Dinner, although later than she was used to, went relatively well. If "well" could be used to describe any dinner with your Muggle parents and the Dark Lord. Her parents almost immediately understood why they had initially decided to stay as far as possible from London, and, when the time came for them to get back home – magic taxis, she would never understand those – Hermione was offered, or, better yet, ordered, to stay the night, claiming it was too late to come back to school.

Hermione had obviously been forced to accept with a smile and spent a sleepless, tormented night. She left her room as soon as the light of the dawn greeted her, at barely seven o'clock, and decided it was time to leave.

The night before she had seen no one around the house, which was pretty odd, since there was always someone up, whether it was Narcissa Malfoy reading on an armchair or the elves. She thought she heard Bellatrix's voice after the nightmares woke her once again.

The only thing she wanted was to come back to Hogwarts, steal, if she had to, some more Dreamless Sleep Potion and lock herself up in her room until she forgot her parents were in danger again.

She quickly left a note on the table in the Drawing Room and disappeared in the green flames of the Floo. The destination was Snape's office – the only one enabled to Floo to the Manor and back – where, with her great surprise, she found Neville Longbottom, probably because of his incoming detention for almost blowing up the dungeons and the seventh-years.

She could tell both Neville and Snape were surprised to see her and Hermione justified her presence with a shrug. "The Dark Lord sends his regards," she told Snape and left the office.

When she finally reached the dungeons, she found the Anti-poisoning Department wizards had finally done their job, since the secret passage opened for her as soon as she said the password.

Hermione ran up to her room and decided a hot shower wouldn't hurt. Once the water was running down her body, she sighed in relief. The heat relaxed her muscles and filled the entire bathroom. Hermione figured she had probably spent too much in the shower when she heard a knock on the door. That could only be Malfoy.

She turned off the stream of water and put her robe on – an oddly comfy and green Slytherin robe – then opened the door of her bathroom.

"What did he want?" Theodore Nott was leaning on the wall besides a windowpane, arms crossed. Yet, she was sure she had closed the door.

"Hello to you too." She walked past him and opened her closet. "He wanted me to join him and my parents for dinner."

Theo raised an eyebrow, skeptically. "Your parents? Your Muggle parents were having dinner with the Dark Lord?"

Hermione couldn't help a faint smile crossing her lips. "Apparently." She took a loose sweatshirt and a pair of jeans and closed herself back in the bathroom to get changed.

"Isn't this just a tiny bit weird?"

"It's extremely weird, yes, considering they had promised to stay where I'd hidden them before the war."

"So that's what you were doing with Malfoy?"

She nodded. "Yes, he just said he wanted to meet them, so I had to go and remove the memory spell on them," and tried to tie up her hair, unsuccessfully. "How did you get in? I'm sure I've closed the door and you can't open it without a key if you're not the owner."

When she finally opened the door again, he was looking at her doubtfully. "Granger, the door was open."

"No, I am sure I've closed it."

"It was open," he repeated.

Ok, fine. Maybe she was going a little crazy. "Come on, let's go."

They left her bedroom and she made sure to close up this time, then sat on a couch in front of the master fireplace, the common room slowly filling back up with people.

"Where the hell have you been?" Draco was looking at her, questioningly and vaguely mad.

Hermione sighed and sat more comfortably on the couch. "At your place."

"And it was so important to require your presence in the middle of the night?"

She rolled her eyes. "It was barely ten and the Dark Lord thought I would enjoy having dinner with him and my parents. Their flight had a little delay."

"Your parents?" he sat on the tea table in front of her. She knew what he was asking her.

"I don't know why they came back and I'm not sure it's safe to owl them. I didn't get the chance to be alone with them last night and I left early this morning so I wouldn't have to see anyone." And she was exhausted from the sleepless night she had.

"Are you ok?" He asked, while Theo's gaze moved from her to Draco.

"Kind of." She closed her eyes and leaned further into the couch.

"Are you sure it's not weird? And I hope these aren't the same sheets." Hermione felt awkward, at best, sitting on his bed.

"I'm sure and, no, not the same sheets. Come on, I didn't catch any sleep yesterday and neither did you." Draco, on the other hand, was casually lying in the four-posters in what was his usual sleeping attire: sweatpants.

Luckily, her brain had got used to it and she could manage to be in the same room with his half-naked self without blushing. "I hate when you're right." She pushed back a sigh and crawled in the bed next to him.

"You want to talk about dinner?"

"Not today. I really want to sleep." She laughed without any real humor in her voice, and closed her eyes as he nodded in agreement.

She only woke up a few hours later, because of Malfoy moving erratically next to her. She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand and shook him, trying to get him to wake up. Finally, she managed to make Draco at least open his eyes, full of fear. Hermione had rarely seen him like this, scared and vulnerable, without that damn mask he had – or wanted – to wear.

She murmured that it'd only been a dream and held him like he would hold her until he finally woke up and realized what was happening. Hermione heard him whisper a soft thanks. It was least she could do, after all the times she had woken him up with her nightmares.

Suddenly, Draco held his head up and looked at her and then there were only his lips on hers, her mouth slightly open in surprise.

The next morning, Draco woke up with a gasp. Before he fell back asleep he had felt so stupid it almost hurt. How could he even think of kissing her? Hermione Granger. The Dark Lord's darling – the Mudblood.

Stupid!

Draco didn't even know why he'd done it.

He got up ever so lightly not to wake her up, grabbed his uniform and locked himself up in the bathroom. He needed a cold shower. A very cold one. He put the clothes on the border of the sink, undressed and turned the stream of water on. Thank goodness the cold helped clear his head, even when he'd thought to be close to hypothermia, and he even managed to enjoy a nice, warm shower eventually.

After he'd dried up and dressed, Draco quickly took care of his hair and left the safety of his bathroom, noticing that Granger was still asleep, lying on her belly and hugging a pillow. A smile found its way on his lips but he managed to brush it off.

Stupid!

He was almost afraid to wake her but forced himself to man up and sat next to her, slightly shaking her shoulder and announcing that they had to get going if they wanted to catch breakfast.

The witch murmured something he didn't understand and finally got up, brushing the sleep off her face with her hand.

"What time is it?" Her morning voice asked.

"Half past seven." Draco could barely look at her in the eyes, hoping she wouldn't bring up the kiss. He couldn't know Hermione was hoping for the same thing.

Breakfast was a blessing, actually, for both of them. Once in the Great Hall, they sat as far as possible from each other without making it look suspicious, Hermione next to Daphne and Draco next to Miles Bletchley.

Daphne was as Daphne as ever. Hermione simply couldn't find a word to describe her.

Maybe she would manage to go on with her day without Malfoy mentioning the kiss. She had no idea how she felt about it and didn't want to ruin their… whatever it was. She was sipping her coffee absentmindedly while considering talking to Daphne about it, just as her blonde friend interrupted her mental pro and con list.

"Jaime Knight is looking at you," she muttered, nonchalantly.

"What?" Hermione looked at her with a confused expression and the witch nodded at her to turn around. And she found that Jaime Knight, Slytherin, was indeed looking at her.

"I think you have an admirer," she chuckled next to her and Hermione rolled her eyes.

"I don't even know him and he probably hates me, Muggle-born and all. The Wizarding World could really use a Martin Luther King," she muttered the last part under her breath and finished her coffee.

"A what?"

"We have to go, we're already late for Potions," she told Draco, a few seats away from her, and got up, her Potions book still in one hand.

"Want me to do some digging?" Daphne offered.

"I don't care, Daphne. The only thing I do care about right now is the Draught of Peace." That and how she could get some for herself.

She gave Draco a quick look while he nodded at Miles goodbye and started walking to the Potion classroom. Oddly enough, he was completely normal, like nothing ever happened, but it kind of was what Hermione wanted. She quietly sighed in relief.

The way to the dungeons was unusually full of words. They talked about classes, who was going to be the new Dark Arts teacher, the incoming Hogsmeade trip and Malfoy even told her about the panic her exit caused two nights before.

They reached the classroom only a few minutes before class was scheduled to start, while almost everyone was taking a seat. On the blackboard behind Slughorn, a white chalk was writing the name of the potion of the day: the Draught of Peace.

Hermione was happy to see that, merely one day later, just in time for the double Dark Arts with Malfoy, things were back to normal. None of them mentioned the kiss, although both were still thinking about it. They just went on with their lives like the always had.

The best part her day was learning who the new teacher was: Severus Snape. Normally, a Headmaster wouldn't teach but Snape wasn't exactly normal and – again – no one wanted the job.

She rolled her eyes and leaned on the wall. Why on earth did they have to stand if there were tables and chairs for everyone? She couldn't even take notes.

"Today you will be practicing duels with Unforgivables," he started with cold, bored voice, "Learning how to cast a spell without knowing when to use it is of no use." Snape looked at her for a moment and then said, "Try to avoid the killing curse, for now."

Hermione rolled her eyes. Why would she kill someone in a school duel?

Professor Snape assigned everyone a random opponent, or that was what she thought until she saw the couples: Ginny Weasley to Draco and Pansy Parkinson to her.

The most improbable couple of all, though, was Blaise Zabini and Luna Lovegood. Did Snape know? He was a member of the Order, but how many actually knew about him? Dumbledore, of course, but he was dead and she had a few doubts he had many people. Nonetheless, his portrait was available to everyone. Everyone who had a sudden wish of risking their lives to sneak into Snape's office, of course, but still.

Hermione turned to face Pansy, raised her wand, turned around and took the usual five steps. She pointed her wand at her opponent and smiled.

"Stupefy!" A Stunning Spell as the first move was almost as dull as her.

Hermione quickly cast a shield and the spell backfired, so Pansy was forced to move in order not to get hit.

"Impedimenta! I got you, Granger," she smirked, as Hermione found herself unable to move or speak.

Levicorpus!

As the spell faded because of Pansy dropping her wand, Hermione pointed hers at her and focused on the spell. "Crucio!"

It lasted exactly twelve seconds. Pansy had been left hanging upside-down mid-air, groaning, until Snape said her technique was "presumptuous". She didn't know whether to take it as an insult or not.

In the meantime, Ginny had almost knocked down Draco with a Stupefy, Blaise and Luna didn't manage to get further than a Confundus and an Expelliarmus, and Theo had made Neville run in circles with an Imperio. Daphne and Hannah Abbott were doing good, but Daphne was way more used to Unforgivables than Hannah – Hufflepuff – would ever be.

She turned her attention back to Draco, who had now recovered and cast the Cruciatus Curse on Ginny, that was on her knees with her head in her hands.

Hermione was now heading to the dorms, for one of her two free periods – the only class available for those two hours was Divination and she refused. It was the last hour of school, so after that she would be free to focus on studying.

She had a weird feeling, like being followed, but she didn't see anyone when she turned around, apart from Filch's creepy cat. Hermione shrugged and got back to walking, but heard an Incarcerous being whispered mere moments later by a way-too-familiar voice.

When she somehow managed to turn around without falling down, she was aware of her now clear madness. Harry Potter took her hand and dragged her in an empty broom closet, casting a Lumos so they could see each other.

"You're dead," was the only thing she said.

"Dumbledore helped with that," he admitted, but he clearly had no intention of elaborating.

"Was it you? All the times I saw you in the halls?" She was out of breath.

"That and the two Zabinis. I didn't trust him, so I tested him and he agreed to let me use Polyjuice to be him a few times." Harry was looking at her like she had just killed someone, arm-crossed.

"I thought I was crazy!" Hermione stared at him, accusingly.

"Maybe you are," he shook his head and frowned, "How could you let him Crucio Ginny?"

"Draco was dueling with her, not me," she defended.

"Draco?" he asked like he was about to burst into laughter.

"Yes, Draco. Why are you only showing up now, if you know I could call the Dark Lord and get you killed, again?" She asked, warily. That was in fact what she was supposed to do, as a Death Eater.

"Because you know I'd make you forget and get out of here before he even enters the gates, and then it would be your problem," he waited for an answer that wouldn't come. "I just want to know the truth, Hermione. Why are you still with them?"

"Because I have no choice," she growled. "And it's not your problem anymore, Harry, it's mine. What will you do, kill me?" Then she truly looked at him, looked at that boy she had grown up with and loved like a brother. She couldn't risk it. It had been different with Luna and Blaise, Teddy was there and she couldn't do it, but there were no babies between her and The-Boy-Who-Lived. "I don't want to hear another word."

"I'd never kill you, Hermione," he sighed. "Even though you're at a sociopath's orders now."

"Then make me forget," she decided. She didn't want her friend to die, but she surely couldn't risk the Dark Lord diving into her head and finding out that she knew Harry Potter was alive.

"What?" the mask he had been wearing had broken down into pieces.

"I don't want to remember you, or any of this nonsense."

He thought about it for what felt like forever, and Hermione used that time to convince herself it was for the best, the right thing to do. It had to be.

Eventually, Harry Potter looked at her and raised his wand. "Oblivion!"

Hermione Granger woke up a few minutes later in a broom closet, for some absurd reason. She wasn't even sure she wanted to know how she got there.

But she wasn't locked. The door opened quite easily and then she was standing in the middle of the first-floor hallway, next to the Muggle Studies classroom. She brushed the dust off her clothes and a note fell out of her sleeve.

Hermione took it from the floor and opened it.

You didn't want to remember.

According to the clock hanging on the wall next to her, it was a quarter to four in the afternoon, which meant she had no idea what happened to her in the thirty minutes she'd been knocked out.

She headed to the dungeons, still pretty confused, and pronounced the password for the time being, Tempus edax rerum, but didn't even get the chance to sit down before Malfoy ran up to her. Both her free periods matched his – though Draco had more – and they'd decided to spend that Friday afternoon together working on a Transfiguration essay they had to turn in.

"Where were you?"

"In a bloody broom closet," she muttered and sat down.

"And why in Salazar's name were you in a broom closet?" He asked, narrowing his eyes.

She sighed and gave him the note. "Can we talk about something else?" She felt like she physically needed to stop thinking. Her head hurt. Draco finished reading and raised a brow at her. She shook her head and crossed her legs on the sofa.

"Well, I've talked to Blaise today," he confessed and sat next to her. "Last time it was just screaming, from both of us. Apparently, he's met Lovegood at a Quidditch match and then one thing led to another. He claims to love her," he snorted. "I don't know if he'll come back to his old self, but I have no intention of getting involved in this madness."

"Do you really think it's madness?" She asked, almost afraid of the answer.

"If the Dark Lord finds out about this, he will make him drink that damn potion for the rest of his miserable life and he'll kill Looney Lovegood right in front of his eyes. All of this while Blaise's not even a Death Eater so, yes, I do think it's madness," he rolled his grey eyes at her, "He could have bloody well just shagged her without so many ceremonies."

Hermione shook her head, "And they say chivalry's dead."

He lightly punched her arm with a smirk. "I am the personification of chivalry, mind you."

Hermione woke up still exhausted. She had barely managed to get some sleep and the last thing she needed was an early Saturday morning alarm, but she had to meet Daphne and didn't want to be late.

She quickly got out of bed and headed to the bathroom for a shower. After brushing her teeth, she opened her closet and took a black sweater and some dark jeans. She wasn't in the right mood for colored clothes, mostly because she knew Daphne well enough to know where that date was going.

Hermione found Daphne Greengrass seated on a bench by the Black Lake, waiting for her, and she couldn't but worry about her friend's perfect timing. Daphne was never on time, ever. She couldn't arrive on time to save her life.

Hermione sat next to her on the bench. "To what do I owe the pleasure of not having to wait for you, Daph?"

"Well, I was eager to know what's going on between you and Draco," her friend said, trying to be seem nonchalant.

"Nothing's happening, sorry to disappoint you."

Daphne stretched her legs in front of her and drew her hair on a shoulder.

"And I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I don't buy it. There's something you're not telling me." She gave her the look and Hermione couldn't help feeling a little intimidated. Daphne had a way of always getting what she wanted, her strategy mainly being wearing people out until they gave up.

"Fine, something happened, but it was nothing," she admitted, reluctantly.

Daphne scoffed at that. "It's never nothing."

Hermione looked away. "We kissed."

Daphne barely managed to hold back a gasp. "How did it happen? Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't tell you because it didn't mean anything. It happened on Sunday, he woke up and kissed me," she blurted out and realized when it was already too late she had let an important detail slip.

"Wait a second, did you just say he woke up?" She asked with a raised brow.

Hermione hesitated, "I said no such thing."

"Yes, you did," Daphne grinned. "Were you sleeping together?"

"Can you just drop that part? It's not even important," she hopefully asked.

"Spill it out, Granger," she almost demanded. Never mind.

"Fine, but you don't know anything about this, understood?" When she nodded, Hermione continued, "We sleep in the same bed quite often, because of the nightmares."

"Let me get this straight," Daphne started. "You've been sleeping in the same bed all this time and you have only kissed once?" She looked confused.

"Could you try not to sound that perplexed, please?" She complained.

"No. And what do you mean it was nothing? This isn't nothing, Hermione."

"Well, none of us has mentioned it again since."

They remained in silence for a few minutes, then Daphne suddenly got up, radiant, and took her hand, claiming they could talk about it in front of a Butterbeer.

Hermione followed her, rather worried and mostly because she didn't have a choice. "What are you plotting, Greengrass?"

"Why would I ever be plotting something?" She answered with nonchalance.

As if.

Draco Malfoy only wanted to sleep. Really, it was all he asked. But, of course, Theo didn't agree with that. He had even dared to open the curtains, so the greenish light would enlighten the room. All because Granger had stolen Daphne for the day and he was bored.

"Come on, Draco, it's Saturday and you're locked in your room like a first-year trying to get their homework done," he complained, trying to get him out of bed.

"Clearly, I'm not locked up enough," Draco grunted looking at him.

"I will allow no such thing. Get up and let's get out of here."

Ten minutes later, the heir to the Malfoy house was showered and dressed, ready to go wherever Theo decided to, with the condition he would leave him alone for the afternoon.

Twenty minutes later, the same heir to the same Malfoy house was out, in the cold, walking to Hogsmeade with his irritating best friend.

Thirty minutes later, Draco Lucius Malfoy had spilled his secret like a fourteen-year-old girl.

"Will you leave me alone?" He scoffed.

"Not a chance. Why didn't you tell me you kissed her? And why has it only happen once, have you seen her?" Theo was a step away from laughing.

"Yes, Theo, I have indeed seen her. But she's the Dark Lord's darling and I'd like for my head to stay attached to the rest of my body." Draco kept walking.

"So you're telling me this is the only reason?" He eyed him suspiciously.

"Is there any particular reason you won't leave me alone?" He grunted, trying to direct their conversation somewhere else.

"No, I'm only having fun while my girlfriend's not here," he laughed.

"She'd better get back soon, I've had enough of you." He refused to believe Theo had seriously made him doubt his decision to leave the matter unspoken of.

"Lovely, but you're still an idiot. You should talk to her."

As if he didn't know.