Hermione was glad to get back to the business of being a student. She'd missed most of her first week of classes and her absence horrified her, no matter the reason. Thank goodness the beginning of class usually involved going over introductory principles and syllabi and the reading material which she had already completed before the start of term. Still, she had assignments to get caught up on, and notes to borrow, and teachers to check in with. This was her N.E.W.T. year, and she had no intention of dedicating any less than 110% of her attention to achieving stellar marks.

She was up at 6 a.m., showered, and ready to get to work. She wasn't avoiding thinking about her personal life. She wasn't. She just had a lot to do and limited time.

The library had that early morning cathedral feeling that only happened on a Saturday. It was completely void of students, and the librarian didn't arrive until ten, so she had the whole massive cavern to herself. It was still and peaceful and a balm to her troubled soul. Harry and Ginny were gone, and Ron wouldn't be caught dead in the library on a Saturday, so she was able to just immerse herself in her work and steadily tick things off her to do list. Five hours later, she closed her last folder and set it atop a pile of completed work with a satisfied sigh.

She knew her friends would label her straight up barmy, but Hermione never felt more refreshed than she did when she had a pile of completed tasks to her name. Now she could go visit her parents without the overhanging stress of undone work. She swung by the kitchens and grabbed a muffin and some juice to munch on, then headed towards McGonagall's office to get a pass to leave the grounds. The password was 'parchment', and Hermione felt the usual deep pang of loss as she mounted the stairs to the Headmistress's office. Dumbledore would not be present to offer her a lemon drop and twinkle his eyes at her.

"Hermione, thank Merlin you are here! I should have called for you straight away," McGonagall exclaimed the second she entered the circular room, taking her by the arm and escorting her down the stairs as quickly as she had arrived. "We've tried every potion, countercurse, and antidote we can think of. I know he assaulted you, but the foulest criminal in Azkaban doesn't deserve this."

What?

"I have no proof of course, he's too shrewd for that, but it must be him. He was furious yesterday when the boy was released from custody, and this must be some form of old family magic if Pomfrey doesn't recognize it." McGonagall steered her unerringly towards the infirmary while speaking quickly. Hermione felt a body wide sweep of dread come over her starting at her toes and working its way to her scalp like she had been dipped in warm champagne.

"I don't expect he will admit to any guilt, you know how he resists coercion. His mother just summoned his damnible lawyers. I'm just hoping you have as much influence over him as I suspect. Mr. Zabini got off scott free, so I suppose it's not the end of the world if Mr. Malfoy gets a pass as well as long as he undoes the curse post haste. With no evidence there isn't a whole lot I can do to hold him accountable no matter how despicable this is but we have to stress that this behavior will not be tolerated. Another incident of this nature and I will have no choice but to consider expulsion."

Hermione's heartbeat was banging against her chest so loud she was amazed the Headmistress couldn't hear it. Malfoy, she had to be talking about Malfoy.

Hermione came to a stop outside the doors of the infirmary, resisting McGonagall's firm attempts to steer her inside and forcing words out passed a throat gone tight with anxiety. "I'm sorry, Headmistress. I'm afraid I am not completely clear as to the situation. Are you telling me that Malfoy has done something to Blaise Zabini?"

"Yes, I thought you knew!" the stern witch exclaimed, glancing about for listeners. "For all our efforts to keep this quiet, I figured in true Hogwarts fashion everyone must know. Yesterday, Mr. Zabini was questioned, reprimanded and released. Mr. Malfoy and his lawyers protested quite vehemently, however grabbing a student's arm is not grounds for dismissal from school or arrest, no matter how dire the boy's intentions. At some point after he was released, someone saw fit to poison or curse him. I need you to convince Mr. Malfoy that Mr. Zabini has suffered enough before the damage done is irreversible."

"What makes you think I have any influence over him?" Hermione exclaimed, her emotions too tumultuous to examine. For Merlin's sake, she couldn't even catch forty winks in this school without everything going ass over teakettle.

Malfoy had seemed fine when she had left him outside the dorms, Zabini happily laughing and partying away inside the bowels of Slytherin. Hell, Draco had been drinking with the boy, no ill will between them. How did a friendly party turn into an irreversible curse? And what the utter fuck did McGonagall think was going on between the two of them? Surely she, of all people, understood that her arrangement with Malfoy was purely business.

"Miss Granger, if you truly have no idea what I am talking about," McGonagall gave her a stern look to accompany her no nonsense tone, "then please see me for a chat about the birds and the bees after this is sorted." She flung the infirmary door open and ushered Hermione in hastily. "In the meantime, we have more urgent matters to attend to."

Malfoy and Pomfrey stood at the end of the long row of white beds, Zabini in the bed between them, tossing back and forth under the covers. Pomfrey appeared to be quite worked up, her mouth moving rapidly as she shook a threatening finger at a seemingly uninterested Malfoy who stood staring down at her with bored apathy and crossed arms. Hermione realized there must be a Silencing spell going on. Somehow, seeing the actual situation calmed the hysteria clawing at her nerves and spurred her into action. With a determined flick of her hair, she stomped over to stop this insanity immediately.

The moment she entered the bubble of silence she almost stepped out again. Zabini's screams were so raw and ear piercing that she had to make fists in order to keep her hands from covering her ears. One could hardly hear Madam Pomfrey demanding that Malfoy do something over the noise. Her sham of a fiancé flicked his gaze towards her and gave her a dismissive once over. She made a face at McGonagall to demonstrate how little influence she had. and the woman gave her an encouraging gesture before bodily seizing Madam Pomfrey and pulling her, protesting all the way, into the office.

Malfoy removed his wand from his robes and flicked it at Zabini with a wordless spell. One that muted the screams, if not the twisting agony. "I suppose they brought you in to manipulate me?"

Hermione stared up at him and was dismayed to see that Malfoy's previous mask of bored indifference had not altered one iota in her presence. So much for her supposed influence. There was no hungry gaze, no longing looks at her lips. In fact, he glanced over at the door as though he would seize the opportunity to leave the infirmary and this mess behind. No matter. They could do this the easy way or the hard way. Hermione hardened her expression into her fiercest Prefect glare, put her hands on her hips, and made her voice firm, if quiet. "What have you done?" she asked. "The Headmistress seems to be under the impression that you have cursed,spelled, or poisoned Blaise in response to his assault on me."

"Why does everyone always blame the Slytherin? Zabini has dozens of people who hate him," he growled, and she gave him a pointed look at his flippant tone, tapping her foot impatiently. He rolled his eyes and sighed. "Alright, fine. I cursed his sorry behind. And if you tell a soul I said so, I'll deny it vehemently."

"What did you do?" Hermione asked again, glancing over at the patient. He was covered in sweat, red in the face, writhing, silently screaming with no apparent relief. Guilt washed over her, making her feel quite sick. "Surely this isn't because of the other day?"

"Look, he's fine. It's a temporary curse that will run its course. He probably won't even remember the worst of it. The only permanent damage will be to my reputation which is already tarnished enough." He gave her a grim, rather scary smile that sent goosebumps running up her arms. "What's important is that we establish to any doubters that you are 100% under Malfoy protection, regardless of your blood status."

"Temporary curse?" Hermione felt the blood drain from her face and twisted her hands together nervously despite her intention to show no weakness. This was her fault. She had accepted Malfoy's protection, encouraged it even. She hadn't put him firmly in his place when he had suggested the strategy for handling Blaise, had even given him that little kiss of acceptance last night. All those warm, tingly, exciting feelings of desire and trust felt dirty and stupid in the harsh light of day. She was too smart to forget just who she was dealing with here. "What kind of temporary curse?"

He had narrowed his eyes at her, tilting his head in that way of his, clearly trying to read her, to… figure her out. "What does it matter? Another hour, maybe two, and he will be right as rain, maybe a little soreness to keep the memory fresh for a while." His eyes flicked over her arm, scowling at mottled bruise above her elbow. Hermione fervently wished she had worn long sleeves but had not even thought of trying to cover up the bruise.

"It matters," Hermione bit out, trying to infuse her voice with the ringing authority she had heard her mother use in times of family strife, "Because I need to know what type of curse it is so I can remove it immediately. I want this suffering to stop. And I want your word you won't do something like this behind my back in the name of my protection again."

"I can't make promises that limit my ability to act on future events that have not occured yet. There is no context." He sounded like one of his stupid lawyers, precise and useless.

"Damn it, Malfoy," Hermione gave into her temper and snapped at him. "Quit trying to squirrel out of any obligation with your pretty words and tell me how to undo this curse. He is suffering!"

Draco glanced at Blaise and scoffed. "So?"

"So?" she screeched, completely losing her cool and grabbing hold of his jet black robes with both hands. "So, you say you did this in my name. Undo it in my name. You want me to say please? Please. Please undo this curse." She hated the tremble in her voice, the plea, but Malfoy couldn't be bullied by authority, and the seconds were ticking by while they talked and Blaise suffered.

"Fine," he barked, stepping away from her with a coldness she hadn't seen from him since before they were engaged. He lifted the Silencing Spell with a wave of his wand, and Blaise's screams filled the space with ear wrenching horror. Malfoy grabbed her hand, void of the gentle fascination she had become used to in his manner, and pulled a small knife from his robes. It was flat black and curved, but too ornate to be a weapon. Still, it took every bit of willpower she had not to jerk her hand free as he clearly came at her with intent to cut her. He gave her an unfathomable look and twisted her hand so he had access to her index finger. The tiniest prick on the side of her finger barely gave her a pinch. Then, he wiped the small welling bit of blood up with a surprisingly gentle touch and swiped it over Blaise's forehead.

The boy convulsed once more and lay still, panting and dazed.

"Look at her," Malfoy hissed, and Hermione immediately put her attention back on Malfoy who had gone from indifferent to menacing. He didn't give Blaise even a moment to recover, hauling the boy up and grabbing his chin to wretch his face towards her so that he had his wet wide terrified eyes in her direction. Malfoy was every inch the brutal Death Eater in that moment, and Hermione resisted the urge to pull her wand and protect the injured. "A fucking Angel saw fit to bestow mercy on you today," Draco snarled in Blaise's face. "A Goddess you are not worthy to serve. Don't forget it, you owe her a blood debt now."

And with that he shoved Blaise away from him, turned on his heel sharply, and strode out of the infirmary.

For a moment, Hermione stood biting her lip, wanting to make sure Blaise was okay, but also not wanting to let Malfoy get away. Her indecision cost her because when she raced after him and flung open the infirmary door, he was nowhere within sight. She sagged against the doorway, torn between relief and frustration. A few deep breaths to restore outward calm were necessary before she was able to go and fetch Pomfrey. Blaise needed to be tended to before she went chasing after her questions and confusion.


By the time Hermione left the infirmary, there was no point in getting a pass to leave school grounds. There was a nine hour time difference, and her parents were early to bed early to rise kind of people. Her visit would have to be postponed. McGonagal had kept her after Blaise had calmed to discuss Malfoy which just blackened her mood even further. Add in the last forty minutes she had spent traipsing around, looking for Malfoy everywhere she could think of, and she was in a high temper. She just wanted to confiscate that evil knife and get straight that he was not to be invoking any further curses, no matter how minor, in her name. McGonagall had placed the responsibility for reining in Malfoy on her shoulders, so he was going to be held accountable whether he liked it or not if she could just find the scheming bastard.

She had already been through the Slytherin common room, the library, the potions labs, several abandoned classrooms, the kitchen, and now was checking the castle grounds.. He wasn't at the lake, he wasn't in any of the greenhouses, he wasn't at the pitch, he wasn't at the hedge maze. She had resorted to prowling the courtyards and groves where she rarely frequented.

A fourth year Slytherin directed her to Malfoy's likely whereabouts, and Hermione huffed and puffed as she made her way across the grounds yet again. She wasn't exactly a model example of fitness, her exercise routine mainly consisted of Hogwarts stairs and runs to the library. She also tended to avoid lengthy outdoor excursions in September since the humidity had her hair frizzing up like a puffskein. She called herself nine kinds of fool even as she plaited her hair into a loose braid to manage it and cast an antiperspirant charm to freshen herself up before charging into the west garden. It was with just a twinge of self disgust that she also applied a layer of lip balm. She just didn't want to be dried out.

She felt even more stupid when she found him cuddled up on on a bench with another girl. After all they had shared here he was all casually affectionate in front of God and Everyone. Hermione knew she had no right to feel betrayed and jealous, but their engagement and the breathless moments in between had felt real and visceral and transcendent. How could he go from almost kissing her to someone else just like that? The bottom dropped out of her stomach, and for a moment she saw nothing but a red haze of fury.

Hermione didn't even know what she planned on saying, but before she could sort out her reaction, she was storming up to him to confront him, a tangle of words and accusations tumbling about in the back of her throat, only to be swallowed like word vomit when Malfoy's companion turned to look at who was approaching. Daphne Greengrass's red wet face was streaked with tears, and Hermione stumbled to an embarrassed stop when she realized what had appeared at first glance to be a steamy liaison was apparently something else entirely.

Granted, she would never turn to Malfoy for comfort, but she was not in Slytherin, and the arm around the weeping girl looked much more supportive than seductive. She felt like an ass for even making such a wild assumption. Thank God she hadn't said anything!

Daphne stood immediately, shrugging out of Malfoy's embrace, and he turned to see what the problem was. His eyebrows lifted in surprise at the sight of her. However, he made no move to greet her or explain his behavior, simply gave her a dismissive once over with silver eyes gone cold and expressionless.

"This is a Slytherin courtyard, Granger," Greengrass announced snottily, drying her tears with a composure that Hermione could only dream of.

"What?" Hermione asked stupidly, focusing on Greengrass and not the boy who was climbing slowly to his feet, full of insolent indifference and boredom once more.

"The Great Lake, the pumpkin patch, the southern courtyard, those are Gryffindor places. Stay in your lane. You have no business here."

"Actually, I do," Hermione stood up a little taller, put a little steel in her voice. She could go anywhere she liked, thank you very much, and some washed out pureblooded snob wasn't about to tell her a damn thing. "I need to talk to Malfoy. We have unfinished business from this morning."

"Talk? Conversations are not part of our 'deal'" He contradicted her, a sneer in his undertone she hadn't heard all year. She should have known that line would come back to bite her. She asked for his distance, she asked for him to pull back. She didn't however ask him to revert to standard Malfoy asshole mode. "I've said all I'm going to say on the subject."

"Well, I haven't," she hissed, abruptly furious. These damn Slytherins just thought they could do whatever they wanted, say whatever they wanted, and the rest of the world would fall in line. Well, not this time. Not this damn time. Did Daphne even know Blaise was in hospital right now, a victim of her good friend Malfoy? She shoved her hands in her pockets to keep them from curling into fists but couldn't keep the angry snarl out of her voice. "I have a lot to say on the subject. We can talk about it here, or we can talk about it in private, but words will be said."

He didn't give her the courtesy of answering her, just crossed his arms and stared off into the distance like she didn't matter. She waited just a little too long, felt just a little foolish standing there with Daphne and the other visitors to the courtyard staring at her. She straightened her spine. Fine. He wanted to do this here? They would do this here.

"Headmistress McGonagall has charged me with, firstly, confiscating the dark object you employed earlier today, and, secondly, obtaining your agreement that you will leave further justice to the proper authorities. Thirdly, we will need your word that you will participate in no additional vigilante punishments or illegal cursework whilst a student of this school."

He laughed at her. Threw his head back and laughed at her. Full bellied chuckles that belied all her preconceived notions about him.

This was not funny.

"I'm serious, Malfoy!" She stomped her foot angrily, blood pressure rising dangerously fast. She could hear her own heartbeat thundering in her ears and the itch of her magic along her veins begging to be set loose. "You can't seriously think that you can go around cursing students, flinging insults, and refusing to follow school rules!"

"School rules?" he crowed incredulously, "You want to stand there and self-righteously lecture me on following school rules?"

Greengrass and several other students joined in on the laughter, and Hermione hated that she could feel herself blushing. Malfoy was right, she had disregarded school rules when necessary. But cursing a fellow student went too far.

She just needed to remember that she had the moral high ground on this one. "There are some lines that shouldn't be crossed," she said primly, her face practically burning with embarrassment.

Just yesterday, Malfoy had made her feel beautiful and wanted and like they were part of a team. Today, he was all cold indifference and sneering and laughing at her. She'd pushed him away and now she didn't know how to get that fascinated agreeableness back, if she even wanted to. "Attacking a fellow student is not acceptable behavior by anyone's standard."

"You told me to handle it, I handled it." He answered dismissively with a shrug. What?

"I never told you to do anything to Blaise!" Hermione squawked, outraged and confused.

"You asked me to handle the situation last night," he clarified, blinking down at her, suddenly focusing that razor sharp attention on her, and much to her chagrin, she half wished he'd go back to his indifferent attitude. All of a sudden, she felt a lot less furious and a whole lot more aware of just how tall he was and how close he was.

Her brain chose that precise unwelcome moment to replay that chaste sweet kiss she had given him the night before, exactly how that moment had felt. His breath on her face and his lips firm under hers and the magic between them arching and sparking and amplifying every wild heartbeat in her chest.

She forced her thoughts back on the conversation and gave a discreet glance around. "Are you implying that the situation last night is related to the Blaise situation?"

He gave her another slow blink, staring at her hard like he was trying to read her thoughts and sighed. "You are correct, we need to discuss this in private."

He took her arm in a gentle but firm grim and started to steer her towards the exit. She jerked her arm free dramatically and resisted the insane urge to refuse to go anywhere with his swotty ass. First he demanded they air this situation in public, and then he decided he was going to manhandle her. If it weren't essential that they got this mess sorted poste haste, she would turn on her heel and flounce out of there in all her righteous Gryffindor fury.

By the time they left the courtyard and found an unoccupied space, she was practically seething she was so furious. "Make no mistake, Malfoy," she bit out angrily, spinning to face him. "You will not harm anyone else on my behalf."

"Make no mistake, Granger," he hissed back, eyes spitting fire at her. "That little curse is the least of things I will do to see you safe."

"My safety is not your responsibility!" she snapped back and took a furious step in his direction, resisting the urge to give him a good firm poke for emphasis.

Something about him softened and shifted and suddenly the atmosphere between them felt intimate instead of hostile. "I recall being on my knees before you pledging otherwise."

She met his stare, knowing that he was remembering their engagement, that beautiful commitment, her shaking hand as his blood sealed promises with magic. His tone, low and serious, had her breath catching in her throat and her heart pounding alarmingly.

He closed the distance between them with a single step and glanced about before continuing in a conspiring way. "The question is not whether I will protect you. The question is whether you needed to be protected. I did some further reading and found out the problem last night is your damnable Gryffindor courage."

He made it sound like a curse and a complement all in one, and she couldn't keep up with his swinging mood. It was giving her mental whiplash.

"What does last night have to do with Blaise?" she demanded hissed fiercely, her hand curling in a fist to keep from grabbing her wand and giving him a 'little' curse. If she didn't keep him on track, then he would ramble on and distract her, and she would never get the answers she needed.

"You didn't feel any fear," he went on conversationally, a curious tilt to her head, looking at her like she was a puzzle instead of a person. "Thus, your protective magic was not triggered. Then you paralized the bastard before he could so much as lay a finger on you, so he never made contact to allow your magic to read his intentions."

"Are you saying I should have waited for Frank to attack me before I trussed him up? Are you insane?" she questioned imperiously, but he went on as if she had not spoken.

"Logically, we can not conclude that the intruder had no ill intent towards you since you neutralized him before he got anywhere near you." He gave a small acknowledging tilt to his head, and Hermione felt her cheeks begin to heat. She ducked her head and cursed herself for enjoying his approval in any way shape or form. She was getting sucked in again. Sucked into that warm conconspiritor feeling that was so dangerous. He was dangerous, as the topic of this conversation proved.

One second she was giving in and kissing him, no matter how brief and chaste, and the next he was cursing fellow students and declaring he'd done it for her. He may be reformed, but that didn't make him less dangerous. That was the thing about skill and knowledge, these things didn't change with one's intentions.

She sighed, suddenly exhausted. He was pushing her off balance, distracting her. The important thing was to make sure he was clear on what McGonagall expected from them.

It didn't matter what she said or how she said it, Malfoy would have a quick clever comeback. As exciting as the lightning fast back and forth was, it was also frustrating because she never seemed to have the upper hand for more than a second. She liked to win arguments, and he never quit until he managed to change the subject or get the conversation twisted around to his advantage.

"How does that translate to an assault on Blaise?" she asked dully, wanting to escape his bipolar presence and decompress her mind for a while.

"Because," he whispered firmly, insisting on her full attention with his lowered volume, "I had my security team identify him. His name is most certainly not Frank. It's Nars Lisbon, and his family has ties to the Zabini family for generations. Nars is the nephew of Blaise's personal security guard. We have to assume that Blaise had full knowledge that Nars had attempted to gain access to you through the bodyguard position and when that failed would attempt to infiltrate your security here. After his blatant attack on you, this follow up attempt to gain access to you simply can not be ignored."

"Actually," she insisted calmly, "it can. This is why we have institutions like the Ministry and the Auror Department. To deal with nefarious attempts on other people's safety."

He barked a laugh and shook his head at her as if she were clueless. "The vast majority of the population, maybe. But you, my dear financée," he had the audacity to give her a wink and a warm smile, "are now attached to me. We are not only above the law, we are outside of it. Such protections are not extended to the likes of us. We are the elite. Dragons. Slayers of men and minds. We are responsible for our own safety and security. The spells I put on you would have been sufficient if you had for one second doubted yourself. However, you chose to neutralize the threat with perfect confidence."

"The laws apply to everyone, Malfoy," she said stubbornly, refusing to believe the rest of the wizarding world thought as highly of the Malfoys as they thought of themselves.

"Demonstrating once again your value, your worth. Thank Merlin I already sewed up your bride price because the competition for your hand would be staggering this morning," he continued without pause, ignoring her protest, reaching out and taking her hand, drawing her in even closer. "I only wish I could have seen it. Hermione Granger in all her fierceness, a lioness to guard the Dragon's den. Fucking poetry."

Despite her resolve to stay on topic she found herself diverted by the downright flattering respect in his tone. "I thought pureblooded men wanted demure, fashionable little ladies, classy and sophisticated," she whispered back, looking up at him and trying to figure out how the atmosphere had shifted so dramatically. Somehow, she had managed to melt through all his coldess from earlier. He was close enough to feel the heat of his breath, and she shivered even in this heat.

"No," he shook his head, giving her another of those warm soft smiles that she had never seen directed at another person in all the time she'd known him. "We want warriors. The last defence for our homes and heirs is a wife. Who wants a useless, hand twisting chit when a real woman will stand her ground and earn her place?" He swayed in closer, eyes hot and intense, their joined hands tugging her just a bit closer. "Real men want a partner they can respect."

Without her permission, her free hand came up, bracing herself on his chest only inches from her own to keep them apart.

"A partner would have discussed the move against Blaise with me first," she told him firmly. She could almost feel the ground metaphorically shifting beneath her feet. She was bargaining. Even worse, she was setting rules for an interpersonal relationship here. It was crazy. But this conversation felt almost as profound as the library promises to let her go free if she wished.

"There wasn't time." He was doing that thing where he stared at her mouth. He had that hungry look again, the one that made her aware of every single hair on her body and every inch of space between them, and made her feel desirable instead of frumpy. His heart was hammering wildly underneath her touch, and she felt overwhelmed with a plethora of feelings she couldn't even begin to sort out. Pounding desire and excitement and fear and shyness all mixed together. "Are you going to kiss me and run away again?"

The shyness and embarrassment won out and she tried to step back, get out of his space, but he tightened his hold on her and kept her close. When had his hand landed on her hip? She'd been so focused on his lips she hadn't noticed, but now that he was grasping her, she felt the heat of it branding her through all her clothes. All that kept them apart was the width of her hand, and every inch of her body felt positively electrified and tuned to his touch.

"You can't have it both ways, Granger. You can't enjoy having me panting after you while you verbally demand I leave you alone. Which is it? You want to kiss me or kick me to the curb?" It was an excellent question, and she wished she had an answer for him.

"What if I don't know?" she asked, biting her lip as she stared up at him. Trying to read his thoughts by staring in his eyes. His expression gave nothing away, and she found no wisdom in her own mind.

Time seemed to stand still for a string of breaths while she balanced on a wire of indecision. She didn't know if she wanted him to close that last inch between their lips and kiss her breathless or if she wanted him to let her go and never speak to her again. There was no in between, there was no middle ground to get her footing underneath her. He made her feel weightless and wanting and confused and she was halfway between hating him for it and desperately wanting him to do something about the chaotic storm of her feelings. She knew if he kissed her, the entire heated situation would be nine times worse. She knew she ought to tell him no, yet, at the same time she couldn't help but want him and to hell with the consequences.

"I understand," he sighed against her lips, his firm voice breaking the spell she seemed to be caught in. He released her abruptly, leaving her cold and wanting where his touch used to be. "I'll leave you alone to decide, let me know when you figure it out."

Just that easy he was walking away from her. He was always walking away. Surely it said something about her that she was always chasing after him. She wanted to call him back, wanted to finish talking about this, use his diamond hard mind to scratch her thoughts, but she didn't know what to say. Hermione stood there too long, catching her breath, and he had vanished from sight before she remembered she was supposed to confiscate that damn knife from him.


Author's Note: All the love and praise to LightofEvolution for her endless patience while editing this piece. Hugs.