A/N: Thank you all for your lovely reviews last week. Apologies for the slight delay in posting. Last week was a little crazy and despite having the main contours of this planned out, I had some serious writer's block on this story.
Draco's knuckles were white as he crumpled the Daily Prophet in his shaking fist. Despite the fact that the black-and-white paper was now out of sight, the moving image under his fist was imprinted on his brain, along with the headline that read simply: "DUMBLEDORE IS DEAD." Hestia's loud sobbing punctuated the guilt he felt at his lack of feeling upon the news. Mostly, he felt numb. The guilt came from the knowledge that he was much more concerned about Hermione's whereabouts than Dumbledore's recent death.
He didn't hear Narcissa come in, but noticed her hands running through his hair. "It's going to be fine, Draco," she was repeating. He didn't really understand why she was so concerned until he looked up and saw his reflection in the mirror. Tears ran down his cheeks, silently streaming. His grip on the paper hadn't let up, despite the fact that he had been sitting in the same position for quite a while.
"Thank you, Mother, I'm fine." She didn't respond, but cupped his cheek with her hand and looked into his eyes with a disbelieving look that made him squirm. Suddenly, he found himself expressing all of his feelings to her: sadness over Dumbledore, despair at the future of the wizarding world, and an overwhelming concern for Hermione.
"I'm going to see if Severus knows anything, alright, darling?" Narcissa's voice was soft but clear, its authoritative tone giving Draco confidence.
"Are you in contact with Snape?"
"Professor Snape," she corrected sternly. Draco almost laughed. Hermione and his mother were probably the only people who would correct him at a time like this. Although not alike in almost any other way, they both had a penchant for following rules, regardless of the circumstances.
"Are you in contact with Professor Snape, then?" He felt a swell of hope in his chest. Snape would know what to do; despite his refusal to accept Snape's help in his sixth year, he had a lot of respect for the wizard. At the time, he had been confused about his own allegiance and believed that Snape was completely committed to the Dark Lord. After changing sides and finding that Snape had always been working for the Order, though, their fractured relationship had been largely repaired.
"Well, Draco, I've been meaning to tell you this, but you've been so concerned about Hermione, I didn't want to add anything to your plate."
"Mother, what are you saying?" Draco felt his body tense in anticipation, because somehow he already knew exactly what Narcissa was going to tell him.
"Your father was very dear to me," she started, not fully making eye contact with her only son. Draco groaned.
"Mother, I don't need to hear any more. How long has it been?"
"Well…"
"I don't care," Draco responded with a sigh. He could tell Narcissa wanted to talk about it, but that could wait until another time. Right now he needed to be planning something productive. He had spent the last week a nervous wreck over the increasingly likely possibility that his girlfriend was dead, and just when he was about to find out either way, the peace that came with knowledge was quickly ripped away from him, along with the best hope of winning against the Dark Lord. Despite everything, though, Draco couldn't regret his decision to deflect from the Death Eaters. In some ways, it was one of the few decisions in his life that he could feel proud of. "You're dating Snape, and you have a way to contact him," Draco summarized. "Is that correct?"
"Well, yes it is, Draco, but I won't tolerate you speaking to me in that manner," Narcissa responded, but with none of the harshness that would have normally accompanied her statement. In fact, all he could see in her dark eyes was relief. Clearly, she had been extremely concerned about him.
"I'm sorry, Mother," Draco couldn't bring himself to care about how whiny his voice sounded. "How soon can you contact him?"
Narcissa took a deep breath before responding. "Right now."
Draco was slowly starting to wake up from the catatonic state Narcissa had found him in and found himself connecting the dots, not liking what they spelled out. "You've been in contact with him this entire time and you haven't asked him about Hermione?" He spoke in a slow, deliberate tone, purposefully trying to keep his anger subdued but knowing that his mother would read his buried emotions easily.
"I have," Narcissa responded icily. "I resent you suggesting that I would not check in with him about Ms. Granger."
Draco resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "What did he say about her?"
"The same as Hestia."
Draco shook his head, rubbing his temple with his right hand. "Then what would he know, if you've been asking him?"
"Dumbledore must have had a contingency plan upon his death."
Draco nodded, understanding. "You don't think he would let all of his knowledge die with him?"
"Exactly. Now are you done moping?" Draco nodded and followed Narcissa as she rose and started making her way to her own chambers.
She opened her chest of mahogany drawers and pulled out what appeared to be a broken piece of glass. "Severus," she stated simply, staring intently at the shard of glass.
His ex-Potions professor appeared, his image filling the object Narcissa held in her hand. Severus gave Narcissa an appreciative look, but quickly noticed Draco behind her and looked impassive as usual. "Severus, we were wondering if you might know anything of the…" Narcissa paused for a moment, collecting her thoughts. "That is to say, Draco's girlfriend?" Draco couldn't help but smile a bit, appreciating Narcissa's clear effort to cheer him up. She had never referred to Hermione as his girlfriend before, and he appreciated even this small acknowledgement of their relationship. It felt foreign; it felt like support.
"Not yet, but I have many of Dumbledore's personal effects, including some memories that he left for me. I expect it will take me a little while to get through everything, though I am working as quickly as I can. I will keep you both updated, but I really should get back to work. Some of this information is time-sensitive."
"Of course, Severus," Narcissa responded in a haughty tone. Draco recognized the tone as the same she used to use when Lucius was called to do an important job or recognized as an influential man.
"Please update us if you find anything on Hermione," Draco called out before Snape disappeared, perhaps in a more pleading tone than he intended.
"I will, Draco," Snape said quickly before disappearing, leaving the glass unoccupied once more.
More than half a decade earlier, Hermione's Saturday morning was as much a whirlwind as Draco's, though for very different reasons. She woke up with her head pounding, and groaned and rolled over. Some time later, there was a loud and persistent knocking at her door. "Go away," Hermione half-shouted, half-mumbled.
The door made its characteristic creak that told Hermione the person on the other side was not listening to her wishes. She looked up and saw Tom. Well, who do you expect, Hermione?, she scolded herself. No one else has access to the common room.
"Do you have a hard time understanding English, Tom?" She asked grumpily, sitting up to reach the glass of water by her bed.
"Lyra is asking for you. She said you were supposed to meet a while ago. I don't enjoy being your messenger, but I thought you would like to know she's in the common room." Hermione didn't respond for what felt like minutes, staring at him with what she knew was a dumbfounded expression. Hearing his silky voice brought back a rush of (admittedly blurry) memories from the previous night, and she felt her face grow hot as she replayed them in her head. "I care about you." Had he really said that? Yes, he had. And he had kissed her neck. You let Lord Voldemort kiss your neck! And you liked it!
Hermione tried to push away her thoughts and focus on the present. "Thanks, Tom. I'll be out in a moment," She finally responded stiffly. He cocked his eyebrow slightly before leaving, not bothering to close the door. Later, later, later, she was chanting to herself as she quickly got dressed. She threw on a yellow sweater over a white button-up and a black knee-length skirt. She was supposed to meet Lyra and Todd after breakfast for the Hufflepuff-Slytherin Quidditch game. Since they were going with Todd, they would be cheering for Hufflepuff.
There was no hope for her hair; some of it was still straight from the potion, whereas the back of it was matted and curly from being slept on. Friction could affect how long the potion lasted. She bunched it all up in one big ponytail so that the difference in texture would be slightly less obvious. Still frustrated, she ended up putting it into a half-hearted bun.
After getting ready quickly, even for her, she left her bedroom and found Lyra sitting on the couch, staring at Crookshanks who was across the room returning her gaze. "I'm so sorry, Lyra, I didn't wake up this morning. In fact, I was asleep when Tom came and got me."
"That's fine, Hermione," Lyra responded in a faraway voice, not breaking eye contact with Crookshanks.
"What are you doing, Lyra?" Hermione asked tentatively, not sure she really wanted to know the answer.
"I'm having a staring contest with your cat."
After waiting for Lyra to finish her staring contest, which Crookshanks won, they made their way to the entrance hall to meet Todd. Lyra was dressed in various shades of blue, whereas Todd seemed to be wearing more house colors than anyone else; he had on a Hufflepuff scarf, yellow shirt, a black cardigan with a badger on it, black pants, and socks with moving badgers on them. He groaned when he saw Lyra and Hermione. "Lyra! You're not in Hufflepuff colors. Why are you coming to cheer with us if you're in all blue?"
Lyra did an uncharacteristic hair flip in response. "I can't cheer with you, Todd. I'm on the Ravenclaw team."
"Then why are you coming?"
"Merely to sit with you," she responded before making her way toward the Quidditch pitch.
Todd was shaking his head, exasperated. "She drives me crazy sometimes," he muttered to no one in particular. Turning to Hermione, he smiled. "Thanks for dressing up, Hermione. You look really nice."
Hermione smiled and nearly laughed. "I appreciate the lie, but I really just rolled out of bed. But of course I would wear your House colors."
They found a seat near the back of the crowd as Hermione had made them late. They had a clear view of the players as well as the opposite side of the pitch where Slytherin's fans sat. She spotted Tom almost immediately, sitting in the front row between Abraxas and Avery. They must have saved him a seat because he left as late as she did, if not later. Tom looked somehow elegant at a Quidditch game in a nice silvery-gray sweater that was the same shade as his eyes, plain black pants, and a dark green scarf. He looked up from the pitch and made eye contact with her, his gray eyes searing.
Hermione quickly looked away and struck up a conversation with Todd. Somehow she had ended up sandwiched between her friends, although they rarely sat that way save Herbology class. She usually sat next to Lyra, with Todd on Lyra's other side. Todd seemed genuinely annoyed at Lyra for dressing in blue, though, so they ended up in a slightly different configuration than usual. "Are you going to go to the ball?" Todd was asking.
"I completely forgot about it," Hermione responded honestly. "In fact, I probably need to meet with the prefects soon and I need to get professor escorts. But no, I hadn't planned on it," she continued, now running through all the tasks she needed to complete in her mind. "What about you?"
"Lyra and I usually go together," Todd responded. "So probably we will this year, too." Lyra and Todd were nearly inseparable, but their relationship didn't seem to be more than platonic. Hermione never asked, not wanting to seem nosy, though she was a bit curious. "Don't you think you'll go with- er- Riddle?" Tom asked.
"What?" Hermione snapped. "Why would you think that?"
"Oh- I just thought- I'm sorry for asking." Todd was bright red, quickly turning and watching the players prepare for the game.
Hermione didn't respond, sneaking a glance over at Tom instead. He immediately made eye contact, smiling slightly. It wasn't really a smile she had seen from him before, or one she would have even thought would work on his marble face. It was genuine.
This couldn't end well.