COUNTERFEIT

VII

The corridor was empty. For the second time in the same night, the Head Girl broke the school's curfew. She snuck through the portrait hole and peered around the corner. All clear. She proceeded towards the dungeons.

She couldn't sleep. She took two hours and read Anomalous Magical Maladies and Cures from cover to cover. She still couldn't sleep. She paced her room, counted sheep, stretched, sang herself a lullaby, and even stood on her hands…nothing worked. Hermione sat on her bed for another agonizing half hour before she decided to sneak down to the kitchens to get a glass of warm milk.

She tiptoed silently down the hall. Paranoia gripped her. Her eyes swirled in every direction; her ears strained to her the quiet footfalls of Filch, or the low purring of Mrs. Norris. Her whole body was tense. She hadn't done this kind of thing alone before. She was always with Harry or Ron, or both. She wished they were here now. Their presence and soft intakes of breath would calm her nerves.

With all that in mind, Hermione did manage to arrive in the dungeons without incident. She darted for the closest wall and slid along it, eyes and ears as alert as ever. Her insensitive human ears quivered. Wishing that she were a bat, Hermione made herself as small as possible, hoping that she camouflaged nicely into the wall, just in case.

BAM!

The sound shook the torches in their stands on the walls. Hermione froze, her heart thundered. It sounded as if it was going to break out from behind her ribs. She took a deep breath trying to calm herself, while exerting her ears, trying to catch any other sounds that may follow. More than ever, she wished she had a bat's echolocation, so that she may trace the source of the sound, find out that it's far away, having absolutely nothing at all to do with her being out of bed after dark and allow herself a peace of mind.

Nothing.

The silence became unbearably deafening. Hermione crept forward and turned the corner. A carpet of dim candlelight spilt out in front of her. Hermione started. She looked up.

Oh.

Snape's office.

At this point, Hermione was ready to give up and go back to bed, but her devil-given curiosity got the better of her. She struggled to move her legs to retreat back to the Gryffindor Tower, but they had stopped listening to her. As if by their own will, her legs carried her forward, stopping just short of the closed door's hinge. Hermione leant forward, careful that her feet didn't block the light escaping from under the door and pressed her ear to the door's crack just in time to catch a muffled shout.

"How dare you lead werewolves into the school grounds? Do you have any idea what those monsters are capable of?"

Yep, it's Snape.

An amused cough answered the livid professor. Hermione's heart felt a chill. Draco Malfoy. It had to be him. Who else has the nerve to defy the Potions Master?

"If I wasn't mistaken, sir," the boy's voice rang out, "you were in the Forbidden Forest tonight because you were investigating a suspicious affair of your students."

"What?"

"You said so yourself, sir, that you were investigation a suspicious affair," Draco repeated patiently. "So, you must have had some inkling about the werewolves tonight."

There was a pause. Hermione held her breath, secretly acknowledging that this pause's only significance is that Draco Malfoy had hit a nerve. Touché, she thought.

"That is beside the point!" Snape exploded. To her surprise, Hermione heard Malfoy chortle.

"No, it's not." Hermione could hear the infuriating grin in Draco's voice as he spoke, "Would you care to explain, Professor, why you were in the Forest in the first place?"

"I can ask you the same question, boy." Snape hissed.

Draco laughed, "No, you can't. Because I asked you first."

Hermione could almost see the startled fury on Snape face at this moment. She leant back from the door crack, rubbing her now numb back.

"When you are ready to answer me, Professor," she heard Draco say cynically, "you will receive my answer in return. Goodnight."

Hermione realized in horror that the meeting had finished. Draco was now making for the door. Her muscles froze, and she stood there, statue-like, as the doorknob turned.

Draco's smile dropped from his face the moment he was out the door; a scowl took its place. He swore under his breath and vowed to reprimand the Potions Master in the cruelest and most inhumane way with the first opportunity he gets.

He stepped out into the hall, and sighed as the cool dungeon air washed over his skin, erasing all traces of the humid, incensed air of his Head of House's office. His eyes looked up by instinct as his left hand reached behind him to shut the office door.

His heart skipped a beat, his palms went clammy and new sweat glistened down his back. To his astonishment, his body moved naturally, never hesitating. The door closed with a click behind him.

He smiled.

The Head Girl returned his silent greeting with a look that was some kind of a mixture of horror, embarrassment and guilt. Draco's stomach tightened. He silently and gently grasped her arm, his eyes automatically sweeping her bed-clothed body, lingering at places. He felt her blush. He steered her further down the hall to where a set of short marble stairs meet the first floor landing.

"Why thank you for waiting, Miss Granger." He said lightly, his hand casually left her arm and resettled between her shoulder blades.

"I wasn't waiting for you," Hermione sniffed, her tone cool and aloof. Only her flushed face gave away how she really felt. Draco stole a sideward glance at her and leant closer.

"Well thank you anyways," He whispered in her ear. He felt her shiver. His hand slipped lower down her back, heart hammering in his chest. He was surprised that she didn't hear it beating at all.

She looked up at him, defiance written clearly in her eyes. "I don't need your gratitude," She sneered.

He smiled. "Of course…but you want it all the same. In receiving my gratitude your self-esteem and pride had been boosted. You are wishing now that someone, preferably the whole school, was here to hear this conversation, because then you would be recognized as a girl worth taking notice of because of your association with me. Your reputation will climb the ladder of popularity, breaking the already established status quo. It's called fame by association, and that's what you're after, fame."

"In your dreams, Malfoy!" Hermione snarled, tone dripping with contempt.

Draco didn't hear her. He barely heard his own little monologue. He was concentrating on something else. He glanced back to his hand, which was now resting on Hermione Granger's lower back. The pit of his stomach lurched as his mind played corrupt images of her. His eyes were now lingering on her chest, watching as she breathed, in and out. She was gorgeous in every single way. He felt lowly and unworthy. He sighed.

"I give up," He murmured.

Hermione raised one delicate eyebrow. "I beg your pardon?"

Draco shook his head. He leant towards her; his nose brushing past her silky locks and inhaling the scent of freshly picked roses. He felt her stiffen. She was distracted. His hand dropped further while his other arm curled around her.

He breathed in, and then exhaled, his breath stroked her ear. He watched the goose bumps rise from her china skin. His curled arm completed its course and grasped her about the waist. He hugged her to his chest.

Hermione's eyes widened as she was pulled into him. The first thing she noticed was the hardness of his Quidditch toned body, the second thing was how well she fit into him (like puzzle pieces), and the third was the thuds of his thrashing heart. It sounded as if he had just ran a marathon.

His unease soothed her. She squirmed in his arms.

"What are you doing?" She squealed, writhing.

"By your definition or mine?" He asked quietly.

Hermione stopped moving for a short while as she thought. "What are you talking about?"

"You asked what I was doing. I don't know if you wanted to know how I define my actions or how I believe you would define my actions or–"

"Shut up." Hermione shook her head and caught herself smiling. The racing heart, the nonsense he was spewing from his mouth…they're all signs of his nervousness, (he is only human). The fact that she made him nervous gave Hermione a newfound feeling of power. She no longer felt as if he controlled her.

Since the beginning of this school year, he had shocked her, hurt her, confused her and angered her, all for his own amusement. Two can play at that game, Hermione thought.

And she would step out of her comfort bubble and test his limits, turn the table and play him like a puppet. She would…if she wasn't so damn distracted right now. She didn't know what to do with herself.

Her instinct forgot to tell her to push him away as she constantly reminded herself that he wasn't really Draco Malfoy, that he wasn't really the bastard son of a bitch who tormented her and her friends all throughout the beginning years of their complex teenage years.

She sighed.

"Who are you?" She whispered quietly.

His body stiffened and he leant away from her. His eyes flashed their warnings. "What do you mean?" He sneered, suddenly snapped out of his trance. He's returned to his pretenses, back to his acting.

She looked up at him, and saw not Draco Malfoy, but a wretched little boy who was torn between living his own life and living that of another's. Hermione felt pity, sorrow and the deepest feeling of endearment. In her mind, she quietly promised him what she knew he deserved, as a human and as a boy – freedom. She will unshackle his chains of lies and deceit; she will liberate this boy from this shell, which he holds so dearly. She will.

With her mind made up she turned from him and ran.

The moment her warm presence left him cold, Draco regretted his mistrust of her. His arm rose, trying to draw her back as opened his mouth to call her name. His throat became parched and no sound came, his arm became lead and only wobbled feebly by his side.

That night, when he had returned to his bed, Draco cried.

---

To the greenhouses the students tread. A thin layer of early December frost blanketed the Hogwarts grounds. Hermione's ankle boots broke the glittering white blanket with a satisfying crunch. She narrowed her eyes against the sunlight reflected off the mirror ground and looked up at the group of gathered students further in the field before the Forbidden Forest. She wondered what class that was. She searched for familiar faces. Her heart skipped a beat. It was the seventh year Care of Magical Creatures class of Slytherins and Ravenclaws.

In the core of the group stood the listless figure of the Slytherin Prince, surrounded by his cronies. Hermione peeled her gaze away from her and scanned the rest of the gathered group. She couldn't find the boy she was looking for. Pouting slightly, she watched the hulking figure of Hagrid, leading a gleaming white horse-like creature behind him. For once exciting second, Hermione thought it was a unicorn, but as it closed, she recognized it to be a Thestral. She had never seen one in that color.

Straining her ears, Hermione heard Hagrid's voice rumble the word "albino". An albino Thestral…how absolutely electrifying! Hermione watched, mesmerized by the beauty of the creature, as Hagrid called for volunteers; only one hand rose above the pond of heads.

It was Draco Malfoy.

Hermione took pride in the fact that she was probably the only one present who can see him as who he really is. She scrutinized him – the boy she has never known before in her life, the boy who has a romantic interest in her. It was like seeing a whole new being. She stood awed. She watched as the boy stroke the Thestral's head, whispering to it. She watched as he rubbed its neck, buying its trust. And she watched as he mounted it, saddle-less, with one smooth leaping motion.

Upon the Thestral, Draco Malfoy was indeed the definition of knight on white horse.

Her knight.

Hermione felt a tingle in her abdomen. She shuddered and shook her head. She turned and ran to catch up with the rest of her class.

Sitting astride on the Thestral, Draco dared himself to steal a glance at her. Too late, she was gone. That's so like her, appearing and disappearing like some overseeing angel, waiting until he needed her most.

He caught sight of her class, single file and heading in the direction of the greenhouses. He didn't see her among the flowing river of students at first. The second time he looked she was standing right here, staring, and her class nowhere in sight. Caught off guard, Draco's eyes snapped to the ground, face burning. Was she looking for him? It was too much to hope for.

The volunteering, the jump mount…all attempts to catch her attention (the jump mount especially). He was almost sure it didn't work. Her distant face betrayed no awe, no recognition, and no love. It was the first time in a long time that he felt hurt (emotionally and physically – physically from the jump mount, he landed quite hard on his…yeah).

Draco sighed as he dismounted, awkwardly and clumsily, embarrassed. He blinked anger from his eyes and decided to focus on the mission on hand. He had wasted enough time as is. Beware, Albus Dumbledore, beware, Headmaster of Hogwarts. Your doom is soon.

---

"To do this I need your full cooperation," Hermione announced, sliding forward two pieces of parchment. "When I say full cooperation I mean I get the truth – only the truth and nothing but the truth. In the same way, I swear, by this contract, that I will use no information you give me to do you, or the side of which your loyalty lies, harm." She finished and took a deep breath, satisfied. "Understood?"

Theodore Nott frowned, "No, not quite." He unfolded his legs and leant forward, "What is the purpose of me signing this contract? We can just make the Unbreakable Vow – so much more convenient and reliable."

Hermione looked taken aback. She hadn't thought of the Unbreakable Vow. She secretly pinched herself under the table, blaming herself for not thinking of it first. She was at a lost of what to say. "But…but, it took me all of last night to come up with this," She frowned, glaring at the contract in front of her.

Theodore Nott smiled and shook his head. He produced an inked quill from virtually nowhere and signed his lavish signature at the contract's bottom, beside that of Hermione's.

"There," He grinned amusedly, "happy?"

Hermione nodded and flushed pink.

Theodore leant back in his seat and smiled. "So what information do you have that made you change your mind?" He asked curiously.

Hermione drew forth a very thick book. Theodore examined it, "Anomalous Magical Maladies and Cures," He read. Unimpressed, he looked up with a raised eyebrow. "So?"

Hermione flipped the book open to the middle; its heavy cover landed with a thunk. Her eyes quickly scanned the page and picked out a passage. She read, "But neither the Polyjuice Potion, nor Rousseau's Disease can fully transform one man into another. The Muggle theory of the Multiple Personality Disorder – a mental state that allows one man to have more than one 'personality' – is more likely in this case. The wizards' analysis of this Muggle disorder unveiled that it is less of an ailment, and more of a curse. A dead soul, classified as neither ghosts nor sprites, possesses a body (usually of a relation or beloved) in attempt to bind itself to this world due to emotional or mental dissatisfaction. German wizard Schellingian named the curse after his second wife, Greta, calling it the Gretain Curse.

"Amongst the symptoms frequently confused with the ones of Gretain Curse, almost all apply to one branch of transfiguration discovered by the dark wizard Faust in the 1500s – Körper–austausch. The only differences are that with the Gretain Curse the soul is free to leave the body as it wishes, but with Körper–austausch, the soul is bound to the body by an outside force, and in the Gretain Curse, a recorded number of twenty-three souls were known to dwell in the same body, but to perform Körper–austausch, the host body has to be free of any souls."

Hermione finished breathless and excited. Theodore sat unmoving, like a beautiful sculpture, carved onto the wooden chair upon which he sat.

"You want know more about this dark magic?" He asked quietly. Hermione nodded. "I searched everywhere, in the school, in Hogsmeade, Diagon Alley, but I couldn't find anything. I'm sure you'd have a way to find something."

Theodore frowned and remained silent. He eyed his partner carefully.

It was obvious that he was weighing his options. His revelation of the elements of this spell may just give away too much. If he doesn't, he'll never find the proof behind his theory about Draco. Theodore took him time and pondered. It was no challenge, getting this information, but what if the girl had other purposes in mind? She is a Gryffindor, Theodore reminded himself. There isn't any way that she'd betray him now that he agreed to her contract. Her innocence, sense of justice and naivety wouldn't allow her to do so. Still…Theodore's eyes wandered up to the ceiling. He was willing to do anything to have his proof, but now that he has to walk his talk, he wasn't so sure this was a good idea anymore.

Hermione sat across from him, fidgeting with everything in reach. She prayed to everything that was good in this realm to convince this Death-Eater-In-the-Making to say yes to her proposal in wanting to learn more about an evil branch of dark magic. Life is ironic indeed.

"Fine," He finally agreed. "I'll meet you back here in one week's time." He rose from his seat, grabbed his school robes off his chair's back and quickly strode away. Hermione closed her eyes in relief and smiled, so close, but (at the same time), so far.

---

A/N:

Yes, both Draco and Hermione can see Thestrals.

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