A/N: Thank you for the wondrous support for the start of this story! It has been a passion project years in the making. This chapter took a little longer, about two thirds of this story is already written, but unfortunately it's mostly the latter two thirds and getting these knuckleheads together takes a lot of effort. I was also distracted by the release of Hamilton on Disney+, plus S.A Chakraborty finally released the last book in her Daevabad trilogy (unsolicited plug: go read them, they are amazing).
XxXxX
They may not know each other to say it, but it was never hidden. How much ever they hated each other, fate ties them together.
-Parul Wadhwa, The Masquerade
XxXxX
After their interview with Dumbledore, Hermione had been hoping to not have to deal with Malfoy for at least a week.
She got two days.
On the third day she was walking down the stairs from her Arithmancy class when she heard someone yell, "Gryffindor bastard!"
"Oh, hell." She swore as she sped down the staircase. The yelling got louder and filled with more cursing as she got to the bottom of the tower and stopped dead in her tracks.
She saw Dennis Creevey, now in his third year, sunk up to his shoulders in the ground and yelling his head off at a black haired Slytherin.
"What the hell is going on here?" She asked Dennis as she stepped in between the two of them. "And what happened to you?"
"Orbis jinx!" Dennis snarled. "And he waited until my back was turned to do it!"
"I did not!" The Slytherin snapped. "And you jinxed me first!"
"You were calling Harry Potter a liar!"
"He is a liar!" The Slytherin spat. "You don't think people actually believe his crazy stories, do you?"
"Oh, and I suppose all of those Death Eaters getting arrested was just a coincidence?"
"Nobody can prove anything! Why else do you think they're being held in Azkaban without any charges? Because they know there aren't any!"
"Do you hear yourself?" Dennis howled. "Do you honestly hear what is coming out of your mouth? I can't believe anyone would be that idiotically…"
"Dennis." Hermione cut in. "That's enough!"
Dennis looked at her. "Tell him, Hermione! You were there, weren't you? Tell him it's all true!"
"I will not! Harry does not need to keep reliving this just so you can prove a point." She said sharply.
"That's because you know he's lying!" The Slytherin sneered.
"That's enough, Dawson!" Hermione said, eyes flashing. "You're already facing detention for attacking a student in the corridors. Now if that's all you want it to be you'll get him out of the ground and walk away!"
Dawson crossed his arms petulantly. "I don't have to listen to you! You're just a filthy Mudblood."
"Maybe." She let the insult blow over her; it had been a long time since it had truly offended her. "But I'm also Head Girl. So unless you want an entire month's worth of detentions polishing the Trophy Room with nothing but a toothbrush you are going to walk away right now. And if I catch you picking fights again, both Professor Dumbledore and Professor Snape will be hearing about it. Is that understood?"
"Still hiding behind your teachers skirts, Granger?"
As if the situation wasn't bad enough, Draco Malfoy slunk out of nowhere and stood protectively at Dawson's side. "You've been Head Girl for less than a week, and already you're abusing second years."
"Third." Dawson muttered.
"Do you see what's going on here?" She gestured at Dennis, who thankfully had decided to stop talking but was now glaring at the two Slytherins with unmitigated hatred.
"What? Him?" Draco flicked his wand and Dennis suddenly popped out of the ground and landed hard on his bottom. "There. Problem solved. Let's go, Dawson."
"We're not done here!" Hermione said forcefully.
"I believe we are. Dawson is from my house. Worry about your own student, Granger, and let me handle mine."
"Malfoy, he assaulted a member of my House! I know you could probably care less, but that usually warrants some form of punishment!"
Draco cocked his head. "Granger, you show so much concern for your little Gryffindor, but have you even bothered to find out what he did to Dawson?"
"He didn't do anything! Look, Dawson doesn't have a scratch on him!" She looked back at Dennis and her stomach dropped as his eyes slid away from her. "Dennis?"
Slowly, Dawson lifted up the left side of his shirt and Hermione gasped. His abdomen was a mess of swollen, tight, puffy skin. "Stinging Jinx. Right before I cursed him into the ground." He said quietly.
Draco's face was as brittle as flint. "Let's go, Dawson. Maybe next time Granger will bother to hear both sides of the story before jumping to conclusions."
Draco fairly shoved the younger Slytherin away, and Hermione was left with the unsettling feeling that Draco had just handled the situation better than she had. She turned to Dennis, who was brushing dirt off of his clothes. He looked up sheepishly. "Thanks, Hermione."
"Save it." She said curtly. "What were you thinking?"
Dennis looked confused. "I was upset. And he did call Harry a liar."
"I don't care. With all of the tensions brewing right now, especially between Gryffindors and Slytherins, the last thing we need is any kind of escalation. Who cares what Dawson is saying? You think Harry hasn't heard way worse from much more powerful people? You've got to learn to pick your battles, Dennis. Otherwise you're just adding to the problem."
"I'm sorry." He said contritely. "I just can't believe anyone honestly believes that You-Know-Who is right. I mean, we're all witches and wizards. Who cares who our parents were?"
She sighed. "It shouldn't matter. It doesn't matter. But right now it's up to Muggle-borns like us to prove not only that we belong in this world, but that we can be the bigger person. Otherwise, we're no better than You-Know-Who and his followers."
Dennis shook his head. "I still hate it."
Hermione crossed her arms across her chest. "Well, you'll have plenty of time to accept it this weekend in detention."
Dennis' eyes got wide. "Detention?!"
"Yes, detention. You know that the Stinging Jinx is one of the Banned Curses at Hogwarts. I'll hand you off to Hagrid this time, because McGonagall would not be nearly as forgiving. But this had better not happen again. I don't want to deal with Draco Malfoy anymore than I have to, so stop hexing hexing his students!"
XxXxX
After six years of friendship, Hermione was pretty sure that she knew Harry Potter better than almost anybody. During those six years they had faced down a troll, a giant chess set, a werewolf, and a good number of Death Eaters. They had experimented with forbidden potions, snuck out of their dorm, and broken into the Ministry of Magic. And yet after all of that, Hermione realized she was still discovering things about her best friend. Like the fact that Harry wasn't lying.
He really was terrible at Potions.
"Harry!" Hermione gasped through peals of laughter. "How on earth did you manage to turn your pepperup potion green?"
Harry's potion was, in fact, a terrific shade of neon green and emitting golden sparks. Their first NEWT level Potions class had resulted in Harry's cauldron cracking and experiencing a total meltdown. The only thing that had saved Harry from Snape's wrath was Hermione immediately volunteering to tutor Harry and keep him on track. Privately, Hermione wondered why they didn't just unleash Snape on Voldemort. Even Voldemort would probably run with Snape hovering over him and demanding he recite the twelve uses of dragon's blood while brewing a perfect pepperup position.
The dungeons were dank and dismal on a good day, so they had gone out onto the grounds, where Hermione had conjured one of her portable fires and they'd set to work trying to perfect the pepperup potion. Only somehow, the potion that was supposed to be a fiery red was now the color of an overripe lime.
"Don't look at me!" Harry choked as he ducked to avoid a suddenly violent shower of sparks. "The book said to add the salamander tail and then stir twenty-five times clockwise!"
"Did you forget to add the chimera hair?" She asked through her giggles.
"What chimera hair?" Harry replied. "Oh, Merlin. Was there this much of it before?"
The potion had, in fact, doubled in size while they were talking. It was also beginning to emit a faint but pungent smell of rotten bananas. Hermione got a grip on herself long enough to grab the lid of her cauldron and slam it shut. She quickly waved her wand and the odor vanished.
For a moment, Harry and Hermione looked at each other. Then they both fell backwards laughing. Harry's face was covered in slime from his salamander's tail, Hermione's hair had reached new levels of bushiness in the humid evening, and they were both covered in soot spots from the sparks.
"Oh, I didn't realize how much I needed this." Hermione gasped. "Although I do think we can cross potioneer off your list of future career paths."
"Once I become an Auror, I'm never going near a cauldron again." Harry vowed.
Hermione sat up and began rummaging through her bag for her Potions book. "And the Wizarding world thanks you for that. Alright, let's try something different. Describe for me Golpalott's third law."
Harry made a face. "Haven't we gone over this enough? Golpalott's third law states that the antidote for a blended poison must be...must be equal to…"
His voice trailed off. Hermione looked up from her bag. "Harry? Still there?"
Harry's head jerked back. "What? Oh, yeah."
She followed his gaze. From where they were sitting they could see into the courtyard. Ginny and Dean were sitting on one of the benches and were locked in a passionate embrace that almost made Hermione blush.
"Well, it looks like someone has their 'What I Did This Summer' essay figured out." Hermione said dryly.
Harry didn't say anything. She looked at him. His face was perfectly calm, but he was clenching his hands so tight his knuckles were white. "Harry, I've told you a hundred times…"
"No."
"You need to tell her." Hermione said firmly.
Harry's shoulders slumped. "I can't. Not only would Ron personally fly back from Romania to murder me, but I can't do that to her. Voldemort already used her to get to me once. And that was when she was just Ron's sister."
"I think that's even more of a reason to tell her now." Hermione told him. "Before it's too late."
"She'd resent me."
"She would not. She's been crazy about you for forever."
"Yeah, I can tell."
"Harry." Hermione said, exasperated. "You can't expect her to just sit around and wait for you. That's not fair."
Harry threw his head backwards. "I know. I just wish they weren't so...public."
"Well." Hermione said brightly. "I know one thing that will cheer you up. I heard that someone left a bag of Dungbombs and five Cornish pixies in Snape's office last night. It's completely trashed."
It worked. Harry chuckled. "Merlin, that makes me miss having the twins around. It's weird only having one Weasley at Hogwarts this year."
"Yeah." Hermione said quietly. She waited for the lump in her stomach to appear when she thought about how Ron wasn't there. The lump that she knew everyone thought that she had. It didn't show up.
Instead, she felt something she dimly identified as relief.
She laid down next to the empty cauldron. It was late enough in the year that it was already starting to get dark, and she could already see some of the stars. Harry laid down beside her and for a few moments they were quiet. She could just make out Cassiopeia in the sky. "You do need to tell her, though." She said softly.
"If she ditches Dean, then maybe." Harry mumbled.
Higher up in the castle, a pair of blue eyes peered down at them. Draco had been watching Harry and Hermione ever since they sat down, with a fascination that he couldn't quite identify. They were far enough away that he couldn't hear what they were talking about, but they were sitting so close together that Draco found himself slightly irritated.
He didn't understand them.
They were really close, that was obvious. For five years Harry, Ron, and Hermione had been as thick as thieves. But contrary to his previous taunts, Draco didn't think Hermione had ever been involved with either one of them. She hadn't seemed particularly upset when Weasley left to go chase dragons or whatever it was he was doing in Romania. In fact, Draco could almost swear she had relaxed. Of course, now she and Potter were clinging to each other more than ever.
But were they a couple? If Draco had to guess he would say no, but he absolutely couldn't understand spending that much time with a girl and not shagging her. Either way, teasing her about it got her incredibly riled up, and that was always guaranteed to make his day better. He blinked in sudden annoyance. Why did he care, anyways? As Hermione had pointed out, his conquests in the castle were notorious, but for multiple reasons she was never going to be one of them.
"...ditching Draco for the Yule Ball."
"What?" Draco asked, snapping back to attention. He and his friends were gathered on the path up to the Owlery, and out of habit Avery had cast a very good Muffling Charm so they would not be overheard. The wind was also rather strong so high up, which discouraged other students from disturbing them.
"Pansy. Now that she's with Zabini it looks like you're going to have to find a date for the Yule Ball in December." Nott told him.
"Please. All Draco has to do is smile and he'll have at least ten girls begging to be his date." Daphne Greengrass teased.
Draco looked at Pansy. "Don't tell me you've left me behind!" He clutched his hand to his chest in mock heartbreak.
Pansy clicked her teeth and smiled. "Oh, you'll survive, Draco. And if you don't, then maybe you should have snapped me up when you had the chance."
"It's a mistake I will regret until my dying day."
She fluttered her eyelashes at him and blew him a kiss. Thank God for Pansy. Despite their history and their banter, they were better off as friends and they both knew it. And they were closer for it.
"Hey, Draco, isn't that your family's owl?"
Draco looked to where Avery was pointing. Sure enough, just on the other side of the Divination tower swooped Karura, his family's large eagle owl. Draco stood and whistled loudly. Karura flew down and landed on the ledge. Tied to her leg was a tiny scroll of parchment. Draco took the note and shooed Karura towards the Owlery. The note was very brief.
The second is at Borgin and Burke's.
"Anything important?" Pansy asked.
Draco shook his head. "No, just a note from my father. If you all will excuse me, I am just going to go and take care of this for him."
As Draco walked away from the other Slytherins he crumpled the note up and shoved it in his pocket.
For nearly a week now he had been trying to find a way to get around the wards guarding the castle. Unfortunately, Dumbledore had been very thorough. The castle was enchanted to prevent unwanted people from getting in via Apparition, broomstick, Portkey, and Floo network. You also could not disguise yourself using the Polyjuice potion, an invisibility cloak, or anything else. Draco had started to think that his task was truly impossible and the first shreds of panic were threatening to take hold when he remembered something.
Last year, when the students were rebelling against Umbridge, the Weasley twins had shoved Montague into a cabinet and he'd disappeared for days. Once he had finally managed to Apparate out, he told his friends about how he'd been in a kind of limbo; sometimes he could hear things going on at Hogwarts and other times it sounded like he was somewhere like a shop. At the time, Draco had laughed along with everyone else, thinking it was a great story. Now he had an idea.
He slipped back into his dormitory and dug the golden skull out of his nightstand. Although he tried to not sneak away from Hogwarts too much to avoid suspicion, he had found a small loophole in Dumbledore's safeguards and if he was careful, he could still pretty much come and go as he pleased since he was still a student. A few days after arriving at Hogwarts he had tried to bring one of Malfoy Manor's servants with him using the skull, but there had been a horrible squelching sound and the only bit that made it to Hogwarts with Draco was a severed finger.
He hadn't tried a second time.
Draco clutched the skull in his hands and let the swirling blur of colors and sounds take him. When the world stopped spinning he carefully brushed himself off and stepped out into Knockturn Alley.
If Diagon Alley was suffering since the Dark Lord's return, Knockturn Alley seemed to have come alive. The street was aglow with candles hung in the shop windows and there were several dark figures roaming the streets. In fact, Draco could almost swear the very air in the street seemed to hum. He pulled his cloak tighter around his neck and walked quietly down the street before slipping into Borgin and Burke's.
The shop was as dusty and dimly lit as Draco remembered. A groan echoed through the shop as he began perusing through the aisles. He stopped at the sight of a red rose encased in a glass dome. He peered at it; it seemed so normal and out of place among the dusty Wizarding artifacts.
"I do hope you remember your father's advice about not touching." A deep voice drawled ahead of him. "That rose has claimed the lives of thirteen witches to date."
Draco looked up. Caractacus Burke stood in front of the door that led to his office. A short man with a face that tended towards plumpness, Burke shouldn't have been particularly impressive. But with his low voice, sharp temper, and unfettered greed for anything with a bit of gold on it, he was easily one of Draco's least favorite people.
Nevertheless, he shook the older man's hand firmly. "I wouldn't dare. Out of curiosity though, what is the story behind that particular artifact?"
Mr. Burke shrugged. "It's cursed. If someone pricks their finger on the thorns they fall into a deathlike sleep from which you cannot be awoken. I believe the previous owner was inspired by a Muggle fairy tale. But I take it that's not the reason you came in today, Master Malfoy?"
"No." Draco said. He pulled out the note from his father and waved his wand over it, revealing a diagram. He then handed the note to Burke "My father sent me here to evaluate a piece of furniture that he is interested in."
Burke examined the paper carefully, then looked at Draco with a strange look on his face. "Of course I have the item in question and you are more than welcome to examine it, but I don't see the point. It's broken."
Draco waved this away. "I'll be the judge of that, Mr. Burke. My father is very interested."
"Of course, right this way."
Burke shuffled towards the back storeroom, with Draco following closely behind. He stopped at a large object in the back corner and pulled the sheet off. "Here it is." He said. "My Vanishing Cabinet."
Draco circled the cabinet carefully. It was made of a dark stained oak and bolstered by black metalwork on all sides. It was old and dusty, but otherwise looked to be in good condition. "And you say it's broken?" He asked.
The shopkeeper nodded. "Yes. Vanishing Cabinets are always made in pairs. That way they can act as a sort of portal. They were all the rage when the Dark Lord was in power. You can certainly see the appeal; if the Death Eaters came knocking you just put yourself and your family in the cabinet and go away for a few hours and come back when they're gone. The problem with this one is that its twin is missing and has either been damaged or destroyed. Anything that does into this cabinet does not come back out. It goes into some kind of limbo which is very hard to access, which of course makes the cabinet very hard to sell."
"And you have no idea where the mate might be?" Draco asked.
"Well, I did get a bill of sale with this cabinet when I acquired it. The man I got it from said it was sold to him by the previous headmaster of Hogwarts, Armando Dippet. But Dippet only sold him the single cabinet, and when Dippet died the mate was not among his assets. It's entirely possible that the other cabinet could still be at Hogwarts somewhere, but I'd guess it's been fifty years since the twin has been seen."
Draco smiled then. He ran his hands up the side of the cabinet almost reverently. "Fifty years, huh? You know, I don't think that will matter to my father. We'll take it."
XxXxX
Sunday evening arrived, and with it the weekly Head meeting. A small study in the library was always reserved for the Head Boy and Girl to discuss any issues from the previous week and any particular plans for the next. To her immense irritation, Hermione arrived ten minutes early only to find Draco already sitting down flipping through a book and waiting on her.
"Good evening, Granger. Torment any more third years lately?" He asked.
"No." She said shortly as she tossed her cloak over her chair. Before she sat down she stopped and looked at Draco, as though something had just occurred to her. "How did you know?"
"Know what?"
"Know that Dennis had attacked Dawson first. By the time I got there Dennis was already in the ground, and I beat you there."
Draco raised an eyebrow. "I didn't. But chances are if there's some kind of fight, a Gryffindor cast the first jinx."
Hermione laughed at that one. "That's a load of crap, Malfoy. We aren't nearly as violent as you are."
Draco looked amused. "Whatever you say. Although if you look back at this whole Slythern and Gryffindor thing, nearly every time an argument has gotten physical it's been because you or one of your friends started it."
Hermione sat down across from Draco and placed her hands confidently on the table. "I bet you can't name one time that has happened."
Draco leaned towards her. "You'd win that bet. Because I can name three."
"I'm listening."
"Number one." Draco ticked his first finger. "I believe the Weasley twins were the ones who shoved Montague into that Vanishing Cabinet last year. Did you know it took two months for him to recover from that?"
"Okay, but…"
"Number two." He ticked another point. "Pansy was in the hospital wing for three days after Finnegan hexed her and caused her to sprout antlers."
"I don't really give a…"
"And finally." Draco interrupted with a smirk. "I believe it was you that punched me during our third year."
"You nearly got Hagrid sacked and Buckbeak executed!" Hermione exclaimed. This had not gone the way she'd expected.
Draco shrugged. "I just think it's interesting how stupid things like docked house points and a little trash talk always seem to lead to such brutality. I mean, I know the traits valued in Gryffindor are courage, chivalry, and determination; maybe they should add violence to that list."
Hermione snarled. "You're the last person who should talk about violence. Or have you already forgotten about the Department of Mysteries? Sirius died, Malfoy. Your aunt murdered him. I saw her do it."
"I'm sure. But I wasn't at the Ministry that day."
"Your father was."
"I am not my father."
"Obviously. But that doesn't mean you aren't a Death Eater too."
As soon as the words were out of her mouth, the mood shifted and Draco stiffened. "Granger, you should know better than to throw around accusations like that. But let's clear this up right now: I am not a Death Eater."
Hermione crossed her arms. "Prove it." She shot back smoothly.
Draco considered her for a moment, then he rolled his sleeves up and stuck out his arms. Bare. "Satisfied?" He asked her.
Hermione frowned. She had been so sure...
Draco wasn't done. "And while we're on the subject, do you think I enjoy this? All of the looks, the accusations, the suspicion? Do you have any idea how old that gets?"
"They're your beliefs too!"
Draco shrugged. "Maybe. But have you ever even asked me?"
"I don't have to. I have six years of taunts and abuse to back up my opinion of you."
Draco looked at the fire crackling in the hearth. "Then let me ask you this, Granger. Does the monster start out as a monster? Or is he made into one by the people around him?"
Thrown off by the question, Hermione was silent. This was Draco Malfoy she was talking to. He was pureblooded. He was fabulously wealthy. And she didn't care how much he denied it, he probably was a Death Eater. And yet, for the first time, when she looked at him across the table, she saw the reflection of the firelight in his eyes. She saw him as a person.
That was dangerous.
"I didn't realize you were so jaded." She finally said.
"Anyone who spends enough time in this world gets jaded. Just look at your precious Potter."
The way he sneered precious Potter made Hermione frown. "Harry isn't jaded."
Draco scoffed. "Please. With all of the horrible things that have happened to him? I see it every time I look at him. Maybe you don't know him as well as you think."
That stung. "I know him well enough to know that he's a better person than you. Harry takes the horrible things that have happened to him and uses them to try and make the world better. You just...go with it."
Draco's eyes flickered. "Or maybe I see things the way they really are, and I do what I need to do to survive."
Hermione shook her head. "But at what cost, Malfoy? Your soul? Of course, that would require you to have a soul, and I think the jury is still out on that one."
"I don't know about you, Granger, but I would rather be callous and alive than a dead hero."
Hermione didn't have a response to that. She had no desire to get any deeper into a philosophical debate with Draco Malfoy, who could spin logic to suit his own needs so quickly it made even her head spin. And yet, there was something niggling at the back of her brain. For a split second, it was almost as if Draco had let his confident and sneering façade crack and Hermione could see a different Draco underneath.
She squashed that thought instantly.
"I think we're done with philosophy for the evening. Now, about those Dungbombs in Snapes' office…"
