A/N: Sorry about the long wait, I had an over-abundance of adulting to do this week. The reviews last chapter were great! I thank everyone who dropped me a line, you guys are my inspiration.

Chapter Fourteen: To Scent the Wind

April 2001

Lestrange Mansion

The woman was broken. It had taken less than an hour under Alecto's tutelage. The Order member had been captured a few days before and was in rough shape by the time she caught the female Carrow's eye. Luna thought she recognized the woman from Before- before her cell before she was tortured and interrogated before she spilled every secret she knew before her Master had found her. That time was fuzzy. The only time that mattered was now.

The captive had dark skin, wide brown eyes, and hair pulled away from her face in dozens of tiny braids. Like Luna's braids. She called out for mercy using Luna's name. It was unsettling, but her Master kept her focused. Now the woman was bleeding, babbling, and begging on the floor as Luna wiped her knife clean on her pants.

Alecto slid an arm around Luna's waist and nipped at her ear. "Very well done, pet."

Luna preened.

"Luna!" The woman sobbed, reaching for her. "Have mercy."

Luna thought she heard screaming. It was quiet as if it came from a long distance, or from inside a well-insulated room. The sound was familiar. She realized it was her own voice, ragged with agony and overuse, and it was coming from inside her. She stood, silent and perplexed, a bloody not-so-stranger on her knees before her, and tried to determine how it was possible to be screaming with her mouth shut. The longer she stared at the dark-skinned woman, the louder the screaming in her head became. When Luna slid her knife across her captive's throat, the noise stopped, and Luna felt the last vestiges of her past self retreat into a dark place.

The Order had interrogation rooms. They were severely lacking in Luna's opinion. There was not a single torture device on Hogwarts grounds. Even Veritaserum was used under strict rules and regulations. Enemies were rarely kept as prisoners, but even when the Order had a living source of information readily on hand, there was little that could be done to force them to talk. It was a complete waste.

It was for this reason that Luna felt little to no anxiety as she sat across from Auror Dawlish. He was demanding information from her, information she was reluctant to give. Luna knew that she was not well loved, but those pesky ethics kept him from threatening physical pain. Not that it mattered either way. Pain was no longer a motivator for her. Luna stared at him in silence and wondered if the vein throbbing at his temple might burst if she provoked him. The longer she kept her mouth shut, the greater that vein pulsed.

Briefly, Luna played with the idea of telling him what he wanted to know. There was only one person who mattered, and Luna ran through the possible consequences for that person as she contemplated her choices. The worst case would mean execution. This had only happened once since the Battle of Hogwarts, and the spy had been caught red handed. It was more likely that Hermione would lose credibility and possibly her captaincy.

This war was ending anyway, Luna reasoned. If any of them made it out alive, rank would matter little. She and Hermione could move to France or Sweden and start again. The room was pressing in on her the longer she sat inside. It was becoming difficult to keep herself in check. Perhaps the Auror was better at torture than he realized.

Dawlish was ready to uncork the Veritaserum. Luna could see it in the way his eye was twitching with anger at her silence. The potion always hit her like a babbling hex and spilling all her secrets would put her in very hot water. Betraying the only person for whom Luna still cared sent a bolt of pain through her chest, but at least those Purebloods would be locked up and unable to hurt Hermione. Because Draco Malfoy would hurt her, Luna was absolutely certain.

"Don't get your knickers in a twist." Luna interrupted the man's tirade with a sigh. "Wouldn't want to blow a blood vessel."

The Room of Requirement had been relocated to the Northeast Wing of the castle on the fifth floor, a place that had been closed off due to disuse, which is probably why she had forgotten about it so completely.

"You moved it?" It was the eighth or ninth time Blaise had asked Hermione that question. He was having a hard time wrapping his mind around the concept.

"I didn't move it. I asked the castle to move it." She explained again. "After the Battle of Hogwarts, the Room's existence was common knowledge. When we took the castle back it became a popular place for," she paused awkwardly. "Things that are unbecoming of a soldier."

"Gods forbid," Pansy muttered.

"So you moved it?" Blaise demanded incredulously.

"Salazar's salty balls," Theo groaned. "It's not that complicated when you consider that the very nature of the Room of Requirement is that it does what is required."

"How would you know?" Pansy sneered. "Out of all of us, only Hermione and Draco have ever been inside."

"I've been inside," Neville protested. "All of seventh year was spent in and out. Hiding from the Carrows." He shuddered.

"The castle was very understanding, once I made my demands clear," Hermione mentioned.

"Of course, it was," Blaise chuckled. "Hermione, my dear, you are a very nice girl, but sometimes you are fucking terrifying."

The wall was blank. It was across from an alcove that contained the dusty statue of a witch long dead. Hermione held a request in her mind and paced in front of the empty wall.

We need a safe place to meditate and complete the ritual dragon transformation that will allow room for several large beasts to move about comfortably.

The request was, perhaps, a bit too specific, for it took quite a while for the door to appear in the wall. Or perhaps the Room knew that what they were attempting was tantamount to treason. She took a deep breath to calm the anxiety that squeezed her stomach. The excuses she had made for herself were flimsy to say the least. The Purebloods were watched less closely than when they first arrived, so they were able to disappear for hours at a time without anyone caring. The whole castle was in chaos, and she hoped they could all slip between the cracks for a few hours over the next three or four days.

When a portal finally did appear, it was made of two ironclad panels as tall as the ceiling and as wide as three carriages. Or as wide as a dragon, Hermione corrected herself.

"Interesting," Draco commented wryly.

Inside was an exact replica of the hilltop in Albania upon which she had first seen Draco turn into a dragon. The moment had defined Hermione's future in a way that she could hardly comprehend. Looking back, it was also the moment she allowed herself to fully trust a former enemy. She felt like the Room was teasing her.

"Cheeky," she mumbled under her breath.

The clearing was surrounded by tall pine trees on three sides. The fourth side was open to the valley below, and the mountains in the distance. It was truly amazing how a single magical space could so believably create a vast open wilderness. The grass was wet and vividly green under her feet. The cold wind picked up. Draco closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, a small smile on his lips.

"Go on, then," Hermione told him, nudging him with her shoulder.

He hesitated only a moment before he took off running at a full sprint. Midway across the hill, his limbs lengthened, his clothes faded into scales and he took to the sky.

"Show off!" Theo shouted.

Draco let out a jagged roar, bright orange flames erupting from between his teeth. Hermione could feel the heat on her skin even from her position on the ground. The great swoops of his wings sent gales across her face, flattening the curls on her head. He circled them a few times, canting left and right to ride the rising wind.

"We're going to start marking out the ritual space," Blaise told her. They were standing side by side, shading their eyes against the sun as they watched Draco. Theo was on the other side of the hill, pacing around and making notations in a notebook. "This Room of Requirement will keep all of our hard work in place when we leave, right?"

"Of course." Hermione was confident she could recreate this space exactly when they needed it again.

"By the way, I think that spot over there is for you," Blaise pointed behind her shoulder. There was a small, white gazebo partially hidden by the trees. Hermione squinted at it. It looked exactly like one she remembered in her grandmother's garden. The Room was being awfully free with Hermione's mind.

"Does Pansy have a spot?" Hermione wondered, feeling guilty that she hadn't thought to ask for a specific place in which the irritable woman could meditate.

"She won't need it," Blaise answered as he moved away.

And indeed, as Hermione watched, Pansy tugged Neville into the wooded area to the right of the clearing. She cringed slightly at the thought of what they might be doing in such a private space. The two of them had been quite - familiar - with each other after they both stumbled out of Pansy's room that morning. Hermione loved Neville and wanted him to find some happiness, but shacking up with Pansy Parkinson, even temporarily, seemed against his nature. Of course, committing treason by going against Kingsley's direct orders was a first for Hermione, so perhaps they were all branching out.

If Hermione was being honest, she deserved more of a censure than Neville when it came to forming inappropriate attachments. Draco had not brought up their spat the day before. It was probably for the best. He hadn't apologized for trying to intimidate her, and Hermione hadn't apologized for knocking him senseless. They simply continued on as if nothing had happened. If they held each other's gaze a moment longer than they had before, or if they allowed their hands to brush when they walked well, that was something neither of them was willing to look at too closely.

There wasn't really a good word for what was going on between her and Draco. It was something Hermione had no desire to define. She didn't have time for the kind of distraction he presented, but by the gods she wanted it. The feelings of desire and excitement he provoked in her were almost foreign for how long she had gone without feeling them.

As she watched Draco complete several barrel rolls in the sky above her head, Hermione reminded herself of her decision to let the future play out and not participate in her usual course of over-thinking and obsessive control. It was like swallowing a pill with no water.

Hermione laughed aloud and clapped in appreciation at his antics. Draco swooped low over her head and she reached up just in time to feel the strong wind of his passing on her fingertips. It was surreal to watching a dragon fly closely overhead and feel no fear. The dragon at Gringotts had been more concerned with his own freedom than making a meal of his passengers, but the fear had been ever-present. Knowing that a beast could reach around and eat you made admiring it's beauty rather difficult.

Bellatrix had made dragons synonymous with death and terror. A Hungarian Horntail was one of the most dangerous breeds of dragon, but a Horntail with the mind of a crazed and genocidal maniac was the stuff of nightmares. It wasn't long after her Animagus form had appeared on the battlefield that the Order went into hiding. Full, open battle no longer made sense when a single pass by a fire-breathing beast could decimate entire regiments.

Now, after so many years of horror, Hermione was free to enjoy Draco's display of acrobatics without fear for her life. He was clearly enjoying himself as well. His pearlescent wings kicked up clouds of dust and grass as he lowered himself slowly to the ground. Those great appendages settled against his back and he stalked toward her on all fours. He grunted and circled slowly before settling in front of her much like a house-sized dog. His large, shimmering scales were close enough for her to touch.

"May I?" she asked him.

He let loose a short whine and lowered his face. Stepping forward slowly, she held her hand out and open in front of her. A long snout snuffled around her fingers, making her giggle, then pushed into her palm. The skin on his face was cool and slick. She ran her fingers over his cheek, underneath his eye, then up over the black spikes on his head. They were firm, like horns. His grey eyes slid shut as her hand traveled down his long neck to his shoulder, where she felt the awe-inspiring muscles shift. The scaly skin twitched under her touch.

Merlin's beard, he was huge. Her head came to his shoulder as he lay on the ground. With his tail included, he was more than seven meters long. The skin along his shoulders was rough under her hand as she moved toward his side. He huffed a short breath through his nose. Was he ticklish? The idea made a smile stretch across her face.

He moved away with a groan, and she dropped her hand in disappointment only to watch him flop onto his side, his wings splayed across the grass and his belly to the sky. When she only stared at him with wide eyes, he lifted his head and blew air at her face impatiently. Hermione threw back her head and laughed. Draco lashed his tail against the ground.

"All right! All right!" Hermione chuckled, moving forward to rub the soft skin he had revealed to her. He hummed in his throat and let out a gusty sigh of pleasure. Hermione was absolutely certain his dragon consciousness was in control and Draco would be humiliated when he regained his human form.

"Aren't you adorable?" she cooed.

He lifted his head and snorted at her, glaring with one eye. Hermione laughed and continued to rub his scales. It was a strange twist of logic that a dragon should be more pleasant than a human, but there was no doubt that Hermione preferred Draco's beastly form. Perhaps it was because he could not speak, or raise that infernal eyebrow at her.

As she touched him, Hermione observed a long scar across his ribs, and stain of black scales on the inside of his front left leg. His position allowed Hermione to get a clear view of his underbelly, which shimmered in the sun. The pearly white that covered most of his body faded to a pale gold under his wings and then into pink as it reached the most sensitive areas of his belly and wing joints. He was beautiful.

"You look like a sunrise," she whispered, the sound choked.

A human Draco was standing in front of her suddenly, gripping her arms.

"Are you ill?" he demanded. "How long did you sleep last night? When was the last time you ate?"

"I'm fine," she answered thickly. "It's just so real."

His posture relaxed. "Yes, it is."

"The end is almost here." She looked up into his angular face, wondering if she should be embarrassed at her show of emotion. There was nothing but quiet patience reflected back at her. "I can't decide if I'm happy or terrified."

"If those are the only two emotions you can dredge up, Granger," he quipped as he tucked a curl behind her ear. "You're a bit stunted."

His eyes caught hers as she echoed Narcissa. "Emotions are terrible things."

A loud blast broke the mood. Hermione looked over to see Blaise and Theo covered in dirt, a large hole in the ground in front of them.

"I told you to make a line in the dirt, not blow it up!" Theo roared, picking sod from his ear.

"It was going just fine until you pinched my bum!" Blaise shouted.

"What was I supposed to do? If you wiggle it around in my face, I'm going to grab a bit."

"Wiggle it around?" The dark skinned man was scandalized. "I would never!"

They both started laughing uproariously and wrapped their arms around one another. Hermione chuckled at the sight.

"Fucking tossers," Draco muttered with a smile.

"Time for meditation," Hermione decided. She had taken a few steps when she noticed that Draco was following her closely. "Aren't you staying to help Theo and Blaise?"

"And miss the opportunity to mock you?" He sounded shocked.

"Just don't distract me," she relented wearily.

Draco grinned at her innocently.

The gazebo was tiny, just large enough to hold the both of them seated across from each other. Hermione uncorked the small vial of Fangjuice potion and downed it in one gulp. It was bitter and left a sting on her tongue. Hermione sat down, crossed her legs and struggled to remember all she had read about clearing her mind of superfluous thoughts. The wood beneath her was hard and chilly. A bee gamboled past her nose and she swatted at it. There was a tiny tickle at the base of her neck - and the inside of her elbow, and her shoulder. Blast!

"You're horrible at this," Draco observed idly.

Hermione glared at him. "What am I supposed be doing then?"

"I thought that was obvious." He raised one pale eyebrow at her.

"You're a prat." She sounded childish and she knew it, but it burned her up to admit that she wasn't able to accomplish something so simple.

"Meditating isn't that difficult if you aren't a know-it-all with compulsory need to control everything." He needed a good stinging hex to wipe the superior look from his face. "So much for all that research."

The word research was said with such sarcastic humor that Hermione felt her magical ire rise up with a vengeance. "Draco Malfoy, you are not helping!"

"Just relax, Granger."

"You know," she huffed. "You've said that to me more than once and it obviously doesn't work. Maybe you should try something else and be helpful for a change!"

The potion had turned warm in her belly.

"Fine!" He stood suddenly. "Budge up."

She glared at him. "What the hell are you doing?"

"If I have to kick you out of the way I will," he threatened.

Later, Hermione would blame it on the potion. It was making her head spin in a way that was quite pleasant. The tips of her fingers were buzzing, and Hermione doubted she could find the tip of her nose if asked. In any normal circumstance, she told herself, she would have hexed him and continued with her attempt to find inner peace. Instead, she huffed in indignation and complied with his demand, only to go stock still when he dropped down behind her.

"What are you doing?" she repeated with a squeak.

"Trying something else," he muttered.

He wrapped his long fingers around her biceps and pulled her until her hips were tight between his legs. Hermione held herself as if frozen, unsure of what to do, but determined not to reveal her discomfort. The place where her bum was settled was very warm, and she could feel the strength in his legs on either side of her own. Where the sodding hell was she supposed to put her hands? She ended up holding them out in front of her as if warding something away.

"Is this supposed to help me relax?" she demanded. If she shuffled just a bit further, she would be fully pressed against his most private area. The thought made a coil tighten low in her belly.

"Close your eyes and lean back against me." He emphasized the demand by squeezing her arms. She felt it in her toes. "Trust me."

Those two words released the tension in her shoulders. He spoke them like a demand, but Hermione could hear the question underneath. With a long-suffering sigh, she allowed herself to relax into his chest. She could feel her body rise with every breath he took. He was putting off so much heat that a thin dew of sweat broke out on her forehead.

"This is ridiculous," she muttered under her breath.

"Do you want my help or not?" Draco demanded through clenched teeth. "This is how I learned, so this is how you'll learn."

"Someone taught you to meditate?"

"My mother taught me. It's a vital part of Occlumency, Granger. Or didn't you know that?"

Hermione did, in fact, know that learning Occlumency required a long process of building walls around one's mind through extensive meditation. That knowledge was apparently buried somewhere beneath the overwhelming sensations swarming her as she allowed her body to rest against Draco Malfoy's. The ingredients in Fangjuice were nothing like a lust potion, but she would bet that the hallucinogenic properties of the Blue-Spotted Mushrooms were enough to lower inhibitions. The sudden desire to run her hands up and down his thighs was evidence enough.

"Don't hex me," he muttered. He released her arms and put one hand against her belly, just below her sternum. It was comfortable, and yet completely unsettling. "It will help you focus your breathing," he told her before she could protest.

"I know how to breathe properly," she protested shrilly.

"Then do it, dammit!" he snapped.

With a grunt of frustration, Hermione focused all of her attention on the warm spot of pressure on her abdomen. She felt it rise and fall with her breath - rise and fall, rise and fall - then begin to slow as her concentration centered on the pleasant weight. The last of the potion took effect with a rush of heat across her cheeks, the tops of her ears and behind her knees. Suddenly, it was easy to let her full weight fall against the wizard at her back. The hollow of his collarbone was the perfect cradle for her head. The fabric of his trousers was smooth under her palm. She felt him shift a bit beneath her, the hand not on her belly coming to rest lightly on her hip.

The world narrowed to the sounds of the wind through the trees, the faint scent of Draco, and the sensation of her body against his. The desires of her flesh were fighting against the logic of her mind. She wanted to turn around and sit in his lap and taste his mouth again. She shoved the fantasy away ruthlessly. Even with the assistance of the potion and Draco's hand, the meditative state she required was slippery. She could feel and see it just out of reach, but couldn't quite tip over the edge. She needed something else.

"Could you. . ." Even in her partially euphoric state, she felt the sting of embarrassment.

"Could I . . .?" His words were soft in her ear.

"Could you talk to me like the night you read aloud?" Hermione blurted the request before she could stop herself. Draco went still behind her while humiliation burned up Hermione's neck. Her mouth opened again and she mumbled, "I like the sound of your voice."

Oh Merlin, keep your mouth shut, woman!

"Yeah, I can do that."

Hermione relaxed into him again. "Tell me about being a dragon."

"The first thing you notice is your size," he began. "Your body occupies more space. It's heavy, yet powerful."

The rumble of his words drove out any other thoughts.

"Your muscles are in different places and there are more of them. Your hands and feet work in new ways, and you have two more appendages in the form of wings. Somehow it all works together."

Hermione was breathing deeply. She felt as if she was floating in a warm bath in the dark, the only real sensation was the sound of Draco's voice.

"The wind brings scents and vibrations, all of it rich with information."

Even his voice was fading into the distance. A new awareness came upon her slowly. Nothing had happened, and yet everything was different. She was on all fours, but she was taller at the same time. A strange, tugging weight on her shoulders made her shift around, feeling the muscles play. That weight folded and unfolded, catching the breeze on thin, scaly skin. She looked down and saw claws. Blue claws. She sank them in the soft dirt beneath her feet.

Hermione took a moment to catalog each feature as she experienced them. Long snout. Sharp teeth. Sleek body. As she arched her back, she felt closely fitted armor along her spine shift and rub together. Her tail moved slickly across the grass in a swiping motion. Her ears articulated to pinpoint minute sounds. The cool air filtered through her nostrils and flooded her with different scents. It was so odd, like being touched through the thinnest of fabrics. These sensations were clear and detailed, and yet the fact that it was all happening in her head meant she couldn't complete experience any of it.

Hermione huffed in irritation and craned her neck to get a better noseful of air. The motion made her wings widen for balance, and she noticed their span was wide, but their breadth was thin. Made for speed, she thought to herself as a bit of anatomy bubbled to the surface of her mind. She stretched one of them out and craned her long neck around to see. They were black underneath, the paper-thin skin dotted with tiny gold, silver, and purple scales. How pretty, she thought to herself.

There was something behind her. Hermione swung around, her wings catching the breeze and making her stumble. When she righted herself, she was looking into the large grey eyes of a white dragon. The wind changed and brought the faint scent of Draco. . . tea and warm, male skin and . . . honey?

Hermione sat upright with a gasp. The physical world spun back into place.

"Take it easy, Granger."

Draco's words centered her. She took a breath and felt his hand on her belly pull her tighter to him. It was easy to sink back into place against his chest.

"How long was I out?" Hermione shivered in the chill air then felt Draco chafe at her arms to warm her.

"It's been nearly an hour," he answered. "Should I cast a warming charm? We aren't really dressed for an Albanian summer."

"No, I'm okay," Hermione answered. "An hour? So long?"

"It took me days of intense meditation to even summon a glimpse of my alternate form," Draco admitted with a surly shrug. "You and Pansy are both making me look bad."

"Has Pansy succeeded then?"

"She stopped by a few minutes ago to. She wanted to make sure you knew she finished first."

Hermione shook her head in amusement, her short curls crackling against his shirt. "She's such a cow."

"What brought you back so suddenly?"

Hermione sat up again, all excitement. She turned so she was facing him, kneeling between his legs. He looked at her warily, unsure whether to be scared or enthusiastic.

"It was amazing!" she gushed. "I was a dragon!"

"That was rather the point."

Hermione rolled her eyes and continued. "I had claws and a tail, huge teeth and these long, black wings!"

"That does sound about right for a dragon," he deadpanned, eyes sparkling with amusement. "Though I suppose it's possible you could turn into a Fuzzy-Headed Humpdink. The suspense is killing me."

"You were there," she continued, ignoring his attempts to rile her.

Draco scrunched his eyebrows at her doubtfully.

"You were!" she argued. "The dragon you! It startled me awake."

"You were daydreaming about me, Granger?" His sly grin made her heartbeat pick up.

A wave of dizziness hit her and she teetered forward. "I could smell you," she mumbled against his shirt.

"Yes, that particular sense is quite the most annoying of the five." He took a deep breath and held it, as if unwilling to breathe with her so close.

"You smell nice." He didn't answer, but Hermione thought his heart started beating faster.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, popping back up as something occurred to her. "I should have breathed fire to be certain I was able. I did feel a bit of pressure in my throat, almost as if there was a switch there that could be activated somehow. I wouldn't be much use without that particular weapon. But every species of dragon is capable of fire if I remember correctly from my anatomy books. Except those classified as water serpents, I suppose - "

Draco stopped her flood of reasoning by taking possession of her mouth. The slow burn that had been building, while she had been conscious of their closeness, flared into a raging fire. Hermione moaned softly in the back of her throat. His hands were wrapped around her hips, and he yanked her forward so their bodies were flush. Hermione shifted a bit and managed to straddle his lap. It was perfection. Her hands came up to cup his neck, holding him in place so she could pull his tongue into her mouth.

A deep groan rumbled up from the depths of his chest. Hermione felt the need to move, to relieve some of the desperate, heated pressure centered between her legs. She thrust her hips slightly. The movement sent a bolt of sheer pleasure straight up her spine. Draco must have felt something similar, for he squeezed his eyes shut and muttered, "Fucking hell."

With a grin of sheer womanly power, Hermione undulated against him again, drowning in needy want. His grasp on her hips tightened and he started guiding her movements, urging her on as he sucked on her lower lip. The hard evidence of his desire was rubbing against her in just the right way. Even through her trousers, the friction was winding a coil of desire in her belly.

A thrust of his hips had her moaning. One long-fingered hand slid underneath her shirt to cup her breast lightly. She tilted her head back and jerked against him in delight. She wanted his mouth on her. She wanted both of them naked, and in a bed.

"This is a bad idea," she whispered as he mouthed her neck. "We aren't exactly in private."

"They can't see anything," he panted. "There's nobody here but us."

Hermione reached for the hem of his shirt, needing to feel his skin, but stopped short. This sudden and unexpected desire to strip off all her clothes and grind against him had her reeling even more than the Fangjuice. The lust wasn't new, she admitted to herself, but the willingness to consummate her desire in public was out of the ordinary for a normally modest Hermione. Was this a side effect of the potion, or a remnant of her increased senses? A fragment of a former conversation - or rather argument - with Draco floated to the surface. She ripped herself away from him.

"This is the Dragon," she gasped, horrified.

"What?" He was dazed, his lips puffy and his hair mussed. The collar of his shirt was unbuttoned.

"This is your Dragon!" she repeated, indicating the new space between them. "You just turned! You don't really want this!"

Draco shook his head as if to clear it. "That's - "

"The human part of you doesn't want me." Hermione scrambled away.

"How did you come to that conclusion?" The last of the fog had cleared from his expression. "Surely this," he gestured to his crotch, "Is enough evidence of my desire for you."

Hermione remembered the hardness pressing against her and tried to keep her eyes on his face. She ended up looking at the floor. "You don't want to want me," she corrected. "No matter what your body says."

Draco sighed and opened his mouth to reply, but they were interrupted by Theo and Blaise.

"Everything okay over here?" Theo called from a good distance.

"Fully clothed and everything?" Blaise added.

Hermione felt a rabid blush take hold of her face. She stood abruptly, steadying herself on the gazebo railing.

"We're fine," she answered. "My meditation is complete."

"Finally!" Hermione heard the distant call of Pansy.

She didn't wait to see Draco straighten himself, but instead stalked away, feeling a heavy weight in her chest.

The circle for the ritual was well on its way to being completed. There were still several runes to be inscribed on the ground, and the four directions needed to be consecrated. Hermione was quite ashamed of how little attention she paid to the work Theo and Blaise had done. She praised them without actually noticing any details. She stoutly ignored the grin Pansy threw her way, and would not, under any circumstances, reach up to feel her swollen lips, or her warm cheeks.

Hermione was the last out the door. If she had been paying attention, she would have noticed that Draco had stopped just outside. As it was, she ran into his back and fell back a step. When she tried to step around him, she was stopped by his protective arm. Hermione saw that everyone had their hands outstretched in surrender. Ron, Amos, and Collins stood just beyond them with wands drawn.

"What is going on here?" Hermione demanded.

Ron took a deep, regretful breath and shook his head. "You're under arrest."

A/N: Have a great week, guys!