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It was after dinner that Blaise strode up to the blonde whom had been relaxing by the common room fire, book in hand and concentration solely devoted to that of the author's creation.
"Hey, mate," Blaise greeted, nodding his head toward an oblivious Draco as he plopped down in an armchair beside him. "Reading, I see. Anything you'd recommend?"
If one had been watching, they might have assumed that Draco didn't even hear Blaise as he made no move to respond beside lowering his book enough so to glare at the sudden intrusion of privacy over the pages before resuming his read.
Blaise rolled his eyes at his predictable housemate and sighed as he sat forward in his chair, elbows on his knees and hands clamped together.
"Right. Bugger the small talk," Blaise decided, annoyed. "You never were one for small formalities. Look, I just came by to see if you found everything we need for Binns' project. You did find the books okay?"
Draco repeated his previous his previous gesture with the small addition of an agitated sigh.
"Let me guess this straight. You're insinuating that I went to the library, searched for our books, and brought nothing back, like an idiot?" he bit out slowly, eyes narrowing at his Housemate. "That in a place of widely-spread knowledge, where books are scattered about of all shapes and sorts, I couldn't find a measly six?"
Blaise raised an eyebrow and opened his mouth to say something.
"Look-"
"That just because you don't even know what a book rightly is, I'm incapable of gathering data needed for our project?"
Draco's gaze didn't waver.
Blaise wiped his nose and looked at the floor before briefly looking back up at his partner.
"What-uh, no, of course not," Blaise delivered, before offering him a nice, shiny smile. "Seems that you have everything right under control."
Draco simply raised an eyebrow, as if to proclaim, 'No shit, you ponce,' before standing up from his arm chair and setting down his book.
"Good. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go down to the kitchens and pick up a bite to eat," he threw over his shoulder. "You know, because I missed dinner, working."
Stepping out in the dark dungeons, out of his dormitory, Draco looked around coolly before adjusting his collar and proceeding down the hall.
Now about those books he left in the library before dinner. Bloody hell.
___________
This was not a place Draco wanted to visit twice in one day. It was not his idea of great location for a quiet activity or catching up on extra reading; it was boring, musky, and dark. And not in the good let's-have-sex-capades-in-the-secluded-corner kind of way unless Madame Pince was the object of one's affection, not just the inevitable yelling spectator from the side.
His eyes didn't need to scan the library a full time before spotting Hermione. He made a beeline straight to her table, determined to make this a quick exchange. Hopefully she'd forgotten about that whole... insulting of thee sacred Potter thing.
Draco cleared his throat, trying to exterminate the sudden déjà vu feeling of being in the same position in front of Hermione not too long ago. That was just... out of the norm.
Getting no response, Draco wondered briefly if the girl knew he was there and ignored him on purpose or required some serious hearing aid. After all, this wasn't the first time it happened. Even so, he wasn't placing any bets.
"Hermione," Draco announced. "I left my..."
Her head shot up at his voice, either startled by its unorthodox presence or in rapid, growing dislike and distrust of whom it belonged to. Either way, her eyes didn't hold the answers; only portrayed a blank exterior such of her face.
"My books," Draco continued, briefly fazed by her sudden acknowledgement of his presence. "I left them here. Have you seen them?"
Hermione's eyes flickered down to her notes for a moment, before she shrugged nonchalantly and pursed her lips.
"What books?"
"You know, the books I was looking for," Draco explained impatiently, looking down patronizingly at her as he formed a shape of a book in thin air with his hands. "The ones I left. Library books."
Her quill stopped mid-sentence, having already returned to writing down notes by the time Draco responded, and her brown eyes searched for his hesitantly as they made their way up his body slowly and locked when they found the two counterpart orbs.
"You're asking if I've seen any library books?" Hermione bit out dryly, exaggerating her movements as she looked around at the stacked shelves of Hogwarts' expansive collection. "No, not recently."
Back to her notes.
Draco rolled his eyes, determined to shed light on how completely amateur that response had been, when his eyes fell upon the book Hermione was looking at. Bitch.
"That's one of them," he pointed surely at Hermione's text as she sighed heavily and painfully craned her neck back up from the words on the page. "Give it back."
Disbelief fled over Hermione's features as Draco's stubbornness seemed to have no limits in her gaze.
"What? No," she answered promptly. Draco's brow furrowed as a frown settled upon his face.
"I need that book, you saw me looking for it," he explained angrily, running a free hand through his hair in annoyance. "It's mine to take."
Hermione didn't even look up from her notes this time as her quill continued scribbling and she paid no mind to his incessant banter.
Shaking his head, he decided that actions spoke louder than words with this chick. After all, absorbed in her note-taking, she wouldn't hear Exploding Snaps being played not two centimeters from her.
Reaching for the book, he was about to slip it into his arm and flounce straight out of the library, when Hermione closed it unexpectedly and slid it into her book bag with ease.
"Hey! What are you-"
"I'm not playing tug of war with you, Malfoy, so save your breath because you're not getting this book. I need it," she explained, packing up her parchment and complimentary accessories with the same fluent grace. "If you want to use it for whatever burning purpose you have, you can first work hard at removing that stick from your arse and then ask to share it with me."
Looking around one last time to make sure she had everything, Hermione closed the sling to her knapsack and made her way toward the library door, not even sparing Draco another look.
The blonde couldn't believe his ears. Who did she think she was? Not to mention, they both knew that she had no use for that book, nor the other five for that matter. And now she had the nerve to tell him that she was willing to share. He was completely not even going to recount that stick-in-the-arse part.
Shaking his head, he headed for he exit as well and walked within hearing distance of Hermione.
"Verdict's in, Granger; spending more time in that library than ever has definitely improved your bitch quality," he remarked, veering off towards the left, ready to descend down to the dungeons. "I always suspected your lack of personality and social grace had something to do with that musk and lack of proper oxygen level."
Hermione let the words sink in a beat before throwing an annoyed look over her shoulder.
"Go to hell."
Draco smirked and descended down the steps while Hermione turned right down a separate corridor.
"Well, if that's where we're meeting." Draco stopped. "Hell. Ten after ten. Bring those books."
Out of nowhere, Hermione's voice trailed from somewhere deep within the corridor she'd chosen down to Draco's ears; her having the last word, just to spite him.
"But what will you do about that stick?"
________
Hermione's back touched with her bedspread and her hair fanned around her head as she exhaled and closed her eyes in exhaustion. How long had she been doing this? How long had those books been searched? How much information had been incorporated and compared? And what good was it all?
Not as to say that it had been a complete waste. She knew that Harry did not kill himself. Now, more than ever, she was positive. There were so many little hints she knew she could find. If she could just have some help; just a push in the right direction. It was like looking for something that was right under your nose the entire time.
She knew a de-tracer had been used. Wands weren't exactly murder-proof. The killer must have known that the investigation wouldn't last more than an hour before they found the wand that had cast the spell on Harry. It wouldn't be hard; nothing the Ministry didn't have in one spell book or another.
De-tracing, however, was pretty much murder-proof. Spells would never follow through when searching for the culprit wand because they would be thrown off track. It would have been easy to cast a de-tracer on Harry's body after murder; just the flick of a wand. It wasn't advanced, it wasn't time-consuming. It was just... uncommon. De-tracing wasn't taught. It was almost a lost spell. Whomever had used it must have had great knowledge of their magic or been in cahoots with someone else that was. Another perk to de-tracing: it practically let the murderer off the hook if he or she played their cards right and left the scene without incriminating evidence.
Practically.
Nothing was impossible. Nothing was full-proof. And nothing was going to get past her.
Hermione rolled over on her side and exhaled another breath before concentrating on clearing her mind and thinking of nothing. Without taking off her robes or school uniform, she drifted off to sleep with only an allowed hour or two set aside for rest. Her aching body welcomed the rarely-offered treat as she leveled her breathing and progressed into the unwelcoming land of nightmares with one last promise carved on her thoughts:
No matter what it takes, no matter how long, I'll find who killed you, Harry. I'll find who killed you.
_________
Her eyes landed on his relaxed form and she raised eyebrow in response, but continued on her path until she reached him.
"Oh, the irony," was the first thing out of her mouth, her tone allowing solely boredom to decorate it. Draco grinned.
"That this is hell for both of us?"
Hermione snorted then opened the door, leading the way in.
"Don't tell Trelawney," she replied as she set down her book bag and withdrew the same text that she'd been looking through during the couple's previous confrontation. She glanced up at a restless Draco. "Knew the unlock spell?"
"Gravy. Not exactly Alohomora, but the old bat hasn't changed it since last year," he replied easily, his eyes earnestly looking at the books he needed. He wasn't all that excited about the project-especially in this predicament he was in-but the faster he got his information for the day, the faster he could leave the presence of Moaning Myrtle's depression successor. Hermione was a lot more... tolerable back when her signature look was sans the 'Stop making eye contact as if I give a fuck about you' advertisement.
Not that Draco wasn't all for that look. He just didn't fancy being on the receiving end of it.
Hermione had already settled down and scattered her notes and parchment in some sort of order that surely made sense to her, books open and quill ready. Leaning back against the wall and using one book as a hard surface to perch her soon-to-used parchment on, she gave Draco a brief glance before starting her researching. He guessed that meant that he could sit beside her and make use of the book whenever he was ready.
Shrugging, he took his own few parchment pieces and settled down on the ground besides at a comfortable distance, deciding that a meter or two between them was a right necessity. Hermione didn't notice his hesitation. Draco was not surprised.
He poised his quill over the parchment as if to write something, only to realize that he'd need to read the information from the book before he had anything to paraphrase. He looked to his right to see Hermione busily scribbling, probably totally oblivious to the fact that he was looking at her or that he was even there. Taking advantage of her ignorant state, Draco's curiosity steered his gaze down to her paper, catching a glimpse of a few words before he was met with a hasty, sleeved hand covering the text. He raised his eyes only to be fed a glance of pure anger and violation, courtesy of Hermione.
Promptly, she picked up the book by its cover and dumped it on his lap forcefully, her eyes not leaving his as she did so.
"I believe this is the reading material I agreed to share. Enjoy."
Deciding that nodding would be the most likely action to get a least violent response, Draco simply shrugged a shoulder and diverted her eyes back to the book in his lap and began taking notes he knew he wouldn't remember in ten minutes.
Both working silently-Hermione now looking at a new book that was also of value to Draco-neither even looked up occasionally to check the time or relieve their necks of the much-acquired stress from craning over a book. Draco didn't want Hermione to go ballistic-woman on him for accidentally glancing in the direction of her precious notes and Hermione didn't want to waste a moment from taking down her precious notes.
It was only when Hermione let out a long sigh and dropped her quill audibly that Draco looked up, looking at her from the corner of his eyes. She'd proceeded to stare ahead of her and rub the back of her neck slowly with one hand in rotating circles. She almost looked... normal at that moment. Like a stressed teenage girl with a neck cramp sitting next to a boy in a classroom she was not allowed to be in this time of night. She certainly didn't seem like a shell of a girl that once inhabited this body and took care of it; that once produced thought to send out through the exterior and touch individuals around her; that once lived and breathed and laughed and yawned and yelled and fell and ate and cheered.
Hermione's head turned to Draco suddenly, aware of his staring marathon, even if it was supposed to be inconspicuous.
"What?" she asked dully, with a touch of caution. Was she responding to the fact that he was a Malfoy and might be up to something? Was she worried about being with him and his little schemes and whatnot?
Her hands immediately went to cover her notes.
Oh. She was worried about her precious notes. About her precious theories.
"Please. Don't go through the trouble of covering your sacred late-night scribbles as though I cared," he offered dryly before leaning his head back against the wall and looking straight ahead. He was aware of Hermione looking at him for a second more than customary, as if calculating what he said, before turning back to her back and beginning to write again.
Deciding to call it a night, more out of respect for himself than out of self-satisfaction that he got enough notes down, he stood up and stretched his arms luxuriously above his head before gathering what few parchments he had and turning toward the door.
"Same time tomorrow."
He didn't ask. He felt he didn't need to. After all, he had a better purpose for use of the books-more of a reason to use them than Hermione did. At least his purposes were educational as opposed to hers that were just... creepy.
"Uh..." Hermione squinted as she ran her finger along a specific line on the page and copied down some apparently important information feverently. "Yeah... whatever. Same time."
Draco shook his head as he looked at her gathering information at a brisk pace, jotting down word after word with impeccable energy for someone with several shades of dark circles around her eyes. With this determination, Draco wondered if the girl even ate. He already figured she rarely slept. She wasn't exactly skin and bones, but he had a strong feeling that the word 'yet' needed to be attached to that thought.
Hermione looked up, catching Draco looking at her openly for the second time. She didn't even ask this time, just stared with a questioning glance.
"It wasn't the Imperius," Draco suddenly offered, hand on the door knob.
"Excuse me?" Hermione's eyes were wide with anxiety, trying to figure out if what he said had any relevance to... anything.
"Potter. He probably wasn't under the Imperius curse when he died," Draco explained calmly, inwardly anticipating some sort of violent lash out.
Hermione's anxiety immediately left, making way for the inevitable anger that bubbled to the surface as soon as Draco's words registered in her brain.
"You bastard. What do you think you're doing, looking at my personal stuff?" Hermione fumed, quickly gathering her things in a frenzy so as to stand up and be leveled with a weary Draco. "Did the paranoid looks and obvious covering of my notes not clue you in that you're not welcome to butt the fuck in?"
Shaking her head she simply stormed past him and knocked his hand off the door knob, replacing it with her own.
"I can't believe I ever thought this would work," Hermione muttered to herself before snapping her head back up and snorting as she glared at Draco. "You can't share a book without violating one boundary or another. Always a Malfoy."
Draco simply looked at her strangely before raising an eyebrow, then shaking off the entire thought completely.
"Look, Granger-"
"No, you look, Malfoy," Hermione snapped back before opening a large compartment of her book bag and emptying out its contents on the floor. All of Draco's books fell out, knocking into each other as they landed. Snapping the sling back on her bag, Hermione left without another word but a slam of the Divination classroom door.
Draco stared at the door for a moment, calculating the time it took for Hermione to make a complete one-eighty from a calm, cool, uncaring individual to a complete female psycho.
Then he shrugged and began picking up the books that were still rightfully his from the floor in thought.
Hermione's departure left him with more than just an impression to mull over. It wasn't so much her moody bitchiness that caught his attention but her reaction to him reading her notes, and most importantly, the notes themselves.
Draco only caught a bit of it, a small look leading him to believe that Hermione was researching something on the Imperius. The Imperius likely placed on Potter. The only problem with that, was it was unlikely.
A complete investigation had been performed on the entire Gryffindor tower for weeks after Potter's death, and all signs pointed to the Whiz Kid's suicide. If there had been a sign of a struggle, Draco figured suspicions would arise beyond the standard label of taking one's life.
Brow still furrowed over the prospect of Hermione's research, Draco simply shrugged and opened the door to the Divinations class himself, books and parchment in-hand.
At least his mention of Potter's death didn't earn him a potential de-balling from Hermione as he expected.
Testicles in place, Draco left the class deep in thought.
___
If you didn't catch on, let me spell out that Harry is thought to be dead by suicide but Hermione thinks someone killed him.
And I love you all. Because I'm feeling feverish, I might as well profess my love to strangers I don't know, cannot see, and will never meet.
...
Huh.
Kay.