TWENTY-SEVEN

Sunday, 5 October 1944

For as much as they both wanted to go back to the Room of Requirement upon their return to Hogwarts, by the time they actually did come back, they were both exhausted. After their time in the bookstore, Hermione had gone to meet her roommates to shop for their Halloween attire while Malfoy had gone to join Riddle and the others. The two groups had then met up and had drinks at the Three Broomsticks before going back to the castle for dinner. By the time they returned to the common room, Hermione was already yawning every few seconds.

When she woke the next morning, it was early, but she didn't mind. She dressed in a new casual dress, one that was a deep emerald green like her new house and tried out the charms her roommates had taught her for her hair. She successfully put it up in a braid and then made her way to the common room.

She had forgotten to write Malfoy and wait for his response, but if she had observed anything about Riddle over the course of the last month so far, it was that he wouldn't attempt anything in front of people. She was safe in the common room so long as there were witnesses. And as it was near breakfast time, she wasn't alone while she waited for Malfoy to wake up.

Riddle, however, was already up and joined by Lestrange and Mulciber. She had intended just to give them a nod to acknowledge their presence, but it seemed Riddle had other plans once he noticed her. "Ah, Miss Granger. Good morning."

"Morning," she replied to them.

"Draco should be joining us soon. He was starting to rise when I left."

She nodded, standing a little bit away from them awkwardly. She didn't want to join them, but it was clear that Riddle wasn't going to let her be either. "Thanks," she replied.

"Perhaps you can help settle a dispute between us?" Riddle asked as she debated turning away from them.

She eyed him wearily, but inclined her head slightly. "No promises," she said and stepped closer to them.

"Last night, we were discussing the fall of Troy," Lestrange explained. "And the part that none of us could agree on was Helen."

Hermione rolled her eyes despite herself. "What about Helen?"

"Some legends say Helen was abducted by Paris before she was married while others claim shortly after," Mulciber stated. "However, there are some accounts that suggest it was well after her marriage to Menelaus. That she had a daughter."

Hermione's blood turned cold as Lestrange and Mulciber turned to Riddle. When she moved her gaze towards him, his eyes were alight with amusement.

"I know she had a daughter, but her name escapes me," Riddle said, his head tilting to the side. "Is there any chance you would know the name, Harmony?"

She narrowed her eyes at Riddle slightly. Of course she knew the name; it was her own. Her father had picked it from mythology because he believed his own wife was the most beautiful woman; his Helen and he wanted his daughter to bear the name of the offspring from the tale.

"Hermione," she bit out.

"Ah, yes. Hermione," Riddle said, the sound of her name on his lips made her shiver.

It was then that Malfoy made his appearance. He was wide-eyed as he stepped up to Hermione's side, looking back and forth between her and Riddle. "What are we discussing?"

"Miss Granger settled the matter of Helen's daughter for us," Riddle informed him. "Lovely name, Hermione."

"Ah," Malfoy said, reaching up to cup her elbow. "Excuse us."

"I expect the two of you to sit with us this morning," Riddle said.

Hermione nodded as she let Malfoy pull her out of the common room and to the secret passage near Potions. "Does he know something?"

"He must have found my name when he was in my head," she replied. "He's never said 'Harmony' like he believed it anyway."

He nodded, accepting it and Hermione's stomach churned at the ease of which the lie rolled off her tongue. "We can go to the kitchen's for breakfast. Avoid Riddle."

She shook her head. "It's alright, if we indulge him now, we can avoid him later."

He studied her for a moment and then shrugged his shoulders. "Enough about Riddle," he said, reaching to draw her closer. "Good morning."

She smiled and brought her hands up to cup his face. Their lips met and they sighed against one another. After a moment of tasting one another, they broke apart at the sound of their stomachs growling, followed by mutual laughter. "Morning," she replied.

"We should head down to breakfast," he said, even as he dropped his head to the crook of her neck, peppering her skin with kisses.

"Mmhmm," she mumbled, stepping back until she was pressed between him and the stone wall.

"Unless you have a better offer."

She shivered and her fingers momentarily clenched at his shirt. She swallowed despite her throat having gone dry and he took the momentary silence as hesitation. He kissed her cheek and pulled back from her.

"We can stay here a few minutes," she said as he started to walk away.

"I don't want to rush you, Granger."

"I know, but-"

He cut her off by brushing his lips over hers. "If you're really ready for that, we'll stay."

She blinked at him and worried at her bottom lip. He smiled and reached for her hand.

"Whenever you're ready," he promised and led her out of the passage.

They arrived in the Great Hall hand-in-hand. She sighed heavily as she took in the sight of Riddle and his gang. This time, she was surprised to see Nott back at the table with him. She could tell by the way Malfoy tensed beside her that he was surprised as well. He had been laid up in the infirmary for a week after Hermione punched him, but she highly doubted it was her punch that had laid him up. When he returned, he avoided all of them and the way Riddle stared at him made her think he had something to do with it. Whatever their feud, if he was back at the table, it was over now.

Slowly, they took their seats, Hermione directly across from Riddle and Malfoy to her right. Conversation started amongst the boys while Hermione mostly sat and listened. At first, it was light, mostly a continuation from the topics they had discussed at Hogsmeade. It was strange to hear these men discuss which girl they were going to ask to accompany them.

"Anyone you're planning on asking, Riddle?" Avery asked.

Riddle's gaze landed on Hermione and she shifted closer to Malfoy. He turned towards Avery and shrugged. "I do not see the need to tie myself down to any single being," he said, lifting his goblet.

"He doesn't have to ask anyone," Lestrange said with a grin. "Women are always fawning at his feet."

Riddle's lips twitched, but from what Harry had told her and what she had known, he wasn't interested in that kind of companionship. "So, there's no one in this place that catches your eye?" she heard herself ask.

His eyes flashed and Malfoy stiffened at her side.

"Because if there is, I could always help. I understand guys think that women are intimidating."

The group had fallen silent as they stared between her and Riddle with uncertain gazes. Riddle's head tipped forward and his eyes sparkled. "Are you saying that I might be afraid of women?"

"Yes."

He tapped his fingers on his goblet. "I am afraid of no one," he replied, eyes darkening in warning.

You're afraid of Dumbledore, she thought, projecting it at him. When his jaw clenched, Hermione smirked. He had received her message.

"I have goals in the real world I look forward to accomplishing, Miss Granger. In order to do so requires an incredible amount of devotion. I do not have time or desire for distractions."

"And what goals are so large that you would choose to be so alone?"

She was prepared this time, as he slipped into her mind without pretense. She had already shut the door and locked it. He beat against her barrier, but he couldn't get past. Across from her, he was seething. Inside, he ceased his attempts. Let me in, he demanded.

They say when a child is conceived under the false love of Amortentia, that sometimes the child grows up incapable of love. Is that what's happened to you?

"My goals, Miss Granger, are somewhat political in nature. Something you have expressed time and time again that you had no desire to discuss," he said aloud and retreated from her mind.

"You're right, I have said that."

"What would you do then?" he asked. "If you had the power to change the world; what would you do?"

"Surely we don't need to discuss this now," Malfoy interrupted.

Hermione turned to face him and gave him a small smile before leaning in and brushing her lips over his. "It's fine."

His eyes were full of warning, but he looked down at his plate and reached for his goblet.

"I think Grindelwald has the right idea in the sense that Muggles should be made aware of our existence. What I don't agree on is that we are any better than they are. Just because we have access to magic does not give us superiority. I think there are plenty of Muggles out there who do wonderous things without any magic at all. In fact, Muggles make discoveries and advancements all the time. Most of the time they are far ahead of our own. Even their society is far more progressive in terms of gender and racial equality."

Riddle's shock was plain as day on his face. It was present on the rest of his group as well. The only person not staring at her was Malfoy. He was still staring at the table, but he was tense at her side.

"If I had the power to change the world, I would make sure it was harmonious. Purebloods, Halfbloods, Mudbloods, and Muggles. Even those that fall under the categories of Others, Beasts, and Beings; all would have their place."

"Traitorous words from those of pure lineage," Rosier said from Riddle's side.

"That's the problem with your lot," Hermione said, getting to her feet. "You assumed I was a Pureblood." She extended a hand to Malfoy and he took it without hesitation, eager to pull her away from them before it got even more out of hand. "Enjoy the rest of your day, gentlemen."

Malfoy was practically dragging her from the Great Hall. His long legs were carrying him at such a pace that she practically had to run to keep up with him. He pulled her into the first room they came across which, from the looks of it, hadn't been used in quite some time. He slammed the door and dropped his hold on her.

"What the fuck was that about?"

Now that she was away from Riddle, the reality sank in. She didn't know what it was about him that made her act so differently. His presence brought out a side of her that she had never experienced before and it was terrifying. "I don't know."

"You know exactly how he feels about you and you go and fucking taunt him? It's like the two of you didn't even know the rest of us existed. And don't even get me started on the fact that you just outed your blood status to him." He shook his head and then carded his hands through it. "I'm really starting to question how you got the label of brightest witch of our age."

"I didn't out anything!" she fired back at him. "I just said I wasn't Pureblood."

"I bet if you still had that carving on your arm you would have ripped up your sleeve and shown it to him!"

Hermione took a step back from him out of sheer surprise. "What are you really mad at, Malfoy?"

His hands clenched and unclenched rhythmically at his sides as he stared at her. "I'm fucking pissed that something keeps happening between the two of you and you keep telling me that it's fucking nothing. We both know that's a lie. We both agreed that we could trust each other; that we're our only allies here. And besides all of that, we've grown closer and- I don't know, I thought maybe respect was in order?"

He crossed the room and backed her into a corner.

"I thought- hoped- that the back and forth between us was our thing, but the more I watch you and Riddle, the more I believe my suspicions are correct. That when the Dark Lord spoke of you, his hatred wasn't just about your blood status. It was hatred like a lover scorned!"

Hermione hadn't even realized that she had slapped him until her palm began to sting. She hadn't heard it due to the anger causing her blood to rush past her ears. She clapped her hand over her mouth as he stepped back, staring at her in surprise. He brought a hand to his cheek and rubbed it lightly. A bright red welt was already rising on his otherwise porcelain skin.

Tears began to pour down her cheeks as trembles wracked her body. Neither of them spoke as he took his leave, slamming the door of the classroom behind him. Once he was gone, Hermione sank to the ground; a sobbing mess.

Draco paced rapidly in front of the Room of Requirement, yet the door never opened. The few times he had come here without Granger, he had asked for his childhood bedroom. While he hadn't exactly felt safe in his home over the last few years, it was at least a familiar comfort.

And as if he wasn't angry enough, the door never manifested, therefore pushing him over the edge.

Bitterly, he changed tactics and asked for Granger. He wanted to take a page from Umbridge's book and Bombarda the damn thing. He could have just turned and left. He was in no mood to deal with Granger after the morning's episode in the Great Hall and their fight afterwards. As it was, seeing her face when he closed his eyes had made him sick.

As twisted as it was, he opened the door and strode inside, intent on just having it out with her. However, after only a few paces, he came to a complete halt at the sound of voices. He closed his eyes and craned his neck, scowling when he recognized Granger and Riddle.

"Did you see his face?" Riddle asked.

Draco involuntarily stepped closer, making sure to stay well hidden. He wasn't sure what place the room had turned into, but he suspected it was something of Riddle's choosing.

"You know I didn't," Granger replied. "My eyes were on you."

A chill crept up his spine. Were they talking about him? He stepped closer again and peeked out from behind the corner. The sight that greeted him was almost as painful as the Cruciatus. There was a small bed atop a dais a few feet behind where they stood. They were so close that whenever they moved, they surely brushed against one another. Riddle was facing where Draco stood, his back to the bed. Granger's back was to Draco, but even he could tell she was relaxed about her proximity to the young Dark Lord.

Riddle reached up and placed his hand along her neck, his thumb stroking at her jaw. "He suspects us."

"He's naturally suspicious."

"It does not help that you walk a thin line, Hermione. He has already confronted me, trying to stake is claim on you more than once. I can only sideline him a few more times before I need to take drastic action."

Draco's stomach sank as her hands came to rest softly on his chest, palms flat as they slid up towards the collar of Riddle's shirt. She sighed and canted her head to the side. "He wants more from me," she said, her fingers beginning to undo the buttons. "And I do too," she started. "But not with him."

There was a hungry look on Riddle's face as he leaned in and kissed Granger. Draco wanted desperately to tear his gaze away from them and hightail it out of the room, but it was as if vines had sprung from the floor and rooted him to the spot. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't look away either. His eyes remained open and on them, even as they continued to undress each other and move back towards the bed. Anger coiled around him like a cloak as Riddle's body slid over hers. The sounds of Grangers moans filled the air, growing louder and louder with each burst of ecstasy.

And the moment she screamed out for Riddle from her release, his eyes finally snapped shut.

When they opened a moment later, he was sitting up on his bed in his dorm. A sheen of cold sweat soaked his skin and dampened his night clothes. His breathing was hard and shallow while his stomach twisted in knots. But the worst was the excruciating burning of his left forearm. It brought tears to his eyes and made him curl up and writhe on his bed, begging into the confines of his bed for it to stop.

It was so bad that he missed the pounding headache that signaled he had had a guest in his mind.

When the burning stopped and the sweat was just residual, Draco groped around for his wand and cleaned himself up. As his mind began to clear, the realization that it had only been a dream was only mildly comforting.

He had gone outside to the Black Lake after their fight. He had stayed there all day until dinner. He had eaten quickly in the Great Hall and left before she even arrived. Then he had gone to the dorms and stared at the canopy until he had fallen asleep.

He had not gone to the Room of Requirement.

He had not seen Riddle or Granger since breakfast.

Yet, it was still hard to shake the mental imagery of the two of them so intimately intertwined.

As he slipped back into slumber, he hoped it was dreamless.