Disclaimer: I have no claim on Harry Potter. Don't sue.
A/N: Thanks so much to Jennifer for her speed-beta!
Thanks to the fantastic Chapter 7 reviewers; HardyGXtreme, Hopeless Romantic, Midnight Rose, FEAngel258, Blanche Dubois, me, Kou Shun'u (I hope that the next few chapters take the ease off of your curiosity ;) ). You all flatter me so. Thanks for making my day. J
***
"Humans have a knack for choosing precisely the things that are worst for them."
- Albus Dumbledore
Ron swallowed hard and approached the gargoyle. He hadn't even made it through Herbology, his first class, before he had been summoned to Dumbledore's office. Now he would know. He wasn't so sure he wanted to, but now he would know if he would live or die.
The gargoyle moved aside, revealing the escalator. It was as if his very presence was a password.
When he reached the office, he was surprised to find that he and the headmaster were not alone. Severus Snape glared at him from his post by Dumbledore's desk, and Avery glanced tiredly out the window.
"Ron! Come, sit."
Ron nodded his greeting at the headmaster and approached the cushy chintz chair that had just appeared for him. He took a deep breath and sat gingerly on the edge of the seat, awaiting the verdict. It took several minutes of silence for his patience to run out. He cleared his throat.
"Sir?"
Dumbledore smiled, his eyes twinkling lightly at Ron, and he leaned back in his seat, pushing his fingertips together across his chest. "Ah, but we're not all here just yet, Mr. Weasley."
As if he had been awaiting this very sentence for his dramatic entrance, Sirius Black swept in through the doorway Ron had just passed through, morphing quickly from his Padfoot form into one of a gaunt, sharply alert young man.
Ron had turned to the door at the noise this entrance created, and couldn't suppress the grin that swept over his features.
Sirius smiled in return, and, reaching Ron's side, patted his shoulder. "Alright, Ron?"
The yes halted on Ron's lips and he turned to Dumbledore, his look clearly begging the question, 'Am I alright?'
Dumbledore took a deep breath and leaned forward, removing his half-moon spectacles and rubbing his eyes. Fawkes appeared suddenly on his shoulder.
"Ron, as courageous and incredible as the sacrifice you are willing to make is, I cannot allow you to throw your life to the winds of caution… just yet…"
The sudden growth of tension in the air told Ron that he was not the only one who was surprised at the headmaster's decision. Sirius' hand found Ron's shoulder again and he could feel the relief surging through Harry's godfather at the news. Snape and Avery, on the other hand, were very much unsettled.
"Headmaster, I must-"
"But, Albus, honestly you can't-"
Dumbledore held up one of his well-weathered hands to silence them.
"If you'd allow me to finish…." The now spectacled gaze found everyone in the room. Sirius' grip tightened on Ron's shoulder.
"There is absolutely no way Ron could fool Voldemort into believing in his loyalty at this point. Voldemort is no fool. He'll see quite clearly through the veil of Ron's newfound allegiance, and will know almost instantly that he is a spy," Dumbledore paused, regarding Ron carefully, "and I daresay that Ronald Weasley deserves more in life than such an end."
Ron dropped his gaze towards the desk, feeling the hot threat of tears in his eyes.
"However…"
Ron's gaze shot up again, and Sirius' hand was now doing a fine job of imitating a tourniquet on his shoulder.
"I do think that, with the aid of Severus and Avery, our young Ron will be ready by next year… And although I'd like to think that the war will be over by then, I would not dare to allow such hope to impose on much-needed plans."
Snape and Avery reluctantly agreed to this, but Sirius remained oddly quiet. He didn't actually speak until Dumbledore was escorting the two from his office. Ron had attempted to follow the three when Sirius hastily tugged the back of Ron's robes, jerking him back towards the headmaster's desk.
"Ron, can I have a word?"
Ron found Sirius' unnecessary question amusing, but caught himself before he revealed this in his facial expression. He nodded somberly and waited.
Sirius sighed and ran a hand through his hair, simultaneously pulling it out of his face. "I'm worried about you. About what this year will bring." Sirius paused, and Ron waited, unsure of whether or not this was his cue to begin comforting speech.
"And…. And I'm extremely worried about Harry. Dumbledore informed me of his recent…er… sickness." Sirius looked positively disgusted, and Ron didn't doubt that he was imagining particular individuals who could take the blame for Harry's condition. Sirius sighed again, and then turned his gaze quickly to the boy in front of him - so quickly, in fact, and intensely, that Ron felt as though he would be knocked off of his feet.
"Ron, tell me, how is he? Has there been any difference? Has he confided anything in you? Have you noticed any suspicious behavior in others? Please, consider the staff and the students."
Ron swallowed, wilting slightly under the intense gaze of Sirius' fatherly, righteous anger and concern. It was at times like these that Ron could see the escaped convict in the man. His mind almost made the jump subconsciously, flashing back to the memorable image of a crazed man holding a knife over him in his sleep.
It was at times like these that Ron could understand how Sirius made the first successful escape from Azkaban, and, at the same time, it was at times like these that Ron could see just how much damage Azkaban had done Sirius. After twelve years of a depressing, dark, existence as a falsely accused murderer, having love, friendship and all else that is good in the world sucked from you, kept from you, while experiencing nothing but the worst memories of your life…. After twelve years of not living… Without having the luxury of being dead… Of simply dying, dying for twelve years and never being allowed to live or to truly die… After twelve years, to be free - to be a father figure to the son of the man who had essentially been your brother… To love another being after twelve years of mourning… To finally escape the clutches of Azkaban and what Ron was sure was Sirius' worst memory - Lily and James' death - and find another soul who had suffered as a result of those deaths… To find love in the face of the sadness and despair their deaths had brought the man. Ron could understand how passionately Sirius loved Harry, and how fiercely he would protect him. Harry was Sirius' life. Harry was what made it living. Ron understood this, and he understood, finally, that he was the reason for all of it. Sirius would fight for Harry until his dying day.
He wondered, momentarily, if Harry knew how much his godfather loved him. He blinked back tears as he realized that Harry probably didn't know much of anything right now. He wondered if Sirius' fight would be in vain… He found himself wondering, morbidly, what would happen to Sirius if Harry died.
Ron bit his lip, banishing such thoughts, and forced himself to meet Sirius' gaze. "I… er… Well… " His mind flew over anything he could tell Sirius. Just something that would be encouraging. Some ray of light. He focused all his energy on remembering. Were there any times when Harry seemed better? He considered this for a while before he realized the truth. His eyes must have betrayed his surprise, and as he spoke and things linked more smoothly in his mind, he hoped they did not show the utter hopelessness and dread that such a realization brought on.
"There was… well… Hermione… He…He seems better sometimes… Sometimes when she's there…" He swallowed and shot his gaze to his feet, praying that Sirius didn't catch the negative aspect of this news. The headmaster's voice chimed in at precisely that moment.
"Well, we'll certainly need to look into that, now won't we?"
Ron nodded and swallowed, looking up to meet the headmaster's knowing gaze. He wasn't sure what Dumbledore expected him to do, but if Hermione was what Harry needed…
Dumbledore spoke again, interrupting his thoughts. "If you'll excuse us, Ronald, I need a few words with Sirius myself. If you should find Harry with some spare time on his hands today, please send him up. I'm sure Snuffles will be willing to hang around for awhile."
Ron nodded, waved his goodbye to a distracted looking Sirius, and shuffled from the office.
***
Draco scowled at the scene that greeted him in the courtyard. She was still attempting to keep up appearances, apparently. The clumsy footfalls that echoed his own reminded him that he was no different. He sighed and strolled towards the trio, Crabbe and Goyle following closely in his wake.
Hermione, very ill at ease around her fellow Housemates after Saturday night, had decided that it would be best to make some sort of truce with Ron. There had been minimal sputtering of pumpkin juice over breakfast Monday morning and she had calmly followed him and Harry to the courtyard during their morning break. She arranged herself and her studies carefully on the grass by the pair as they heatedly discussed some Quidditch matter or another.
The drawling, familiar voice met her ears before she could prepare herself, and she shivered, remembering the things it had said to her last night.
"Potter, Weasley, another lover's quarrel?"
She stole a glance at his snarling face. He looked distinctly pained this morning as he spoke. She noted how carefully he avoided her gaze.
Harry dazedly turned to face Draco, and Ron sighed deeply, as if he was being forced to deal with people miles below his level of intellect. Hermione was suddenly strongly reminded of Percy.
"Malfoy, get lost."
Draco raised an eyebrow, as if he was surprised at Ron's somewhat civilized response, but Hermione now knew him well enough to recognize what truly lay behind those eyes. He wasn't up to speed this morning. He didn't have any insults for Ron - and Hermione realized with a great deal of shock that he didn't seem to care about Ron anymore. There was no dislike in his eyes, only indifference. She wondered where all of the passionate anger had gone.
She was so lost, in fact, in her thoughts that she failed to take note of Harry's reaction to Draco's appearance. An odd sort of dawning appeared in his facial expression, and with the speed of waking from a deep sleep, he gathered his emotions and senses into a passionate movement towards Draco and heartfelt dialogue to match.
"You - you bastard! You don't deserve her! You'll never - you can't - I want - she doesn't - aargh!"
Harry's attempts at forming coherent speech from his thoughts were conceded in a violent swing at Draco's face. Draco, although appearing entirely caught off guard, managed to duck out of the way just in time, and Hermione shot up from her grassy seat, attempting to calm Harry and instead receiving a blow to the nose from one of his flailing limbs. She shrieked and clutched at her face with her hand, falling away from Harry.
At her scream, several things occurred simultaneously. Draco froze, looking to Hermione, and forgot to dodge Harry's fists. Harry's right hook met with Draco's left temple before he realized what the shriek had signified and he too froze, turning around to face her. Draco, being temporarily knocked off his feet, was unable (and perhaps unwilling, in any case) to prevent Crabbe and Goyle from taking up his fight with Harry.
Ron watched, in dumbstruck horror, as blood began to flow from underneath Hermione's hands, steadily darkening the white collar of her shirt to a deep shade of red, as Draco flew backwards from the blow Harry had delivered, and as Goyle and Crabbe began to charge Harry from behind…
Ron's hand flew to his wand, but before he could even lay his fingers on the cool willow, he heard Hermione's shouts, much less frightened or fragile this time, and watched Crabbe and Goyle fly back several yards, landing hard on their head and backside, respectively.
Blood still streaming down her face and into the shirt beneath her robes, she dove towards Harry, muttering nothing that Ron could make out. He watched her wand emit a series of colored sparks as she spoke and in a matter of seconds, Harry began to sit upright, shaking himself. Expecting her to turn the next bit of healing magic to herself, he was surprised to watch her turn instead to the spot Malfoy had occupied moments earlier… only he was no longer there.
He watched, quietly, as a battle for tears raged within her eyes and when he could no longer bear the pain that they expressed, he turned his attention to Harry and the professors that were quickly approaching. She really was in love with him…Upon this realization, Ron decided that he would no longer push the issue of Draco Malfoy with Hermione. As much as it pained him to accept, he finally understood that if it came down to a choice between them - if it was his friendship or Malfoy - she would run to the snarky blonde and never turn back.
***
After a frivolous trip to the hospital wing, Hermione Granger made her way to the dungeons. Her thoughts were racing furiously, but seemed to center around the same, repeating sentiment. 'Enough of all of the bullshit. I'm not going to play games anymore. I'm not going to hide things anymore. This is getting ridiculous.'
Although her nose was still a little sore from the second-rate healing spell she'd used to mend the broken bone and bruised cartilage, her anger wouldn't allow her a second to feel any self-pity.
'Just who does he think he is? He's the one who suggested the Charms' classroom for meetings in the first place - you'd think he'd want things kept quiet. So where does he get off acting as if I've done something wrong, when all I'm doing is trying to keep up appearances?'
'Then again, maybe he's not upset. Maybe he had to leave for some other reason.'
In spite of herself, she couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt over her rush to Harry before Draco.
"Hermione!"
Oh, fate was playing some cruel jokes today. She turned slowly, meeting the green, bespectacled eyes of the boy rushing towards her. She smiled slightly, and he stopped short in front of her, gasping for air. He must have been quite some ways behind her.
"Hermione - I -" Harry paused, taking a deep breath.
She reached out and gingerly patted him on the shoulder. "It's okay, Harry. I'm in no hurry. I won't go running off."
Slightly out of her current range of focus, she noted a red-headed boy rushing towards them. 'Oh, Lord yes. Let's get the whole of Gryffindor House to congregate on the steps to the dungeons, shall we?' She frowned and turned her attention back to Harry, a determined glint in his eyes. Finally having caught his breath, he began to speak just as Ron reached the pair of them.
"Hermione. I love you. I know about - about you and Draco. But… But I love you. I always have."
Harry blushed and instantly turned his gaze to his feet. Ron's mouth dropped open in a not-so-carefully disguised display of shock, and a look of alarm spread to his eyes as his gaze swept to Hermione.
Hermione realized her own mouth was slightly agape, and amended the situation by stepping forward and taking Harry into a gentle embrace. He responded eagerly, at first, but then relaxed into a comfortable hug. She pulled away to find that Harry had regained his unfocused look, and when she looked to Ron to acknowledge this, she found a very red Ron shuffling his feet and carefully inspecting the opposite side of the stairwell. She laughed.
"Ron, come here."
She pulled Ron into a quick, tight hug and was turning back to a rather dazed Harry when she heard the drawling voice.
"If you wouldn't mind moving this nauseating display to your own tower, I'd appreciate it. It's bad enough that I have to see any of you alone, during the day, but to invade into my free time with an orgy in my living space is really quite inconsiderate."
Hermione didn't know she could spin so quickly. Had she not felt such a strong rush of anger, she would have been proud that she hadn't fallen from such a fast movement. When she met his eyes, she found what had been missing earlier that day. There was no mistaking the passionate anger in those gray eyes, but there was something else. Something that looked a great deal like… jealousy?
Her gritted teeth loosened as this realization hit her, making her speech much less confident than she would have liked.
"Draco."
He rolled his eyes, focusing his stare on the opposite wall and sighed. "Yes, Granger. I hate to add to your know-it-all complex, but you're right, once again."
Her eyes narrowed and she felt the anger creeping back. Jealousy was one thing, but acting like a prat because of it was entirely different. She had done nothing to warrant such cold remarks. She moved down the stairs, coming as close to him as she dared, until she could feel his breath on her neck - until she was sure that he couldn't ignore her.
"Draco, what the hell is your problem?"
It had been in a whisper, but he reacted as though she had screamed it. He glared at her (although she noted that he did nothing to remove them from the rather close proximity she had put them in) and then at Harry and Ron.
"I suppose I'm just disgusted at the amount of time you three spend together," he motioned with his head towards the boys, as if she needed reminding. "I guess I'm just wondering what's going on with-"
He stopped himself short, but she knew perfectly well what the next word through his gritted teeth would have been. She had been right - there had been jealousy in those now cold eyes.
She sighed and wrapped her arms around Draco's neck, allowing her weight to fall against him, but hesitated to allow her lips the same comfort. Draco didn't respond, but she felt his shoulders loosen, and noticed the movement his arms made towards her that he had so carefully tried to disguise as a shrug. He cleared his throat.
"Draco. Stop being so ridiculous. Obviously, there's nothing. It's just you…" Hermione smiled as his gaze softened, his eyes widening slightly in surprise and he allowed himself to lean into her. Their lips had almost met when she pulled away, abruptly. "But if you ever act like such a prat with me again, it won't be."
He opened his mouth, perhaps to defend himself, but thinking better of it, he closed it again and nodded, shooting a fierce, defiant gaze in Ron and Harry's direction that clearly said, 'if either of you breathe a word of this interaction to anyone, I'll kill you'.
Hermione turned back to a still-dazed Harry and an oddly bemused-looking Ron. Before she could say anything to either of them, Ron turned his attention to her.
"Sorry Hermione, but we've got to go. I'll see you later, yea?"
Without waiting for her response, Ron spun on his heel, tugging Harry along with him.
***
Lucius Malfoy was not pleased. Normally, being called was only a slight inconvenience, accompanied by a rather irritating pain in the forearm. The entire process, however, took on a whole new dimension when the Dark Lord was angry.
So, the stupid little Mudblood had killed Nott. Certainly displeasing to Lord Voldemort. What interested Lucius, however, was how she had chosen to do so. She had used the killing curse. Of all of the defenses she could have used… After all, she obviously had no problem with what Lucius assumed was a rather weak Imperius if she had managed to kill the man. He was certain that Nott hadn't ordered that.
And, as if losing a follower wasn't bad enough, the Dark Lord had been shown up by a sixteen-year- old Mudblood. And Voldemort had wanted Granger because of some link with Potter. So, yet another reason for him to be upset. A Mudblood had killed one of his followers and thrown an obstacle in the way of his plans.
He sighed, rubbing his still-pained forearm and stalked into the library, slamming the door behind him. He had never liked the Gryffindor Mudblood. Not since she had first bested his son in academics, five years ago. How dare a girl of dirty blood show up the pride of the Malfoy family?
He grimaced and reminded himself that he would be able to unleash this anger soon. The Dark Lord informed him that he had sent Draco the owl, and had instructed Lucius to succeed where Nott had failed. He would not let his Lord down. Oh no. And Draco would soon be able to assist his father. She would pay. She would pay dearly with her dirty blood.
***
"Draco. Wait. I don't understand. Please…"
He continued his pacing and savagely flipped his hair with his hand before answering her through clenched teeth.
"You. Can't. Understand. Leave it alone, Granger."
She cast her gaze towards the floor. He was calling her Granger again. She allowed herself to sulk over this for a few moments before the words sunk in and made her indignant. Why couldn't she understand? What was it that was so above her?
Draco had stopped pacing. She looked up to find that he was watching her. She took a deep breath, lifted her eyebrows and folded her arms. He was not going to make her feel inferior.
Draco rubbed his face roughly before approaching her. "God, Hermione. I really can't do this tonight. This has nothing to do with you, okay? But let's just say that I have a 'project' due tomorrow, and call it even."
With that said, he turned from her and exited the classroom.
***
Hermione yawned and glanced again at the clock.
Waiting to sleep was bad enough, but pretending to be asleep made it almost impossible to stay awake.
Would they ever go to sleep? Judging from the incessant giggling, she doubted it.
It was at moments like this that Harry's invisibility cloak would come in handy.
But no. She really couldn't. She couldn't tell him why she needed it, especially after his admission in the dungeons today… and he would surely want to know. He'd have a right to know.
But it would make things so much easier… Maybe just this once.
With that thought in mind, Hermione slipped quietly out of bed and padded from her dormitory to the common room. He was still there, of course, in front of the fire.
"Harry?"
He started at her voice. She supposed she had been a little too quiet. That and his unnatural fascination with the flames.
"Y-yes? Hermione?"
"I was wondering..." and then she actually saw him. She saw the lost, frightened little boy that he had always been. She saw the brave, stoic child that had clung desperately to the cloak his father had left him. She noticed how, when his eyes focused on her, they spelled nothing but love. She saw how much of a betrayal it would be to take the cloak, and, for the first time since she had begun her lessons, she truly understood how much she was betraying him, even without the cloak.
***
Hermione paused in her pacing to glance out the window. She wondered if he had received her owl. It bothered her immensely that he had blown off the earlier meeting and now that she was here, she wondered if he would show.
"Hermione."
She turned and gave a weak smile at his arrival. Draco nodded. "What's wrong?"
She sighed and rubbed her eyes. "I feel like such an imbecile, especially now. Especially after what just happened…"
She paused in her speech, unsure of whether or not she should really tell him what realization Harry's reaction had brought her.
Draco raised an eyebrow and glanced behind him. "Care to explain?"
"It's… It's…well… first it was you and now Harry."
Draco took a few steps towards her. "What? What are you talking about?"
She took a deep breath. "Earlier, you were so upset… And you acted like I wasn't capable of understanding whatever it was that was bothering you. And then you just blew me off. And I thought I was okay with that… But I wasn't. And so the whole point of this was to talk to you about that, and I knew it was late and I really didn't want to get caught and in spite of it all, it's still slightly unnerving to sneak around and…"
Draco waited for a few moments, watching her. "And? And what?"
"I went to ask Harry if I could borrow his cloak."
Draco cursed under his breath and turned away from her. "Let me guess… you went to get his cloak and your conscience stepped in and suddenly 'oh I'm a horrible person, look what I'm doing.'"
Hermione glared at the back of his head. "Maybe if you had a conscience or a heart of any kind, you would understand."
She had never seen him move so quickly. Suddenly, he was facing her, mere centimeters from her face. "Don't you ever dare talk to me about having either of those. You have no idea… You don't know me at all. And I'm sorry that I can't sympathize with you… that I wasn't raised in some sheltered, middle class Muggle home. Emotions aren't things I like to broadcast to the world, you self-righteous bitch."
Hermione's mind raced across her possible reactions to this statement. She wanted to hurt him now. Oh how she wanted to hurt him. Yelling back would put him in the right. Crying would prove how easily she showed her feelings. She decided on a calm, collected acceptance.
"Bravo. Nicely done. I come to you, upset at the way you're treating me and the way I'm treating Harry. Yes, I pour my heart out to you – the one person I can talk to about this. And how do you answer me? You try to hurt me more. You astound me, Draco Malfoy. No, I guess I don't know you. And I don't know that I want to anymore."
She turned from him then, and attempted to stroll gracefully from the classroom. She was almost through the doorway, almost to the point where she would completely forsake their relationship… when she heard him.
"I'm sorry."
***
Hermione stopped but didn't turn at first. Finally, after several minutes and a few deep breaths, when she was sure that she could remain composed, she turned and faced him.
"Come, sit," he paused for a moment and when she didn't obey he added, tentatively, "please?"
Slowly, Hermione walked to a desk near him and leaned against it. She refused to look at him, opting instead to examine her hands.
"I… I …don't know where to begin. I don't know how much I should… how much I can tell you."
She nodded in response but didn't look up.
"Alright… First off… I'm not doing this… this thing… to Harry for my own sadistic pleasure."
Her eyebrows and her gaze shot up.
He sighed and turned away from her. "I don't really give a damn about him either way, to tell you the truth."
She waited.
"I… Well… Okay… I've been where you are right now. I've been there. I wanted power. I wanted knowledge. I wanted to learn this magic." He paused and turned towards her, but his eyes were downcast. "My mother would never let my father teach me anything regarding the Dark Arts. I've never really been allowed to discuss them with him… To discuss his… His hobbies… So I had to find another teacher." He sighed and glanced up at her before returning his gaze to the floor.
"Only I didn't… I didn't choose my teacher very well." At this, he sat down on the floor of the classroom and began tracing designs on the stone tiles. She didn't know if he would speak again. When he did, his voice sounded choked.
"Only the best for the Malfoys, you know…" He smiled a very fake, very facetious smile. "I got lessons from Voldemort himself."
It was then that he looked up at her, nothing but pain etched in his icy blue gaze. "Hermione… I… He… It wasn't what it should have been at all. He didn't teach me so much as he used me for his own gain. But I was desperate. I was sure…" he paused and laughed very hollowly, very coldly, "I was sure that I was beating him at his own game… that I would learn something from everything he made me do, regardless of what that something was."
She bit her lip. He nodded as if she had spoken her inner anguish. "You don't beat the Dark Lord. Not at anything. Not unless you wear a cute little scar across your forehead."
He sighed. "Which brings us to the subject at hand. Voldemort had assured me that this… this thing with Harry would be my last mission. I was supposed to be done after this, done with these lessons. These last two years of lessons… I was finally going to be my own man. I was going to use what I learned for what I wanted to use it for. And today I got an owl…"
He paused and rubbed his eyes. She could tell by the terrible pitch of his voice that he wanted to cry.
"I'm supposed to receive the dark mark next weekend. Voldemort wants me as one of his… his pathetic spineless followers… This… this was never part of the deal… but I'm not nearly powerful enough to go against him, and once he has his sights set on you, you have one option."
He was silent for a few moments before adding, "…well… two if you count death."
Hermione couldn't believe the resignation in this boy she had always thought to be so self-assured and strong. "But… Draco… You're not just giving up?"
He looked up at her again. "Yes. I am. What else do you propose I do?"
She sighed and began pacing the room.
He took a deep breath a reached out a hand to stop her. "Look, I want to show you something." Picking up his wand, he wrote his name very carefully in the air, the D and the M glowing especially brightly. As she watched, the letters following the initials changed… first to Dark Magic and then to Dark Mark.
She gasped, a little surprised.
He nodded and waved at the letters again, making them disappear. "I know it's really silly and probably insignificant, it's just… It's just like the final icing on the cake. This is what I'm supposed to be."
She shook her head fervently. "No. You can go on your own. You shouldn't need anyone else. You're so much stronger than that." Tears were creeping into her speech.
Draco sighed and stood up, pulling her into a tight hug. She had forgotten how amazing it felt to be in his arms. She never wanted to pull away. She stayed there, gripping him tightly, and focused her gaze determinedly at the floor, as if staring it down would make Draco change his mind… As if his decision would be swayed by how long she kept him in the classroom.
One of the floor tiles began to glow, and she gasped, remembering how it had happened before. Draco pulled away quickly, his eyes full of concern.
"What?"
She pointed at the tiles and as his gaze swung to the several now-brightly glowing squares, she muttered, "It's happening again".
Draco's stare shot quickly to her face, his eyes full of shock. He grabbed her shoulders, a little roughly, and continued to stare at her intensely. "You… you did that? Without a wand? And you've done it before?"
A little frightened by his intensity, she nodded, biting her lip. Draco cursed and released her, muttering things she couldn't quite make out under his breath.
"Draco… Please tell me… What? What's happening?"
He stalked back towards her, running a hand absently through his hair, and sighed. "It's actually pretty logical. Think about it. When could you do wandless magic before? When you couldn't control it, before you learned how to direct it - before you got a wand." He paused and watched her. She bit her lip and tried desperately to make the link he obviously expected her to make.
"Hermione… the Dark Arts… Well... They make you a great deal more powerful. Why do you suppose Slytherin has such a," he muttered something under his breath that could have been 'bigoted-Gryffindor' and continued, "...reputation for being involved with the Dark Arts? We're ambitious. We are sorted into Slytherin accordingly. Only the Pure, only the cunning, only the ambitious best."
Hermione waited for him to continue, but he seemed lost in his thoughts now, staring off into space. She cleared her throat and he swung his focus back to her.
"The point is, learning the Dark Arts makes you more powerful. I suppose you could follow the old 'knowledge is power' adage, but personally I think it has more to do with gaining such godlike powers as the ability to take life, to control another life… to bring people back to life…" He grimaced and rubbed his forehead. "And, Hermione, you have gained a great deal of power in a very short period of time. The problem here is that you lack control. You're like a first year who could pass every written OWL and NEWT, but wouldn't be able to perform Winguardium Leviosa if your life depended on it. I've moved you much too fast, and done nothing but make you dangerous and given you knowledge you can't use."
Hermione's mouth dropped open. "But… but I've been able to perform every spell I've tried! I must be able to control it… Nothing's happened. Why should I be worried about some rubbish like glowing tiles?"
Draco scowled. "Alright, so I didn't use the best analogy. You're more like a pre-first year who knows the material but can't be blamed when he gets angry at dinner one night and his sister's water glass explodes. You're dangerous, Hermione. You need to learn to direct the power you possess. You have to learn to temper your emotions. You've learned the magic, but now you need to learn control. It should have been the first thing I taught you but I… Well, I failed you." He sighed. "And I think we should call it a night. Think about what I've told you. Don't get angry. For the love of Merlin, don't get angry. Until tomorrow, love."
He stepped forward and kissed her, lightly, before turning on his heel and sweeping from the classroom.
