at her comfy pajamas. "I am ready for bed."

"No, you're not," he gave a tired sigh, reaching for the buttons on her nightshirt.

She flinched from him. "What do you think you're doing?"

And there it was; that look, the one that sometimes scared her.

"There's no rule to say I can't see you naked."

Her eyes widened. "You want me to sleep next to you, naked?"

Draco laughed softly, looking genuinely amused. "Most definitely not—now stay still."

Her lips parted to protest but nothing came out. An eternity passed as she watched him unbutton her shirt with calm calculation. She swallowed down her heart that threatened to beat out of her chest. His knuckles grazed against her skin and she felt her body shudder. Her nipples hardened as they came into contact with the cold air and she covered them quickly with her arms. Finally, he tugged her bottoms down and helped her step out of them. Standing there before him with only her knickers was the most unnerving experience. She felt powerless. As he stood drawing tall he removed his jumper handing it to her.

"There's no fire," he explained. "It'll keep you warmer than what you're wearing."

But Hermione barely heard the words, her attention lost in the shallow cuts of his bare chest, lost to the fact that despite the rules he felt entitled to undress her. Swallowing nervously she took it and slipped it on.

It was easier to look at him when she was clothed again.

"It's so soft," she smiled, enjoying the feel of it on her skin.

Draco's eyes grew dark as they traveled down her half-naked form. "Now you're ready," he whispered placing a chaste kiss on her forehead.

Without saying a word Hermione fell onto the bed, burying half her face into the pillow. The bed itself might have looked like Draco's but the sheets were crisp and new, un-slept in and odorless. She had been anticipating his scent. Her heart was racing as she watched Draco climb in next to her. Hermione knew she'd written the rules in order to avoid certain physical things from taking place but her mind had forgotten the intimacy of merely lying next to him and in a way, wasn't this so much worse?

Trying to distract herself from the gravity of her mistake she said, "tell me something."

"Like what?" he asked.

Hermione licked her lips. "A secret."

Draco scoffed. "I'm all out of confessions, thank you."

"Please…"

He was quiet for so long that she thought she'd crossed a line.

"Promise not to tell anyone?"

"Pinky promise," she smiled holding out her little finger.

He frowned at the gesture.

"It's a Muggle thing."

His frown grew even more sullen.

"Is this their version of the Unbreakable Vow?" he asked uncertainly.

"Yes," she teased. "Except if you break the promise, you don't die."

"Then how do I know you'll keep it?"

"Faith..."

Asking him to stick out his pinky, she vowed she wouldn't tell a soul. He rolled his eyes but acquiesced. She felt a shiver of something course through her when he interlaced his little finger with hers. She bit her lip.

"The first time I used magic," he began. "I almost died."

Hermione startled.

"It's funnier than it sounds," said Draco as he casually laid his wrist over his eyes. "I can't remember how old I was, maybe five or six. There used to be a lake on our estate—"

"Of course there was," she said in a sarcastic tone.

"With ducks," he added, ignoring her. "I used to visit them. Mother claims that I'd even named them all—can't remember, maybe she exaggerates that part—anyway I… I apparated into the middle of it and almost drowned."

Hermione was torn between awe and sympathy. "I wanted to swim with the ducks," he laughed, a little embarrassed.

"How did you get out?" she asked mesmerized.

Draco was quiet for a long time and she thought he might have fallen asleep when his eyes fluttered open.

"Father jumped in…" he said softly, picking up his wand and extinguishing the lights. "It's all forest now."

She rolled onto her back and stared into the darkness unable to bring herself to say anything because there was no space for Lucius Malfoy between them on this bed.

And the darkness, it was suddenly stifling. It was pitch black and cold. Unlike Gryffindor Tower, the room had no natural light and it was strange to be in the complete dark, unable to see Draco but to feel the heat of him. Hermione searched for his hand.

"It's so dark," she breathed, surprised at how frightened she sounded. Suddenly there were tiny lights above her, so dim she thought she was imagining them, till they grew brighter, like stars coming out to shine in a night sky. Hermione turned to Draco as he brushed his thumb over her hand reassuringly. It was the second time he'd managed to render her speechless with how delicate his magic was.

After some time she gathered enough courage to ask.

"Your father?" she gulped, looking pointedly at the lights.

Hermione turned her face in time to see him smile warmly. "My mother," he corrected.

Then his smile began to fade. "She knows," he whispered watching the stars wink at him. Rolling onto her side she asked him what his mother knew. Draco said nothing and after a moment simply looked at her with a forlorn expression.

And it said everything.

He couldn't have both worlds, which meant that when the dust settled eventually he'd choose his family. The thought was crushing. She hadn't cared when his father had looked upon her with disdain, or when his mother had viciously insulted her by calling her scum but now, confronting what it meant, left her utterly distraught.

"She hates me," she gasped a quiet sob. And she didn't know where it had come from.

Hermione should've written no crying as a rule because she was so embarrassed. He moved closer to her on the bed telling her it didn't matter, that nothing else mattered and it sounded like the very thing a boy told a girl to get her to quiet down instead of the truth.

"Doesn't it?" she sniffed. It meant that all this was temporary, they were his family, his childhood, people he still belonged to, who loved him and wanted certain things for him, wanted him to be a certain way, a way without her. But then he said something more devastating than his coerced confession of love.

"It's too late for other choices Hermione, this can't be undone."

The words washed over her and she was able to breathe again. Then she felt his fingers on her skin, tracing patterns gently up and down the length of her arm. She wiped her face with the sleeve of his shirt and was grateful that he didn't care. His eyes fluttered closed. She could feel it again, the pull, no longer veiled in lust. It was bare and naked. She'd heard it in his voice, heard it in her own.

"Draco?"

He murmured sleepily, "mm?"

"Goodnight."

He pulled her in tighter and after a few minutes she could tell by his breathing he'd fallen into a deep sleep. Hermione, on the other hand, was much too afraid to, at the risk of waking up and having realized she'd fallen in love with Draco Malfoy.

Somewhere in the castle that same night, Luna Lovegood was making her way up to the Astronomy Tower. She smiled to see Theo already there, waiting for her. He'd approached her and apologized for not having been able to spend the evening with her at the Three Broomsticks. It had been a welcome surprise when he suggested they reschedule, especially since she felt comfortable with him like he was someone she'd known in another life. It might've been the numerous lengthy letters they'd sent each other, but speaking to him in person, she felt like they'd finally become friends. They studied together, walked the halls, shared secrets, shared stories and for once in her life she wondered if this was what it was like to have a best friend—a true best friend. Until last week, when without warning, he'd kissed her. She'd been in the middle of explaining the existence of the Crumpled-Horned Snorkack when he'd leaned in and so rudely interrupted her. Luna was about to ignore it and pick up from where she'd been cut off but then he was saying the most beautiful things to her and she'd decided that what he had to say took precedent over the elusive creature.

Theo jolted around almost as if she'd caught him by surprise.

"Hello," she smiled.

"You scared me. I was daydreaming."

Luna laughed finding it strange that she'd be something to be afraid of and wondered why they called it daydreaming when it could be done at night. If only she had her spectrespecs, she could search him for Bellitrouts. She was almost certain he had an infection. There had been something going on with him the last few days. The Ravenclaw girl gathered that it had nothing to do with the kiss or his words because this new behavior was quite recent.

"You've been acting unlike yourself the last few days… I think you might be infected by Bellitrouts."

She watched as Theo drew a deep breath. "I can't see you anymore," he exhaled.

"You can," she reassured him taking his hand and holding it to her cheek. "I'm right here."

Theo's hand felt cold against her skin; even colder still when he withdrew it. She guessed he'd been waiting at the Tower for a while.

He let out a heavy sigh. "Don't make this harder than it has to be."

She frowned in confusion at the sharpness of his words. "But you said I was your lune. You said you could only sleep knowing I was lit brightly in the sky watching over you."

"I lied," he said simply as if everything would make sense to her with those two words. But all Luna really felt was muddled. Her thoughts were like a broken jigsaw puzzle and she couldn't see the picture just the pieces and none of them fit, so she asked the only question that she thought would give meaning to it.

"Why?"

Theo's eyes rested on hers. "Because I could."

Luna found she couldn't look at him anymore and her stare drifted to the sky. They'd come here almost several times to stargaze but tonight there was only the moon hanging in its huge expanse. Luna felt something wet her cheeks. There was only the wind and then her sniffle.

"You're making me very sad Theodore Nott."

He nodded slowly. "I got that from the crying Luna."

Her eyes never left the white light. It was a full moon. She didn't know how long she'd been staring at it, but it had been long enough for Theo to have left the Tower and for her not to have realized.

Luna decided she didn't quite like looking at the moon anymore, not when she'd been lied to about being like one.

A chilly breeze was blowing through the Malfoy Manor and Narcissa despised how the wind could turn into eerie howls. It didn't feel like her home. Of late, it had begun to feel as though she was a guest in a life she didn't lead and most of her days were spent walking around absent-mindedly keeping house. Elves were summoned to polish mirrors and silverware, furniture was dusted, marble cleaned, wood sanded and oiled, rooms emptied and reorganized, books dusted and reordered, old paintings sent to be restored. Their realtor was asked to value the Manor, their accountant asked to value the sum estate. Antique detailers, art gallery managers, jewelers, all were written to, because Narcissa Malfoy would do what she could in the absence of her husband and eventually her boys would return to her, first Draco, then Lucius. Then things could go back to the way it once were.

On those unfortunate days when the Dark Lord came by Bella's open invitation, he'd comment on how the Manor seemed to be coming to life. She wished desperately she could tell her sister that the less he visited, the better, but Bella was too far-gone. If her husband Rodolphus were here and not in Azkaban it'd be blatantly obvious to him who his wife's heart belonged to. So blinded by obsession was she, that Bella couldn't see that the Dark Lord was no wizard, no longer even a man.

Perhaps it was partially the reason for her sister's undying belief that he was somehow immortal.

Narcissa's house-elf Elma had spent the day helping her tend to the Malfoy gardens. Usually, she preferred not to soil herself with the elves labor but she found that the longer Lucius was absent, the more she gave her hands to tend to the gardenia bushes. It had been her wedding flower and the sight of them reminded her of that day— the second happiest of her life.

She was on her knees, in a very un-Malfoy-like fashion, pruning the bushes when she saw her sister approach her.

"The Dark Lord is not pleased Cissy."

When Narcissa finally spoke it was barely above a whisper. It wasn't unusual for Bella to press this matter, in fact, she was routinely questioning Narcissa on Draco's progress and it was becoming tiresome.

"I assure you, my son is not at Hogwarts twiddling his thumbs. Neither is Severus. If the Dark Lord could have a little more patience—"

"How dare you!" she spat. "It is of the highest honor!"

She regarded her sister steadily. "It is not honor but a death sentence, which the Dark Lord has bestowed upon my son."

"Only if you doubt his ability to carry out the deed! ... So do you?"

Drawing herself taller she looked at her sister with a proud arrogant expression only a parent could have for their child.

"Draco was six years old when he first apparated."

Bellatrix snarled. "I am perfectly aware of his magical capabilities. How soon you forget that it was I who helped him hone his natural talent for Occlumency!"

"Then you know I do not doubt him!"

"But I fear you do, my sweet, baby sister. If it were true, you wouldn't roam the Manor, already grieving."

The blood drained from Narcissa's already ashen face.

Bella feigned a pout.

"Poor, poor little baby—"

"Tut-tut Bella," came a low voice. "Surely you must have realized that your sister grieves the absence of her dear poor husband, the way, I'm sure, you grieve yours."

Narcissa watched as Bella turned on shaky legs. "My Lord! We did not know— it is not safe here— there was recently a raid by the Aurors."

"I know Bella... I know everything."

"Of course, my only concern was that—"

"Nothing is your concern unless I say so," he hissed quietly.

To her disgust, her sister cowered like a reprimanded child. She always turned into a simpering sycophant around him, and unfortunately, she could not deny that her husband did the same—although for very different reasons.

"Leave us Bella. Narcissa and I have important matters to discuss."

Bellatrix's face twisted in envy, glaring daggers at her youngest sister as she retreated back into the Manor. The Dark Lord caught the exchange and chuckled as if it were all a game.

Narcissa spoke first.

"May I offer you anything, a drink or—"

"No, that won't be necessary. Your hospitality as always is... impeccable. Tell me," said the Dark Lord sidling close to her, "of Draco's progress."

Narcissa's body stiffened as she heard a low hissing. Nagini, his large snake was slithering by her feet through the bushes, its long thick body draping itself between her beautiful white gardenias, coiling, lying in wait, ominously. She turned, her face to meet the Dark Lord's red eyes with a stony expression. There was something so malevolent in them that she understood with utter clarity that he would not stop at taking her home. He would take her son, he'd already taken her husband and now, perhaps purely to jostle Bella, he finally wanted to take her.

"He has yet to succeed in the task he was given," she answered honestly. "But he knows what must be done and will do it."

The Dark Lord smiled regretfully.

"Your little duckling better hurry along," he mused, his long spindly hands running down her arm. "Otherwise we'd have to find another way for you and your family to prove your loyalty."

Without blinking she reassured him of her loyalty, Lucius and Draco's included. "I will write to my son and impress the importance of his success in his task."

He smiled, a wicked gleam in his eyes as they danced over her.

"Mother always knows best," he whispered.

She wished she could unhear the words.

Then he bent down and plucked one of her flowers, twirling it in his hand.

"Beautiful Narcissa… just lovely."

She thanked him graciously for admiring them.

Her eyes did not leave his until he and his snake disapparated. Even then she could not breathe and she stared at the empty space where he had moments ago been standing.

A short few minutes later, Narcissa returned to her bedroom and called for Elma to run her a hot bath. She undressed casting an incendio on the robe he'd touched and then stepped into the large tub, submerging herself. She inhaled the calming aroma of lavender and luxuriated in the heat.

"Elma," she said quickly before the elf left. "Uproot the gardenia bush I just pruned."

Without so much as a question, the elf disapparated to do as she'd been told.

A few minutes later Narcissa lowered herself all the way into the water and held her breath. She held it till she could hold it no more and then waited. Just one more moment and she'd asphyxiate, just one more moment and she'd never again have to see his inhuman face.

She broke through the surface, gasping, choking, sobbing; praying that this afternoon would be the last private audience with the Dark Lord she'd have to endure.

That night Narcissa wrote a letter just as she said she would.

In fact, she wrote two.