Chapter 26: Lions and Snakes, Oh My

"Come on," Tracey pleads.

"I don't really play wizarding chess," Hermione answers.

"Draco?" Tracey presses.

"Reading," is his only reply. Hermione smirks slightly as her eyes start slipping over the words once more. Draco and Hermione take up one of the couches in the library with her back against one of the arms and her legs propped up on Draco's lap, who also has a tome in his hands.

"That's boring," Tracey says. "I need someone to play with."

"Lovegood?" Draco offers.

"Still hasn't left her room. It's been three days, but..." Tracey shrugs.

"Potter," Draco says, turning the page, but not looking up.

"Watching over Luna."

"Mr. Lovegood."

"No."

"Has your mother still refused to leave her room?" Hermione asks. Draco sighs heavily.

"I'm not sure if it's grieving or just being stubborn at this point," he answers. "The elf says she's still receiving food. I think she trying to punish me for dating you."

"Dating?" Hermione asks with a small smile. "We haven't even left the house and all our meals are with the others." Draco rolls her eyes.

"Fine, snogging you senseless whenever I feel like it, better?"

"Ew," Tracey says, miming trying to keep her lunch down. "Can we talk about something more important? Like who is going to play chess?"

"I will," says Ron, walking into the library. Tracey sets one hand on her hip and regards him.

"Really?" she asks with slightly narrowed eyes. "You want to play wizarding chess with me?"

"Sure," he shrugs. "You any good?" Tracey smirks with a predatory glint in her eye.

"We shall see, won't we," she replies, sitting down with the board between them.

Draco lifts an eyebrow as he watches them over his book. He looks to the witch in his lap. With a tilt of his head, he asks what's going on there. She merely shrugs, but shoots him a glare when his calculating eyes turn back to the battling pair.

Three games later, Ron-two, Tracey-one, the easy smile on Ron's lips is still there.

"Not bad, Davis," Ron counts. The girl in question shrugs.

"Not too bad yourself, Wesley."

"I won," he defends.

"And so graciously too," she winks, which makes Hermione do a double take. "What else is there to do around here?"

"Read," Draco deadpans without looking up. Tracey and Ron both snort in disbelief, then turn to each other and laugh. Draco rolls his eyes and keeps reading.

"Well I have some exploding snaps," Ron offers. "The kitchen is stocked. We got brooms and the ballroom is big, but Hermione won't let us ride them." Tracey turns to look at the other girl with betrayal burning in her eyes.

"And why is that?" Tracey ask.

"The ballroom is not that big," Hermione shoots Ron a glare. "And it's dangerous to ride inside and we will not be going out for a game."

"We need something to do," Ron groans. Hermione rolls her eyes at the boy.

"We can put cushioning charms on the floor, walls, and furniture," Tracey offers with big eyes and a slight pout. Draco shakes his head.

"Fine," she huffs. The triumphant grin on the girl's face gives credence that it was a manipulation, but Ron and Tracey rushing out of the room is a nice enough sight that Hermione can't seem to be mad about it.

"You're too easy," Draco chuckles, shaking his head.

"It got rid of them complaining, didn't it?" she replies. Draco shrugs.

"He won't know what hit him."

"What do you mean?" she asks, eyes glancing at the door where the two disappeared.

"Chess and broom rides? They'll probably be snogging by sun down," he says, scowling slightly at the words.

"You've got to be kidding. They are barely being civil. If, and that's a big if, they go there, it's going to be a while," Hermione corrects him. Draco smirks, leans over and gives her a light peck on the lip.

"You're so adorable when you're naive," he says. Her brows drop low and she glares at the blond.

"Excuse me?"

"How about a little wager?" he offers. Her eyes narrow.

"I don't mind taking a bit of gold off of you," she answers.

"Gold? That's no fun. If I win, you have to spend every night in my room for a week and at least a half hour speaking with Mr. Lovegood about imaginary creatures without rolling your eyes."

"I spend half the nights in your bed anyways," she says. "Wait, that came out wrong." Draco laughs. He snakes an arm around her waist and pulls her properly into his lap.

"Just sleeping, Hermione, I know," he says, with a small groan. "But at least I know when you have nightmares when you stay."

"I don't want to bother you," Hermione says meekly. "And it's not often."

"I rather know and be there," Draco gently reminds. She nods and it's silent for a moment. "You conditions?" he prompts. Her resulting smile makes a nervous glint enter his eyes.

"You have to call Harry and Ron by their first names for a month," she offers.

"You're evil, woman," he says, but shakes her hand anyways. Hermione shrugs and slip off of his lap.

"Where are you going?" Draco asks when Hermione is almost at the door.

"To tell Ron not to snog Tracey today," she says with a smile.

"You can't."

"That wasn't part of the deal," she replies, skipping out of the room.

"You sneaky little witch," he says as he chases after her, smile on his face.

Hermione jumps down the stairs, casting a cushioning charm mid air to soften her landing. Draco's longer strides keeping him at her heels. She shoots ropes wildly behind her and they hit the floor in pieces at his cutting curse.

"Now you'll get it, Granger," Draco growls behind her. She dodges the leg locker curse he sends her way, casting a hasty shield before disappearing around the corner. Hermione throws open the ballroom doors as the body bind hit her back. The ground comes up to meet her face, when she suddenly stops falling. Draco releases the bind once he has levitated her back to her feet.

On the other side of the ballroom, a very red Ron sits closely to Tracey. Their lips are slightly redder and puffier than eariler. Their placement making it easy to see what had been interrupted. Draco's arm comes around Hermione's shoulders.

"Told you," he whispers at her ear. "Let me know when you plan on having that conversation, I'll rather enjoy the show." He turns and leaves. Hermione follows, not being able to process much more in her shock.

"What...how…" Hermione stumbles, once safely tucked away in Draco's room. The boy eyes her with a sighs.

"Tracey moves fast," he shrugs with a scowl. "Very little can stop her from getting what she wants. I just wish it wasn't Weasley that she set her sights on." Draco releases a shiver.

"But...but...they are so different," she presses on.

"Are they really?" he challenges.

"Yes."

"If you take away the houses, they have a lot in common," he says. Her raised eyebrows communicate her disbelief. He huffs a sigh before continuing, "They both like quidditch and wizarding chess. Neither enjoy reading or studying. Tracey is a strong witch with quite the temper. Weasley needs someone to tell him what to do and keep him in line when he loses his temper. Tracey is a bit rougher around the edges, and even though she's not as uncouth at Weasley, that isn't particularly something that rates high in her priorities. She doesn't care about blood purity. Really the only things that would get in the way of their compatibility is house rivalry and the fact that I consider Tracey family. Neither which seem to be dissuading the pair...unfortunately."

Hermione bursts out giggling at his obvious discomfort.

"Don't worry," she tells him, "I'm sure the Weasleys would be happy to welcome you and Tracey to their clan."

"Watch it Granger. Unless you would really like to go have that conversation with Mr. Lovegood now…" The threat hangs in the air, a smirk on his lips.

"Sounds good to me," she replies, preferring to tackle things head on. Draco laughs.

"Remember, no eye rolling." She rolls her eyes dramatically at him and then marches out of the room, the ex-snake at her heels.

Hermione finds Mr. Lovegood on the top floor in a study. He is staring out of the multicolored glass of the window.

"Er...hello," she says as she walks into the room.

"Miss Granger?" he responds, looking to her.

"I haven't had much time to talk with you since we came," she says as politely as possible. He shrugs and looks out the window once more.

"When did you start researching creatures?" Hermione asks.

"At Hogwarts, I guess," he replies, without looking at her. "I specialized in Magical Creatures."

"How did that lead into the more...erm...mystical creatures?" she presses.

"My wife died." A strangled sob escapes into the room.

"Mr. Lovegood?" He finally looks at her once more, eyes lost.

"The Quibbler used to be respected," he says, not looking away. "A magazine with new information on magical creatures. It was about raising awareness about their conditions and the laws against them as much as for safety. Disrespecting a centaur is dangerous and still the sanctions on them are unreasonable. But then everything changed. My wife...gone in an instance...me...left with an eight year old Luna who was prophesying daily. It brought out her talents earlier than most. Perhaps it was easier to blame the pain on the nargles."

"I'm so sorry for you lost," she replies automatically, not sure what else she can say. The man smiles back sadly.

"I never let her go and I didn't even know it. Mrs. Malfoy has holed herself up in her room crying for days. It was easier getting lost in the fantasy than living in a reality without that beautiful witch. What is one to do once the illusion shatters?" His eyes beseech her for answers, but all she can think of is all the people she's never grieved.

"I don't know," she replies in a small voice. "Let me know when you find out," she whispers and falls out of the room.

Draco's cocky grin is gone as Hermione tumbles into his arms, having been listening outside the door. She gasps for air, desperately trying to fill the hole in her chest. A hand runs over her hair with the other holding her tight to his chest.

"Hermione?" his breath whispers across her ear. She shakes her head and gulps down more air. Pulling her back to his room then over to the bed, he pushes down on her shoulders until she sits. Gray eyes stare into honeyed brown, a hand on either side her face, all of it belonging to the wizard kneeling in front of her.

"Hermione, what happened?" His eyes search hers for the answer.

"I don't know," she replies through a gasp. His thumb darts out over her cheek and collects moisture there.

"It's ok," he says softly. She throws her arms around him and buries her face in his neck. Holding her tightly, he rearranges them to lay across the bed without releasing her. Gentle circles are rubbed into her back and hands tangled in her hair. Hermione's ragged breaths turn into sobs, but he only pulls her closer.

They lay like that for an unmeasurable amount of time and then the darkness claims them with sweet sleep.