The next days of research went well, as far as Hermione was concerned. Draco was responsible and stayed with her in the library. He helped her map out the journey they would need to take to get from A to B to P and Q and back. They understood that apparating near the boundaries of the lands of the Egyptian Monks was a bad idea- knowing that they would be able to sense their foreign presence and would be immediately suspicious, and as such, they vowed to get as close as possible and hike in spurts the rest of the way.

Hermione was a bit surprised that talk of the passion they'd shared only days ago was a topic he had yet to breach. He didn't seem embarrassed or regretful, oh no. He seemed bloody near… happy. He seemed light, tension-free, and ready to get down to business. He seemed to feel almost as good as she did—well, apart from the awkwardness of the secret he'd forced her to reveal to him. But, she only halfway regretted that moment. There were lots more things that she could have said that would have been worse, in her opinion. He was just a bugger for asking in the first place.

Besides, the amount of relief, and pleasure that she felt now was worth it. His presence was bearable... the only slightly disappointing after effect of the whole night had been the small pain of him leaving her. She guessed it must happen to women the first time they were with a man who was rather well-endowed as violently as she had been, but she hadn't expected to feel it for several days. She just hoped the cramps would pass soon. It was truly the only damper on the whole situation. But, she expected that as long as it cleared up sometime in the next millennium, she would be more than willing to do it all again. With Draco Malfoy... she could hardly believe it.

Now, between Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy, there was a shared determination, and an understanding that had not been there before. The one distraction- which she would happily have been rid of for it was making the little voice in the back of her head turn into a ninny- was that whenever in the heat of a good study their fingers brushed, or he walked a bit too close to her in the halls… she felt him on levels should never would have imagined. A fingertip against her palm and he was back inside her again, writhing underneath her. It drew a blush to her cheeks every time, and consistently she found she was losing her train of thought, or the point she'd meant to make. Half of her hoped it would disapate before they stated hiking into parts unknown… the other half was glad she had it; didn't want it to ever stop. In a way, despite who it was with… it was kind of nice.

But, things couldn't be all roses and paradise. Oh, no. There was one topic they just simply did not agree on.

"I'm going back to see him, tonight," she insisted to Draco for what seemed like the millionth time. He sighed.

"I wish you wouldn't."

"Malfoy, if he feels that I need to take this test then… I do! He knows more about these wizards than either of us, and I trust his judgment on this. He belongs to The Way of the Old. He knows his dark magic."

"You don't need to take the test. Trust my judgment."

She shook her head, a deep breath escaping from her. She wanted to, but she just didn't. He didn't know what his uncle did. It seemed to her that he had hated taking the test himself, and simply wanted to spare her- and himself- from a drawn out process of getting back out of it. But, she prided herself on having very little in her life that she wanted to escape from. She didn't feel guilty about much. Oh, there were moments she wished she could change, but… nothing like someone like Draco Malfoy or his muggle-born torturing uncle must have had. No, if this test would make her a stronger witch, a witch more worthy of knowledge in the eyes of the Egyptian Brotherhood, then… she had to take it. She would waste absolutely no chances in them accepting her and bestowing their ideas upon her before she and Draco headed out after Rory to Iraq.

"It's our last day," she began again and she watched his fingers tighten on the pages of the giant book he held on his lap. He was growing impatient with her. "I simply want to ask him if he would find it to be necessary."

"Then bloody well go. Don't bother sneaking around about it, trying to get me to 'admit' that I think it's a good idea. I don't! Just say it—just tell me you're going, and that's that."

She was a little surprised at the change in his manner. She had put him off, but she wasn't sure how other than simple irritation, but it seemed like more.

"Okay," she said, her chair screeching against the floor in the quiet library. "I'm going, then."

"Now?"

"Why not?"

"Well, because first you may want to say goodbye to your loved ones, write any last minute bills out to be sent, and forget about going to Egypt any time soon."

She sighed. She sat back down, slowly.

"Right. Didn't think so."

"The Mind Weaver's Experience" was growing rigid in Draco's hands. He'd never held a book so tightly in all his life. He'd only opened the bloody thing to show her why she'd been being foolish all morning, and now he couldn't find the part he was looking for… it was all gibberish on mindreading, telepathy, telekinesis, talking to the dead, telling knock-knock jokes to babies in the womb, that sort of nonsense—not at all why he'd chosen to pull it from the shelf.

Draco was hot to tell her off about the damn "test." She was thinking of her bloody OWLS, he knew—the high scores she'd always gotten, being the best in the damn class… she had no idea how much deeper than that this was. This wasn't a test of brains or power, it was a test of inner magics that she had no idea of— none of them did until they went there, themselves. She probably reckoned she'd have it easy being goody-two-shoes Gryffindor. She didn't realize he didn't have any regrets before he went into that place. He'd been proud of damn near everything he'd ever done, and if not proud, well, at least he'd had an excuse. But what once you were down there on that level… it didn't matter anymore. What she didn't realize is that having a bunch of bloody bullshit that made sense to be angry and regretful over had only helped him in the long run… she'd have it even worse than he had.

And the longer it took her to get past it, the longer she'd be down there.

He didn't want her to do it, to be truthful. She was powerful enough without doing it, and the monks would see how true her soul was—how clear her mind was. She didn't need to do it, but if she went to Enzo and told him she wanted to, he'd do it. He'd rather be safe than sorry. Draco didn't give a damn about safe, and he wasn't planning on being sorry, either. He just wanted to get it done… but he couldn't explain it to her… and he knew that even if he could, she would still want to.

He sighed, looking about the library, and for just a moment, a feeling overcame him… a soft, whispering feeling… something like being inside of her, but not… not quite. There was warmth, and for just a moment, splendid light. He blinked rapidly and shook his head.

"Did you see that?" he asked. She looked at him bizarrely.

"What?"

He looked between them and noticed that her hands were brushing against his. He quickly retrieved them and found the warmth beginning to ebb away. He was shocked. He'd heard about girls getting warm, swim my feelings after a great shag, but what was that rubbish about? That hadn't been an 'emotion' he'd felt. That was a bloody out-of-body experience. He couldn't quite shake it. He shuffled through his book for just a moment. He had a feeling he'd just read something about this, somewhere in this gaping mindfuck of a book. He began to leaf through it but he heard her sighing. Where the hell was that page? He kept turning.

"Draco, this isn't just going to go away."

He knew it wasn't. I JUST read it! Where the hell is it?

"Whether or not you choose to answer me about it, I think we really ought to discuss it. It's something I feel that I need to do. I don't want to be unprepared, and I just—"

He stopped leafing. Didn't even look down. He stared at her.

"If you're going to go in there, Granger…" she looked up at him sharply, but he looked away. He couldn't get past the bold, disgruntled taste of chivalry his tone was sure to have. "Take me with you."

He wanted to… go with her?

"How… why? How would that even work? Why would you need to do that?" He took a deep breath and folded his hands in front of him.

"I'm not waiting around, sitting on my hands while you play Alice in Wonderland in the rabbit hole of that big brain of yours, Granger. It could take months. It could take years. I've done it before. If I go down with you, I can help to pull you out if things get hairy. We can get through it quickly, you can get a taste, and we can get back in time to really do this."

Hermione was aghast.

"You think I can't do it by myself?"

It seemed that was just what he was hoping she wouldn't think of his offer.

"It's not—"

"It is. Listen, Malfoy. I know I'm a bloody Mudblood to you and on some rancid level, that is all I will ever be. Well, rubbish. If you can do this test, all the loads of ignorant, insulting things you've done to people, then so can I!" She rose from the table and strode swiftly away from him.

He got up to follow her, but her wand was out before he could manage and she pointed it squarely between his eyes. She knew what she needed to do, even if he never forgave her when he managed to figure it all out.

"Obliviate!" she all but whispered.

He fell back down into the chair. He looked around, confused for a moment. He looked down at the book, then back at Hermione, her wand re-sheathed as if it had never left her side.

"Did I fall asleep?" he asked her. She nodded.

"I'm gonna run to the loo, Draco. I'll be back in a few minutes." He nodded, still confused, and looked back down at his pages?

She walked out the door, her head screaming that she'd just committed a serious betrayal of trust between the two of them as partners, feeling so very disappointed in herself, but she still knew that she'd had to do it, for her sake in all this- and likely, for his too.

He couldn't remember his dream, but he must have been asleep. He remembered waking up in the morning, and pulling on his clothes… he remembered coming to the library… drawing maps and being irregularly pleasant with Hermione… and then… not much. Had he fallen asleep? Something seemed off.

He always remembered his dreams- even when he'd rather not. Lately, they'd been rather nice, though… all ivory thighs and capsized intentions with his old school enemy. He'd have fallen asleep more often if only studying could deplete his energy the way other things could. But, if you were going to do other things, then what was the point of sleeping at all?

The loo, he repeated in his head. That didn't sound right to him. She never… said that. That was an utterly un-Hermione Grangerish thing to say. Had he knocked more than just the wind out of her the other night? Was she… changing? Merlin, he hoped not- for a multitude of reasons.

"Hi there, Malfoy," he heard from behind him and he righted himself, looking over his shoulder. Little Cornelia Wood stood behind him and he cracked a smirk.

"How are we today, fair opponenent?"

"Just fine, actually. Your lady friend went away?"

He looked toward the front door of the library and nodded.

"Nature calls," he said. The girl's eyes narrowed a bit.

"Right. And I didn't just hear the argument you two had, at all."

His eyes widened.

"Argument?"

He knew before she even opened her mouth to respond. The fuzzy feeling of contentment, the empty thoughts, the small, blank space of memory that seemed to fade right into the next as if edited together by a professional- but not so professional that it made perfect sense. He knew it. He just couldn't believe she'd had the gall.

"Well, yeah, you both arguing about some test she has to take. I only just came in from History of Magic when I noticed you, came to say Hello, ask when you were leaving, and I heard you. Don't think I was eavesdropping."

He managed to smirk at her, but inside he was raging.

"No, I wouldn't think it," he said. She blinked at him, half smiling, but thinking on something. She leaned in toward him.

"I only tell you this because you're a friend now, Malfoy, but… I think she may have erased your memory a bit."

"She certainly did," he answered, his knuckles knocking on the table in what might have appeared to be an absent-minded way, had it not been growing steadily harder, louder, as the seconds drew on.

"I thought she was supposed to be some sort of stickler for the rules. She's kind of infamous in my house. Oh, well. Can't say I blame the girl, Malfoy. You are kind of hard to trust." She pat his arm, and she walked off back to her table, back to her studies, and out of his life.

He looked toward the door. He was never going to reach her in time. He was seeing red, and entering the part of himself that was almost totally unable to be restrained. How he had ever let his guard down around her, he couldn't remember. Had it come down under the sheets- or worse, in her apartment that night? Was it when she seemed to choose him over Longbottom? How many years had she had him? She would never have him again.

He dropped the book from his lap to the table and looked down at its pages. His brow furrowed. Book on Mind Weaving… why'd he have this? Hadn't he been drawing them maps? …Was this a Chapter on talking to babies?

And suddenly, everything clicked back into place: her argument with him, all morning long it seemed like… always asking about the test, always trying to get him to change his mind… and he'd asked to go with her, and he'd seen that light….

He stood up so desperately fast that the chair nearly toppled to the floor. He heard the Librarian shushing him, but she might as well have been invisible for all it phased him. He had to get to her in time.

Hermione eagerly waited for Professor Mazuko's class to end. She had no idea how long Draco would remain unaware of her whereabouts. She had purposefully cast a weak spell upon him, not wanting to take away any more of him than she had to, but she knew that once he knew, he'd be right behind her… with all the work that he'd done on his mind, she really had no idea if the spell would effect him moreso or less—but she hoped it would be just the right amount of time. She knew he would never forget that she'd done it, and that he might never forgive her again, either… but she just couldn't chance the fact that he was about to cripple her on this journey, and she had to see for herself.

The students filtered out and she made her way inside. Professor Mazuko was packing up a Potions kit a student must have been borrowing. Green splatters littered the classroom floor, and somewhere in the back, a cauldron was still steaming.

"Steaming Stinksap Potions," he said to her as if to explain the mess. "No more than a prank to play on a friend. First years, you know. Sometimes we all need a break." He smiled at her, but she wasn't here for small talk.

"I need to know about this 'test' you had Draco undergo before you allowed him to know the whereabouts of the Egyptian Monks."

"You want me to put you under," he said. She swallowed.

"What will it take?"

"It will take only your cooperation, Miss Granger… and a whole lot of effort on your part. There are wizards who enter the realm of their own consciouses and never come out. Sometimes the scariest of monsters are those that live within ourselves. What will you do if you come face to face with your worst nightmare, and it's you? Could you live with yourself?"

Her hands were shaking. When Draco had said it, it sounded like a challenge, and she'd been eager to prove him wrong. When this man spoke to her, it was real, and it took every ounce of her that The Sorting Hat had deemed as Gryffindor to answer.

"I need to find out."

He smiled at her, a real, genuine smile, and she instantly saw the resemblance to Draco Malfoy. It made her knees shake to think of that smile—of what she had done to him. She imagined she'd be facing some of those demons in a moment.

"We have to be quick," she said, looking over her shoulder at the door.

"Come into the back with me, then," he said and led her to his private office.

His desk was neat, and a couch sat just beyond it, littered with stray papers and ingredients.

"Mondere," he said, and the couch cleared itself, cleaned off and ready for her. She sat down on it, and folded her damp hands in her lap. She couldn't look at them anymore. She sat on them.

"You'll have to relax," he reminded her. He went to his desk. He reached inside and found a tied knot of necklaces with little bottles on every one. He uncapped a misty blue one, and cornflower steam seemed to rise from it. He brought it to her. He placed his palm on her forehead and tipped it back against the couch.

"Since the beginning of time, Wizards have known how to access the deepest recesses of their consciousness… we thrive there. We store the memories all humans do, but within these memories, some of our deepest magical energies can be unleashed. You must go there. You must face yourself and emerge, victorious. You must find forgiveness. You must find the truth, within you, and bring it back with you when you find your way out of the room… the doors will only lead you closer… find the doors… and come home to us, Hermione Granger…" his voice was calm, enthralling, and he had brought the potion bottle to Hermione's nostrils. "Take a deep breath," he said, and she did so. "Let it out, slowly," he said. She felt herself doing it… felt herself slipping away out of those nostrils, but into herself somehow at the same time… she wasn't falling, exactly, but floating downward. She felt it in her belly. Things had become darker, deeper, and she couldn't hear Lorenzo anymore.

"You bastard," Draco said. He was standing over his uncle's shoulder, looking down at an unconscious Hermione Granger, hands folded underneath her, her head tipped back over the edge of the couch.

"She wanted this," he said. Draco glowered at him.

"Shouldn't be for you to decide," he muttered.

"Who, then? You? Just because you're in love with the girl—"

"Rubbish! Don't even go there with me. I bloody need her, Enzo. Without her, I can't—"

"Always about you, Draco. She "needs her" as well. This is how she will find herself. You have yourself. Allow her the same privilege."

Draco was pacing. He couldn't do this. They'd come too far. What if she didn't bloody wake up? He'd waited too long. And now this new business between them, he couldn't even think of it, if it was true… if it wasn't just a fluke….

"Send me down with her," he said.

Enzo chuckled.

"But you're not in love with her."

"Bloody do it, Enzo. If you don't… I can't let her stay down there."

"So little faith in her. Then why do you think you need her?"

Draco stared down at her.

"If you don't send me down there, I'll tell them all. Everyone. All the secrets you've had me keep. I'll ruin you."

There was a silence between the men. Enzo could tell he meant it, and he was struggling with the odds of whether or not Draco had more to lose than he by doing so.

"You would insert yourself into her mind… violate her most private thoughts? She'll never forgive you. You'll lose her all by yourself if you do this."

"I'll take the chance."

"What if I won't? He's my brother, Draco. I don't want you to lose her, either. You have to be stronger than this."

"Come off it. That's not my role in all this."

"Well muster up some strength for decency's sake then!"

Draco sat down beside her on the couch, leg bouncing nervously. He looked at her innocent face, rolled sideways on the couch, hair spread out beneath it like a tapestry. Her cheeks were slightly flushed, her lips pink. He reached underneath her and retrieved her hand. His mouth had never been so dry.

"Enzo… she's never going to come out of there if you don't let me find her."

"What makes you so sure, Draco? Do you even know this girl? I mean, really know her? She's capable of things you can't even imagine. I can see it in her."

"Not forgiveness. Not for herself."

"What are you talking about?"

"If she sees what I've done to her, she… she'll never forgive herself for what it'll do to her bloody friends."

Lorenzo studied him. He looked down at Hermione's unconscious body, then to Draco. He'd never seen his nephew so close to panic, before. There was such a mixture of emotions on Draco's face- in Draco's heart- that it was hard not to feel it pulling from every direction.

"What have you done to her?" he asked, but Draco could sense he already knew the answer.

"I think she's pregnant."