The Dennfyre was crowded with patrons downstairs, but it was quiet in Hermione's room. Books laid spread out around her on the bed as a quill and parchment levitated in the air. Each time she found a piece of interesting information, all Hermione had to do was dictate the note and the quill would scribe it.
Once the excitement of the Quidditch match passed, a cloud of sorrow and speculation loomed over the sanctuary. By dinner, every person on the grounds knew exactly what had happened to Norberta and her missing egg. Whispers and furtive glances flooded the mess hall. No one knew whether the culprit was among them.
Hermione and company's conversation at dinner had felt forced. Charlie hadn't sat with them, and throughout the meal, Julia kept glaring at where he dined with Doru and Llewellyn. Draco had reverted to the contemplative silence he had exhibited in the immediate aftermath of Norberta's rampage. The tableware rattled as his leg bounced underneath the table, and Hermione had to place a hand on his thigh to calm him. He was anxious for the meal to end so he and Hermione could meet in her room as planned. She knew because she felt similarly.
Now, she was waiting for Draco to arrive. They had agreed for him to wait twenty minutes after dinner as to not stir suspicion, yet that had been half an hour ago.
Finally, there was a knock on her door. Hermione swished her wand to open it, and Draco stepped inside with a stack of two small boxes levitated in front of him. He landed them side by side on the desk and flicked the tops open to reveal a selection of desserts.
"Couldn't make it past Marjorie without her handing me these." Draco selected one of the Cauldron Cakes then waved a hand over the boxes. "Something sweet before we begin?"
Still warm apple pie and generous portions of treacle fudge tempted her taste buds, but Hermione opted for the mini custard tart. She took one bite of the flaky pastry and closed her eyes to savour the taste. The treats were worth the minor delay, especially since they seemed to have eased Draco's previous anxieties.
Draco chewed his Cauldron Cake while his gaze cast over her array of books.
"Let me guess," he said after a swallow. "You spent the time before dinner picking up books at Prints and Parchment?"
"I didn't want to waste any more time after Doru returned," Hermione explained, trying not to fixate too much on the fact that Draco correctly guessed her actions. She snatched her floating piece of parchment and handed it to Draco. "It's not much, but it gets us started."
Draco scanned the two-foot scroll covered in notes and raised an eyebrow.
"Okay, so it's a tad more than 'not much,'" she surrendered, feeling the tips of her ears go pink.
He released a short snort, then placed the parchment on the desk next to the desserts. "What did you learn from Doru and Charlie's little secret chat?"
"I haven't read it yet," Hermione said to Draco's apparent surprise. She summoned the shrunken parchment that contained the transcribed conversation and returned it to full size. "I thought I'd wait until you got here." She tilted her head and offered him a small smile. "As you said, we're a team now."
The green ribbon still hung in a bow at the bottom of Hermione's plait.
Draco grinned. "Right you are."
Hermione repositioned herself to the edge of the bed, but she startled when she felt the mattress continue to shift. The books that had been closest to her were no longer there, replaced by Draco sitting directly next to her. He shifted closer, presumably to get a better view of the parchment, and their thighs brushed against one another.
An instant flood of tingled warmth coursed through her veins. At even the brief contact, her head whipped to him in fluttering shock.
"Is there a problem?" he asked, stare locked with hers.
She swiped her tongue across the seam of her lips then shook her head. She had expected him to either take the chair at the desk or remain standing as she read the transcript aloud, but this wasn't a terrible alternative. In fact, once the shock wore off, it was rather nice.
Hermione and Draco spent the next several minutes in silence while they read the documented dialogue. Line by line, Hermione mentally analysed every word. She had to constantly remind herself not to crumple the parchment in her grip. Her eyes began to dart, anxious to get to the end, but when she flipped to the other side, Draco cleared his throat, prompting her to slow. It was difficult. The farther Hermione got, the faster she wanted to read.
"'A report has been filed and our concerns are noted,'" Hermione fumed once Draco had also finished. Her blood boiled. "What codswallop! So the Aurors are really going to ignore a stolen dragon egg just because they claim other cases take precedence?"
"I warned you that they dismiss anything regarding the sanctuary," Draco said with cold indifference. "Though, this might make matters less difficult for us if no one else will be intervening."
Hermione frowned. "Or make it harder since we can't combine what we discover with what they learn."
"Planning on making eavesdropping a habit?"
A short, admittedly amused huff shot out her nose. "Not particularly. But it worked, didn't it?" Her attention fell back to the transcript. "As naive as it may have been, I can't believe the Aurors aren't going to investigate."
She handed the transcript to Draco and then floated over the parchment containing her notes from earlier. "After what you said about the Warlocks' Convention of 1709, I thought it would be helpful to do some additional reading about what items are and aren't designated as non-tradeable materials in Romania. Buying and selling dragon blood is, of course, permitted—when acquired legally from a recently deceased dragon just like other dragon goods. But more notably, despite being in a lower non-tradeable class than in Britain, dragon egg trading is strictly prohibited." An indignant scoff escaped her lips. "The Romanian Ministry can't assume you'll take care of the dragons without their support when something like this happens. Where is the proper legal protection of magical creatures in this country?"
The flicker of the flame inside a nearby lantern formed a shine in Draco's eyes. "You going to barge in there and rewrite the laws yourself?"
She shot him a sidelong glare, yet a smile cracked her lips. "Don't tempt me."
When her thoughts returned to the more pressing matter, Hermione dropped her chin and gave her head a subtle shake. "I find it quite unbelievable that the Aurors are so busy tracking Dark Wizards in Bucharest that they can't spare one or two people to investigate. I don't care. This should be a higher priority."
"Yes, you do care," came Draco's low response. "As do I. The last thing any of us need is another war—regardless of which country it's fought in. So in that sense, I understand where the Aurors are coming from. Better to catch Dark Wizards before it's too late."
Hermione's shoulders deflated while an unsettling feeling coiled inside her. "I know," she accepted in a small voice before steeling herself upright, "but a dragon egg was stolen only days from hatching. If we don't find the egg soon, the baby dragon will hatch while away from Norberta, and it won't be able to imprint on her."
Darkness hardened Draco's eyes, much like it had earlier in the day. "Yes, and you and I are both familiar with what can happen if a baby dragon is raised in the wrong hands."
Memories from first year came sweeping back. At the time, she, Ron, and Harry had known that it was illegal for Hagrid to have a dragon, but they hadn't reacted properly to how truly dangerous it was. Of all the questionable things Hagrid did, he was lucky that situation ended before it had gotten too out of hand. Now Norberta's child was at risk of having a similar start to its life.
When not handled properly, dragons were dangerous. Merlin, they were dangerous with proper care. If Norberta's egg was traded to someone with the intent to raise it on their own, then there was no telling what irreparable damage could be done, to both the owner and the dragon.
Fire ignited in Hermione's chest. "We need to figure this out," she said, more determined than ever. She reached back on the mattress for the notebook containing her observations from the beginning of the weekend. "There must be something in here that gives us a good place to start."
Hermione flipped through the pages to find what she had written after the casting of the Appare Vestigium spell, but Draco's voice pulled her focus back to him.
"Or maybe we're approaching this backwards." He pushed himself off the bed and started to pace. "We've only been focusing on the sanctuary, but whoever is stealing these items is more than likely then selling them someplace here in town."
He didn't need to complete the full thought for Hermione to perk up. "That's brilliant," she said, feeling foolish for not thinking of that herself.
Draco chuckled. "You're not the only smart one here."
No, she wasn't.
She had always known Draco was smart. Never would she admit it, but Hermione had taken additional pride in the fact that being at the top of their class also meant that she had beaten him.
For years, they had been opponents, in more ways than one. Now, they were teammates. Partners. Equals.
As Draco waited for her to react, the corners of his mouth pushed into a grin. She smiled back. While she knew the wizard standing before her was that same person from school, that cruel boy had grown into a respectable man. The animosity that had once wedged them apart was no longer palpable. Instead, whenever she paused to look at him—truly look at him—she only felt contentment.
But then came the same heart-stirring spark she'd experienced when Draco had smiled at her during the Quidditch match. The night before when they had played chess together. Just a few moments ago when his thigh brushed against hers.
Sometimes, it was a bit more than just simple contentment.
Emotion swelled inside her chest and Hermione rattled at the feeling she refused to identify.
Civil.
That's all they were. To consider anything greater would distract her from the real problem. The reason she stayed.
Not Draco.
She wiped away her smile, reverting back to business. "Is there a place in Verdell where trades like this might happen?"
Draco paused for a moment. "There are plenty of dark corners where we would discover less than legitimate dealings, but if we're looking for the spot where dealers and smugglers meet to discuss, the Shooting Star Pub is the place for us."
Hermione grabbed her beaded bag off the nightstand. "Then let's get going."
...
The Shooting Star Pub was not an establishment Hermione would have entered alone. Scant lighting illuminated the single room pub where the tables were packed in so tight, the backs of chairs could easily ram into each other with the smallest scoot backwards. Behind the bar was a large wizard that Hermione suspected was at least a quarter giant, currently standing in front of two wooden barrels with taps. The choice in drink was mead or beer. Hermione chose beer.
The amber ale sat untouched on the table while Hermione waited for Draco to pay their tab at the bar. When he returned, he brought not only his glass of mead, but also a rented Wizard Chess board and pieces.
"Now isn't a good time for your rematch," Hermione said, fixing him with a disapproving tilt of the head.
Draco set the board down anyway. "We're not playing seriously," he said in a ragged whisper. "If you and I are going to sit here silently and try to listen to the people around us without raising alarm, then we're going to need to look like we're concentrating on something else."
That was now twice in a row that Draco had thought of something clever. A small part of Hermione was irritated that she, once again, hadn't come up with the idea herself, but mostly, she was impressed. It was refreshing to be investigating with someone equally perceptive.
She whispered a wandless Translator Charm while Draco did the same. A buzz tingled her ears before a stream of surrounding dialogue converted to English. They set up the chess pieces on their proper spots, but the entire time, Hermione kept her ears alert. Being a Monday night, the pub wasn't particularly full. No more than five other tables were occupied. While that limited their chances of hearing something of interest, it would, at least, make it easier to track the different conversations.
Draco was using the white pieces this time, and he instructed one of the pawns to move up two squares. Hermione mirrored the play. Knights, bishops, and more pawns soon joined the other pieces in the game's action, yet Hermione's focus remained on the conversations around them.
A group of four, grimy looking wizards collected in a booth had recently traded Rosier family Goblin-made heirlooms to a local pureblood family. A witch with hair as brittle as straw was boasting to the wizard opposite her about the fake dark artefacts she had tricked someone into buying for a handsome profit. Another set of dealers in the corner were in the middle of planning a massive across-border trade of Devil's Snare seeds. No one mentioned dragons.
Hermione instructed her queen to move diagonally, and the wooden piece began to protest. Apparently, if Hermione captured Draco's knight, then that invited the queen to be taken by one of the white bishops. Much to the queen's dismay, Hermione didn't change her mind. Neither she nor Draco was paying enough attention to the game to care about their frequently ill-chosen directives.
"Anything?" she asked Draco, but he shook his head before capturing her queen with his bishop like the piece had feared.
The night continued on in much of the same pattern. The chess pieces appeared ready to mutiny over the haphazard way she and Draco were playing, yet they remained dedicated to listening to everything but the little black and white figures. Hermione's beer had gone flat and they had yet to hear anything related to blood, eggs, or even the sanctuary. She was about to suggest they call it a night and try again tomorrow when the groan of the heavy door opening indicated the arrival of new customers.
Hermione didn't turn around to look at them, but she could feel one of them slump into the chair directly behind her. Across the table, Draco kept his eyes trained on Hermione, except for when his gaze flittered behind her every few seconds. It wasn't until the wizard behind Hermione started to speak— in English —that her attention was fully alerted.
She knew that voice.
Only problem was, she couldn't place it.
It took considerable self-control for Hermione not to turn around and face him. She couldn't risk blowing their cover. Not when this could be a potential lead.
Hermione leaned back in her chair and listened as closely as possible, the wizard she didn't recognise speaking first.
"You know how slow business has been now that they're back in Verdell."
Draco's turn.
"Don't 'ave to tell me about it. If I 'ad known it'd get this bad, I wouldn't 'ave moved out 'ere in the first place."
She moved a pawn.
"You can't even get in on that dragon blood market?"
"Can't get my 'ands on a single bleedin' vial anymore!"
She kicked Draco under the table.
"Ouch!"
Her pointed glare silenced him. With an infinitesimal jerk of her head backwards, Draco seemed to catch on.
The conversation behind her continued, but Hermione had heard enough to know the source would be a valuable lead. And if her growing suspicion about his identity was correct, she expected it wouldn't be difficult to get more out of him.
Hermione leaned in, and Draco did the same.
"The one behind me," she said in a whisper.
Draco flicked his gaze to the wizard then back to Hermione. He nodded. "Meet at your room?"
She nodded as well, and the previously devised plan sprung into action.
With Hermione's full drink in his hand, Draco scooted back in his chair then got to his feet. Below the table, Hermione gripped her wand in anticipation. She counted the seconds.
One, two, three.
Glass crashed against the floorboards.
Her ears rang with the scraping of chair legs as the wizard opposite their target got up from his seat. No doubt he was angry; if all had gone to plan, Draco had just drenched him in beer. But Hermione didn't stick around long enough to see how that inevitable argument ended.
With the entire pub's attention set on Draco and the other wizard, Hermione twisted in her seat and grabbed the robes of the wizard behind her. One glimpse at his bloodshot, baggy brown eyes and whiff of his tobacco-infused body odour, and Hermione's suspicions were confirmed. Before he could escape, Hermione closed her eyes and focused on her destination, never losing her tight grip on his robes.
They appeared in her room with a pop, and she threw the wizard onto the bed where he scrambled backwards.
"Mundungus Fletcher," Hermione said with her arms crossed against her chest. "Why am I not surprised to see you in Verdell?"
Mundungus fumbled for his wand, but he was too slow.
"Expelliarmus!"
The wand soared through the air and Hermione easily caught it. Panic started to widen Mundungus' eyes before he darted for the door. He yanked on the handle three times before giving up. Did he honestly think Hermione hadn't thought to spell the door locked? Try all he might, Mundungus wasn't going anywhere.
"This feels familiar," Hermione said once Mundungus resigned himself back on the bed. "If I recall correctly, the last time we saw each other was at Grimmauld Place after you stole the locket."
Mundungus trembled. "'Ow was I suppos'd to know it was a Horcrux? And that was years ago. Wha'd you want from me now?"
A hard knock resonated from the other side of the door and Mundungus practically jumped off the bed. Too paralyzed by shock, he didn't move, not even when Hermione opened the door for Draco.
"Hey, I know you from the papers!" Mundungus exclaimed, pointing directly at Draco. "You're the Malfoy boy."
Draco sneered but quickly turned his attention to Hermione. "Learn anything?"
Since she had seen him a few minutes prior, his hair had fallen out of its tie. The long strands framed his face and stopped just past his chin. If she had to guess, the other wizard hadn't taken kindly to Draco's "accidental" trip, and a minor skirmish had broken out. At least he didn't appear hurt in any way.
Draco stepped closer to the bed, jaw firmly set, and Hermione glared back at Mundungus.
"Not yet," she answered, setting her gaze sharper at the cowering wizard. "But I'm sure we'll know something soon."
She pointed her wand squarely at Mundungus' nose.
His face grew pale as he threw his hands up in surrender. "Wha' you want to know?" Mundungus stammered to say. "I'll tell you wha'ever you want. Just don't 'ake me back to the British Ministry." He winced. "Kingsley still ain't forgiven me for Mad-Eye."
"Then this should be easy," Hermione said with a shrewd grin. "Tell us everything you know about black market dragon blood dealings in Verdell."
Mundungus recoiled. "Dragon blood? Haven't traded 'at stuff in ages."
Draco aimed his wand at Mundungus' chest. "Start talking."
"All right, all right, all right," Mundungus conceded, scooting back on the bed while his eyes blew wide with fear. "Yeah, I used to get a piece of that market. Would get it 'ere and sell it back on Knockturn. Wasn't nobody else trading it there after the Ministry tried shutting things down."
"Used to?" Hermione asked. "When was this?"
"Ah, five, six months ago?"
She exchanged a surprised look with Draco. "I thought the first dragon attack was just over a month ago?"
"The first attack that we know of," Draco corrected with a snarl.
There was a beat of silence before Hermione reverted her focus to Mundungus. "Where did the blood come from?" she asked. "Who was your source? What did they look like? How did they get it to you? Why did they stop? Who's trading the blood now?"
"Slow down, will ya?" Mundungus interrupted before Hermione could get all her questions out. "You want me to answer, or not?" His voice was strained at the edges, but he complied nonetheless. "Only met the person once, and they wore a cloak over their 'ead the entire time. Voice changin' spell and e'rything. We set up a pickup spot outside of town that was charmed with a passcode. I'd drop off the money, they'd leave the vials." His expression soured. "Until I left the money one day and got nothin' in return."
"Then who's trading it now?" Draco demanded, repeating Hermione's final question.
Mundungus paled. "I— I don't think I should be tellin' ya that."
Draco shifted his wand's aim from Mundungus's chest, straight to his heart.
"Draco," Hermione hissed, but he waved her off.
His voice was a bitter snarl. "I think you should."
Mundungus glared at his wand still clenched in Hermione's grasp. It looked like he was considering if it was possible to wrangle it free. But Mundungus had always been a coward, and he caved soon enough.
"You didn't 'ear this from me," he said just above a whisper, "but the whole trade's monopolised by The Seven Brothers."
Hermione scrunched her forehead, having never heard that name before, but from the way Draco's expression darkened, it appeared he had.
"I thought they left Romania after their latest stint in Rockhold."
Mundungus released a humourless laugh. "Not a chance. They got out of there a couple months ago and took back the entire black market, even worse than before. Just got better at 'iding it." He frowned. "Cross them and you'll be the one locked up next."
Sparks flared from the tip of Draco's wand, and Hermione draped her hand over his to make him lower it. Mundungus wouldn't be useful if he was dead.
"Did you see anything out of the ordinary today?" Hermione asked, veering the topic slightly. "Or spot any members of The Seven Brothers around town?"
A thick swallow bobbed down Mundungus' throat. "Yeah, I saw them." His words came out like a slow drip. "Two of them were walking down one of the offshoot alleys while I was on my way to the Shooting Star. Couldn't 'ear much but they seemed excited. Somethin' 'bout acquiring a good from someone and completing a major trade today?"
Dread gnawed at Hermione's stomach, but it was Draco's low growl that spoke next.
"What else?"
"That's— That's about it. Nothin' else significant, I swear." Mundungus was stammering again, the panic back in his eyes. "Just somethin' big that a client had wanted for a long time but ne'er thought they'd get."
Hermione's heart plummeted and her veins turned to ice. Mundungus didn't know enough to understand the full story, but Draco and Hermione could infer the rest.
Someone had traded Norberta's egg to The Seven Brothers, and they had already sold it elsewhere.
She instinctively reached out to Draco, her palm gently resting atop his thigh. But even with that light touch, she could feel the tension in his body, straining to stay resolute.
If Mundungus noticed their shift, he didn't react. He hadn't even stopped talking. He rattled on about how he had only bothered listening to the conversation since it sounded like a lucrative item that Mundungus may have wanted to also capitalise on. Apparently, the black markets hadn't been very profitable lately, and his finances were growing tight. It was only when Draco spoke that Hermione started paying full attention again.
"I'll pay you."
Hermione snapped her head to face Draco. In his plain shirt and worn trousers, it took her a moment to remember the fortune his family name carried. Mundungus, however, seemed to need no reminding. A greedy grin crossed his lips.
"What does the Malfoy heir 'ave in mind?"
Draco stepped towards Mundungus, and Hermione's hand fell back to her side. "You become our eyes and ears in Verdell." There was no emotion in his tone. It was flat. Steady. Yet it carried a stern power that Hermione knew meant he was serious. "If anyone speaks a single word about The Seven Brothers or anything regarding the trading of dragon goods, I want to know. Immediately."
Mundungus raised an eyebrow, interest piqued. "My payment?"
"Two hundred fifty Galleons upfront, and an extra five hundred if you give us something of value."
Hermione's mouth fell agape. That was more than she made in three months at the Ministry!
But if it meant crossing The Seven Brothers, Draco had to make it worth the risk.
From the sparkle in Mundungus' eyes, it appeared the abundant amount agreed with him. He stuck out his hand, and Draco accepted. The deal was set.
Draco and Mundungus would confirm the money exchange details tomorrow once Draco had returned to London to make the necessary Gringotts withdrawal. Curiosity flashed through Hermione's mind regarding why his money was still on Diagon and not at Gringotts' Verdell location, but she saved that question for later. Right now, her job was to charm two notebooks so anything Mundungus wrote in one would duplicate into its twin.
Draco pulled a few Romanian coins out of his pocket and muttered the Protean Charm. He handed one to Mundungus and the other to Hermione.
"If something arises that requires our urgent knowledge, use these," he instructed. "I will then send back a message with where to meet us. Understood?"
With the terms established and the necessary items exchanged, Hermione removed the wards. She threw his wand back at Mundungus, and he Disapparated with an inelegant crack.
The room fell still. Hermione didn't know what to say. Neither, apparently, did Draco.
They had a new lead, but the egg was gone.
Draco didn't face her. His eyes trained on the artwork framed on a nearby wall.
Hermione cautioned towards him, then placed a hand on his shoulder. The echo of her hammering heartbeats reached her ears. "Are you okay?"
He pushed her hand off his shoulder, and a chasm cracked open in her chest. His head tilted to the side, just enough for Hermione to catch a sliver of his profile. Clamped lids creased the skin around his eyes while a sour twist of his mouth heightened the agony behind Hermione's ribcage.
Draco stalked out of the room with little more than a grumble that he needed to leave.
A clouded daze paralysed Hermione. The evening's discovery had left her just as woeful and numb, but she knew this battle. Time and time again, she had faced obstacles that had seemed to halt her progress. Months of Horcrux hunting had provided countless examples. Just because they'd faced crushing news tonight did not mean it was time to abandon hope, not even for Norberta's egg.
Hermione forced aside all other emotions and chased after Draco. The dining room was practically empty at this hour, though Hermione raced through it without a second thought. Draco wasn't in there, and that was the only relevant detail.
She made it to the front door and pushed her way outside, not caring about how the crisp late September air nipped her skin. There, just a few paces away, was Draco.
Her heavy footsteps beat against the ground and she ran in front of Draco to stop him.
"You can't go yet," she said between short breaths. "We need to talk about what we learned. Figure out what's next."
Draco's expression was grim. "Save it. I've had enough for tonight," he bitterly stated. He hung his head and shook it. "I shouldn't have played the Quidditch match. I wasted time, and now the egg is traded."
"You needed that game. It was a terrible morning, and to power through would have left you emotionally drained," Hermione tried to reason. "Mundungus may have overheard them discussing the trade tonight, but, for all we know, the entire exchange happened before we woke up this morning. We don't know if we could have stopped it."
"And now we never will."
Draco stepped around her, but Hermione caught his hand before he got out of reach. He stalled, his eyes a kaleidoscope of hurt.
"Draco," she choked, "you can't blame yourself."
"Why not?" came his caustic retort. "I was the primary keeper assigned to watch over Norberta's eggs. Now one of them is gone. Period."
It tore at her insides to see the regret that seeped off his every muscle. Line every inch of his face.
"We can find out who The Seven Brothers sold the egg to," she tried to placate him. "You said we have a couple of days before the eggs are supposed to hatch, right? That gives us time."
Draco huffed. "How nice it must be to always believe there's a chance you can still prove victorious," he said, though the words were more resigned than harsh. "Face it, Granger. I failed. Just like how actions have consequences, inactions have consequences, too."
He tried to move past her again, but she wouldn't let him. Her hold on his hand remained tight. "You can't live with that mentality."
"That's easier for you to say when your past actions didn't help the wrong side of a war," he snapped, resentment hot in his eyes. "Am I not allowed to blame myself for that? The Death Eaters got inside the castle due to my conscious actions." His gaze fell to where her left arm stretched out to capture his hand. "And that word is carved in your skin due to my inactions."
Her breathing hitched. "Draco." His name was so soft, she wasn't sure she had successfully pushed it past her lips. Without thinking, Hermione reached out to cup his jaw, clenched and cool beneath her skin. "I don't blame you for that. I never have."
She searched his face, pulse racing ever faster. The glow of moonlight cast over him, illuminating every etch of remorse. Through the thin space between them, she could practically feel his heartbeat, but all Hermione could focus on was how his anguish had dimmed the moment her palm met his cheek.
"Come back to my room," she attempted, throat tight. "Just for a bit. While you calm down. You shouldn't Apparate while upset."
She could help him. She needed to help him.
But Draco closed his eyes, hand moving over hers to remove their connection.
"Not tonight," his voice cracked. "I just— I need to be alone right now."
For the shortest second, their fingers laced together before he slipped them apart. A blink later, Hermione was alone in the moonlight, heart shattered as she stared at the space Draco had vacated.