/
"Hermione, you— you look great," Harry said softly, his emerald eyes shining as she joined him in the common room.
Hermione was dressed in an off-the shoulder Gryffindor-red party dress. She'd required a bit of Ginny's help, but she had managed to tame her hair into soft curls, the ends of which she felt brush against her bare shoulders as she took Harry's arm.
"You do too, Harry," she replied, and she meant it. She hadn't seen Harry dressed up since the Yule Ball, and she'd thought him handsome then; now however, well… she suddenly found herself unable to fault the girls who'd been stalking him for weeks.
"Where's Ginny?" Harry asked.
"She's waiting for Neville," Hermione replied as they made their way through the portrait hole to attend Slughorn's Christmas party, the Fat Lady exclaiming, '"Never have I witnessed a more charming couple!"' behind them.
"Neville?" Harry inquired. "What about Dean?"
"Oh, they broke up—" Hermione explained nonchalantly.
"Again?"
"Again," Hermione affirmed. "Hopefully for good this time, they're all wrong for each other."
Harry shrugged. "Neville and Ginny? Makes sense."
Hermione couldn't agree more, even if Ginny explained they were attending the party only as friends.
"Did Ron leave to meet Luna?" Hermione asked.
"Yeah, said he'd see us there."
"I can't believe he actually agreed to go with Luna…"
Harry scowled.
"I didn't mean it like that! I wish he and Luna were dating. I only meant that Ron shouldn't have agreed to go with anyone… not while he's still dating Lavender. She's furious," Hermione exclaimed, although she appreciated that Ron's lack of tact meant that it'd likely be a long time— she hoped never— before they'd have to again witness Ron and Lavender's stomach-turning public displays of affection.
"Really? You can't believe it? Is this the same Ron we're talking about?"
Hermione laughed, and Harry returned her smile, his green eyes warm.
"I still don't understand why he wants to go to this party so badly," Harry continued.
"Now it's my turn," she said, "Is this the same Ron we're talking about?"
"Touché," Harry agreed. "I guess the biggest surprise is how Luna got an invite in the first place."
"Simple really, once Ginny explained to Slughorn that she'd arranged your Quibbler interview last year," Hermione explained as they turned down a corridor and the distant echo of Christmas music greeted their ears.
Harry rolled his eyes.
"I hope you're prepared, Harry, Slughorn's not going to let you out of his sight tonight."
"Happy Christmas to me," Harry replied sarcastically, and Hermione was reminded of the recent conversation she'd had with Theo. She'd been distracted all evening about his proposal, what he'd told her about Malfoy.
"And here I was hoping not to let you out of my sight tonight," Harry added quietly.
Harry paused suddenly at the door of an empty classroom and led them inside.
"Harry— what?" She asked in confusion. "What's wrong?"
"If we're not going to have another chance to be alone," Harry said softly— and nervously, Hermione noted— as he closed the door behind them and cast a 'Muffliato.'
When he turned back around to face her, she saw in his familiar gaze a contradictory mixture of trepidation and resolve. She also spotted a small, velvet box in his hands.
"Since we won't see each other over the holiday, I— I thought I'd give you your Christmas gift tonight."
"Oh, Harry— you didn't have to. I already sent your gift to the Burrow," Hermione felt an overwhelming appreciation for his unexpected thoughtfulness, and she couldn't deny her heart was suddenly beating quite rapidly.
"That's okay… well— here," Harry said quietly as he placed the box in her hands and she felt his fingertips brush her palm.
"Happy Christmas, Hermione."
Hermione opened the little box and could not contain her smile of gratitude. Inside sat a beautiful gold necklace, delicate and pretty, its center adorned with a small, albeit startlingly bright and clear, round diamond.
"I know jewelry's not really your thing or— or whatever… but I— I wanted you to have a better one. Do you like it?" Harry asked tentatively.
"I love it," she replied in all honesty and threw her arms around him. "Thank you, Harry."
She felt him relax in her embrace. She could tell he'd put a lot of thought into the gift, that it meant a lot to him.
But what does it mean, exactly? She wondered, thinking how her Christmas gift to him, a new pair of Quidditch gloves, paled in comparison… on multiple levels.
"Help me put it on?" She asked the moment they parted. She put the necklace in Harry's hands before turning around, brushing her hair to one shoulder.
For a moment, she felt as though she were back in Borgin and Burkes, pressed up against the glass display case. But Malfoy's firm hands were not around her waist, and when she felt Harry's fingers fumbling to clasp the necklace behind her, when she felt his warm breath on the back of her neck, she could not help but notice how her body did not react the same way it had that day in the shop— the surface of her skin did not tingle, and the sound of her heart did not pound in her ears.
"There," Harry breathed as he fastened the necklace at last. Hermione wondered how the gold and platinum looked together on her neck, side-by-side.
She turned back to face him, a shy smile on her face, then leaned in and kissed him on the cheek, feeling it was very warm.
Hermione briefly considered telling him everything then and there— about Felix Felicis, the odd sort of alliance she and Nott were developing, everything Nott had told her about Malfoy, and every strange moment that had transpired between her and Malfoy since their meeting in Borgin and Burkes— but all Hermione could see were a pair of bright gray eyes staring back at her, and she suddenly found it quite impossible…
The only thing she managed to say was, "Happy Christmas, Harry."
/
As predicted, Harry was accosted by Slughorn the moment they stepped through his office door. Slughorn's office had obviously been expanded for the party— the room was decorated in red and green.
"Harry, m'boy! You made it at last! Arm-in-arm with Miss Granger, I see— splendid! My two best Potions students. Although, Misters Nott and Malfoy are giving you both a run for your money… right, well, Miss Granger, I do hope you do not mind me stealing Harry here— many introductions to be made, after all… and speaking of Mister Nott, I see him lurking by the punch over there, why don't you join him Miss Granger…?"
Hermione watched Harry shoot her a sympathetic look as he was dragged away by Slughorn. She couldn't hide her smirk as she silently mouthed "I told you so" as Slughorn proceed to introduce Harry to a rather stout-looking wizard with an irrationally pointy white beard.
Hermione turned and found that Nott was indeed lurking by the punch bowl, impassively observing the room, as was his custom. She couldn't help but notice he looked a bit put-out, rubbing at his eye. She winced at the memory of the jagged scar on his chest, and the explanation of how he'd gotten it.
Where's Malfoy? She wondered, idly bringing her fingertips to her throat, frowning at the unfamiliar feel of not one, but two necklaces.
She sighed and was about to join Nott when Ron and Luna approached.
"Dragon balls?" Luna asked.
"Dragon—?" Hermione grimaced.
"Balls," Luna explained plainly, as if she were talking about the weather. She gestured to a small plate in her hand; a few steaming, round morsels of green and brown sat atop its shining surface.
Hermione watched as Ron buckled over with laughter. Luna popped one of the morsels unceremoniously into her mouth.
"Oh, er— no thank you," Hermione replied kindly, ignoring Ron.
"Fair enough," Luna replied, dabbing at the corners of her lips with a napkin. "They're loaded with garlic. Not to everyone's taste, I'm sure… the vampire over there in particular," Luna gestured to a very tall, gaunt and exceedingly pale man dressed in a velvet suit that was the same shade of red as blood.
Ron's laughter abruptly deceased and Hermione smirked.
"Vampire," Ron whispered, as if they'd needed an explanation.
Across the room, Hermione noticed a few couples had begun to dance. Malfoy was not among them.
Where could he be?
"We should introduce ourselves, Ronald," Luna said as she finished off the dragon balls. "I bet he's here to try to spy on Dumbledore for Scrimgeour— too bad for him Dumbledore's not in the castle…"
"Scrimgeour?" Hermione inquired, wondering what the Minister and the vampire across the room could possibly have to do with one another.
"Yes, Minister Scrimgeour, you see, he's a vampire too—"
Hermione regarded Luna with marked skepticism.
"Father wrote a very long article about it when Scrimgeour first took over from Cornelius Fudge, but he was forced not to publish by somebody from the Ministry. Obviously, they didn't want the truth to get out!"
"Er— we can't talk to him…" Ron announced, eyeing the vampire nervously. "Because we—" he scanned the room, looking for an out, "—we have to dance now!"
Luna beamed as Ron grabbed her hand and led her toward the makeshift dance floor, making sure to put plenty of space between them and the vampire.
Hermione laughed, then scowled just as quickly as she saw McLaggen approach. It was obvious he'd been waiting for a moment she was alone.
"If you were my date, Granger, I wouldn't let you out of my sight. Potter's an idiot."
"I wouldn't date you—" Hermione began.
"Punch?" McLaggen interrupted, shoving a glass of said beverage into her hand. She rather wished she could punch him, preferably in his smug face. It was clear the beverage he gave her was spiked; it reeked of something foul.
"I added a little something special to it," he said, a stupid grin spreading across his face.
I could use a few shots of Ogden's right now, Hermione grimaced as McLaggen sidled ever closer. She could practically feel Nott's eyes upon her from across the room.
He must be loving this.
"No thanks," Hermione replied, and she suddenly felt a gentle hand on the small of her back. It was Harry.
Thank Merlin, she thought as Harry took the glass from her hand and shoved it back into McLaggen's.
"No date this evening, McLaggen? Seems even love potions won't work for some people."
Hermione had just enough time to see McLaggen's expression alight with rage before Harry guided her to the dance floor.
He took her hand in his and pulled her a bit closer as they began to sway to the music.
"Thank you," she breathed in relief.
"My pleasure… that git… I'd just love to—" Harry sputtered in anger.
"Confunding him was too kind, I know," Hermione agreed, smiling as she met Harry's gaze. He returned the smile.
"If he comes near you again—"
"—I'll make what I did to Malfoy look like a field trip to the zoo," she replied. "So who did Slughorn show you off to?"
"It'd be quicker to tell you who he hasn't showed me off to yet," Harry answered dryly.
Hermione laughed, and as she and Harry rotated, she finally spotted Malfoy. He and Snape were huddled in a corner of the room; Snape looking as stern as ever, and Malfoy looking as though he wished he could be anywhere else.
"—Hermione?" Harry's voice broke through her distraction.
"Don't turn," she whispered into his ear, pulling him closer. "I think Snape and Malfoy are up to something."
They continued rocking back and forth.
"Here? I wish we could hear them," Harry replied softly into her ear.
"I think they're leaving!" She whispered back as her eyes followed Malfoy and Snape's path toward the door. She saw Nott still lurking by the punch, but his attention was now occupied by a rather inebriated-looking Daphne Greengrass.
"We should follow them," Harry replied. "I brought the Cloak."
"That was brilliant, Harry!" Hermione said excitedly, pulling him toward the door Malfoy and Snape had just disappeared through.
"Harry! Who knew you and Miss Granger were quite the waltzers!" Slughorn appeared before them, his expansive girth blocking their exit. "Of course I did a bit of dancing in my day— well, that's a story for another time… speaking of stories, Harry, I want you to meet my biographer friend here— Worple…"
'"Go,"' Harry mouthed to her in silence, his expression one of extreme irritation and disappointment.
She nodded and slipped through the door, without the Cloak.
Hermione kicked off her heels and darted down the corridor as quickly as she could, the soft pounding of her bare feet masked by the music and clamor issuing from Slughorn's office.
She listened as intently as she could as she passed empty classroom after empty classroom until at last she caught up with Snape and Malfoy, their voices muffled. She crouched by the keyhole of a classroom door at the very end of the corridor.
"... cannot afford mistakes, Draco, because if you are expelled—"
"Already you are suspected of another clumsy and foolish act—"
"Who suspects me?" she heard Malfoy snap angrily. She imagined his light gray eyes blazing through the darkness of the classroom. "And don't look at me like that! I know what you're doing, and it won't work any more—"
There was a pause and then Snape said quietly, "Ah... it seems you have not wasted your entire term with failed and foolish endeavors. What thoughts are you trying to conceal, Draco?"
Hermione pressed her ear more closely against the keyhole… it almost sounded as if they were talking about Occlumency.
It can't be…
But then Hermione recalled what seemed to be the ever-growing impassivity in Malfoy's eyes…
"You have failed to come to my office three times now, Draco—"
"So put me in detention! Report me to Dumbledore!" Jeered Malfoy.
There was another pause. Then Snape said, "You know perfectly well that I do not wish to do either of those things."
"You should stop wasting your time telling me to come to your office then," Malfoy replied dryly.
"Listen to me," said Snape, his voice so low and threatening now Hermione felt as though she were the one receiving a stern lecture.
"I have told you time and time again— I am trying to help you. I swore to your mother I would protect you. I made the Unbreakable Vow, Draco—"
Hermione used all her strength not to recoil in shock. An Unbreakable Vow… she knew what it was, how permanent and binding, and she knew that it meant Snape had promised to protect Malfoy, or die.
"Looks like you'll have to break it, then, because I don't need your protection. It's my job, he— he gave it to me and I'm doing it. I've got a plan… it's just taking a bit longer than I thought it would."
Hermione thought she could hear the doubt in Malfoy's voice… and the fear. She was certain Snape could, too.
'"—Draco chose to try to save himself, and his mother—"' Theo's words reverberated through her mind.
"What is your plan?" Snape asked.
Malfoy remained silent.
Hermione too wondered what Malfoy's plan was, and what exactly he and Theo needed help with in the Room of Requirement.
"If you tell me what you are trying to do, as I have offered before, I can assist you..."
"I have all the assistance I need, thanks, I'm— I'm not alone."
"If you are placing your reliance in assistants like Crabbe and Goyle—"
"They're not the only ones—"
She could practically feel Malfoy breaking.
"—I've got better people—"
He's talking about Nott… and me? She asked herself.
"Then why not confide in me too, and I can—"
She didn't understand why Malfoy refused Snape's assistance, especially when he knew Snape had made an Unbreakable Vow, but she certainly had her suspicions.
Maybe Malfoy trusts Snape about as much as Harry does. Hermione admitted it was certainly becoming more and more difficult to see Snape's true alliances, no matter what Dumbledore told Harry about his unyielding trust in the professor.
"It has to be me, or he'll— he'll…"
"Because lives hang in the balance, Granger, and I know you can help…"'
Nott wasn't lying after all, Hermione realized. They're desperate.
There was another pause, then Snape said coldly, "You are speaking like a child. I quite understand that your father—"
"—my father was weak. But I'm not… I refuse to fail," she heard Malfoy reply fiercely, almost as if he were trying to convince himself. His voice sounded nearer, as if he were moving toward the door.
She could not risk being seen. Hastily, she darted into the shadows of an empty classroom across the hall, and just in time. The door burst open, and Malfoy disappeared down the corridor, Snape's cloak billowing not far behind.
As she headed back to Slughorn's party, Hermione's mind was racing, replaying everything she'd just heard, and everything Nott had told her earlier that day.
She considered going to Dumbledore or McGonagall there and then, debated if she should tell Harry and Ron, but again found she could not.
"'Lives hang in the balance…'"
What am I going to do?
Just as the music from Slughorn's party reached her ears, totally oblivious of her surroundings, she bumped into someone quite solid and large. The pungent smell of alcohol flooded her senses.
It was McLaggen.
"There you are, you slippery little minx," he slurred as he placed both of his hands on her upper arms.
She felt the sweaty grip of his stubby fingers against her skin and wanted to wretch. Her chest tightened with fear. They were alone in the hall, and with Harry tied up with Slughorn and Ron with Luna, it was unlikely anyone was going to come looking for her.
"You're drunk, McLaggen. You should go back to your dorm," she tried to keep her voice calm.
"Only if you come with me," he replied as his grip tightened and he leaned forward to kiss her.
"Get off of me!" She screamed as she dodged him and his lips landed sloppily on her cheek. Hermione struggled against him, but his grip was so strong she found she was physically unable to reach her wand.
"McLaggen, you slimy bastard," a familiar voice, cool and even and deeply menacing, sounded from the shadowy hallway.
She and McLaggen turned to find Malfoy emerge from the darkness.
"Bugger off, Malfoy," McLaggen replied lamely. "This is none of your business."
Hermione winced as his grip on her arms tightened. She was sure she would have bruising to heal.
Hermione swallowed as her gaze met Malfoy's. His gray eyes flashed as he glided toward them. She couldn't be sure how this was going to end.
"Oh, McLaggen… you must be thinking in that little brain of yours that tonight's your lucky night— Granger, alone, without Potter… although, the probability of you having any thought at all is about as likely as Granger actually agreeing to go back to your dorm with you…"
Draco had an inkling he and Snape had been followed from Slughorn's party, but he would've pegged it on Nott. Seeing Hermione now at McLaggen's mercy, he was thankful he'd decided to wait and see exactly who'd been following him.
"I told you to fuck off, Malfoy— what do you care about the Mudblood, anyway?"
A few things happened all at once; McLaggen released Hermione abruptly, clumsily reaching for his wand, the inebriated force of which knocked her into the stone wall.
In contrast, Malfoy's movements were that of a Seeker's— sure and swift; he cast a silent stunning spell before McLaggen's fingertips even graced the handle of his wand.
Before Hermione realized what had happened, the hallway echoed with the sound of McLaggen's skull thumping against the floor. He now lay in a jumbled heap, unmoving and unconscious.
She looked up from her spot on the floor— chest heaving, heart thumping in her ears, the power of Malfoy's spell lingering in the air, making the hair on the back of her neck stand on end— and found him looking as poised as ever, watching her.
Draco's gray eyes met hers and she saw a deep satisfaction there, and, had she been able to focus better, she might have seen his fear there too… fear for her.
He strode toward her, quickly closing the distance between them with his long stride. Silently, he stretched out his hand to help her up; she took it gratefully.
Hermione was surprised to find his hand was warm and steady; it contrasted sharply with the coolness of his ring now pressed against her shaking palm. She was more surprised by his lack of scathing mockery, however.
As Hermione motioned to stand, she lost her footing, ashamed to find herself trembling with adrenaline and fear as she fell. She felt vulnerable and weak, and hated herself for it, particularly in Malfoy's presence.
Malfoy caught her easily and wordlessly, without audible judgement, and she could not ignore the relief that washed over her. He gently lowered them both to the floor.
"Thank you," she managed to whisper from his lap as her breathing failed to return to normal. Draco's arm was wrapped around her firmly, his hand still clasped tightly around hers. "I— I could've handled him," she said as firmly as she could manage.
Draco gave her an incredulous look, one corner of his lips twitching ever so slightly upward, amused— and impressed— by her insistent ferocity. He didn't argue with her; tonight she'd been caught off-guard, overpowered McLaggen's brute strength, but in truth, he knew Granger had more integrity, intelligence, and magical capability in her pinky fingernail than McLaggen could ever hope to achieve in a lifetime.
He said nothing, and allowed his eyes to wander from her face to her bare shoulders.
During the confrontation, the shoulders of Hermione's dress had slipped ever further down her upper arms, revealing more of the bare skin of her still-heaving chest. She and Draco were so close that she could feel his breath on the exposed skin of her sternum. A shiver ran down her spine.
It was only now that Hermione noticed Draco was clad in dark green dress robes, and she couldn't help but admit the sight of him was striking, even in the dim light of the corridor… even though he was Draco Malfoy.
Hermione watched his eyes as they traveled over her bare shoulders and her collarbone, feeling as though he was leaving a trail of icy fire upon her skin.
"Looks like Christmas came early this year," he said quietly as his eyes found her necklaces.
Draco released her hand and brought his fingertips to the necklace Harry had given her earlier that evening.
"Diamond? Looks like Potter's got something to prove."
Hermione pulled away from Draco, coming to rest in a seated position at his side. She found she didn't want to think about— let alone talk about— Harry.
"We should wipe his memory," she said softly, gesturing to McLaggen.
Draco raised an eyebrow. "Of course you know how to do that, why should I even be surprised? But I think whatever he was drinking and his little head injury will handle that for us… although, I hope he doesn't forget everything."
He better remember to stay the fuck away form her, Draco thought angrily. And me.
"I wish I could wipe him from my memory," she said, wincing in pain as she tugged her dress back up her shoulders, her arms sore from McLaggen's grip.
"Bloody git—" she cursed.
Draco laughed out loud, albeit gently.
"You think this is funny—?"
"A little… the fucking wanker forces himself on you and the worst you can call him is 'bloody git'?"
"I save all my choice curse words for you, Malfoy. Plus, you already stunned him into next year. You didn't leave anything for me to do… shame, that," she brushed her hair from her face and shoulders and winced again at the pain in her arms where McLaggen had gripped her.
"I can think of innumerable fitting curses and curse words for him— in fact, I have on many occasions— I've wanted to hex that smug grin right off his ugly face ever since Slughorn invited us to his train compartment…"
Draco trailed off as he watched her gently rub her upper arms, recognizing pain in her expression. His Dark Mark throbbed, as if he was somehow taking on some of her pain.
"Seriously, Granger? Aren't you supposed to be best in our year? Don't move," he said. Hermione watched his expression become very serious as he pointed his wand at her upper arm.
"Malfoy— what—?"
"I said don't move."
Hermione sighed, but obeyed. She felt the tip of Draco's wand on her now-throbbing arm and watched with curiosity as his eyes fluttered closed. Her pain vanished as he cast what she assumed was a silent healing spell.
"You've been practicing," she remarked with quiet approval as he healed her other arm.
Draco shrugged in silence and leaned against the stone wall behind them, closing his eyes again. Hermione did the same.
She briefly considered asking Malfoy to remove the platinum necklace, but couldn't bring herself to do so, so struck as she was by the unexpected pleasure of his company beside her in the hallway, by her still rapidly-beating heart. She didn't understand how it was possible Malfoy could make her feel this way, nor why... and with a numbing sort of shock, she realized she didn't want to know.
"Do me a favor, Granger…" Draco said, breaking the silence. "Don't let yourself end up anywhere alone with McLaggen ever again.… at least not without your wand in your hand."
Hermione opened her eyes and found him studying her intently.
"Why do you suddenly care, Malfoy?"
Draco was tired. He was tired of failure, desperation, of the pain of his Dark Mark, of Snape's reprimands, of the exhaustion of his Occlumency training, and schoolwork; he was tired of the Dark Lord, and the war that had barely even begun. Draco was tired of dealing with gits like McLaggen and Potter, of deception; and as he stared into Hermione's clear and searching golden brown eyes, as he inhaled her soft, warming scent, he was tired of lying to himself.
"I really don't know… but maybe it's the same reason you haven't told Potter and Weasley about what you've been up to on the seventh floor."
/
After saying her goodbyes to Harry, Ron, Ginny, Neville, and Luna the next morning and wishing them all a happy Christmas, she grabbed Harry's Cloak (which he'd purposefully left behind, along with the Marauders' Map, for her use), and rushed to the seventh floor corridor.
She hadn't told Harry or Ron anything she'd overheard between Malfoy and Snape, and she certainly hadn't mentioned her confrontation with McLaggen, nor how it had ended.
It was still early, and, from looking at the map, she knew Malfoy and Nott hadn't yet left the Slytherin dorms. She didn't have to wait long, however, before she noticed their dots on the map begin to make their way up toward the seventh floor. It appeared Crabbe and Goyle had returned home for the holiday; they were nowhere to be found.
Hermione waited patiently, hidden under the cloak, and heard Malfoy and Nott's familiar voices echo down the hall before she at last saw them round the corner.
They paused before the tapestry of Barnabus the Barmy.
"You coming, Granger, or what?" Draco asked without turning around.
She didn't wonder how he knew she was waiting for them. She removed the cloak with one graceful motion and her eyes locked immediately with Draco's.
"Yes."
/
A/N: As always, thank you for reading!