Hermione soon discovered that offering her heart to Draco Malfoy was to give him right to her always. Whenever he found the chance he'd brush his fingers against hers, slip his arms around her waist in dark alcoves, kiss her bare shoulder and sleep in the cradle of her neck after pleasuring her. There seemed to be no part of her he hadn't explored, no trace of skin he hadn't kissed and she wondered what kept him from fully taking her, or at least trying to. She'd heard it was something boys were after but Draco had never asked, not even when they found themselves both bare and naked, against each other. She had dreaded and anticipated it with equal measure. Hermione sometimes couldn't imagine losing her virginity to anyone else, but she wasn't entirely sure that when the time came she'd consent. Only because he'd taken over so much else already and if he took her virginity there'd be nothing left of her except the obvious things. Her habits, mannerisms, knowledge, and tastes; all minor details of her were still there; her utmost admiration for Victor Hugo's novel The Hunchback of Notre Dame, her lack of respect for divinations, her deep dislike of licorice wands... in fact, as a person she was more or less the same. She still raised her hand when she knew the answer to something, still studied tirelessly and no matter how much her friends tried to coerce interest, she still couldn't manage to care at all about Quidditch.

But her essence… the core of her was splitting.

He didn't even have to touch her.

A stolen glance.

A secret smile.

Anything could undo her.

Watching Lavender fawn all over Ron was so repulsive, she'd sworn she'd never find herself so completely consumed by another person. But so consumed was she, that nights spent in her own bed without him were sleepless and unkind.

Hermione was a little worried. She saw that she was slipping, that they both were. His madness was slowly but surely becoming hers, and she only wanted to grab at it savagely till it tore each other open. They were increasingly absent from their dormitories, unconsciously staring at each other during class, meeting each other for a handful of minutes in the library or whatever room they could find.

The distance was suddenly so apparent; a distance of reality rather than geography. Having to cross oceans would've been far easier. She knew no one could find out, that it wasn't safe, but she wanted everyone to know. That was probably the strangest thing of all, that she wanted so badly to tell Ginny, even Harry, and Ron. Tell them how head-over-heels in love she was, how happy, she even had the urge to brag to Lavender and Parvati that she was snogging Draco Malfoy whenever she got the chance, if only to see their stunned faces. She didn't care if the whole world knew.

Sometimes, she'd daydream of doing just that. She'd create scenarios in her head of how she would tell them. They'd be a little confused but then they'd be happy for her and maybe over time they could all be civil to one another.

But there was always a sharp fear which accompanied these daydreams. The idea of any of them ever playing out made her breath quicken and her palms sweat. Because deep down she was aware that things would never be that simple, not after everything his family had done to them.

And then just as she'd resign herself to never telling a soul, a crushing despair would settle over her as she imagined that the day would never come, that they were just a flame enclosed in shadow, waiting for the eventuality of being extinguished. People were going missing, countless murders had recently been reported and she knew not to ask Draco about how he planned to be free of Voldemort. Those were things he'd asked her not to question.

It was getting harder and harder to silence her concern and one evening she'd ventured into that particular forest feeling it was finally safe. His reaction had been cold and distant and she immediately felt lost under the canopy. Brightest witch of her age, she was aware he was emotionally manipulating her. She had a right to ask, to be worried. Believing she was being tactful, she'd asked him if he'd found what he wanted that night in the Chamber of Secrets. His response was a vague murmur and then he'd crossed his arms as if to close off any more impending questions.

"What was it?" she asked. "The thing you wanted."

He clenched his jaw and told her it wasn't any of her concern. They were both sullen afterward, barely sharing a word with each other. A few hours later in bed, he'd tried to kiss her. Hermione eluded him claiming she was tired.

Lying there next to him that night, her back turned, she grasped, that for the first time since she'd met Draco Malfoy did he finally have the capacity to truly hurt her. An insult was not required; a terse tone alone could cripple her. His displeasure with her hurt her the most. And wasn't that insane? She could only retaliate and hope that her unhappiness with him would pain him just as badly.

After what had seemed like hours—probably though, had only been minutes—he spoke.

"Do you know you have dimples on your lower back?"

She diligently ignored him, staring at the blank wall, her body lying as close to the edge as possible.

He continued speaking unfazed.

"I bet when your hair is wet it almost touches them."

Yes, almost.

Hermione felt him edge closer to speak in her ear as if what he had to say next was a secret.

"Every part of you is perfect," he whispered and his breath touched the shell of her ear. His hand wrapped around her waist and pulled her in to spoon him.

It was his apology.

Hermione's cheeks burned, her fingers moved to entwine with his and she turned her head slightly to offer her lips.

It was hers.

The entirety of her time with him, even that night, had felt like a dream.

It all began to come apart when to her dismay, Ron began spending all his free time with Hermione again. It was obvious he'd become wary of Lavender, and their relationship was more or less over except the coward hadn't actually told her as yet. He was even going out of his way to be extra kind and considerate to Hermione. And all this meant was that it was more and more difficult to excuse herself and say she was going somewhere without one of them wanting to tag along. Suffice it to say that the time she spent with Draco went from constant to hardly ever. He was irritated with Ron for following her around everywhere and by extension her. To top things off, Harry was suspicious and had started keeping a close eye on Draco's movements using the map.

The day before his birthday Ron confronted Lavender. Hermione hadn't been there to witness it but she heard it had been quite awful. Ron, however, was relieved. Harry and Ginny were thrilled. Draco was livid. In potions class, Ron had playfully tugged on one of her curls to get her attention. The next thing she knew his potion had inexplicably blown up in his face, singeing his red hair. Draco had looked at her with such betrayal that she couldn't help feel like she'd done something wrong. Harry muffled his laughter.

The next day she finally had a window of opportunity to see him. Harry, Ron, and Ginny were all busy with Quidditch practice and they'd made plans to meet.

Hermione walked up the stairs and took a sharp left down the third-floor corridor. She'd suggested it remembering the several abandoned classrooms. Memories from her first year filled her mind as she glimpsed the door where behind there once was a three-headed dog standing guard. She opened a different one and went in.

As soon as she entered the empty classroom he was attacking her lips, holding her roughly to him and pressing her against a desk. She broke the kiss to reproach him for ruining Ron's potion.

"I know that was you in class the other day."

"Be quiet," he warned and the way he said it felt frighteningly familiar. His hands fumbled to divest her of her robes. Unbuttoning her shirt, he cupped her breasts underneath her bra, catching her nipple between his fingers. He toyed with her pinching, touching, kissing her, till she was scarlet, and in a state of anticipation that was driving her wild.

How long had it been since he'd brought her to that blissful abyss?

Forever.

Then unexpectedly he stepped away, his back turned to her.

"Draco," she asked half-panting. "What's wrong?"

He turned back around, his expression blank.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I forgot I was meant to meet Theo."

Hermione bit her lip and pulled him back by his tie.

She hummed against his lips. "I'm sure you'll make up something to tell him."

He kissed her again, slow and hesitant.

She deepened it wrapping her arms around him only to feel his body stiffen and then he was pulling away again.

"Is this about Ron?" she asked. "Are you angry with me?"

His eyes snapped to hers. "No," he rushed out quickly. "I just—I really have to go."

Stunned Hermione watched as he swung his bag over his shoulder and made for the door without even waiting for her to button up. At the threshold, he stopped as if he'd forgotten something, spun around, walked back to her, pecked her on the forehead and left again.

Baffled she sort of stood there staring at the closed door trying to understand what had just happened.

Despite his abrupt departure she wasn't too put out. Just a few hours ago she'd received a note telling her to report to Professor Snape's office. She remembered her last essay had gone slightly over the advised parchment length and she had a distinct feeling that she was about to be reprimanded for it.

A short while later, after the sun had set, she found herself making her way down the stairs. The weather had warmed albeit slightly but you couldn't feel the difference in the dungeons, it was always cold. The door was left slightly open and she could see a sliver of Snape sitting in his chair. She still gave an obligatory knock.

"Come in," he drawled.

As she entered she saw a head of blonde hair. The girl turned and smiled.

"Luna!" she exclaimed. "What are you—"

"Sit down Miss Granger. This isn't a social club."

Hermione eyed Snape warily. He had yet to look up from his work. Clearing her throat, she explained how she had received a note saying she was to report to his office.

"Oh yes," he said. "It has only recently come to my attention that you attacked one of my students."

"This isn't about my essay?" she asked redundantly.

"No—although you should know that every time you exceed parchment length I deduct marks."

Her mouth fell open a little. "Since when?"

"Since always," he replied finally raising his head to look at her. "Sit down Granger and stop gaping at me like a floundering fish."

Hermione was red with anger. He'd been deducting marks—how many? She had to fight the urge to ask.

Gathering what tolerance she had she slowly took the seat next to Luna who was smiling softly, her eyes scanning the contents of the office with curiosity.

Professor Snape lowered his head once again and began scribbling.

"Sir," she began politely after a minute had passed. "I already sat detention with Professor Flitwick and—"

"While leniency suffices him, it does not suffice me. Attacking another student is a grave offense Miss Granger and I demand proper retribution."

Hermione pursed her lips embarrassed at her burst of angry jealousy that day. She caught Luna's eyes and the Ravenclaw gave a little shrug as if to say that sometimes these things just happened. Just then Professor Snape laid his quill to the side and sat up straight eyeing them both.

"Well, well, well…" he intoned bringing his hands to steeple. "What should I ever do with the two of you?"

Hermione gave Luna a quick glance wondering what offense she was serving time for.

"Let's keep things simple shall we?" he said standing.

They both watched as he made his way slowly around the large wooden desk, like two little girls observing the movements of a snake in the woods. His black eyes moved from one prisoner to the other, cold and calculating.

"You Miss Granger will write I shall not be an insufferable know-it-all—"

"I thought you said I'm here because I attacked Draco Malfoy."

"I know," he drawled, almost regretfully. "But one must really correct the most pressing issues first."

Hermione pursed her lips again as if it were the only thing reigning in her retort.

"And you Miss Lovegood will write, I shall not daydream in class."

"Oh, but I wasn't," she hummed. "I was staring intently at Theodore Nott."

Professor Snape held Luna's dreamy stare, a sneer of disgust marring his face. Hermione herself was staring at Luna trying to figure out how on earth someone like her would be interested in that slink.

"I do not care to hear your infantile fantasies, Miss Lovegood," he said sharply. "Now begin. I want a thousand lines."

"A thousand?" Hermione balked.

Professor Snape only had to narrow his eyes at her to succumb. She gave a sigh and began searching her bag for parchment, ink and a quill.

The room fell silent, except for the sound of their quills scratching hurriedly against the parchment. This would take her forever and her hand was already beginning to cramp.

Hermione's sleeve kept smudging the ink. With a huff of irritation, she put her quill down and began to roll up her sleeves. Her hand was stiff and she estimated she'd only written 132 lines. This was worse than the detention Harry spent with Professor Umbridge, it was pure torture! She glimpsed Luna's parchment to find neat cursive, so beautiful in fact that it reminded her of calligraphy but the way she was going she'd take hours to complete her lines—

"What was the nature of your quarrel with Malfoy?"

Hermione startled. "Sir?"

Professor Snape was gazing deeply into her eyes. His voice flat.

"Why did you attack Mister Malfoy?"

She had never thought to make an excuse. Not even Harry and Ron had ever asked details beyond their assumption that he'd deserved it. "He called me a Mudblood," she answered challengingly.

The lie, she thought was believable. He'd done it countless times before. It was easy for anyone to believe he'd somehow provoked her. Her answer, however, didn't have the intended effect. Professor Snape continued to stare at her, his face growing paler by the minute. Hermione licked her lips and drew her attention back to her parchment. She felt a headache coming on.

The room fell back into an uncomfortable silence.

A minute later Snape rose, his chair scraping against the ground.

They both looked up momentarily.

"Continue to write your lines. I'll return shortly."

Hermione waited a few moments after he left to speak. She wanted desperately to communicate to Luna how utterly abhorrent Theodore Nott was but found she had no patience that night to ease into the conversation. Her headache was worsening.

"Luna," she spoke quietly. "I didn't know you and Nott were together. How's that going?"

"Oh," she mumbled. "No, we're not. We're not even friends."

Hermione's brows furrowed. "Then why were you staring at him?"

"Well, I was looking for Pilpims. Sometimes they can wriggle in through the ear canal and—"

"Did you find any?" Interrupted Hermione who was unwilling to hear about any more of Luna's imaginary creatures.

She looked up as if trying to recall the memory. "No," she replied after a few moments. "I didn't."

Her expression fell as she continued to stare vacantly into space. Then the absent gaze locked onto Hermione and stirred awake.

"How is Draco?"

She rolled her eyes. "He's fine. Honestly, I don't see what the fuss is all about. I only stunned him."

"Oh yes," she smiled dreamily. "You have most definitely stunned him."

Hermione frowned at her disapprovingly. She knew what Luna was suggesting and wanted to firmly quash any conversation leading to Draco Malfoy. Neither did she want to lie nor admit to her friend that she was, in fact, right about the fairy dust, and hopelessly in love with him.

She began to pick up her quill when all of a sudden a thought entered her mind. Her head turned slowly to face the girl who had already returned to writing.

"Luna," she said. "Did you tell Nott I was in love with Draco?"

Hermione watched as she stopped mid cursive, her quill poised to continue. Her eyes squinted thoughtfully as if she herself wasn't sure.

"Oh yes," she hummed. "I may have."

Her stomach fell, but her dread was quickly overshadowed by anger.

"I can't believe you! Have you no sense—?"

"I was only trying to explain about the fairies—"

"No wonder they call you Looney Lovegood!"

Hermione gave a little gasp. The words had spilled out of her mouth before she could stop them.

"That's quite cruel," said Luna sadly. "I think Draco Malfoy is rubbing off on you."

"I am truly sorry. I shouldn't have said that. I was just—I'm sorry, I can't seem to control my temper these days—things are just so complicated and I—I don't think you're mad I just really wish you hadn't told Nott anything. He's not a good person and... I'm sorry..." She had such a bad headache coming on.

"It's okay," she sighed with a small smile. "I guess you're right, I am a little looney. It's probably why Theodore doesn't want to kiss me anymore."

"He kissed you?" she asked in surprise. "When?"

"Before he called me the moon."

"I mean—wait, he called you the moon?"

"Yes… do you think I'm like the moon Hermione?"

She was a little taken aback by everything and was trying to approximate how long after he'd kissed Luna, had he kissed her. Or had he kissed her and then kissed Luna? Her eyelids fell shut and her fingers rubbed at her temples trying to subdue the throbbing in her head.

"Maybe, yes, perhaps," she said. "I suppose—your name, in Latin it means moon and…"

Hermione had opened her eyes to find Luna watching her intently, her features pale and forlorn against the light, her light hair draping over her shoulders falling to her waist, and for a sheer moment when she looked into those protuberant keen eyes, she was a little like the moon.

But instead, Hermione replied, "You deserve far better than Theodore Nott and I've been a terrible friend."

A twinkle lit up her eyes. "I'd very much like to be friends," she grinned.

"We are," assured Hermione. "You have a lot of friends Luna. Sometimes we're just awful and forget to look outside ourselves."

With that, they both turned back to their parchments. The last thing they needed was for Professor Snape to return and find that they'd been speaking.

Around her three hundredth line, Luna asked, "Has Draco ever called you the moon?"

Hermione smiled to herself as she clenched and unclenched her stiff hand. "Draco Malfoy has called me many things" she laughed. "But he has never called me the moon."

Severus Snape could not find the patience to keep his composure. He could not wait until his students had completed their detention. Things were falling apart before him and he had to stop it at once. As he walked the short distance between his office and the Slytherin dormitories he could still not believe what he knew to be true. Never in his long list of speculations had he ever imagined that the answer he'd been seeking would be solved by Hermione Granger. He had lifted his eyes for only an instant when Miss Granger had rolled her sleeves up. He would never forget it. It was he who had accompanied Lucius all those years ago to Laurel & Moons. He remembered the bracelet as clear as day. He was, after all, the one who had first noticed it and suggested it to his friend. It was in his fair opinion the most beautiful piece. Lucius thought it would suit Narcissa's delicate manner. Severus had agreed with a tight smile. Seeing the identical bracelet on Hermione Granger's wrist had paralyzed him. He had stared at it to check that it was indeed the same and not a cheap duplicate. But it was almost impossible to fake such fine workmanship.

Without a moment's reflection on the matter, he'd caught her attention and asked why she had raised her wand at Draco. Now that he really thought about it, she'd never done so before when he'd insulted her. It was usually Potter or Weasley in a skirmish. And then without consciously meaning to, he'd looked into her mind and what he saw chilled him to the bone.

The wall before him was dividing. He stepped into the Slytherin common room and his appearance had the effect of putting an abrupt end to a party. The lively chatter stopped and all eyes turned to him. Pansy Parkinson was curled up comfortably in Blaise Zabini's lap and upon seeing him she stood a little abashed.

"Professor," she smiled nervously.

"Where is Mister Malfoy?"

It was Mister Zabini who replied. "He's in bed, sir."

"Go get him."

He waited a few moments until Draco appeared looking rather annoyed. Severus knew not to cause a scene before everyone.

"I have some correspondence from your mother," he said pointedly. "Follow me."

Draco obeyed without a word. As soon as they passed the first empty classroom, he grabbed Draco by the arm and dragged him in.

"What is it?" he demanded, his face pale. "What's happened?"

Severus cast a silencing charm. "Nothing," he answered. "She's fine."

The panic written on the boy's face morphed immediately into a scowl. "If this is another one of your attempts to find out what my plan is—"

"By plan are you referring to your attempts to seduce and bed Hermione Granger?"

A fraction of a second passed between the two.

"Excuse me?" he clipped. "I must've heard incorrectly, Sir."

Severus stepped into Draco his eyes almost level with his. "You are so much like your mother, so very good at hiding things… except from me."

"I have no clue as to—"

"I've already seen the entire sordid affair in her mind, so don't waste your breath lying to me."

At that point, Draco looked at his feet and released a heavy sigh. A smile began to tug at the corner of his lips and Severus could not imagine what he found so amusing at this very moment.

"She's like an open book, isn't she?"

"So you admit it?" he asked, still unable to fathom the relationship.

Draco looked up with a malicious gleam in his eye as if a part of him had secretly been waiting, longing to claim his accomplishments with her. "With all due respect, Professor," he spat, savoring each word. "It's not an attempt if I've already succeeded."

Severus grimaced at the blatant innuendo. It disconcerted him to hear it from Draco's mouth, to hear the smug pride echo behind his words.

Weighing what needed to be said carefully he warned him of what could happen, of what he needed to do.

"The Dark Lord does not forgive Blood traitors and you will be no exception. So end it and end it immediately or else—"

"Or else what?" sneered Draco. "You swore an oath to protect me so if any harm comes to me you'll pay for it."

"And what of her?" asked Severus thinking only that history could not be allowed to repeat itself.

His grey eyes snapped to his. A flood of calm seemed to wash over his features.

"If any one of them," he spoke slowly. "Including Father or Bella…or even you Uncle Severus… if anyone lays a hand on her, I will wrap my own around their throats and kill them."

Severus' eyes widened.

"Have you lost your mind boy?" he hissed feverishly. "You must end this."

"I refuse."

"Listen to me!" he snapped, an urgent panic taking over. "Your feelings are clouding your judgment. Don't you foresee the consequences—have you forgotten what you've been ordered to do?"

"I said I'll take care of Dumbledore and I will," he retorted sharply. "Why should you care who I—?"

Severus gripped the boy by his arms and jostled him violently. "BECAUSE HE WILL KILL HER!" he screamed in anguish. The image of Lily cold and dead flashed before his eyes and Severus did not notice he was trembling, a sheen of cold perspiration on his face.

Draco's eyes were wide looking at him as if he'd never seen him before.

The insolent boy wrenched his arm from his grasp and drew up straight. "He won't," he claimed with an air of certainty. "I won't let anything happen to her."

Severus took one last long look at Draco and an overwhelming sentiment of disgust came over him because when he now looked at him, he could only see the same naivety, the same unyielding love that left no room for reasoning. But what sickened him were not these things though. It was the frightening resolve, a quiet certainty Lucius had once possessed, that the wind would eventually blow in whichever direction he needed. His love for a Muggle-born had in no way at all humbled Draco, if anything it had increased his arrogance tenfold. He was now like any other mortal man whose love is reciprocated; walking among clouds as though a God, showing only a modicum of humility around his woman.

"I have made the Unbreakable Vow to protect you," whispered Severus. "But I cannot save you from yourself."