Disclaimer: If you know it, I do not own it. Parts come from Halfblood Prince by JKR.

Kept Some Things Back

"It won't look good if we're all suddenly brilliant at Potions," Hermione grumbled, not looking pleased with the results the book's directions yielded after their second class.

Draco agreed, which was why he didn't follow the directions exactly as Snape had written. He preferred Slunghorn fawning over Harry, who followed the hand written word for word. (In Slughorn's world when Tom made a perfect potion, he didn't exist. And because he was Tom Riddle, he always made a perfect potion even without using Snape's old schoolbook.)

Friday afternoon saw the release of Addy Black, or as she was known Adelaide Lupin. (Draco was pleased Addison had been rejected.) They all went down after their classes on Friday to see her off. She looked vastly different, well, to everyone save Draco. When they entered her bleak little hospital room, she was staring in a mirror pulling at various parts of her face with sick fascination. She heard them enter and said, "This is so surreal. Like, I know it's my face, but it's not what I'm used to seeing."

"You were able to see yourself through the glowing white?" Tom asked.

"I learned to filer that out eons ago," she replied, flapping her free hand at Tom. "Is this what I really look like?"

"Yes," Draco whispered.

Dumbledore had amplified the Black aspects of her appearance and hidden the Lupin ones with her glamors. Now, her nose was different— longer and a little wider. Her lips were thinner, cheekbones not as pronounced, but most of all her amber eyes were back along with her curly raven hair. In the short style she sported, the curls looked rather strange, as if they weren't sure which direction to go.

"This haircut had seemed like such a good idea when I got it," Addy muttered. "Oh, well. Live and learn."

She turned towards the four teenagers and smiled brightly. Tom appeared as if he wasn't sure how to respond, but managed to sort of smile back. Harry and Hermione both looked like they were thought they were intruding on a family moment.

"Well, come here you idiot," Addy said, holding her arms wide.

Tom looked as if he wasn't going to step into them, but Harry pushed him solidly between the shoulder blades and his gangly teenage limbs failed to be graceful so he toppled into her arms.

"See, not so bad," Addy said, thumping him on the back solidly. "Ah, the sound of a chest cavity!"

Tom made a noise of protest, yet didn't pull away from the embrace. She didn't hold on too long, though, pushing Tom away and swatting at his hair playfully. He looked furious as he smoothed it back into place.

"Don't be a stranger. I'll be at Lupin's till I find a new place."

"Excuse me?"

"I can't kick him out," Addy began.

"Why can't you stay there?"

"I can't sta—"

"Yes, you can," said a new voice from behind them.

They all turned to see Remus Lupin enter the room, closing followed by Sirius Black, who looked as if Christmas had arrived early.

"It is your flat," Lupin went on. "It went back into your name when you ceased to be dead."

"But, you have to stay there!" Addy cried, looking horrified. "The laws…you…"

"I'm not going to move out," Lupin assured, moving through the group of teenagers to his old friend. He placed a hand on her shoulder, hitching a corner of his mouth up a little. "I figured I would simply move into the black hole upstairs."

Addy groaned, slapping her hand over her face. "Tell me you at least made him clean it up after all these years?"

"I did," Lupin said. "I've moved up there. While my bank account is quite empty, I will find some way to provide for the household."

"You don't—"

"Hush. We'll figure the details out later."

"You'll love my cleaning job. I even changed the paint color," Sirius announced loudly.

"You what?"

"Don't tell me you liked the black paint?"

"Well, no, but we're Blacks!"

"Actually, you're a Lupin," Sirius pointed out. "We all know your dirty little secret!"

Addy sighed, rolling her eyes. "It wasn't a dirty secret. Just one I didn't think you needed hear as a sixteen-year-old. I kind of told you when I met you, remember?"

Sirius made a noise Draco had never heard that kind of sounded like, "pish" and flapped his hand at her in a strange manner that made Addy roll her eyes again.

"But," she turned back to Lupin, "won't…don't you…I can't just replace her."

"Oh, you won't, Addy," Lupin said, looking serious. "No one will ever replace my daughter. Even my…daughter from another timeline."

Addy studied him carefully. It must have been so strange to look at her, seeing her as she really was, meeting eyes that Lupin saw in the mirror. Draco wasn't sure how Lupin was handling it, but Sirius looked as if his eyes were going to bug out and roll across the floor

"I'm your friend first, Lupin," Addy pointed out. "This version of you is my friend, one of my good friends, one I care about a great deal, but I don't need a dad. I'm…old."

"Not as old as I," Lupin pointed out.

"True. You're finally older than me!"

Lupin gave her a tried look.

"Great! Let's go," Sirius said, jumping up and down like an anxious puppy.

"Okay, okay. Keep your hat on," Addy laughed. "Well, you lot. Don't get in too much trouble. And come see me for at Christmas, okay? I'd love to get to know y'all, okay?"

They all nodded.

"Except Tom. I don't really wanna know him," Addy joked.

Tom threw a pen at her head. She ducked and laughed. Her laughter didn't die out till the adults all Flooed away.

"She's so different from Atlanta," Hermione whispered, pressing into Draco's side. "Even the little girl she was before…her run in with Voldemort in 1943. I mean…she's…"

"They are very different," Draco agreed. "They had very different childhoods. Addy had lots more pureblood breeding, while Atlanta was a little more…carefree due to being raised mostly by Lupin. Addy didn't meet Lupin until she was a child, not from birth."

"Lupin knew Atlanta from birth?"

"Yes," Tom said. "Hilderbatch wrote to Dumbledore after Atlanta's birth and told him who the father was. She'd already had Lupin employed as a nanny, though. Dumbledore called him to England on Order business and told him. He spent the night getting drunk at the flat, then went off the next morning back to his job raising his daughter who he now knew was named as he'd wished. It was not just a happy coincidence."

"Sounds like a soap opera," Hermione muttered. "Well, it's almost time for dinner. Let's go."

As time wore on, free periods began to resemble less free time and more time to do mountains of homework. The vast amounts they were assigned seemed to Draco to be ten times more than before, but then again, he hadn't actually bothered the first time.

"Should we be worried about Nott?" Harry asked one night as they sat at the Brooding Table going through piles of homework.

"Worried how?" Draco muttered trying to work on his Ancient Runes.

"He is fixing that cabinet, right?" Hermione asked. "Shouldn't we try to thwart him?"

"No," Tom said, twirling his wand between his long fingers while writing with the other hand. "Here. Does this look like Dumbledore's hand?"

Tom shoved one of the books he had been reading (he had ten books open and seemed to be reading them all) at Harry, who stopped what he was doing and peered. His facial reaction was classic disgust and he nodded. Tom took the book back, looking at it with new interest as his wand began to move faster, green sparks flying out the end.

"Will you stop that before you set me on fire?" Draco demanded, trying to move away.

"I will not set you on fire," Tom drawled, but stopped twirling his wand.

"What does the book say? What is the curse?" Hermione asked, rolling up the essay she'd completed. She offered it to Draco, who took it, unrolling it to see what her translations came out to be and how far off he was. "Is it curable?"

"No."

"Well, what is it?" Draco impatiently asked.

"Bothroangis Putrescat, or a type of spell to mimic a certain type of asper snake," Tom said, scowling deeply at the book as if it'd insulted him. "It's quite complex and very…dark. There are only a handful of cases since wizards started keeping records. It's rather obscure, mostly because it must be casted in Pasrseltounge. There is a counter curse, but it must be cast within five minutes of getting cursed and also must be cast in Parseltounge. Other than that, the only way to live long enough to get your affairs in order is to halt the curse, to contain it the wherever the…bite occurred."

"Does it say bite?" Harry asked, leaning over to look at the book.

"Yes," Tom flatly said. "Because it was likely Snape who performed the counter curse to contain the bite, Dumbledore will likely last longer than these people."

"How long did they last?" Hermione asked, quietly putting down the huge book she had picked up.

"Six months at most," Tom flatly said, glancing out over the Common Room gloomily. "I'd give him a year. It'll spread slowly from where Snape contained it in his hand to his heart and turn it as black as his hand."

"Once it's free it'll rapidly spread?" Hermione asked.

Tom nodded. "Unless Snape is on hand to halt it again. All he will do is prolong Dumbledore's life and the further the curse gets towards his heart, the harder it'll be for him to maintain normalcy."

"He asked Snape to kill him," Draco realized bleakly. "He said please."

All three looked at him in surprise. Hermione was the first to catch on and grabbed his hand, weaving their fingers together. Draco was so horrified and caught up in his own memories of that terrible night, he failed to notice.

"He was pleading. Snape…Snape pushed us out of the way. I couldn't see his face, but I could see Dumbledore. He pleaded…I thought for Snape to save him, but…he was pleading for him to kill him. He kept falling. He was weak. The curse…"

Draco felt Hermione's arm come around him and pull him sideways. He went easily, mind whirling.

"What were you doing on the roof?" Tom inquired.

"Dumbledore had gone out. He did a lot that year, never told anyone what he was doing. He took Potter that night. I don't know where Potter was, though," Draco said, speaking on autopilot. "I'd put Rosemerta under the Imperius Curse, she told me when he'd come and go. I used enchanted coins. I forgot about that. There was a rumor that's how Dumbledore's Army communicated. I used the same thing. I forgot."

"It's all right," Hermione hushed him, her fingers somehow in his hair. Draco's eyes were unseeing, so he wasn't sure how he'd managed to get where he was or where Tom and Harry had gone.

"He was weak," Draco repeated. "He kept slipping down the rampart he was leaning against. Like his feet didn't work."

"Where might they have gone?" Tom inquired in a clinical tone.

"Horcrux hunting?" Harry offered. "That might also be why he was weak?"

Tom snorted. "Do you think Dumbledore would have taken Potter along to find and destroy a horcrux?"

"Why not?" Harry challenged.

Tom made a strange noise. "He keeps secrets. His secrets have secrets and he never puts them all in one—oh. He knew he was dying."

"So he put the horcrux secret in Harry's basket," Hermione said, her fingers doing strange things to Draco's head.

"Potter was on the roof," Draco realized through the strange haze he'd fallen. "Dumbledore made me tell him everything. Everything I'd done all year. And I told him so I wouldn't have to…so I wouldn't…"

"Exactly. He was stalling you because he wished for Potter to know—"

"No," Hermione cut Tom off. "He was stalling so Snape could get there."

Draco sucked in a deep breath and sat up. Hermione let him go with some resistance. He took her hand under the table, using the other one to straightened out his hair a little.

"She's right. While I do believe Potter must have been on the roof with us under the Cloak, Dumbledore was stalling for time. Because…"

"If you didn't kill him, Snape had to or he'd die due to the Unbreakable Vow he made with your mother," Hermione finished.

"Do you think anyone made such a vow for Nott?" Draco asked, feeling a little sorry for Nott. Draco had had his mother— his fiercely protective and loving mother— to look out for him, to make plans if he failed. Would there be anyone to do so for Nott? As far as Draco knew, the only parent Nott had was currently rotting in Azkban till this summer when Voldemort would further move out into the open— unless they did something drastic this year.

"Dumbledore will die," Tom stated flatly. "This is a fact. No matter what Nott does, Dumbledore will die, be it at the end of a wand or from the curse. If it were me, I'd rather go at the end of a wand."

"How could—"

Tom pushed the book at Hermione, who jerked away, taking Draco with her. Draco didn't want to know how ghastly and horrid a death by the curse would be.

"Dumbledore's death leads to Voldemort gaining power," Harry quietly pointed out. "Yet, you're trying to tell me it's happening no matter what?"

"Yes," Tom replied flatly. "It's likely one of those blasted fixed points. As is the Death Eaters getting into Hogwarts via the fixed Vanishing Cabinet. Nott will fix it. While he's not as competent as Draco, he's not a total moron."

"Thank you for that high compliment," Draco drawled dryly, trying to return to a state of normal.

"You're welcome," Tom snarked. "What we must do, though, is to be prepared for the invasion. There were members of the Order here, but there needs to be more. Many more. And the students must be prepared."

"How on Earth do you plan to prepare students?" Hermione asked.

Tom's blue-blue eyes sparkled in the dim lighting cast by the fireplace and candles in the Common Room. One side of his mouth hitched up and he looked as if he was up to no good.

"Why, I'm going to restart the Muggle Chess club, only I think I'll call it Dueling Club. What do you think?"

"I think that's brilliant," Hermione agreed.

"A proper dueling club? Not like the one Lockhart started, right?" Harry asked.

Tom made a face of disgust. "Of course a proper one. I'll speak to McGonagall tomorrow. I'm sure Dumbledore will approve. Best have his students prepared."

Tom nodded sagely before standing up and abandoning them. Harry quickly got up and followed, leaving both their belongings behind and Draco alone with Hermione.

Who he was still holding hands with under the table.

Oh.

"Draco?"

"Mmm?" Draco asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

"None of that was on the parchment," she quietly pointed out.

"Some of it I just realized," Draco reminded her. "And the rest…didn't really want to think it was important."

"It was very lonely for you that year, wasn't it?"

"And the year after," Draco admitted. "Crabbe and Goyle were a little too pleased with the new direction the school took. I…not so much."

Hermione nodded, loosening her fingers. Draco regretfully let go. Hermione began to gather her belongings.

"Well, I best be heading to bed."

Draco stared at her and felt some an overwhelming need for her not to leave. Ever.

"Next Hogsmeade weekend, would you go with me—?" Draco didn't finish asking, as he didn't know where to take her. Where did people go on dates?

Wait, he wanted to go on a date with her?

Yes. He did and it had nothing to do with Amortentia, as he'd not been splashed with any recently.

"Just us? No Harry or Tom?"

Draco nodded. "You best pick somewhere. I doubt you'd enjoy Madam Pettifoots."

Hermione curled her nose. "Correct. Um…okay. Yes. Till then, what will we do?"

"I…I…I…"

Hermione smiled at him indulgently. She leaned over, kissed him on the cheek and shook her head.

"Boys. Hopeless, the lot of you. Meet me in the library tomorrow morning before breakfast, okay? Just you."

Hermione gave him a very stern look before departing. Draco felt himself smiling and he had no idea really why— other than he was happy.

That had been a lot easier than he thought.

When Draco reached the dormitory (which was more crowded than before due to the addition of an extra, if usually unused, bed), Tom was waiting for him with a large smirk painting his fine features.

"What?" Draco asked flatly.

Tom's smirked morphed into a full on smile and he said nothing, just swung himself into Harry's bed and slammed the curtains shut. Draco stood dumbly in the dormitory for a solid minute before shaking his head and getting ready for bed himself. He got into bed, shut the curtains, and lay there, mind whirling a million miles an hour.

He hardly slept and was a jittery mess by the next morning. Draco scolded himself mentally, as he'd done this kind of thing before: meeting before class for some time alone. He'd met more than one girl before the start of sixth year when he didn't have time for such things. Granted, it was Pansy more often than not, but still. He had experience. He wasn't some stupid teenager who'd never kissed a girl before, never spent an afternoon doing some in depth exploration of another's mouth instead of studying.

Yet, on some level, Draco knew this was so much different and had nothing to do with that it was technically his first time doing those things in the body he was currently utilizing.

This was Hermione Granger.

She was his best friend. She knew him better than even his mother. Hermione had guessed his secret when he'd never told anyone (Harry didn't count as he'd not believed him). She'd comforted him, she encouraged him, and now she smiled at him as he'd always wanted her to.

Okay.

There.

He'd done it.

He'd admitted he always wanted Hermione Granger, no matter the timeline, to notice him passed what he put out there for the world. He had since before he'd seen her on the arm of Krum fourth year. The moment he'd realized that was Granger, he knew he was doomed, well more doomed. It was the reason for his pulling girls left and right for the next two years till larger things distracted him.

He'd liked Granger.

Sure he was horrified by her hair sometimes and he liked it when her teeth had been cursed and she'd finally gotten them fixed, but it was that know-it-all personality that got him as an eleven-year-old. He'd been horrified to find out she was Muggleborn. It was bad enough she'd sorted into Gryffindor, but to be a Muggleborn on top of it?

Doomed.

Also, as an eleven-year-old he'd no idea what to do with his feelings towards the girl, so he'd harassed her worse than he'd bullied Harry Potter. Even after seeing her at the Yule Ball, he didn't allow himself to really realize why he was acting as he was.

Now, though, he could think about it and registered he'd always had more than friendly feeling for Hermione Granger.

"What's with you? You look like you're…going through drug withdrawal," Dean Thomas remarked the next morning, eyeing Draco with minor concern as he fumbled with his robe fasteners and failed to get them to work. Upon getting confused looks from Tom, Neville, and Seamus Finnigan, Dean added, "Mum made me take a course over the summer on the horrors of illegal drugs, since they don't do that kind of thing here. It was…"

He shuddered.

"He's got a date," Tom remarked from the other side of the room.

Draco had enough coordination to chuck a book at Tom's head, forgetting for a moment it'd not go through like it used to. Tom had also forgotten this fact, as the book hit him square in the forehead, leaving behind an angry red mark in the center of his pale forehead. Both boys were so shocked they simply gaped at one another till Harry snorted.

"Sorry," Harry quickly apologized since two people in the dormitory didn't know that Tom had not always been a solid, living being but in fact something that books would fly through. "Anyway, enjoy whatever! Tell me later. Come on, Tom."

Rubbing his forehead, Tom gave Draco one last smirk before he vanished with Harry.

"It'll be fine," Dean Thomas said, slapping Draco on the back. "Just don't let her know you don't know what you're doing. Take your cues from her and she'll think you're amazing."

Finnigan snorted. "You talk like you're some sort of Casanova."

"You know who that is?" Thomas asked, turning to face his friend. "He's a Muggle."

Draco and Finnigan both snorted, shaking their heads in the negative.

"He was a wizard," Finnigan said. "Used a lot of magic to lure all those woman into his bed, didn't he? Potions, charms, that kind of thing."

Thomas threw his arms in to the air and left muttering about all the greats turning out to be wizards. Finnigan followed leaving Neville and Draco alone.

"I've got no advice," Neville said, cheeks turning pink.

"Good. I do not need any advice from hormonal teenagers," Draco muttered.

Neville shook his head. "Of course not. You've already this whole dating thing, haven't you?"

"Yes."

"Oh, good. You'll be a great help if I ever decide to date," Neville said, smiling brightly. He clapped Draco on the shoulder and left.

Giving up on fastening his robes properly, Draco stalked off to the library. He arrived, his stomach in knots, to find Hermione hidden behind a pile of books at a table in a dusty, but brightly lit corner. She heard him approached, looking up with a smile.

"Good morning."

"Good morning," Draco managed to respond.

Hermione smirked as she took in the sight of him. She patted the chair next to her and Draco took a seat. She continued to smile and went back to studying. Draco felt awkward and sat unmoving till he turned towards her with a question on his lips, but stopped the moment he caught sight of her.

She must have positioned herself here for a reason, he realized it. The sunlight…oh god. Her hair…

"You're staring," Hermione chided gently.

"I don't know what to do."

"We're spending quality time together," Hermione stated, flipping a page in her book. "Did you have another idea on how to spend time together?"

Draco had had a few, but shook his head in the negative. Hermione slid a book to him and gave him a knowing look. Feeling his cheeks heat up, Draco opened the book she'd pushed towards him, realizing it was the Ancient Runes textbook. Sighing, he started to read the section she'd helpfully highlighted for him that would hopefully aid him in where he was getting tripped up in his translations.

Not exactly how he imagined a first date (or whatever) with Hermione, but he should have known.