They'd found a table round a corner in the shadows at the back. The library wasn't a naturally private place. It took effort to find somewhere you could really hide, especially from Madam Pince. Hermione sniffed and sneezed.
"We've found a part of the library as yet unexplored by mouse or man," Draco said in soft wonder.
Hermione brushed thick dust off of the backs of some of the books for a closer look, and sneezed again. The dust resettled where it had started. She frowned at the volumes.
"It's Plato," she said. "What's Plato doing here?"
Draco shrugged. Ancient philosophers and wizards weren't his thing. Like pretty much everyone else in the school, he'd never managed to pay enough attention in History of Magic to give a damn.
Hermione sighed and turned back to him. "Do you have everything we got yesterday?" she asked.
"No, my bag is full of books," Draco snapped sarcastically. Sleep deprivation tended to affect him rather strongly.
Hermione gave him a level stare. He groaned and tipped the packages out onto the seamy table. Something that looked like a purple turnip, four hundred grams of powdered forget-me-not, a fluffy yellow cucumber, two rabbit's feet and a swollen tuber.
It didn't exactly smell nice.
Hermione studied her carefully copied instructions. The turnip thing was Dragons Chutney and the cucumber shaped fluff was described as Strongbody Fruit. The swollen tuber was identified as just that. Hermione suspected it was just a potato under a more interesting name. The rabbit's feet made her cringe.
"The dragons chutney needs to be cubed and soaked in the juice of the tuber," Hermione scanned the parchment. "We want to have the strongbody fruit and cut the hairs until they're the same length as those on the rabbit's feet. And, oh, you can do this bit, we need to pull the nails out of those feet."
"I can do that bit?" Draco raised an eyebrow. "Not likely. I'll do the strongbody fruit." he reached down and grabbed it. Hermione flinched. "What?" he dropped it hurriedly.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Wait for instructions, okay?" she said. "For all you know those hairs could be deadly poisonous."
"Are they?" Draco asked cautiously.
"No, lucky for you," she said coolly. "Though if you tried the same with the forget-me-not powder you'd have blue skin for months. And you're definitely dong the rabbit's feet."
"Why?" he asked petulantly.
"I don't like rabbits," Hermione said bluntly.
"They're feet," Draco said coldly. "I don't want to rip nails out of anything. I'm not good with blood."
"They're old," Hermione snapped irritably. "There won't be any blood in them."
"So why won't you do it?" Draco whined.
Hermione looked away. "I had a rabbit once," she said.
"You say that like it's the end of the story," Draco prompted scornfully.
"It died."
"And..."
"It ate its babies. We had it put down."
Draco picked up the rabbit's claws and Hermione wordlessly handed him a pair of pliers.
They worked in silence, Hermione juicing the tuber and chopping the Dragons Chutney while Draco moved onto shaving the Strongbody Fruit. They had stacked several piles of books acting as a screen on the table, and kept their business compact. Still, every footstep walking past the column of shelves made two pairs of shoulders tense and the passer-by found him or herself watched by cold pairs of eyes over dusty volumes.
They couldn't have looked more suspicious if they tried, Harry felt, watching them through a chink between shelved books. Ron sat next to him and fumed.
"Are they talking?"
"I can't hear anything."
"What's going on?"
"I'm not sure. Walk past again."
"Yes, because I'm not bloody obvious. You go. Your hair doesn't stand out like a firefly at a moths ball."
"We'll get Neville to go."
Hermione frowned at the distant whispering, but it was the kind of background noise you came to expect in the library. Still, it caught her attention, and that worried her.
"I had a pet snake, once," Draco said awkwardly. "Big green thing."
"You don't even know what species, do you?" Hermione said scathingly. She wanted to discourage this conversation now.
"Green mamba. Illegal, deadly, terrifying to a nine-year-old boy. I lied and told father it had bitten one of the house elves so he'd get rid of it. He let it loose in the cellar instead, to chase them. I went down once, a few years ago, and suddenly it was just there. I thought it was that snake Voldemort's rumoured to have."
"What did you do?" Hermione asked, drawn in.
"Ran. But this was just after father was arrested, so I was man of the house. I had to do something, no matter how much I didn't want to. So I snuck back down later, with a huge torch. It was gone. I made the house elves keep watch down there. When they started disappearing I knew it was still around."
"What did you do?" Hermione asked again.
"I searched the catacombs, trying to work out where it was getting in and out, with Crabbe and Goyle. We ran out of sacking to plug the last couple of gaps, so I left Crabbe sitting in one and Goyle in another. The snake was in there, I was certain, because it had just started to snow outside and any cold blooded creature would go seeking for warmer climes." Draco sighed, and grimaced. "It wasn't, though. I searched for hours. House elves everywhere."
"That's an abuse of their rights," Hermione grumbled.
"They don't have rights," Draco frowned blankly.
"Exactly!"
"Tell you what, since I don't understand what your point is I'm going to ignore the fact you're trying to make it," Draco said breezily. Hermione's face clouded over. "Anyway, we couldn't find the snake. I was getting tired and scared and tired of being scared. Crabbe and Goyle had wandered off. So I gave up, basically. I wandered back up stairs and, later, basically, I went to bed."
"It was in your bed, wasn't it?" Hermione said.
"By the time I was done it was in my bed, in my cupboard, in my chandelier... I was possibly a bit overzealous," Draco grimaced.
Hermione sighed. Draco sat with his arms folded across his chest, leaning back in his chair with his chin against his chest so he could look straight at her. He was smiling slightly.
"So fiercely proud of slaughtering some poor defenceless animal," Hermione snorted.
"Did you not hear the green mamba bit? Deadliest snake?" Draco's eyebrows disappeared into his hair and he unfolded his arms to gesture sharply.
"It was just looking for somewhere warm," Hermione insisted.
"And something to eat!" Draco snarled.
Neville stumbled back to Ron and Harry looking slightly traumatised.
"Draco sleeps with snakes," he announced.
"You what?" Ron said incredulously.
"That's what they're talking about," Neville insisted shakily. "I'm not going back there."
"What did Hermione say?" Harry asked firmly, sitting Neville down and pressing a bar of chocolate into his hands.
"That he shouldn't have done it," Neville breathed. "What's going on?" he asked plaintively.
"No eating in the library!" Madam Pince appeared behind Ron's shoulder, making him spin around and stumble backwards while Harry jumped and Neville leaped out of his chair. "All of you, out! Now!"
Hermione turned in her chair towards the commotion. She squinted between the shelves.
"Oh god," she breathed, "Harry and Ron were spying on us."
The three boys were marched passed the table where Hermione and Draco sat. Draco craned his neck to see over their shield of books.
"Looks like they're roped Longbottom in too." He paused, "Hey, can I still take the piss out of him? That name would be begging for it, even if he were in Slytherin. And as for magic..." he scoffed.
"I wonder what Pansy will say if we get this wrong, and your dick swells up and pops?"
"Point taken."
"Good."
They stared at the ingredients arrayed before them.
"So what did that shopkeeper say we needed?" Draco asked.
"Lesser Common Spotted Gillyweed," Hermione said. "And you asked for it."
"I asked for what?"
"Lesser Common Spotted Gillyweed. At the shop. And if I have to say 'Lesser Common Spotted Gillyweed' again I think I might faint from asphyxiation."
Draco grinned. "LCSG, then?"
"I'll forget that," Hermione told him. "Its just Gillyweed, isn't it?"
"I guess so," Draco admitted. "Where do we get it from?"
"Snape's cupboard," Hermione said simply. "Perhaps we ought to ask Dobby. He managed to get some for Harry during the Triwizard Tournament, and he's much less likely to be spotted than either of us."
Draco's mouth twisted. "A house elf? Worse, a manumitted house elf? Granger, Hermione, come on. You can't trust those things to do a job even if you stand over them with a whip. We have to do this ourselves."
Hermione fumed.
"Fine," she snapped. "You can do it."
"Oh no, I found the book," Draco said hurriedly. "You can have the honour of raiding Snape's stores."
"We'll do it together," Hermione said firmly to prevent further arguments. "Tonight. How easy is it for you to get out of your dorm?"
"Too easy," Draco snorted. "Where shall we meet?"
"Outside the dungeon," Hermione decided. "Midnight."
"What about Filch?"
"I'll distract him, while you make certain Snape isn't going to walk in on us."
"How am I meant to do that?" Draco sat back incredulously.
Hermione smiled, and Draco wondered if that was the kind of look he got when coming up with plans like the dress up as a dementor one. He hoped whatever wickedness Hermione had planned would go a little better than that.
"Plant the book in his office," Hermione said calmly.
"What book?" Draco frowned.
"The book."
"Oh, that book."
"Yes."
"In his office."
"Yes."
"For him to read."
"Yes."
"Because that's not going to traumatise me for life," Draco swallowed. "You know, I'm going to need years of therapy just to discuss the events of this week."
"You and me both," Hermione assured him. "Tonight, remember."
"How could I forget?" Draco moaned. "I can't go to the lavatory without a sharp reminder."
"Did not want that mental picture," Hermione told him as she gathered her books.
"If I have to live with it, so do you," Draco said. "I'll take this little lot, shall I?"
"I ought to," Hermione said. "I've got my own room, so there's less chance of anyone finding them. I guess we ought to make the potion and apply it in there as well. For the privacy."
"People are going to reach so many conclusions," Draco sighed. "Except they're not, because there's really only one you can jump to."
"We can do it in your dorm room, if you like," Hermione smiled sweetly. "With Crabbe and Goyle and Blaise and god knows who else looking on."
"Here, I'll help you pack this stuff in your bag," Draco grinned brightly.
Night"Ouch!"
"Shh!"
"I take it that's you."
"And you?"
"Yes, I think I'm here too."
"Very funny, Malfoy."
"Lumos"
Hermione and Draco stared at each other in the darkness. For some reason, Hermione was wearing her nightgown.
"Turn that off!"
"What's wrong with you?" Draco hissed and Hermione wrapped one hand around the glowing tip of her wand. For some reason, her other was still tucked into her dressing gown.
"We'll be seen!"
"And if we have no light we'll be heard!"
They glowered at each other in the faint red light that seeped between Hermione's fingers. Draco yanked his wand back and they both had to shield themselves from what now seemed like a very bright light.
"Put it out," Hermione growled. "I've got an alternative."
Draco pouted, but did as she suggested. Hermione pulled her hand from her pocket, and in it she held a small blue flame.
"I heard you could do that," Draco said with grudging admiration. "Didn't know it was a cold flame though."
"I altered the spell slightly. Cold, waterproof and portable," Hermione smirked.
"You should sell that," Draco whistled approvingly.
"Maybe I will. Now, so come on, we have some late night thievery to do."
"I'm right behind you," Draco smiled.
"Oh no you're not. You're the Slytherin prefect, you go first," Hermione grabbed him and pushed him bodily in front of her, keeping her grip on the tops of his arms to guide him down the steps.
"What am I going to do if Snape turns up?" Draco gasped.
"I thought you'd distracted him," Hermione pointed out.
"So why do I have to go first then?"
"Because even I could take you in a fight, Malfoy. If I say you're going first, you're going first."
Draco pulled himself out of her grasp and turned to face her, one step down and forced to look up. It was, he realised, not the most threatening position for her. Still, he had to make do. He breathed deeply, squared his shoulders and folded his arms.
"Don't jump to conclusions," he sneered, "in case you miss your landing. Just because I'm short and slim does not mean I'm weak."
"You're practically the same build as I am," Hermione pointed out.
"I do more exercise than you," Draco returned.
"You're a seeker. Know that physique that gives you? Great thighs. I tremble in dread of your thighs." Hermione sniffed.
"I ride, and swim, and I hunt," Draco said. "You ought to fear my thighs, and the rest of me. And try saying that with a straight face," he grinned, defeated.
Hermione laughed. "We're talking about your thighs outside of Snape's dungeons, just prior to stealing supplies so you can sleep with your girlfriend. I really wish I'd bet the odds against least likely things to happen to me, ever. I'd be richer than you by now."
"Gryffindor have a gambling circuit?" Draco asked, back to whispering again, as they made there way between rows of stained tables and abandoned cauldrons.
"Fred and George," Hermione explained simply. "They tried to convince everyone to think of the least likely thing that might happen to them, and they gave odds on it. I refused to play along, more's the pity."
"You never play along, so you?" Draco snorted. "Little miss goody-two-shoes."
"Yes, because you're such a rebel," Hermione hissed dryly.
Draco grimaced and sighed. They stared at the forbidding cupboard. "Do you think this will be the most illegal thing I'll ever do?" he asked.
"Probably," Hermione shrugged. She frowned. "God, that was blasé."
"Potter's a bad influence on you, though I'm sure once everyone goes their separate ways you'll be utterly white bread again," Draco reassured her.
"Like I've been this year? It's good to be good, I know. It makes life easier, makes people like you, and, I don't know, it's safe."
"You're sick of it, aren't you?" Draco grinned.
"It's not breaking rules," Hermione said, "that interests me. It's just, I don't know, being noticed for it."
"A little notoriety never goes astray," Draco said solemnly.
"How would you know?" Hermione asked scornfully. "The only way you earn notoriety is by being a prat, which just means people hate you. People like me."
"Had to remind yourself there, didn't you?" Draco said softly as she moved away. She didn't reply. She hadn't heard, he decided. She wouldn't let a comment like that go by otherwise.
The cupboard stubbornly refused to open at a simple alohormora, but Draco produced a strange key that, when inserted, made the door swing open immediately.
"What's that?" Hermione hissed.
"Thief's Exit, I think it was called," Draco said, turning the twisted metal over in the palm of his hand. "Got it at Borgin's place, in Knockturn Alley. Opens any door locked from the other side."
Hermione blinked. "It's a cupboard," she pointed out. "How could you lock it from the inside?"
"Well, what have we here?" a deep, slimy voice echoed from the dark depths of the closet. "I thought better of you, Malfoy."
Two pairs of eyes widened. One pair then narrowed in anger, and directed its gaze at the second pair, which narrowed in suspicion.
"Peeves, I know that's you," Draco said firmly. "Snape's nowhere around here."
"Ah-aa-ow-oh," Peeves whined. "You couldn't play along for just a bit longer?"
"No," Draco snapped. "We're busy. Clear off."
"Or what?" Peeves sneered.
"Or I'll petrify you," Hermione told him. "And if you go to Filch he won't thank you."
"We'll see about that!" Peeves snapped triumphantly. He ghosted away through the war, singing nasally, "Granger and Malfoy, sitting in a labor't'ry, K-I-S-S-I-N-G."
"Idiot!" Draco slapped Hermione across the back of the head, making her stumble into the gloom of the cupboard. "What did you say that for?"
"Because Filch really won't thank him," Hermione smirked at him, face cold and unpleasant in the flickering blue light.
"What's Filch doing?" Draco asked slowly.
Hermione shook her head. "I thought you said you'd had enough of disturbing images."
"He's not with Snape, is he?" Draco swallowed.
Hermione froze. "You," she said eventually, "need to see a psychiatrist."
"I," Draco replied in the same carefully measured tones, "need a memory charm."
In silent consent, they turned to the contents of the cupboard. Hermione found the weed they wanted first, cold and damp are carefully wrapped in layers of cotton. She unwrapped it carefully and sighed.
"How are we going to get this back to my room?" she asked. "We need to leave the wrapping behind, or Snape will know the minute he comes in here that it's gone." She chewed her lip, rubbing the rubbery leaf of the spotted plant between two fingers. "It'll dry out unless wrapped up carefully. It mentioned in the Herbology text book that any kind of Gillyweed needs to be carefully wrapped in damp cotton to keep it from drying out."
Draco frowned. "It won't be damp," he warned vaguely, and turned around.
Hermione shot him a sideways look, as he hitched up his robes. When he turned back, he had a pair of socks in his hand. Hermione reached out to take the balled up socks, but withdrew her hand again.
"Oh, don't be such a wuss," Draco snapped, a grin taking the edge out of his brusqueness.
But then, crime of crimes, Hermione started to giggle.
Draco snatched the gillyweed and bundled it up inside the socks. Draco thrust the package back into her hands. "Run it under the tap when you get back to your room," he told her abruptly. "You can keep them."
Hermione was left blinking at a pair of socks as Draco swept past her. He strode through the dungeon at a measured pace, but she heard his footsteps speed up as they echoed through around the stone staircase. Hermione ducked out of the cupboard and kicked it shut with her foot before sprinting after Draco.
She caught up with him at the top of the stairs, but he ignored her. She watched him walk down the corridor towards the dungeon that housed Slytherin. She took two steps after him, but caught sight of her reflection in a dark window. Time to go back to bed.
