Title – Hate's Sweet Seduction
Chapter 17 – Hidden Depths
Characters: Draco/Hermione
Rating: R
Author's Note: No copyright infringement on the works of JK Rowling or the world of Harry Potter is intended in this fanfiction.
This chapter has been awhile in coming – but I'm rather proud of it. I'm working with the characters and getting to a more indepth view of them, and I wrote it all in about three days, as well. :D Maybe if we keep our fingers crossed, things will continue this way.
Thanks once again to all of you who have read and reviewed and supported me – you have no idea how much those random IM's and emails mean to me. :D Hope you like this latest installment.
~ Kiara
The next morning Hermione was awakened by the sound of Lavendar and Parvati chattering away happily. Blinking sleepily, she raised her head off her pillow, spotting the two girls across the room, clustered together in front of the large silver mirror standing that stood in a corner. She heard Lavendar tell Parvati that she was going to try a new makeup spell for the day, and shook her head groggily. Oh, she did use spells herself, on occasion, when she really wanted to look nice for the day – but she still didn't quite understand the other girls' obsession with fussing over their appearances. Hermione was glad for the distraction, however – if the girls were wrapped up in their own reflections, they wouldn't be pestering her about why she had been acting so oddly lately.
She knew that she had been acting oddly lately – but still, the questions she was badgered with every morning were just a nuisance when she couldn't confide in anybody what exactly was bothering her. Hermione sighed and rolled over. There was a time when she would have used these extra few minutes at the start of the day as an opportunity to get more studying in, but she hadn't done that at all this year. A frown creased her forehead as she thought over how she had acted since the year began.
It wasn't that she didn't think learning was important – she still wanted to do well, still knew that she had to do well if she wanted to be successful – or safe – in the wizarding world. But that goal had taken a back seat over the last two weeks, at the very time of year when she was normally fresh and excited to learn all she could. Up until last night, that had been because she was confused and stressed over the threat to her parents – but now, with Draco's new plan, there was a shred of hope that hadn't been there before.
In the past, such a shred of hope would have helped her to turn her attention back to her studies right away. Hermione was still pretty sure that she would find herself able to concentrate later on the day. But for now she found her thoughts wandering to the night before, and the way that Draco had been behaving. She still wasn't sure what to think of it. There had been a...depth to Draco, something hidden beneath the surface that she had never noticed before. The way he had been acting and the things he had said - they hadn't really matched up, and it left her wondering who the real Draco was. Had he changed since this whole mess had started? Or had she merely been blind to the fact that there was, indeed a person beyond the snobby arrogance and cruelty that he had always shown to the world - to her, and Harry and Ron?
Hermione shook her head, sitting up in bed. There wasn't any use in pondering on it now, she thought. The only thing that mattered was that he had actually come up with an idea - she didn't know how they were possibly going to use that idea, but the point was that it was there. A glimmer of hope...something that would allow her to maybe, just maybe, concentrate on her studies again before Harry or Ron or somebody else really got worried over how she had been behaving the last little while. The last thing she wanted, or needed, was to find herself being dragged off to Madam Pomfrey because her friends thought that she was acting oddly.
With those thoughts going through her head, Hermione swung her feet over the edge of the bed. For the first time in a long while - since the beginning of the year, really - she was ready to face the day.
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In another part of the castle, Draco too, was lying in bed, listening to the sounds of his roommates getting ready for the day. Hermione, however, had come out on the better end of the stick, because Lavendar and Parvati's fussing noises were nothing in comparison to the sounds of Crabbe and Goyle fighting over the bathroom. As usual, they had over indulged themselves at supper the night before, and when Draco had come back from meeting Hermione, he had found his two dimwitted followers gorging themselves on Sugared Sun Pops. "Enjoy the sweet orangey taste and warm yourself from the inside out!!", the bag had proclaimed. Draco had tried to warn them about the possible side affects from the little treats that were delicious but fiery, but as usual, they had just stared at him stupidly and then continued on shoveling the candy down their throats. It appeared that they were now paying for their gluttony.
Goyle won the fight for possession of the bathroom by conjuring a metal pot out of thin air and allowing it to fall with a dull clunk onto Crabbe's thick skull. Draco raised an eyebrow in surprise - he hadn't know that Goyle possessed that much magical talent - and then hastily swung his feet over the side of the bed as he realized that Goyle had vanished into the bathroom. He really didn't want to start his day off by listening to his roommate struggle with an unhappy stomach. The thick wooden door closed behind him, cutting off the sound of Goyle letting out a heartfelt groan, and Draco breathed a sigh of relief that he had made it out of hearing range of any sounds that might escape the bathroom.
Half an hour later found him strolling into the Great Hall for breakfast. It was a rare occasion that he ever actually ate anything so early in the morning, at home he was usually allowed the luxury of sleeping in. He had long ago realized, however, that rising so early had it's advantages - at least when you were living in a communal environment such as Hogwarts. Morning was when people were still relaxed - sleepy and not on their guard. It was the perfect time to take stock of how people were behaving, and decide how to proceed for the rest of the day.
A quick glance showed him that Granger, Potter and Weasley had taken up their normal spots at the centre of the Gryffindor table. Something made him take a second look, however, and for a few moments Draco still wasn't sure what had prompted him to give any of the Gryffindors more than a fleeting glance. Then his gaze fell upon Granger's face, and he realized what he had noticed - that for the first time in weeks, Hermione actually looked more her normal self. She was ignoring most of the students who were chattering around her, although she was chattering animatedly with Potter and Weasley. A thick book lay open beside her on the table, and Hermione was glancing at it in-between bites of toast and exchanges with her friends.
Draco grinned despite himself. It was good to see Hermione back to her old self, he thought. Abruptly he shook his head in frustration. His thoughts had been swinging that way more and more often, lately. Referring to Granger as Hermione, noticing and approving of the way she behaved, watching her more than usual during class – all odd little mental changes that he wasn't sure he liked at all. His father had taught him at an early age that to be successful, you had to keep yourself distant from the people around you. Referring to someone by first name, for example, indicated a level of respect and intimacy that was really only appropriate with family, close friends or better yet, very helpful business partners. The fact that his way of thinking about Granger had changed now, after five years of things always being the same, was disturbing to Draco's peace of mind.
He didn't want to think of Granger as a friend, not even as a willing or helpful ally - he just wanted to stop Filch from blackmailing him and shaming the Malfoy honour - and rid himself of this annoying thorn in his side that had been plaguing him ever since that night he had allowed himself to be swayed by Granger's physical charms. Draco was sure that Filch would contact either Granger or himself soon, and when the old caretaker did, they would be one more step closer to bringing him down.
The only regret that Draco had was that he would give up a chance to hurt Potter - and even that regret was very slight.
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Two days later, at supper, the summons came.
Hermione was finishing up her supper when the two school owls came fluttering into the Great Hall. One went into a steep dive, spiraling down towards the Gryffindor table, the other banked and circled slowly down towards the Slytherin table, at the other side of the Hall. Hermione grimaced when she realized that the owl headed towards the Gryffindor table was no doubt coming to her, but breathed a sigh of relief that Harry and Ron, along with most of her friends in Gryffindor, had already left the table.
This time the scroll was small, with nothing on it that might warrant any curiousity. Hermione was relieved when she saw that the few students who had looked up to see who the owl had gone to were turning back to their meals. She slid her fingernail underneath the small dab of grey wax that sealed the scroll shut and unrolled it carefully, making sure to hold it close to her body and out of the view of prying eyes.
The scroll had one short sentence scrawled upon it's surface - Come to my office after dusk - but it was more than enough to tell Hermione that Filch had at last deigned to contact them. Which meant that he had finally come up with a plan of attack against Harry.
She raised her head and looked across the room, where her gaze was met by a pair of grey eyes. Draco was holding a scroll similar to hers in his slim fingers, and there was no fear or hesitation on his face - just fierce determination. Hermione nodded in reply. A saying that she had heard many times in the Muggle world crossed her mind, and she smiled to herself. Bring it on, Filch, she thought. Bring it on. The second this thought went through her head, however, she felt very foolish, and despite herself a giggle escaped her lips. Some of the students still sitting at the Gryffindor table looked at her oddly, and Hermione was glad to leave her breakfast and escape from the Hall.
The day seemed to pass ever so slowly, but for the first time since the beginning of school, really, Hermione could concentrate on her classes - and even enjoy learning again. Harry and Ron looked surprised when she scolded them for talking during one of Professor Binns' lectures, but the surprise quickly faded into two identical grins.
"Looks like someone is back to normal," Harry said to her at the end of class, as they stood in the hall outside the classroom. His green eyes sparkled at her happily from behind his glasses.
Hermione smiled back at him wistfully. It felt so good to see him smiling at her like that, to return that smile and not feel as though she was pouring salt in a wound she had stabbed into his back.
"I'm not so sure that this is a good thing," Ron groaned. "Next thing you know, she'll be dragging us off to the library to study all day like she did last year."
Hermione glanced at him, her chest contracting just a little bit, but though the words sounded a bit harsh, Ron's grin was just as wide as Harry's. He wrinkled his nose at her impudently and Hermione laughed despite herself.
"Well," she said slowly, "I'm sure you both have been neglecting your studies, and I really should spend this week in the library..."
She let her voice trail off slowly, and then giggled when she saw the looks of dismay the two of them couldn't stop from spreading across their faces. Linking her arms through theirs, she smirked at them.
"If you could see your faces," she laughed. "Come on - let's go have lunch."
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Meanwhile, in another section of Hogwarts, Draco stood before the ornately carved cherry wood desk that was nestled into the corner beside his bed. Reaching out, he ran his hand along the side of the desk. Only someone who looked very closely and probably knew what they were looking for, would spot the almost invisible line that outlined the secret drawer that he had had installed into the desk. Crabbe and Goyle weren't smart enough to even think that there might be a hidden drawer, let alone look for it - but he did live in Slytherin house, and gave credit to the other members of his house for being the sneaky, conniving people that they were.
None of them would be able to open the spell he had placed on that drawer, however. It was keyed to Malfoy blood and the Malfoy name - only someone with both could open the spell successfully. A whispered word had a small drop of blood welling to the surface on his index finger, which Draco ran along the top edge of the drawer. It glowed silver for a moment, and then the drawer slid open with barely a whisper of a sound.
For a moment, Draco stood still, gazing down at the contents of the drawer. There were certain benefits to being the son of Voldemort's favourite Death Eater. Even the Dark Lord needed to spy on his enemies, and Lucius was quite often in charge of the spy missions. Objects reeking with dark magic flowed in and out of the Malfoy Manor like water, and it was easy for Draco to get his hands on a few of the lower level spells. At first he had stolen them, using his Malfoy blood combined with pure wits and boldness to get him past the spells protecting his father's secret study. He hadn't been surprised the night Lucius had caught him, and his father had laughed and patted him proudly on the shoulder, Draco had felt a fierce welling of satisfaction in knowing that he hadn't made a mistake in assuming that Lucius wouldn't punish his son for exhibiting talents Voldemort cultivated in his Death Eaters.
From that night on, he had had pretty much free access to the Dark Magic technology that came to his father. He had made good use of more than a few of the objects and spells that were geared to \help a Death Eater gather and review information about the enemy, and now was the time to use them again. He just cursed the fact that he hadn't thought to turn to them earlier to get rid of Filch.
He went through the drawer methodically, turning over and examining the items within carefully. He doubted Filch would be expecting either Granger or him to put up a fight, but that didn't mean that revealing the old caretaker's plan wouldn't require cautious, deliberate planning and a proper tool. Hogwarts was set up to protect it's students and staff, and prior experience over the past five years had taught him that Dumbledore was more than vigilant in his duties as Headmaster - and that included keeping spy technology from making it's way inside the wall of Hogwarts. Very few citizens of the magical world had the magical power or ability to design any spell or object that could breach those defenses, but Draco, as Lucius Malfoy's son, had access to the spells and objects that those wizards did produce.
His impatience growing, Draco continued to search through the drawer. Time was passing, and he didn't want to take too long. The last he had seen them, Crabbe and Goyle had been stuffing their faces at the lunch table, but he knew that even for those two, there was only a certain amount they could eat. He was more than capable of erasing any memory of the drawer from their minds, but he didn't want to risk the slight chance that they might be accompanied by other members of his house, who he knew would more than likely have protected themselves from such spells.
Then, below a small book that had the ability to record in indelible ink anything that was said within 50 feet of it, Draco spotted it. He reached down and scooped the object up. Most people probably wouldn't even give it a second glance – it looked like nothing more than a small silver marble. As it rested on his palm, however, the marble began to shiver and shimmer, reacting with his body. Then it rippled and began a cycle of change, forming and reforming into every day objects that people carried with them. A small pendant, a slim bracelet, an inconspicuous hair pin, a shiny pair of cufflinks, a tie pin. It was perfect, Draco thought. He tilted his head to the side, studying the metal as it expanded itself into a pretty silver watch. A touch of his fingertip halted its movement, and a moment later when he spoke, it solidified. Draco smiled and tucked the object into his pocket. Yes, he thought, it was perfect.
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It was more difficult than Draco had expected to find Granger alone. From what he could tell, Potter and Weasley had noticed the change in their friend, and seemed to be scrambling to make up lost time. From lunch time until dinner, they stuck to her side, laughing and talking as they made their way through the halls from class to class. Even worse, the rest of the Gryffindors gravitated to the trio like moths to a bright flame, and Granger was surrounded by a large group of them for most of the day. But finally, at dinner, he spotted Granger alone, making her way out of the Hall. A quick glance at the Gryffindor table showed him that Potter and Weasley were still talking animatedly to the other members of their Quidditch Team, and Draco knew that this was his chance.
He caught up with Hermione a few feet outside the Hall. She heard his footsteps approaching from behind, and turned to face him.
"I thought it might be you," she said without surprise, and then turned and kept walking.
"It's been difficult to find you alone today," he said, catching up to her with a few easy strides.
"I've been spending some time with my friends," Hermione replied. Draco heard the slight edge to her voice, and glanced at her, surprised. She caught the look, and raised an eyebrow at him. "I'm sure you don't understand the concept, Draco," she said dryly, "But I have been avoiding them for the last couple of weeks, because of the ...stress I was under."
Hearing her call him Draco instead of Malfoy made him pause. Then he shook his head, annoyed that such a small thing would throw him off. That wasn't supposed to happen, and it wasn't supposed to matter, either. It was another one of the odd turns that had taken place since the beginning of the year, since he had seen her again, and he didn't like it at all, especially since he didn't understand it.
"Whatever, Granger," he muttered, and then, shaking off the strange feelings clinging to him, he reached into his pocket. "Here, these are for you."
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For a moment Hermione stared in surprise at what Draco was holding in his hand, then she raised her eyes to look at him, confused and a bit shocked.
"Earrings?" she asked. "Why are you giving me earrings, Malfoy?"
Unconsciously she slipped back into addressing him as she had used to, before they had formed their odd partnership. She thought that she saw something flicker in his eyes for a moment, but then it was gone, leaving her staring at the Draco Malfoy she was familiar with - the arrogant, unfeeling and impatient Slytherin.
"They're spelled," he answered. When she just stared at him, he sighed and went on. "When you put them on, they'll react to your body heat and record anything that's said around you. Wear them when we go to meet Filch, and by the end of the night we'll have all the proof we need. Only you can activate them afterwards to repeat the information, so they're safe even if they get stolen."
Hermione stared at him for a moment longer, then dropped her gaze to the earrings once again. They were simple, but pretty - delicate silver hoops with tiny blue studs dangling from them. She actually had a similar pair in her small jewellry chest upstairs in the Gryffindor house, and for a moment she wondered if Draco had designed them like that on purpose. Then she chided herself for being foolish. Draco had probably never even once glanced at her jewelry, let alone noticed and remembered what a pair of her earrings looked like.
"Where did you get these?" she asked quietly. She knew the moment the words escaped her lips it was a foolish question, but she held firm, meeting his steely grey stare without blinking.
"Careful, Granger," he said mockingly. "Do you really want to know about the shady side of things?"
"If I'm going to be the one wearing them, I think I at least deserve to know what I'm getting into," Hermione snapped.
For a moment they stared at each other, then Draco smirked. "Being Lucius Malfoy's son does have it's advantages," he replied. "Spy technology like this comes in and out of our home all the time. It's been easy to get my hands on it – and my father makes it even easier, giving me his approval.
Hermione fingered the earrings, turning them over between her fingers. "Do they have spies in here, Draco?" she asked quietly.
"Perhaps," Draco said, after a short pause. "I doubt it, though. Voldemort doesn't trust any of the students to carry out a spy mission on Dumbledore without fouling it up, and it would be extremely difficult to get any adult in past the defenses after that mishap with Moodie."
Hermione glanced at Draco, surprised that he had heard about what had really happened with Professor Moodie two years ago. He caught the look and must have seen her surprise, as he said sardonically, "Oh come on, Granger - you don't really think that my father, out of all the Death Eaters, wouldn't have heard about who was really teaching at Hogwarts that year?"
Hermione felt a flush rise to her cheeks. Of course, she realized. Crouch's failure to seize Harry after he had escaped from Voldemort at the old graveyard would have been a blow to Voldemort and his supporters. For a moment she wondered just how much influence Draco's father had upon him. He had never shown any sign of wavering from the path that he surely must be following - a path towards the dark cloak of a Death Eater. And yet, she pondered...and yet he was apparently going to work with her to defeat Filch, despite the fact that she was both Mudblood, Gryffindor and Harry Potter's best friend. It seemed that there was much more to Draco Malfoy than what lay upon the surface - and idea that she knew Harry, Ron and herself had never considered in the past.
"Potter and Weasley will be leaving the Hall soon," Draco said, and the note of impatience in his voice drew Hermione's attention. "I think you would be hard pressed to explain what you are doing out here with me, when you're no doubt supposed to be heading towards the Library."
"Actually," Hermione said coolly, "I wasn't on my way to the library. It's the beginning of the year, and I don't really have any need to study – not when all the Professors are reviewing material they covered last year for students who didn't pay attention last year."
Draco raised his eyebrows at the testiness in her voice. "My apologies, Granger," he said. "So where are you headed, then?"
"To get changed," Hermione answered. "Harry and Ron want me to come and watch Quidditch practice tonight, so that I can review how the team is doing."
"You," Draco said incredulously. "You are going to analyze Gryffindor's Quidditch team - when you spend most of your time with your nose in a book?"
"Yes," Hermione answered. "Books like this one."
With that she flipped open one of the books she was carrying, and shoved it towards him. Draco looked down with a sneer, but then studied the page closely. A picture filled the page of the book that she had opened to, and as expected, it was filled with tiny moving figures. Hermione saw the realization cross his face when he recognized them as Quidditch Players. There were two teams represented, both gliding through the air in intricate formations often used in the game. They didn't hold his attention for long, however, and he looked up at her again, impatience clear in his eyes.
Hermione looked back down at the book, and Draco followed her gaze.
"Show me the Wronski Feint," she said.
One of the players - a Seeker - broke away from the rest of his team, diving at breakneck speed towards the ground. The Seeker from the opposite team followed quickly. For a moment both players were only tiny blurs streaking through the air. Then, as the two rapidly approached the ground, one player, the one who had broke away into the dive, pulled up abruptly to glide away. Both Hermione and Draco winced as the other player strained frantically to pull his broom up, but failed. The tiny broom splintered as it plowed into the ground, and the player was sent flying. The other Seeker, triumphant, flew leisurely off across the mini Quidditch pitch, free to search for the Snitch.
The players still flying went back into their pattern of formations, and Hermione snapped the book shut.
"There are many books like this in the library," she said. "You don't need to be a player in order to understand and judge how a Quidditch team is performing."
In the depths of Draco's unfathomable grey eyes something flickered, and then he spoke.
"You always find some way to throw me off," he said.
Hermione raised her eyebrows in surprise. "What?" she asked.
"I underestimate you," Draco said. There was a slight edge of bitterness in his voice. "I never really realized it before now. I've always done it, too – thought that you couldn't do something, and then been surprised when you managed it after all."
Hermione stared, not quite sure what to make of what he had just said. She had certainly never heard him speak like this before, and wasn't quite sure that Draco wouldn't find himself regretting being so frank later.
"You're wondering why I'm saying this," Draco said suddenly. Hermione glanced at him, but there was no trace of emotion on his face.
"Yes," Hermione confessed. "You have to admit that it's not much like you."
"Like me?" Draco gave a short, humourless laugh. "You don't know anything about me, except what I want you to think."
Hermione barely had time to absorb what he had just said, let alone reply, before Draco was turning away. He began to walk back towards the Hall, his long legged strides covering the ground quickly.
"Wear those earrings tonight if you want our plan to work," he called over his shoulder. "I'll see you there."
Chapter 17 – Hidden Depths
Characters: Draco/Hermione
Rating: R
Author's Note: No copyright infringement on the works of JK Rowling or the world of Harry Potter is intended in this fanfiction.
This chapter has been awhile in coming – but I'm rather proud of it. I'm working with the characters and getting to a more indepth view of them, and I wrote it all in about three days, as well. :D Maybe if we keep our fingers crossed, things will continue this way.
Thanks once again to all of you who have read and reviewed and supported me – you have no idea how much those random IM's and emails mean to me. :D Hope you like this latest installment.
~ Kiara
The next morning Hermione was awakened by the sound of Lavendar and Parvati chattering away happily. Blinking sleepily, she raised her head off her pillow, spotting the two girls across the room, clustered together in front of the large silver mirror standing that stood in a corner. She heard Lavendar tell Parvati that she was going to try a new makeup spell for the day, and shook her head groggily. Oh, she did use spells herself, on occasion, when she really wanted to look nice for the day – but she still didn't quite understand the other girls' obsession with fussing over their appearances. Hermione was glad for the distraction, however – if the girls were wrapped up in their own reflections, they wouldn't be pestering her about why she had been acting so oddly lately.
She knew that she had been acting oddly lately – but still, the questions she was badgered with every morning were just a nuisance when she couldn't confide in anybody what exactly was bothering her. Hermione sighed and rolled over. There was a time when she would have used these extra few minutes at the start of the day as an opportunity to get more studying in, but she hadn't done that at all this year. A frown creased her forehead as she thought over how she had acted since the year began.
It wasn't that she didn't think learning was important – she still wanted to do well, still knew that she had to do well if she wanted to be successful – or safe – in the wizarding world. But that goal had taken a back seat over the last two weeks, at the very time of year when she was normally fresh and excited to learn all she could. Up until last night, that had been because she was confused and stressed over the threat to her parents – but now, with Draco's new plan, there was a shred of hope that hadn't been there before.
In the past, such a shred of hope would have helped her to turn her attention back to her studies right away. Hermione was still pretty sure that she would find herself able to concentrate later on the day. But for now she found her thoughts wandering to the night before, and the way that Draco had been behaving. She still wasn't sure what to think of it. There had been a...depth to Draco, something hidden beneath the surface that she had never noticed before. The way he had been acting and the things he had said - they hadn't really matched up, and it left her wondering who the real Draco was. Had he changed since this whole mess had started? Or had she merely been blind to the fact that there was, indeed a person beyond the snobby arrogance and cruelty that he had always shown to the world - to her, and Harry and Ron?
Hermione shook her head, sitting up in bed. There wasn't any use in pondering on it now, she thought. The only thing that mattered was that he had actually come up with an idea - she didn't know how they were possibly going to use that idea, but the point was that it was there. A glimmer of hope...something that would allow her to maybe, just maybe, concentrate on her studies again before Harry or Ron or somebody else really got worried over how she had been behaving the last little while. The last thing she wanted, or needed, was to find herself being dragged off to Madam Pomfrey because her friends thought that she was acting oddly.
With those thoughts going through her head, Hermione swung her feet over the edge of the bed. For the first time in a long while - since the beginning of the year, really - she was ready to face the day.
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In another part of the castle, Draco too, was lying in bed, listening to the sounds of his roommates getting ready for the day. Hermione, however, had come out on the better end of the stick, because Lavendar and Parvati's fussing noises were nothing in comparison to the sounds of Crabbe and Goyle fighting over the bathroom. As usual, they had over indulged themselves at supper the night before, and when Draco had come back from meeting Hermione, he had found his two dimwitted followers gorging themselves on Sugared Sun Pops. "Enjoy the sweet orangey taste and warm yourself from the inside out!!", the bag had proclaimed. Draco had tried to warn them about the possible side affects from the little treats that were delicious but fiery, but as usual, they had just stared at him stupidly and then continued on shoveling the candy down their throats. It appeared that they were now paying for their gluttony.
Goyle won the fight for possession of the bathroom by conjuring a metal pot out of thin air and allowing it to fall with a dull clunk onto Crabbe's thick skull. Draco raised an eyebrow in surprise - he hadn't know that Goyle possessed that much magical talent - and then hastily swung his feet over the side of the bed as he realized that Goyle had vanished into the bathroom. He really didn't want to start his day off by listening to his roommate struggle with an unhappy stomach. The thick wooden door closed behind him, cutting off the sound of Goyle letting out a heartfelt groan, and Draco breathed a sigh of relief that he had made it out of hearing range of any sounds that might escape the bathroom.
Half an hour later found him strolling into the Great Hall for breakfast. It was a rare occasion that he ever actually ate anything so early in the morning, at home he was usually allowed the luxury of sleeping in. He had long ago realized, however, that rising so early had it's advantages - at least when you were living in a communal environment such as Hogwarts. Morning was when people were still relaxed - sleepy and not on their guard. It was the perfect time to take stock of how people were behaving, and decide how to proceed for the rest of the day.
A quick glance showed him that Granger, Potter and Weasley had taken up their normal spots at the centre of the Gryffindor table. Something made him take a second look, however, and for a few moments Draco still wasn't sure what had prompted him to give any of the Gryffindors more than a fleeting glance. Then his gaze fell upon Granger's face, and he realized what he had noticed - that for the first time in weeks, Hermione actually looked more her normal self. She was ignoring most of the students who were chattering around her, although she was chattering animatedly with Potter and Weasley. A thick book lay open beside her on the table, and Hermione was glancing at it in-between bites of toast and exchanges with her friends.
Draco grinned despite himself. It was good to see Hermione back to her old self, he thought. Abruptly he shook his head in frustration. His thoughts had been swinging that way more and more often, lately. Referring to Granger as Hermione, noticing and approving of the way she behaved, watching her more than usual during class – all odd little mental changes that he wasn't sure he liked at all. His father had taught him at an early age that to be successful, you had to keep yourself distant from the people around you. Referring to someone by first name, for example, indicated a level of respect and intimacy that was really only appropriate with family, close friends or better yet, very helpful business partners. The fact that his way of thinking about Granger had changed now, after five years of things always being the same, was disturbing to Draco's peace of mind.
He didn't want to think of Granger as a friend, not even as a willing or helpful ally - he just wanted to stop Filch from blackmailing him and shaming the Malfoy honour - and rid himself of this annoying thorn in his side that had been plaguing him ever since that night he had allowed himself to be swayed by Granger's physical charms. Draco was sure that Filch would contact either Granger or himself soon, and when the old caretaker did, they would be one more step closer to bringing him down.
The only regret that Draco had was that he would give up a chance to hurt Potter - and even that regret was very slight.
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Two days later, at supper, the summons came.
Hermione was finishing up her supper when the two school owls came fluttering into the Great Hall. One went into a steep dive, spiraling down towards the Gryffindor table, the other banked and circled slowly down towards the Slytherin table, at the other side of the Hall. Hermione grimaced when she realized that the owl headed towards the Gryffindor table was no doubt coming to her, but breathed a sigh of relief that Harry and Ron, along with most of her friends in Gryffindor, had already left the table.
This time the scroll was small, with nothing on it that might warrant any curiousity. Hermione was relieved when she saw that the few students who had looked up to see who the owl had gone to were turning back to their meals. She slid her fingernail underneath the small dab of grey wax that sealed the scroll shut and unrolled it carefully, making sure to hold it close to her body and out of the view of prying eyes.
The scroll had one short sentence scrawled upon it's surface - Come to my office after dusk - but it was more than enough to tell Hermione that Filch had at last deigned to contact them. Which meant that he had finally come up with a plan of attack against Harry.
She raised her head and looked across the room, where her gaze was met by a pair of grey eyes. Draco was holding a scroll similar to hers in his slim fingers, and there was no fear or hesitation on his face - just fierce determination. Hermione nodded in reply. A saying that she had heard many times in the Muggle world crossed her mind, and she smiled to herself. Bring it on, Filch, she thought. Bring it on. The second this thought went through her head, however, she felt very foolish, and despite herself a giggle escaped her lips. Some of the students still sitting at the Gryffindor table looked at her oddly, and Hermione was glad to leave her breakfast and escape from the Hall.
The day seemed to pass ever so slowly, but for the first time since the beginning of school, really, Hermione could concentrate on her classes - and even enjoy learning again. Harry and Ron looked surprised when she scolded them for talking during one of Professor Binns' lectures, but the surprise quickly faded into two identical grins.
"Looks like someone is back to normal," Harry said to her at the end of class, as they stood in the hall outside the classroom. His green eyes sparkled at her happily from behind his glasses.
Hermione smiled back at him wistfully. It felt so good to see him smiling at her like that, to return that smile and not feel as though she was pouring salt in a wound she had stabbed into his back.
"I'm not so sure that this is a good thing," Ron groaned. "Next thing you know, she'll be dragging us off to the library to study all day like she did last year."
Hermione glanced at him, her chest contracting just a little bit, but though the words sounded a bit harsh, Ron's grin was just as wide as Harry's. He wrinkled his nose at her impudently and Hermione laughed despite herself.
"Well," she said slowly, "I'm sure you both have been neglecting your studies, and I really should spend this week in the library..."
She let her voice trail off slowly, and then giggled when she saw the looks of dismay the two of them couldn't stop from spreading across their faces. Linking her arms through theirs, she smirked at them.
"If you could see your faces," she laughed. "Come on - let's go have lunch."
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Meanwhile, in another section of Hogwarts, Draco stood before the ornately carved cherry wood desk that was nestled into the corner beside his bed. Reaching out, he ran his hand along the side of the desk. Only someone who looked very closely and probably knew what they were looking for, would spot the almost invisible line that outlined the secret drawer that he had had installed into the desk. Crabbe and Goyle weren't smart enough to even think that there might be a hidden drawer, let alone look for it - but he did live in Slytherin house, and gave credit to the other members of his house for being the sneaky, conniving people that they were.
None of them would be able to open the spell he had placed on that drawer, however. It was keyed to Malfoy blood and the Malfoy name - only someone with both could open the spell successfully. A whispered word had a small drop of blood welling to the surface on his index finger, which Draco ran along the top edge of the drawer. It glowed silver for a moment, and then the drawer slid open with barely a whisper of a sound.
For a moment, Draco stood still, gazing down at the contents of the drawer. There were certain benefits to being the son of Voldemort's favourite Death Eater. Even the Dark Lord needed to spy on his enemies, and Lucius was quite often in charge of the spy missions. Objects reeking with dark magic flowed in and out of the Malfoy Manor like water, and it was easy for Draco to get his hands on a few of the lower level spells. At first he had stolen them, using his Malfoy blood combined with pure wits and boldness to get him past the spells protecting his father's secret study. He hadn't been surprised the night Lucius had caught him, and his father had laughed and patted him proudly on the shoulder, Draco had felt a fierce welling of satisfaction in knowing that he hadn't made a mistake in assuming that Lucius wouldn't punish his son for exhibiting talents Voldemort cultivated in his Death Eaters.
From that night on, he had had pretty much free access to the Dark Magic technology that came to his father. He had made good use of more than a few of the objects and spells that were geared to \help a Death Eater gather and review information about the enemy, and now was the time to use them again. He just cursed the fact that he hadn't thought to turn to them earlier to get rid of Filch.
He went through the drawer methodically, turning over and examining the items within carefully. He doubted Filch would be expecting either Granger or him to put up a fight, but that didn't mean that revealing the old caretaker's plan wouldn't require cautious, deliberate planning and a proper tool. Hogwarts was set up to protect it's students and staff, and prior experience over the past five years had taught him that Dumbledore was more than vigilant in his duties as Headmaster - and that included keeping spy technology from making it's way inside the wall of Hogwarts. Very few citizens of the magical world had the magical power or ability to design any spell or object that could breach those defenses, but Draco, as Lucius Malfoy's son, had access to the spells and objects that those wizards did produce.
His impatience growing, Draco continued to search through the drawer. Time was passing, and he didn't want to take too long. The last he had seen them, Crabbe and Goyle had been stuffing their faces at the lunch table, but he knew that even for those two, there was only a certain amount they could eat. He was more than capable of erasing any memory of the drawer from their minds, but he didn't want to risk the slight chance that they might be accompanied by other members of his house, who he knew would more than likely have protected themselves from such spells.
Then, below a small book that had the ability to record in indelible ink anything that was said within 50 feet of it, Draco spotted it. He reached down and scooped the object up. Most people probably wouldn't even give it a second glance – it looked like nothing more than a small silver marble. As it rested on his palm, however, the marble began to shiver and shimmer, reacting with his body. Then it rippled and began a cycle of change, forming and reforming into every day objects that people carried with them. A small pendant, a slim bracelet, an inconspicuous hair pin, a shiny pair of cufflinks, a tie pin. It was perfect, Draco thought. He tilted his head to the side, studying the metal as it expanded itself into a pretty silver watch. A touch of his fingertip halted its movement, and a moment later when he spoke, it solidified. Draco smiled and tucked the object into his pocket. Yes, he thought, it was perfect.
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It was more difficult than Draco had expected to find Granger alone. From what he could tell, Potter and Weasley had noticed the change in their friend, and seemed to be scrambling to make up lost time. From lunch time until dinner, they stuck to her side, laughing and talking as they made their way through the halls from class to class. Even worse, the rest of the Gryffindors gravitated to the trio like moths to a bright flame, and Granger was surrounded by a large group of them for most of the day. But finally, at dinner, he spotted Granger alone, making her way out of the Hall. A quick glance at the Gryffindor table showed him that Potter and Weasley were still talking animatedly to the other members of their Quidditch Team, and Draco knew that this was his chance.
He caught up with Hermione a few feet outside the Hall. She heard his footsteps approaching from behind, and turned to face him.
"I thought it might be you," she said without surprise, and then turned and kept walking.
"It's been difficult to find you alone today," he said, catching up to her with a few easy strides.
"I've been spending some time with my friends," Hermione replied. Draco heard the slight edge to her voice, and glanced at her, surprised. She caught the look, and raised an eyebrow at him. "I'm sure you don't understand the concept, Draco," she said dryly, "But I have been avoiding them for the last couple of weeks, because of the ...stress I was under."
Hearing her call him Draco instead of Malfoy made him pause. Then he shook his head, annoyed that such a small thing would throw him off. That wasn't supposed to happen, and it wasn't supposed to matter, either. It was another one of the odd turns that had taken place since the beginning of the year, since he had seen her again, and he didn't like it at all, especially since he didn't understand it.
"Whatever, Granger," he muttered, and then, shaking off the strange feelings clinging to him, he reached into his pocket. "Here, these are for you."
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For a moment Hermione stared in surprise at what Draco was holding in his hand, then she raised her eyes to look at him, confused and a bit shocked.
"Earrings?" she asked. "Why are you giving me earrings, Malfoy?"
Unconsciously she slipped back into addressing him as she had used to, before they had formed their odd partnership. She thought that she saw something flicker in his eyes for a moment, but then it was gone, leaving her staring at the Draco Malfoy she was familiar with - the arrogant, unfeeling and impatient Slytherin.
"They're spelled," he answered. When she just stared at him, he sighed and went on. "When you put them on, they'll react to your body heat and record anything that's said around you. Wear them when we go to meet Filch, and by the end of the night we'll have all the proof we need. Only you can activate them afterwards to repeat the information, so they're safe even if they get stolen."
Hermione stared at him for a moment longer, then dropped her gaze to the earrings once again. They were simple, but pretty - delicate silver hoops with tiny blue studs dangling from them. She actually had a similar pair in her small jewellry chest upstairs in the Gryffindor house, and for a moment she wondered if Draco had designed them like that on purpose. Then she chided herself for being foolish. Draco had probably never even once glanced at her jewelry, let alone noticed and remembered what a pair of her earrings looked like.
"Where did you get these?" she asked quietly. She knew the moment the words escaped her lips it was a foolish question, but she held firm, meeting his steely grey stare without blinking.
"Careful, Granger," he said mockingly. "Do you really want to know about the shady side of things?"
"If I'm going to be the one wearing them, I think I at least deserve to know what I'm getting into," Hermione snapped.
For a moment they stared at each other, then Draco smirked. "Being Lucius Malfoy's son does have it's advantages," he replied. "Spy technology like this comes in and out of our home all the time. It's been easy to get my hands on it – and my father makes it even easier, giving me his approval.
Hermione fingered the earrings, turning them over between her fingers. "Do they have spies in here, Draco?" she asked quietly.
"Perhaps," Draco said, after a short pause. "I doubt it, though. Voldemort doesn't trust any of the students to carry out a spy mission on Dumbledore without fouling it up, and it would be extremely difficult to get any adult in past the defenses after that mishap with Moodie."
Hermione glanced at Draco, surprised that he had heard about what had really happened with Professor Moodie two years ago. He caught the look and must have seen her surprise, as he said sardonically, "Oh come on, Granger - you don't really think that my father, out of all the Death Eaters, wouldn't have heard about who was really teaching at Hogwarts that year?"
Hermione felt a flush rise to her cheeks. Of course, she realized. Crouch's failure to seize Harry after he had escaped from Voldemort at the old graveyard would have been a blow to Voldemort and his supporters. For a moment she wondered just how much influence Draco's father had upon him. He had never shown any sign of wavering from the path that he surely must be following - a path towards the dark cloak of a Death Eater. And yet, she pondered...and yet he was apparently going to work with her to defeat Filch, despite the fact that she was both Mudblood, Gryffindor and Harry Potter's best friend. It seemed that there was much more to Draco Malfoy than what lay upon the surface - and idea that she knew Harry, Ron and herself had never considered in the past.
"Potter and Weasley will be leaving the Hall soon," Draco said, and the note of impatience in his voice drew Hermione's attention. "I think you would be hard pressed to explain what you are doing out here with me, when you're no doubt supposed to be heading towards the Library."
"Actually," Hermione said coolly, "I wasn't on my way to the library. It's the beginning of the year, and I don't really have any need to study – not when all the Professors are reviewing material they covered last year for students who didn't pay attention last year."
Draco raised his eyebrows at the testiness in her voice. "My apologies, Granger," he said. "So where are you headed, then?"
"To get changed," Hermione answered. "Harry and Ron want me to come and watch Quidditch practice tonight, so that I can review how the team is doing."
"You," Draco said incredulously. "You are going to analyze Gryffindor's Quidditch team - when you spend most of your time with your nose in a book?"
"Yes," Hermione answered. "Books like this one."
With that she flipped open one of the books she was carrying, and shoved it towards him. Draco looked down with a sneer, but then studied the page closely. A picture filled the page of the book that she had opened to, and as expected, it was filled with tiny moving figures. Hermione saw the realization cross his face when he recognized them as Quidditch Players. There were two teams represented, both gliding through the air in intricate formations often used in the game. They didn't hold his attention for long, however, and he looked up at her again, impatience clear in his eyes.
Hermione looked back down at the book, and Draco followed her gaze.
"Show me the Wronski Feint," she said.
One of the players - a Seeker - broke away from the rest of his team, diving at breakneck speed towards the ground. The Seeker from the opposite team followed quickly. For a moment both players were only tiny blurs streaking through the air. Then, as the two rapidly approached the ground, one player, the one who had broke away into the dive, pulled up abruptly to glide away. Both Hermione and Draco winced as the other player strained frantically to pull his broom up, but failed. The tiny broom splintered as it plowed into the ground, and the player was sent flying. The other Seeker, triumphant, flew leisurely off across the mini Quidditch pitch, free to search for the Snitch.
The players still flying went back into their pattern of formations, and Hermione snapped the book shut.
"There are many books like this in the library," she said. "You don't need to be a player in order to understand and judge how a Quidditch team is performing."
In the depths of Draco's unfathomable grey eyes something flickered, and then he spoke.
"You always find some way to throw me off," he said.
Hermione raised her eyebrows in surprise. "What?" she asked.
"I underestimate you," Draco said. There was a slight edge of bitterness in his voice. "I never really realized it before now. I've always done it, too – thought that you couldn't do something, and then been surprised when you managed it after all."
Hermione stared, not quite sure what to make of what he had just said. She had certainly never heard him speak like this before, and wasn't quite sure that Draco wouldn't find himself regretting being so frank later.
"You're wondering why I'm saying this," Draco said suddenly. Hermione glanced at him, but there was no trace of emotion on his face.
"Yes," Hermione confessed. "You have to admit that it's not much like you."
"Like me?" Draco gave a short, humourless laugh. "You don't know anything about me, except what I want you to think."
Hermione barely had time to absorb what he had just said, let alone reply, before Draco was turning away. He began to walk back towards the Hall, his long legged strides covering the ground quickly.
"Wear those earrings tonight if you want our plan to work," he called over his shoulder. "I'll see you there."