The minutes leading up to 9 o'clock ticked by so agonizingly slow that Hermione was almost certain that her wristwatch had stopped.

After supper, Hermione had sat in the Gryffindor common room with her friends for an hour or so, pretending that things were business as usual. All the while, her stomach churned in anxiety. When the conversation drifted onto the subject of school, she casually mentioned that she would be helping McGonagall out with a special project that would require her attention every night for the foreseeable future. Despite a few teasing remarks from Ron about being a teacher's pet, the announcement didn't pique much concern or even interest in her friends who were primarily focused on discussing their intolerable increase in coursework or the vague hints of doom that recently permeated the air of Hogwarts.

Around 8 o'clock, Ron made up some excuse for leaving the dormitory which probably meant trouble and Hermione had no business adding another thin to her plate. She let him leave without interrogation for possibly the first time in the five years she had known him. With a deep breath, she announced that she would be heading up to get ready for her appointment with McGonagall and she could have sworn that Harry was watching her with a suspicious amount of intrigue as she headed upstairs to the girls' dormitory.

She hated lying to her friends. It wasn't common that any of them kept secrets from one another, even the life-threatening kind of secrets that one typically kept to themself. Since they had met in first-year, her, Harry, and Ron had been a team. She could hardly remember a time without them. Now, here she was, stepping forward on her own for the first time. Perhaps in any other circumstances, she might feel excited about the prospect of going off on her own. But seeing as this newfound independence included Draco Malfoy, she could hardly muster up anything but nausea.

For the last thirty minutes, Hermione had exhausted all the things she could do to keep herself busy and to distract herself from thinking about her anxieties. The very first thing she had done was change out of her robes into a Muggle outfit that she had brought with her from home. The light blue denim jeans and navy jumper reminded her of home and gave her the sort of comfort one required in order to get through an evening alone with Malfoy.

With a final glance at her wristwatch, Hermione sighed quietly to herself. There were only ten minutes left until 9 o'clock and she still had to make her way over to the library. If she was going to do this, she was going to do it properly and that meant arriving promptly. She slid herself off her bed as her roommates changed into their sleepwear and prepared for bed.

"Well, I'm off," Hermione announced. Immediately, she felt like an idiot for doing so. In the process of trying to appear inconspicuous about the whole thing, she feared she was likely doing a lot more harm than good.

Despite their strange glances and the fact that they were probably going to whisper gossip about Hermione when she left the room, there were thankfully no questions. Her roommates simply said their goodnights and wished her luck on her project. Praying that somebody would say something that would make her have to stay back in the dormitory and miss the lesson, Hermione lingered for a moment before finally giving in and making her way back down to the common room.

The cosy Gryffindor common room was completely empty when she descended the staircase; even the straggling students had gone up to bed. Hermione felt the unavoidable urge to plop down on a sofa before the crackling fireplace and forget the entire evening. Just as she was losing herself to her thoughts, the entrance to the Gryffindor Tower slid open. She froze on the spot. Her heart thudded noisily in her ears as she watched a shadowy figure come through the entrance and the strange memory of her recurring dream came to mind.

"Hello? Who's there?" Hermione held her breath, awaiting an answer.

"Hermione?" a voice responded. It wasn't the same voice as from the dream. As the silhouette emerged into the dim lighting, Hermione immediately recognized the familiar shaggy red hair.

"Ron," she exhaled, pressing a palm to her chest. "You frightened me."

"Oh, er... Hi."

"What are you doing out so late? Getting into trouble, I presume?"

Ron stopped mid-motion so dramatically that he looked like a cartoon character that had just run off the side of a cliff. His eyes went wide. "You caught me!" He laughed out loud, a little too loud, and pretended to wipe the sweat off his brow. "I actually just lost track of time. Very boring. No story there."

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. All around, he appeared dishevelled. His hair was a mess on top of his head and the tie around his shirt collar was loosened. His cheeks were a bright shade of pink which wouldn't be cause for concern had he not been acting so strange in the first place.

"You look as though you've run a marathon," Hermione remarked. "What exactly were you doing?"

Ron stared at her. For a moment, it seemed as though he had forgotten how to speak. Finally, he spoke, his words coming out in a tumble. "I was studying in the library." His eyes were the size of two Galleon coins.

Immediately, Hermione knew he was lying. She couldn't remember the last time that Ron willingly went to the library - if there was even a last time to speak of. Ron was hiding something and there was no doubt about that. Unfortunately, in this particular moment, Hermione had neither the time nor the headspace to drag it out of him.

"Right. Well, I've got to go." Hermione gave her friend one last weird look as she walked by him and made her way towards the door.

Ron spun around. "Where are you going?" His tone was full of accusation as if he hadn't just returned to the Tower past curfew and lied straight to Hermione's face about it.

With trembling hands, Hermione turned on her heel and put on her most irritated face. "I'm meeting with McGonagall, Ronald. Remember?" She dragged out the last word into several syllables to get her point across. As she carefully studied his reaction, she held her breath. Recognition flooded his eyes.

"Oh, right. That secret project of yours." He let out a hearty laugh. "You're such a goody-goody, Hermione."

You have no idea, Hermione thought.

With that, they said their goodbyes and went their separate ways - Ron with his secret and Hermione with hers. As Hermione watched the Gryffindor entrance seal itself behind her, she allowed a heavy sigh to escape her lips. It was exhausting to lie to her friends, even though she suspected they might just be lying back at her. Whatever Ron was keeping from her, she vowed to get to the bottom of it. Now was no time for trouble. They had to focus on the task at hand - that Voldemort had made his official return. But then again, she was endangering herself now, walking through the empty corridors to meet with the most high-risk student at Hogwarts. She could only hope that if any consequences might come from this venture, they should affect her alone.

Hogwarts had an eerie presence at night, she noted as she walked slowly towards the library. Throughout the day, the corridors were never empty but instead perpetually filled with students, professors, and even the odd ghost. Even the paintings kept one company. As an only child, Hermione had spent most of her early years alone. Even more so was she alone when people began to realize that there was something different about her. Once she entered the Great Hall for the very first time, however, that loneliness disappeared. She felt like a part of a community for the first time in her life. With Ron and Harry by her side, she felt unstoppable. The constant sounds of the castle became a comfort to her. The sound of silence in the same hallowed corridors made her uneasy.

Sure, she had snuck out of bed past curfew before. You don't become lifelong friends with Harry Potter without signing yourself up for an unhealthy dosage of rule-breaking and in her experience, that primarily meant sneaking around the castle in the middle of the night. But in all of those cases, she had never been alone. She had her friends by her side.

God only knew what they would think of her if they could see her now.

The library, a typically safe place for the bookish Gryffindor, loomed at the end of the corridor. The flicker of light at the end of Hermione's wand appeared to shiver in anticipation of what lay ahead. In all of Harry's delirium lately, Hermione had been the voice of reason to his well-earned paranoia about what Malfoy had allegedly been cooking up with the Death Eaters. She was the one who reminded him that Malfoy was no worse than the average school bully. He was only sixteen, for crying out loud. What kind of Dark Wizard would enlist a child's assistance in a war? But in spite of her better judgement, she now began to wonder if Harry's suspicions weren't so far-fetched. Perhaps meeting up with a suspected Death Eater in the middle of the night with no one around wasn't Hermione's brightest idea.

Putting her apprehensions behind her, Hermione entered the library, inhaling the scent of the ancient texts and the burnt wax of the candles. Slowly, she passed by the overflowing bookshelves and even those weren't able to put her at ease. As she rounded the corner towards the rows of long rectangular study tables, her blood ran cold. She stopped in her tracks and clutched her textbooks tightly to her chest.

The way Malfoy was sitting at the table reminded Hermione of the way that prisoners on television sat in the visitation room while they waited for their lawyers. His back was stiff against the chair and his hands were clasped together on the tabletop. Hermione wondered what ghastly crimes Malfoy was guilty of. Peculiarly, several inches from where he sat, Malfoy's wand lay on the tabletop.

Hermione inched towards the table, trying to hold onto the last few moments before he noticed her standing there. But as she took a second step forward, Malfoy's head snapped upright and his eyes fell upon her. A wicked grin pulled across his pale face. He spread out his arms on either side of his body.

"Welcome to the show!" His hands dropped down on the table with a thud and the smile disappeared from his lips. "You're late."

She could hear the hatred dripping off his words and she tried to match it in her own tone. "Only by a couple of minutes. Did you miss me?"

"Fucking bitch," Malfoy sneered. His vocabulary certainly expanded over the summer, that much was clear. It appeared that Hermione had a whole new weapon to shield herself from this term.

Malfoy said nothing as Hermione approached the table and carefully set her books down. She wasn't surprised to find that Malfoy hadn't brought any books, parchment, or a quill. Typical. She had to wonder if he had even bought any books for this term. If he had, they had yet to make an appearance. Luckily, Hermione had thought to bring her own books from which to instruct.

As she took a seat across from Malfoy, Hermione pointed at his wand. "What's that doing over there?"

"Snape put it there. But not before charming me to the fucking floor." For emphasis, Malfoy tried to yank his feet off the ground but it was to no avail. His feet were glued to the floor by magic. "Seems the wand is just out of reach."

Hermione snickered. She didn't care for Professor Snape one bit, but she had to give him credit where credit was due. "A Sticking Charm. Very clever."

"Piss off." Clearly, Malfoy wasn't the sort of chap who could take a joke and he was evidently in no mood to try either. That was fine by Hermione. Lord knew she wasn't there to be his friend. She was there to do a specific job and then go back to her normal life once this nightmare was over.

"Alright." Hermione set her books out before her. "Which subject do you find most troubling?"

Malfoy blinked in response. Very useful, she thought. This was going to be even worse than she had anticipated. As she manoeuvred the books around the table, she stole a peek at her wristwatch. It had only been five minutes and yet it had felt like she had been there for an eternity.

With a sigh, Hermione dragged a large leather-bound book towards her. "I suppose we'll start with History of Magic then." She didn't expect a response so when she didn't receive one, she continued on. "Er, I'm not really sure how much you've missed so far this term. I've barely seen you around lately, so I'm just going to assume that you've missed a lot."

"Is that any of your business?" Malfoy interrupted. Hermione glanced up at him through her eyelashes and was surprised to see the anger in his eyes. Malfoy scoffed, running his hands through his hair. "What are you even doing here?"

"Don't be simple, Malfoy." She was tired of playing teacher. She was tired of hiding her disdain and trying to be polite. In fact, she was impressed with herself for making it this far without wanting to smack him with her thickest textbook. "I'm tutoring you. You know, teaching you things that you couldn't be bothered to learn the first time around."

"No. I mean, what are you doing here?"

The question startled her. It was basic enough, really. She should have been able to answer. What was she doing there? Well, McGonagall had asked her to tutor Malfoy and she said yes. Why though? Was it because of her unwavering loyalty to McGonagall? Was it because of her insatiable need for reassurance and praise? Or was it something deeper, something more terrifying, that had made her accept McGonagall's proposition? All Hermione knew was that it was something she wasn't ready to come to terms with. The question was staring her right in the face. But if she had yet to address it on her own, she sure as hell wasn't going to do it for Malfoy's sake.

"Professor McGonagall asked me to tutor you. I didn't want to, but she was desperate. So I did her a favour. End of story. Now, let's talk about history, shall we?"

"History. An interesting subject, isn't it?" Malfoy pondered aloud. Hermione sighed, rubbing her temples with her index fingers. Malfoy leaned back in his chair and smirked. "You and I've got a whole lot of history. Haven't we, Granger? Remember that first time I ever called you a Mudblood? 'Cause that's what you are. A filthy, goddamn Mudblood."

He was baiting her. Evidently, he expected to taunt her into submission. It was his goal to make her run out of the library in tears, never to return, so that he could pretend to be disappointed when McGonagall told him that Hermione had quit and the tutoring sessions had been cancelled indefinitely. But what he had failed to realize was that Hermione had endured five long years of verbal harassment. She wasn't about to let one silly comment break her.

"Actually, I think my favourite memory was that one time I punched you in the nose," she remarked.

Malfoy's face went beet red. The look in his eyes was equal parts taken aback and infuriated. Hermione wanted to remember that look for as long as she breathed. But she knew that he wouldn't give in so easily.

"Was it so liberating to realize that no matter how smart you are, your intelligence will never make up for your tainted blood?"

The words must have felt like fire coming from Malfoy's throat judging by the way that they scorched Hermione's skin. He knew how to get to her every single time. Somehow, despite their limited interaction over the years, Malfoy had uncovered each of her weaknesses and slowly was prodding at them until she broke. She watched herself fall before him in mercy time and time again. This time was different. It had to be different.

"Listen, Malfoy," she began, her voice an unwavering rumble. She leaned forward and tried to put on as menacing of a face as she could muster. "I'm not going to bend to your will or cower in your presence as everyone else does. You've met your match. I'm here to do a job and I intend to follow through on it. If you don't feel like cooperating, that's fine by me. I'll be sitting here every night, waiting patiently for you until you're ready to learn. Until then, we can sit in silence if that's what you'd prefer. I'm not afraid of you and I never will be. Got it?"

Malfoy and Hermione kept their eyes locked on each other in a death stare, both waiting for the other to falter. Finally, Malfoy looked away. But before Hermione could bask in her victory, she realized that he was eyeing his wand. A knot grew in her stomach as she silently reassured herself that he wasn't able to reach it. A terrifying yet fleeting thought crept into her mind: Does Draco Malfoy really want to kill me?

Hermione looked away, trying to keep her face as emotionless as possible. She set aside her school books and retrieved from the stack one of her favourite Muggle books, Pride and Prejudice. She leaned back in her chair and cracked the book open to the page she had left it on. As much as she wanted to immerse herself fully in Jane Austen's world, she could feel Draco staring at her. His eyes were like daggers piercing through the cover of her book. She tried to ignore it as best as she could, shifting uncomfortably under his gaze. After ten minutes of being watched, she realized that she had read the same page five times over.

"You're not seriously just going to sit there and pretend I'm not here, are you?" Malfoy finally asked after thirty minutes of silence.

Hermione glanced up from the page she was reading, blinking as if she had forgotten he was even there. She shrugged. "Sorry. I was just so enthralled. Is someone getting a little bored?"

"You're an idiot, you know," Malfoy informed Hermione. "You've basically signed yourself up for a suicide mission. This isn't going to go your way. I plan on making sure that this isn't easy for you in the slightest."

"Can't wait." Hermione glanced down at her watch. "Ah, it looks like we're nearly at 10 o'clock. I'll wrap up a few minutes early tonight as long as that's alright with you? We've got plenty of time to make up for it, seeing as we'll be spending every single night together."

"Yeah, whatever. I'm so looking forward to it."

Without bothering to entertain his pity party, Hermione gathered her belongings and stood from the table in defiance. As she held out her wand in Malfoy's direction, she revelled in the look of terror that flashed in his eyes in the split second before he realized that she was undoing the charm on him. The moment the charm was lifted, Malfoy jumped out of his seat and snatched up his wand protectively. Hermione's heart thudded in her ears as she pretended to carry on collecting her things, while also keeping a watchful eye on him in case he got any ideas about his newfound freedom. Luckily, he seemed momentarily disinterested in inflicting any harm on Hermione.

Hermione tucked her books under her arm and slipped her wand into her pocket. As she made her way out of the library, she turned back to look at Draco. "You know, I actually feel sorry for you."

"You feel sorry for me?" Draco chortled. "I've got a Gringotts bank full to the brim and I come from one of the most respected wizarding families in Great Britain. But a Mudblood feels sorry for me. How hilarious."

"You might have money, fame, and metaphorically 'pure' blood," Hermione pointed out, making air-quotations with her fingers. "But what a sad, horrible life you must lead if your only joy comes from mocking other people until they feel just as low and miserable as you are. You're at one of the best schools for magic in the world and you waste every opportunity handed to you. I pity you."

Hermione prepared herself for the blow to come. But it didn't. Malfoy stayed silent. The shocked look on his face was as much of a response as Hermione was going to get. Before he could say anything - or whip out his hand - Hermione turned on her heel and paraded out of the library.

As she walked through the corridor towards the Gryffindor Tower, a smile spread across Hermione's face. She may not have won the war yet, but she sure as hell had won this battle.