She was shocked, half-naked, and standing before her schoolyard nemesis. Her shirt fell limply to the floor. He blinked up at her, smirking. Of course he was.

"…Well… I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little disappointed… no comeback? No virginal hiding from my prying eyes?"

Her hand curled around her wand before he could think twice.

"Incarcerous!" she bellowed. Ropes wound their way around Draco and held him firmly to her office chair, which creaked under this new distribution of weight. If he fought at all, she didn't see it. Even with his mouth neatly gagged and bound, she could tell the smirk remained.

"What are you doing here?" Annoyance crossed over his features, and her eyes glanced at the gag. She swore and moved to remove it. She pulled it over his head, and redirected her wand to him.

"Is this really necessary?"

"Who told you where I live?!"

"Granger—"

"Of all the insolent, stupid…" she marched toward him, wand pressed into his throat. He swallowed, hard. "I made you bleed once with just my hands, remember. Imagine what I could do with this. This is my field we're playing on now, Malfoy."

He stared up at her for a moment. She was seething, absolutely on fire with rage. Her hair was wild and tangled around her face. He glanced downward.

"I would happily answer your questions with proof, Granger… were that I not hogtied in your bedroom." She pressed the wand more effectively into his gullet. He winced. "Don't forget... my money is only your money as long as I draw breath." She huffed at him. "And might I point out... you are still undressed."

"Obscuro!" she snapped. A blindfold wrapped around his eyes.

"Somehow this is even less pleasant than I had anticipated."

"You are a pig. The aforementioned 'hogtying' is appropriate."

"Relax, Granger. I didn't come here to catch a glimpse of your knickers."

"Why did you, then?"

"Check my back right pocket." She stiffened.

"What?"

"The answer to your questions is in my back pocket—OW!" She jabbed her wand into his throat harder than before. She grimaced at him.

"If you really think I'm going to fall for that, then I—"

"Granger have I ever demonstrated even a mild attraction to you? Nothing has changed. The thought of your brushing against me, scantily clad and hotheaded, inspires mostly vomit from me. You can look in my pocket or you can tear a hole in my trachea. Your choice."

She stilled, a little shocked. He had a point. It wasn't as if she had ever been a skirt for him to chase. In fact, until today, he'd never tired of telling her how disgusting he found her. But she knew he had changed, and he was certainly up to something. She forced a stiff upper-lip and reached around him into his back pocket. The air between them was thick. She rolled her eyes and dug a little deeper. "Easy on the goods," he smirked.

"I see nothing good about it."

"The lies you tell..."

She glared at him. She felt what she was looking for, pulled it out and turned to view it, picking her sweater up from the floor and pulling it back over her head clumsily. It was a small notebook, no bigger than a pocket diary. She opened it.

"PASSWORD," it bellowed. She jumped and she dropped it to the floor. She glared at Malfoy who was chuckling under his breath, shoulders shaking.

"Really," she spat "It's like you want me to hex you."

"Potter Stinks," he said, clearly. She shook her head, exasperated. The book opened, pages flipping to the most recent entry. "And really," he imitated, "why am I still blindfolded? Surely you're not still letting it all hang out, with me here." She scowled and snapped her fingers. The blindfold disappeared. She reached down for the journal again and flipped to what appeared to be the most recent entry. She scoured it with her eyes.

Received Granger's invitation, today. Says to meet her at her place around 8. Says she read the file—has a theory I might be interested in. Can't imagine she'd be all that interesting, but… more surprising things have happened.

Hermione glowered at him.

"Check the back," he said. She did so. A folded letter fell out, written in her own handwriting, exactly as Draco had recorded. She flipped it over… Merlin, it had her address on the back. Her heart skipped a beat.

"I… I didn't send you this," she said. He sighed.

"I'm figuring that out."

Was she missing something, here? He seemed to feel awfully secure with this information, and it bothered her.

"Is it not clear to you, Granger? Someone wanted us to be together, at 8 o'clock. Someone who likely knows about what we're doing."

"But why?"

"Almost time to find out. It's 7:55," he said, glancing at the clock above her head. She turned to view it. "Now, you can leave me tied, and vulnerable to an attack, or you can untie me and face them, two against one."

Hermione reeled. He could be making the whole thing up. He could have jinxed the parchment, forged her handwriting… if he'd remembered it… or he could have asked his contact at The Department to gather something of hers while her work was on the table. Or, she realized, Draco Malfoy could be telling her the truth, and in just five minutes, she might be facing an attacker, in her apartment, on her own. She might even get him killed in doing so. She pondered that for a moment. Well, that wouldn't be the WORST idea….

"Tick tock, Granger. What's it gonna be?" She faced him. Her fists balled and loosened. She cleared her throat.

"Give me your wand," she said. He rolled his eyes. Her eyes narrowed. "Give it to me," she said, "or I'll walk out of this apartment and leave you here like this."

"Your morality would never let you do that, Gryffindor."

"Knowing when a lying snake sits before me would demand it, Slytherin."

He stared at her, calculating, for a moment. "I have a sheath under my shirt on my left."

It was too easy.

"No more witty insults to throw my way?"

"I can't blame you for not trusting me, Granger. And we haven't the time."

She blinked at him. Then she leaned over him and reached for the wand. His breath was hot against the side of her face and she felt him lean back, away from her. She was glad she wasn't the only one uncomfortably aware of how close they were. Her fingers wrapped around the wand and she stepped back, cheeks pink and her hands shaking a little.

"I read the file" she stated. It was a loaded remark. He said nothing, his eyes on the floor. She swallowed. "If you're lying to me about this," she began, regaining focus," I'll make you eat bat bogies."

She dove into her bedroom closet and closed the door over so she could still see into the room, a sliver of light breaking her face in two. Malfoy watched her go, glaring at her between the door and its pane. "Bollocks," he muttered to himself.

She watched him, now that she was alone. He hadn't changed that much, she thought. Longer hair, less well-kept… it fell to his shoulders, that icy blonde color a woman would have paid hundreds for. It was a bit wavy now, not so straight as a rod, as it had been. He was clean shaven, his face just barely starting to show the fine lines that always came with age. But he was one to talk about "filling out," she thought. He may have been sitting down, but she could tell he'd gained a few inches in height and added some serious mass. Still thin, but no longer waifish, he might have been quite attractive… had he not also been an unforgivable arse. Her eyes darted to the clock on the wall in front of him.

The seconds passed slowly and her heart pounded loudly in her ears. But then, as the clock struck 8:00, she saw it. The lights in her bedroom flickered. Malfoy peered up at them, then back toward the closet. Hermione's breath caught in her throat. Her front door creaked. She closed her eyes and took a meditating breath. She needed calm to proceed.

I'm going to throw you the wand.

Draco looked around for the source of the voice. He tipped his head toward her.

"How are you doing that?"

Be ready…

Footsteps in her kitchen. Buzzing….

DIFFINDO!

The ropes around Malfoy were cut to ribbons and fell away. The wand came hurling at him from the closet and he caught it one-handed. He rose and stepped behind the changing screen in the corner of her room. Hermione opened her eyes. Through the doorway, she met his. She nodded.

Together they burst out of her bedroom, wands at the ready. But the kitchen was surprisingly empty.

"It's here, somewhere," Draco whispered. Hermione walked behind him, turned her back to his.

"Walk in, I'll cover," she responded. He went forward into the kitchen and she walked backward behind him, eyes all over the room. He craned his head into her office doorway, lights off and untouched. She peered into her small bathroom, which looked as it always had.

"I don't see anything," he said. But hadn't she heard buzzing?

Before she could respond, it was all around them, the sound so loud she could hardly bear it. It felt like they had stepped on a mile wide beehive. Her hands flew over her ears, as did his. She grimaced, searching for the source.

"Bloody Hell is that?!" Draco shouted over the noise.

"I don't know!" she yelled.

Her front door slammed shut. The kitchen cabinets opened and closed, violently. A vicious wind began to overtake them. Papers from her office were flying about the apartment.

"Two halves…"

"Tariq wahid-"

"Partum key…"

"Their wrath-"

"Can you hear it?" Hermione shouted to him over the buzzing.

"Verum…"

"I hear it!" He answered.

"Libero Mutum…"

"It's getting louder," she called out to him.

"HURSAGMU!"

All at once, it stopped. Hermione caught her breath. Her hair was standing on end, in all directions. Draco's hands were on his knees as he bent to cough. She looked around the disastrous room with wide eyes.

"What just happened?" she asked, hardly daring to take a step forward.

"As if I know?!" he countered, wand raised again, searching in the cabinets as he walked around.

"Verum… it's Latin. It means 'Truth.' What else did it say? 'Hursagmu,' I know that word…"

"Well you can spend loads of time looking it up in your books later, Granger. But for now can we make sure whatever the Hell it was is gone? I don't fancy getting my arse kicked in by something I can't even see. And where'd you learn to do that?" he asked, turning on her.

"Do what?"

"Talking to me- or thinking at me, rather. Speaking inside my head. You can even perform spells?"

"I've been studying ancient forms of magic for years. I can do simple spells. Nothing that bends the energy around the subject, too much. It's just something I picked up."

"Of course you did," he mocked. She rolled her eyes.

"If it wanted to hurt us, Malfoy, it would have. Whatever it was, it had power. It's gone."

"Oh? You're sure?" He was still looking.

"No," she said, suddenly realizing. "I'm not sure it's gone… I'm not certain it's ever gone," she said. She flew into her office, imagining the dig she was going to have to render to get to her notes on Ancient Sumeria- one of the first known Magical Tribes had lived there in "The Valley of the Kings." They were Chanters, she remembered. They used their voices to unlock the magic inside themselves. They created some of the first ever verbal spells, through that chanting. She thought of the buzzing… with enough voices, overlapping, it may have been chanting. They believed the source of their power was most easily accessed at the top of a mountain….

She had thought she would have to dig. But there was her notebook on Sumerian, open, on top of a heap of loose papers, disturbed by the visitor. She recognized her own illustration of the mountainside, the top stretching into the sky. She hovered above it. Draco entered the room. "Lumos," he said. The room filled with light.

"What is it, Granger?"

"Hursagmu," she said. "It's not in a book. It's in Iraq." She turned to him, shoved the notes into his hands. The picture gleaned up at him, the clouds rotating around the top of the mountain as if it reached into the very sky itself. "It means, 'Mountain of the Sky-Chambers."

"What does this mean?" he asked, reading the notes Hermione had taken many months ago. She pointed to the clouded peak, and tapped on it with her finger.

"They're summoning us."