All lessons were suspended, all examinations postponed. One by one, the bowels of the castle had begun to empty until there were only a few students from each house remaining. In their stead, a delegation of Ministry officials, including the Minister for Magic himself, had taken up residence. Harry was diligently avoiding contact with any of them. He was sure that, sooner or later, he would be asked to account for Dumbledore's last excursion from Hogwarts—or what Hermione feared more—the true account of what happened that night on the Astronomy Tower.

She didn't trust Harry to keep his wits about him. The guilt hung on him heavily; guilt for Dumbledore, and she thought even perhaps for Draco. And try as she may, she didn't feel guilty, not even now, when Ginny was reprimanding her for lying about Draco's dark mark. She felt nothing, except a sort of numbness and the heat of the summer's day.

Hermione took off her shirt and didn't care that all she had under it was a camisole.

"How could you have lied to me?" asked Ginny. "I helped you, I covered for you even though I didn't have to. Why—I just want to understand why."

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut. She was so tired of hearing these words. First from Harry, then Ron, and now her.

"You don't know what it feels like…"

"I do," she insisted. "I love Harry. You know that."

Hermione was shaking her head. "It's not the same," she began, her voice rising as she spoke. "Harry is… Harry's a hero. Harry has us, he has—had Dumbledore, the Order, your mum, and dad, he has this way about him. He's humble and kind and… Draco is different. He's arrogant, and childish, and guarded, and delicate, and…and he's mine. It isn't pretty but all of that is mine and you won't understand what it feels like until you're holding him— holding his life in your hands while he tells you it's yours."

There were unshed tears glistening in Ginny's eyes. Hermione wasn't sure if they were for her, or for the ache of not having had that with Harry. At least not yet. Because Hermione wasn't blind, she suspected Harry had feelings for Ginny, but as she'd said, Harry was a hero. He wouldn't tell her now, he'd keep his feelings for her hidden in order to protect her from Voldemort—save the wizarding world—and then they'd be together.

Ginny looked out across the Great lake. "That's not fair," she said softly wiping her eyes. And even then Hermione wasn't sure she understood what Ginny meant. Maybe there was a part of her that envied Hermione for the time she'd had with Draco; envied them their recklessness.

"I know," she replied. "But I was scared Gin... I still am."

They sat in silence until she felt Ginny's fingers slide in between hers.

"Harry's going to leave, isn't he?" she said.

Hermione gave a slight nod.

Ginny smiled. "I always knew he wouldn't be happy unless he was hunting Voldemort… maybe that's why I love him."

Taking a deep breath, Hermione raised her eyes to meet Ginny's. "We're going with him. Ron and I… after the wedding."

Her friend gulped. "You're not going after Malfoy?"

"If I tried to…" the words fell dead on her lips.

"I was scared, too," said Ginny suddenly, her voice trembling. "I was scared that you'd go after him. I wasn't sure whose side—"

"I love Harry, and you, and Ron. I would never… this is my fight too."

"Good, because he needs you. I know there's more to what happened to Dumbledore than either of you are letting on. I tried to speak to him after the funeral but—"

"Gin," she sighed.

"No!" she snapped fiercely. "You called him a liar that night in the hospital wing and I believed you when you said it. I know he's not telling the whole truth and I'm not going to say anything to anyone but… it hurts when you keep me in the dark and it hurts even more when he does it."

Hermione fell silent. She had been a miserable friend to Ginny of late but there were no words of apology that would suffice and neither could she confess the full truth. It dawned on her that perhaps this is how Draco felt when she kept pushing him to confide in her and he'd made the mistake of thinking it would be better if she knew nothing.

What if she, herself, was repeating the same mistake by not telling Ginny? What if Harry was? Hermione wanted very much to tell her that Draco had never intended to actually kill Dumbledore by letting Death Eaters into the castle and that there were no sides. Only one. She opened her mouth to confess, to confess everything when—

"Look," said Ginny looking past Hermione's shoulder. "Nott's leaving."

Without a moment of forethought, she was standing and her feet were moving, practically running, toward the entrance hall.

Hermione was panting when she reached him. "You're leaving?" she said in between ragged breaths.

He raised an arrogant eyebrow. "Everyone is."

"Wait," she said. "Is he—?"

Nott's eyes flashed.

A warning.

Hermione looked around but there was no one. She thought if she could just get him alone he could give her some news. Perhaps he'd heard from Draco, or maybe he could get a message to him.

"Will you—"

"Quiet!" he cut in sharply, his eyes narrowing threateningly. "I'm going to say this once and only once. I don't want to hear another word from you, you meddling little mudblood. He's right where he belongs—with his mother, at home, by the Dark Lord's side. And you and your friends will be dead soon and everything will be as it should be."

Then he stepped into her, so close, she felt her body being emptied of breath and her limbs turning to stone. She didn't have her wand with her. Reaching up with his left hand he took a curl of her hair and wrapped it around his finger. The sleeve of his robe fell a little and Hermione didn't even gasp as the edge of the Dark Mark was revealed—a black taint on his fair skin—nor did she flinch when he leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of her ear as he whispered, "Now, be a good little Gryffindor and go back to your pet Potter… do you understand?"

Hermione stood immobile as he moved away, his cold stare piercing hers, trying to convey something through the silence. She stood still even after Nott had left.

It was only minutes later when Ginny's gentle hand shook her arm did she realize she'd simply been standing there, staring at the empty expanse of the castle grounds, shivering despite the bright sun.

"Hermione, are you okay? What did he say?"

She blinked.

"Draco's alive."

Tears of relief were running down her face because until then she hadn't allowed herself to consider that maybe he wasn't.

Ginny frowned. "And you trust Nott?"

"Yes," she said quickly and the answer caught her by surprise. "I trust him completely."

Later that night, as softly as she could, she crept out of bed and to her trunk. Opening it, she took out the brown paper parcel Harry had given her yesterday. She tip-toed past Lavender and Ginny's sleeping forms, and past Parvarti's vacant bed and out of the dormitory.

The fire in the common room was alive and roaring. She sat cross-legged on the rug, the wrapped gift in her lap. She hadn't had the courage to open it, had put it in her trunk and told herself it would be better if she never did. The paper was a little faded and worn as if Draco had been holding on to it for a while.

She stared at her name written neatly in the top hand corner. She traced the cursive letters, following the lines of his delicate handwriting and wanted to keep it just the way it was, with her name and the ribbon. When she opened it she'd have to throw away the wrapping, throw away his handwriting.

But that was a bad omen. To worry that she'd never see it again— see him.

Hermione closed her eyes.

It was time. She couldn't have it sitting in her trunk forever... besides, curiosity was winning her over. It was easy enough to guess that it was a book and she wondered which title it could be.

Hermione inhaled and tore the wrapping.

She deflated.

It was a hardcover copy of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, by Newt Scamander. She would have preferred to keep her name written in his hand.

Why would he have wanted to give her this? He knew she already had a copy of it. She picked up the book and opened it. A small slip of parchment fell out.

For the girl who reads everything, Happy Birthday. D. M

Hermione put down the note and leafed through the book. Its pages were yellow and the type was outdated. The tips of her fingers pulsed against the pages… magic… a statis charm.

Frowning Hermione removed the dust jacket and found that it wasn't Newt Scamander's book at all. It was a book she'd never heard of called Rare Protection Charms, by Chadwick Boot, one of the founders of Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Something tickled at her memory. Hermione had gone to Flourish & Blotts to buy the fifth volume of Chadwick's Charms just before Fifth Year. She'd been skimming his biography upstairs when she'd turned and seen Draco and his father speaking in low tones. The only reason she remembered was because she had expected at least one Mudblood comment but when she'd passed them on her way out, neither of the two Malfoy men had so much as glanced at her.

She flipped through the front matter of the book and her pulse jumped.

It was a first edition, published in 1805.

She turned the page. There was a small inscription written in hand.

To my brother Webster, may it be love and not magic that we teach.

Hermione smiled. She didn't want to think of how the book had come into Draco's possession, only that he'd given it to her. Carefully she went through it, her eyes skimming each page ravenously.

It was a small book of spells she'd never heard of including a few simple ones they'd already learned. The shield charm, the Patronus, the intruder charm, but the others… there were concealment charms, magical protection barriers and other strange spells that caught her eye. One in particular, which she read in detail was a protection spell used to shield someone from harm, but there were limitations to its use. Firstly, the person would have to be within close proximity and secondly, it was temporary. It didn't say if the shield took physical manifestation or what it meant by 'protection', but either way she couldn't use it to help Draco.

Disappointed, she closed the book and promised to go through it meticulously tomorrow. There were other enchantments that would be useful when they were on the hunt for Horcruxes.

For now, she left Draco's safety in his own hands and trusted that Theodore Nott wouldn't let anything happen to him.

He'd taken the Dark Mark, revealed it to her, and he'd told her Draco was okay and where he was. She wondered if Theodore Nott knew about the rooms Draco had built in his mind, wondered if he had his own rooms, with their own locks, and what he'd hidden in them... if Luna was secreted away in one of them; a room with just the moon. When he had asked her if she understood—she had. She'd understood with perfect clarity.

Be a good little Gryffindor...

The same words Draco had used once to remind her to remember her role, where they both stood. She had to be with Harry now; she had to pretend to have never known the touch of Draco Malfoy or his love.

A/N: Hello all, been super busy and my invaluable Beta reader tiffywa was unwell but there's another chapter following this to make it up to you. Also, I've gotten a lot of anxious reviews with a lot of questions. The fic will be about 200,000wds and hopefully be completed by the end of the year. Plotwise I won't say anything because I don't want to give anything away. I'll only say— have faith :)