I
May 1997
His next stop was the Gryffindor Tower. He hated it and dragged his feet every step of the way, but all too soon, he was standing in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady.
"I don't suppose you've seen Granger around," he drawled, "McGonagall thinks I need her help." His sneer was easy to add thanks to the disapproving stare the portrait was giving him.
She sniffed condescendingly. "I'm sure you do," she said, her voice nasal and high, "considering I heard a rumour she hadn't attended her own classes all day yesterday."
Draco pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes, biting back an angry retort and/or swear. Stories he'd heard from Granger and gossip - and the Fat Lady's attire - suggested she had qualms about "strong language".
"My reasons are my own," he said bitingly, and she batted her caterpillar-like eyelashes at him. The sudden shift in attitude was concerning, especially with the way her eyes roved over his slightly-rumpled robes and askew tie.
"Look at you being charming," she simpered, and he hoped she was being sarcastic about that because a) she was a painting from at least the 1890s, and b) his heart was taken, thank you very much, and c) again, she was a painting (and he loved Granger, but seriously), "but I'm afraid I cannot help you."
"Is she at least inside?" Draco said through gritted teeth, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. He was quickly losing control of his emotions, having already been pushing the line of too little sleep that week and adding extra stress over his missing girlfriend. It took all his strength to keep up the Occlumency walls so he wouldn't break down in the middle of the halls.
"Pushy, pushy," the portrait tittered, "it seems someone is in more trouble with Professor McGonagall than I thought." Draco was ready to snap, but it was better she thought he needed Granger for schoolwork rather than because he needed her. He hated hiding the truth of their relationship - really, truly loathed it- because he now had over a handful of people he'd lied to about why he needed her, and he didn't need Granger thinking she was just a dirty little secret, but whatever. "I don't believe I'm supposed to confirm students' whereabouts, especially when they're my charges."
"Fine," Draco said, stalking off down the corridor and immediately slipping into a nearby alcove.
"What an eventful day," he could hear the Fat Lady chortling behind him, "Slytherin's Prince coming to beat me down until I revealed our precious Princess. How romantic - forget her, and come back to visit me soon!" She sighed wistfully, and Draco pulled a face. If she was merely acting to make him uncomfortable and leave quicker, which was the option he decided he much preferred, then she was the best House guardian he had ever seen.
Not that the blank wall hiding the Slytherin House was all that - and he would never mention it to anyone other than Granger, who was sworn to secrecy, but Salazar Slytherin was even less creative than Hufflepuff. At least if a non-Hufflepuff fucked up the secret rhythm they'd be drenched in vinegar.
The only deterrent from breaking into Slytherin was a single password and the fact that the dormitories were in the dungeons, it was fucking freezing all the time, and no one wanted to chance running into Snape. Or any Slytherins, of course.
Draco, even lost in his thoughts, could still hear the Fat Lady loudly ruminating about anything and everything that could be happening between "the Slytherin Prince" and "Gryffindor's Princess".
Granger hates that nickname, Draco thought nastily, wishing the portrait a lifetime of papercuts and dripping water. He pulled out his pen and a spare sheet of parchment, quickly penning a note and tapping it with his wand to have it fold into a crane.
With another flick of the hawthorn wood, the small crane was slipping out of his fingers on an air current and magic he couldn't see. And now, all he could do was wait.
Draco had a few clues - a newspaper clipping listing some Muggleborn's disappearance - or was it the family who disappeared? - a note from Dumbledore, and Hermione's sad reaction. He knew something, there was an answer on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn't quite recall-
After several minutes of racking his brain, he admitted that forcing himself to remember was useless. Better to let it naturally come to him, and hopefully soon.
He leaned his head back against the stone wall and closed his eyes, hoping he wouldn't have to wait long.
He dreamt of Granger.
He always did, so that wasn't entirely new, and neither was the nightmare - because it was a nightmare - that she was leaving him, lying in his arms and dying or walking away without a backward glance.
Stay away! She was crying, screaming at him, her wand pointed directly at his heart. Murderer! Liar! Coward! Traitor! Death Eater!
Murderer!
All he could do was stare, half hoping there was something he could do to take it back, take all of it back, and the other half wishing she would just kill him.
I'm sorry, I'm sorry, he wept, his cracking voice a plea.
And then the scene changed and he had a sudden bout of whiplash from the shift.
Draco, she had whispered, gently holding her soft hand to his cheek. Draco. Goodbye. Hermione started walking away from him, and soon he could only feel the warmth of her hand until it faded in the biting cold. It was snowing, he realized, which was a stupid thing to note about the dream considering Hermione was quickly moving away from him.
The distance between them kept increasing even though he ran as if Greyback's pack of werewolves were on his heels. But no matter how far he ran, until his feet ached and couldn't hold him up any longer, he could never catch up to her. And the moment he paused to catch his breath, she stopped, staring at him with pity in her eyes.
I'm sorry it had to be this way. Her form began to dissolve, and soon enough, all he had left was the memory of her eyes and the echo of her voice ringing in his head.
Goodbye.
Murderer!
When they said goodbye - because there didn't seem to be a way for them to stay together unless he wanted to hope and pray that Dumbledore could do something - which Hermione would he get? Would they part ways as enemies? Or lovers, who merely found each other at the wrong time?
He was startled into waking when a foot swiftly jabbed him in the ribs. Without thought, Draco whirled to his feet and yanked out his wand, training it on the short redhead that thought it would be a good way to wake him up.
"Weasley," he spat her name like it was a curse, "thank you for the warm wakeup."
She grinned like the angel she definitely was not, then held up the letter he had sent her. "Weaselette, concerning Granger:," she read aloud, and he pursed his lips in embarrassment, "missing, cannot check Gryffindor Tower. Go to the alcove near the Fat Lady, which," she added, lowering his message to glance at him, "there are several alcoves, so thank you for the specifics."
All he could offer was a shrug as he rubbed his temples, letting the arm holding his wand droop against his thigh. He could still hear the echoes of Granger from his dream, the variations of Hermione bleeding together until she was shouting her goodbyes and whispering her curses.
"Did the Fat Lady not tell you if Hermione was inside?"
"No, she was very unhelpful." He directed his scowl at her robes, briefly noticing she had a hole in her left sleeve.
"That sounds about right," the redhead smirked, "let me see what I can do."
Draco glanced up sharply, cataloguing the mysterious glint in her eyes. "That's it? Don't you want something in exchange?"
She shrugged, her smirk becoming softer until it could technically be considered a smile. "Sometimes, in matters of the heart, deals don't have to be made to ensure someone is safe. It's one thing to need her for something, it's another thing entirely to just make sure she's okay."
He crossed his arms, uncomfortable with how much she saw through him. "What if I did need her for something and I'm just getting you to do my dirty work for me?"
Ginevra shrugged again as she turned around and slipped out of the alcove, before pushing the heavy tapestry aside one more time to toss him a wink over her shoulder. "Then I changed my mind - you owe me, Draco Malfoy. And don't you forget it."
He should have kept his damn mouth shut. This woman was related to Fred and George; who knew what she had in mind. From target practice for her hexes to setting off a rogue firework or three, being in her debt was a very dangerous place to be. And he currently had a madman living in his house, so he knew a thing or two about dangerous places.
Draco sat back down on the ground, unsure how long the Weasley could take. Forcing himself to stay awake, unsure which dream he would get - and which he would prefer - he amused himself by carving small combinations of their initials into the stone walls.
It was a game he played by himself during classes, and it wasn't really a game as it was thinking about what could happen in the future, and trying to associate what version of them would be the outcome.
Would they have no choice but to be on two opposite sides of the war, possibly fighting each other to the death? He hoped not, otherwise, he'd immediately concede defeat. It sickened him to hurt her now.
Would they somehow escape the war? Would they be able to settle down and love each other in peace?
But carved names were only possibilities, and they, unfortunately, couldn't divine the future for him.
"Bad news, ferret, she's not in her dorm," Ginny said, slipping into the alcove so quietly he startled and his wand jerked, the last attempt at their initials sliced across the wall. The redhead ignored him as he cursed viciously, squinting at his doodles as traces of her mirth slipped away. She reached out and touched the most recent one, throwing a smirk his way even though it looked forced. "HGMDGM?" She asked, and he flushed, "Hermione and Draco Granger-Malfoy? Really?"
He looked away, standing up and brushing the dust off his trousers to give his hands something to do. Before he could dust off the last bit, it vanished, and he looked up to see Ginevra pointing her wand at him, shrugging casually.
"My mum's good at all those homey spells, as you know, so it makes sense I'd learn some of them too." Draco nodded his thanks at her. There was a loud meow and the orange fur ball that hated him - it was more like they hated each other, to be honest - weaving its way between the Gryffindor's feet, peering at Draco.
"So Granger isn't in her room? Or the Common Room?"
"Her stuff is still there, but the only living thing I found was Crookshanks. He was scratching at our door, I could hear him from the stairs, and as soon as I opened it he took off and was waiting for me at the Portrait Hole. He actually led the way here, instead of going to scour the castle."
Draco glanced down at the "cat" that was now perching on his dragonhide loafer, and he narrowed his eyes at the claws that were slightly poking out of its paws. He was just in the Astronomy Tower - what did the devil have planned? Acting all innocent as if he had been stuck in the dorm all day and night, but his neck still hurt from Crooks laying on him all night.
Toying with the idea that Crookshanks had some sort of plan in place, Draco refrained from snitching on his recent behaviour.
"Don't start with me," he warned the monstrosity, "I'm looking for Granger, same as you. Don't start shit when we could help each other."
"Funny, it seems like you're the only person, other than Hermione and me, who'll talk to Crooks like he understands," Weaselette commented, and he threw a glare both to her and the feline that was testing his patience, honestly. He hid a wince as a couple of claws poked through the leather, and then they suddenly retracted. "And he's not attacking you, either. He still hisses at Ron."
It seemed she brought Crookshanks as part of a test, and not just because her familiar was also looking for the witch.
Draco hesitated, and then asked quietly, "Granger never mentioned anything similar to this morning's occurrences? No plans or plots with Dumbledore?"
Ginevra pursed her lips and glanced down, short enough the average witch or wizard would have missed the action, but long enough that a talented Slytherin such as himself was able to catch her nerves.
"Hermione never mentioned a plan she worked out with Dumbledore," the witch said carefully, and Draco nodded to himself.
That's right, Potter had been wandering the castle under the Headmaster's instruction. But what the Chosen One did was irrelevant - everything was irrelevant when Hermione could be in danger.
"Alright, well, any ideas, Red?" Draco asked.
"Where have you checked?" She eyed him as if he hadn't been practically tearing the castle apart ancient brick by ancient brick to find his witch.
He barked out a short, offended laugh. "I think the better question is where haven't I looked."
"Then where haven't you looked?" Ginny raised an eyebrow, a smirk plastered across her face in a challenge. Forcibly biting his tongue to keep any offensive remarks to himself - Granger better appreciate what he's sacrificing for her when he tells her all about this horrid period without her - he forced one of his shoulders into a jerky shrug.
"The Divination Tower, because Granger would never be caught dead there. Most of the professors' offices. A bunch of classrooms here and there. And outside."
"That sounds like an easy enough task to get through the next- hang on," she cut herself off just as she was leaving the alcove, turning back to face him. "Most of the professors' offices? Which ones did you look through?"
"I briefly spoke with Snape who hadn't seen her so his territory was safe to cross out, and McGonagall - who is also missing, by the way - didn't answer when I knocked so I opened the door to find her office empty."
"That's not creepy at all," the redhead grinned, ducking past the tapestry and letting it swing back to hit him in the face as he attempted to follow her.
"Where are you going?" He snapped, crossing his arms and following from a safe distance away.
"You were right about one thing, Hermione would never go to the Divination Tower if she can help it. I'm going to find Nearly Headless Nick and see if he can keep an eye out, though, he likes to wander around that area and pretend he isn't trying to woo the painting of Catherine of Aragon. Apparently, she hasn't told him she was married to King Henry VIII, and Nick died before she ever arrived in England."
Draco frowned in confusion, trying to understand why she was supplying him with needless information. "Why hasn't anyone told him? And hang on, why does it matter if she was married? Wasn't her marriage annulled so he could..."
"Bang his way through five other women?" Ginny supplied when he petered off, unsure how to finish the sentence but definitely not in the way she had put it. "Yes, yes it was. We aren't telling him because we have a bet around the castle to see how long it takes before she cracks." She cast a strange look at him that was too fleeting to decipher. "I'm surprised you aren't in on it."
"That's probably what Theo has been trying to get me to give him Galleons for, but I'm too busy to pay attention," Draco shrugged, distracted by the way one of the subjects in a portrait tripped and fell down five paintings until he was caught by some wizards in dressing gowns.
"Too busy not attending classes and hiding away in the Room of Requirement?"
"We've already had this conversation before, Ginevra."
"Yes, and you avoided the question last time." She gave a phoney, exaggerated pout, her brown eyes sparkling with mischief that had Draco instinctively falling back another step.
"And I'm going to avoid the question again," he said smoothly, portraying no evidence of fear or lies. "Why does it matter that Nearly Headless Nick doesn't know Catherine was married?"
Ginny chuckled to herself. "Because he is of "noble blood"," she said, a bit sarcastically, meaning Sir Nicholas de-Mimsy Porpington had given her his life story several times over already, as he was known to do, "and if he knew he was talking to a future Queen of England, he'd shit himself. Or give up on pursuing her, and let's be honest, the poor witch has already had it bad enough in the wizarding department."
"Fair," Draco supplied, having felt the pause she left was meant for him to fill. "Now, just answer the gods-damned question. Where are we headed?"
Her laugh echoed off the old stone, and they both tensed to ensure other students weren't around to see them wandering the halls together. It was a good thing they were skipping class-
"First I'm going to find Nick, how about you meet me at the statue of the one-eyed witch?"
Draco narrowed his eyes suspiciously at her back. "Why would we meet there?"
She sighed heavily. "I hate to part with this secret, especially to you of all people, but it seems I have no choice. Unless I can go by myself, and you can-"
"Fuck no," he bit out. "I've searched this castle high and low with no sign of Granger. If there's a place I haven't checked, then I'm coming too."
He couldn't help but hear the remnants of his dream, of Hermione getting further and further away.
Goodbye.
Murderer! Death Eater filth!
She paused as they reached the moving staircases, shooting him a look he couldn't decipher.
"What?" Draco scoffed, feeling defensive. When she didn't answer right away, he pushed past her, going down the stairs two steps at a time, praying to Salazar Slytherin that he wouldn't fall on his face and roll down the stairs. Not only would that be extremely painful, but also highly embarrassing, as the Weaselette still had her burning gaze on his back.
"Hermione has poor taste in wizards," she yelled down at him. Instead of bothering to answer, Draco held up his middle finger toward her, glancing back to ensure she saw it. As her glare intensified, he increased his pace until he was safely out of reach of her Bat-Bogey Hex.
In the end, he was loitering in front of the statue, a Disillusionment Charm placed so onlookers wouldn't be suspicious why a serial truant was skulking around a dingy old statue. Just as the bell rang again, signalling the end of class, Ginevra appeared, huffing and puffing.
"Where the fuck were you," Draco snapped, dropping the charm once he was sure everyone was tucked away in their classrooms.
"Let's just say I bumped into Peeves," the redhead growled, her face almost as red as her hair. Draco pulled a face at her complexion, the flush in her cheeks clashing with her freckles.
"Why have I been waiting here while you were off messing around?"
The glare she shot him was full of daggers and other sharp things. "Because we need to get to Hogsmeade."
He coughed sharply, a laugh and shocked guffaw attempting to escape his lungs at the same time. "Why would Granger go to Hogsmeade now? It's the middle of the week, there's a scheduled trip this weekend, and she'd never miss out on two days' worth of classes just for a joyride through the village."
"What if it's not a joyride?" Ginevra moved to inspect the statue, losing interest in the conversation. "Last year, she held a secret meeting to form the D.A. as a big 'fuck you' to Umbridge. Which, if I recall correctly, you assisted the pink monstrosity in ruining."
"Well, if she's out there starting yet another duelling club, it looks like you weren't invited." She shot a stinging hex at him, and he rubbed his arm until the sharp pain wore off.
"Five points for attacking a Prefect, Weasley," he drawled.
"Five points for being an arsehole," the Gryffindor witch said without hesitation. Draco rolled his eyes.
"You aren't even a Prefect-"
"Dissendium," Ginny interrupted, tapping the hump of the witch with her wand.
Draco crept closer, unable to hide his curiosity and suspicion. As the hump opened, revealing a dark passageway, he crossed his arms as Ginny began to hoist herself into the tunnel.
"Be serious with me," he said softly, "what business would Hermione have in Hogsmeade?"
"I'm not sure," she said, her voice muffled as she dropped down until all he could see was the faint light from her wand. "Could be investigating that cursed necklace. Or the poisoned mead sent to Slughorn." Draco paused in the middle of climbing into the passageway, unsure if Ginevra was attempting to pry information out of him or accuse him of something.
"I guess we'll find out."
It took them an hour to walk all the way, the silence only occasionally broken for them to trade insults.
"Don't tell anyone I was the one to tell you about this tunnel," she warned, holding her wand directly under his nose, the tip still lit and hurting his eyes. "If it gets out I was the one to tell you about it, they might kick me out of Gryffindor."
Draco rolled his eyes at her dramatics. "Don't be such a drama queen," he said, batting her wand aside.
"Great tips from the one who was... what was it... once killed by a giant chicken?" She looked a little too smug, and this time, he was the one to shoot the stinging jinx.
He grumbled under his breath. "You weren't even in that class."
"Doesn't change the fact that everyone gossips in this castle, and that was the most ridiculous bout of dramatics that whole month. Even worse than when Fawcett got herself stuck in a wall and cried for her parents to come pick her up."
They wandered for a little longer, and just as his legs began to cramp, Ginny threw out a hand.
"Disillusion yourself," she ordered, and he followed her example. They slightly pushed open the trapdoor, peering into what looked like Honeydukes, based on the large stacks of candy and snacks, albeit dusty and dark.
"Are they closed?" He hissed.
Ginny's tone was scathing. "No, you nimrod, this is just their storage."
Draco hoisted himself through the trapdoor, mentally calling Granger's friend several insults. She gave him a smug look when she dropped her Disillusionment that suggested she knew exactly what he was thinking.
"We'll slip through Honeydukes and I'll go right, you go left. You can also take the Shrieking Shack." Pursing her lips to smother a grin, she gave him a quick wink, and he knew his past run-in with the Golden Trio had also made its rounds through the gossip circles. "Check everywhere."
"No, I walked an hour here with you for company, just to duck through a couple of doorways and then mosey back to the castle."
"Oh, I'm sorry, am I getting under your skin?" She cooed, batting her eyelashes, and he reached out, shoving her in the shoulder.
They slipped up the stairs and out the front door, blinking from the bright sun after spending an hour in a musty tunnel. "I'll meet you in half an hour. Try not to take any longer than that," Draco suggested.
"Are you kidding? Half an hour? There are so many shops on my end-"
He gave her a wink and another shove. "Then maybe you shouldn't have delegated the directions we would go. This is a problem of your own making." Before she could protest further, he slipped away.
As expected, Hermione was nowhere to be found on his end of Hogsmeade. He even found the courage - with his knees subtly shaking - to stand outside the Shrieking Shack, a quick Homenum Revelio proving Hermione wasn't inside. And, hearing the mocking voice of none other than Ginevra Bat-Bogey Hex Weasley echoing in his head, taunting him that he wasn't serious enough about Hermione to enter the Shrieking Shack, took a hesitant step inside.
It went against every self-preservation instinct he possessed, but Draco gathered his courage and wandered through the dirty rooms, calling Hermione's name as he went, wand held defensively in front of him.
"Granger?"
Murderer! Death Eater! Coward!
There was a loud scream, either from him or a ghost or a demon, Draco wasn't sure, but he wasn't about to stick around and find out.
"Oh, fuck no," he said, unsure if the words were real or in his head. Not taking any chances, he was quick to bolt out the door.
The Shrieking Shack could be explored at another time. Preferably, with Granger at his side.
He was always braver around her.
II
January 1997
"Happy Christmas, Malfoy," Granger said with a smile that seemed a little sad around the edges. Draco frowned, both at himself and the strange witch, wondering why he was able to see the differences in Granger's smile. Gods forbid she ever actively smile at him anyway, which reminded him that the Gryffindor Muggleborn was grinning at him as if she had mistaken him for one of the idiots she called friends.
"What do you want?" He asked suspiciously, swearing to himself that he would not be distracted by the beam directed his way. Sure, he'd never seen it directed at him, especially not at this wattage, but just because he realised how much he fancied her now didn't mean that he would fall for any of her tricks, even if she had the prettiest smile he'd ever seen.
"It's Christmas, it's what you say when it's Christmas," she insisted in a deadpan, taking her normal seat beside him. He did his best to ignore how she shifted the chair, pulling it closer to the table but also closer to him in the process. He wrote it off as unintentional but shifted himself a tad as well. If he really wanted, he could reach out and take her hand or brush against her shoulder with his-
"You're supposed to respond with, 'Happy Christmas, Granger'," she said, her imitation of his voice unflattering. He scowled at her.
"Happy Christmas," he sneered, nudging her with an elbow for an excuse to touch her, "what do you want?"
"Who says I want anything?" She raised an eyebrow at the elbow he still hadn't moved away, and he pursed his lips as he slid his arm off the table and into his lap.
"Why else would you wish me a happy Christmas?"
She rolled her eyes. "In any case, it's not something I want but something I have. For you." She coughed slightly and then turned to her bag, digging deeper into it than she should be able to. He highly suspected there were several charms on the bag but lost his grin by the time she turned back to face him. "Happy Christmas," she stated again, holding out a small, wrapped gift.
"You already said that," he reminded her, staring daggers at the package and making no move to take it until she pushed it insistently into his chest.
"Just take the damn gift," she grumbled, but he noted the small sparkle in her eyes as she watched him pick at the wrapping.
"I don't understand," he said, fiddling with the paper, "you bought me a Christmas gift?"
"Don't read too much into it," she rolled her eyes, playing it off, "It's Christmas, and I saw it and thought of you. Now open it."
Still, he didn't do more than lift the piece of tape holding the ends together. He had to stifle a chuckle at the impatience on her face and knew she was moments away from taking it and opening it herself.
"Too late, I'm reading into it; Granger bought me a Christmas gift, because she saw it and thought of me," he teased, delighting in the way her blush lit up her face.
"If you don't open it in the next two seconds and love it, I'm taking it back and regifting it to a stranger," she ordered, and he waited for a beat just to fuck with her before tearing off the wrapping.
Once the paper had been cleared, he opened the box to find four containers of a delicious-looking apple crisp. They weren't large pieces by any means, but the moment he opened one of the containers, he was delighted by the familiar smell.
"I was in a bakery and it smelled too good to resist," she explained, "and you need to eat more. I shouldn't be giving you sweets, but it's Christmas, and I couldn't pass up the opportunity."
"It's still warm," he said, setting the box aside to focus on the open container. He swiftly conjured two forks, handing her one without looking.
"Oh, that's for you-" she tried, but he refused to budge until she grudgingly took the fork. "There's one more thing in that box, by the way," she added, and he paused, his utensil hovering over the crisp that was absolutely calling to him.
"It smells fucking obscene," he grumbled under his breath, though the way she tilted her head meant she heard him. He shook his head at her questioning stare and moved the other containers out of the way so he could see the bottom of the box. Gods, Granger had even heated the crisps so they were still hot on the bottom, what a brilliant witch.
Not that he'd ever admit that to her.
But he held the open canister in one hand, savouring the warmth, and furrowed his brows as he pulled out two mirrors. They didn't look special, with no handles or ornate decor, just a simple golden filigree around the edges and on the back.
He looked at her inquisitively, and she took one, staring into it with purpose. He glanced at hers and then squinted at his as her face appeared in the mirror he held.
"Two-way mirrors?" He asked in surprise.
She smiled sheepishly. "Harry received one last year, that's where I got the idea from. But- I know what you could use these mirrors for, but I want you to know I'm only giving them for safety purposes. What you're doing-" she hesitated, and he turned towards her, partly to face her head-on, and partly to pin his left arm between him and the back of his seat. "You can get into a lot of trouble and danger, and if you give the other mirror to someone you trust to immediately come help, it could potentially save your life. That's why I'm giving these to you."
He read between the lines - this was an enormous show of faith. They both knew what he could get up to with these mirrors - communication with the Dark Lord and/or Death Eaters, cause shenanigans around the castle, or even spy on Potter and report what he was doing. (Draco saw Potter wandering the castle sometimes, and once or twice exiting the Headmaster's office. He wasn't stupid, he knew the Boy Who Lived was up to something. But he went out of his way to avoid Potter, so if the Dark Lord ever pried into his mind, he would find nothing to report. Really, what he had to worry about was hiding his memories and thoughts and feelings about Granger being discovered.)
But if she were letting him have this method of communication, it meant she cared quite a bit to keep him out of too much harm, and that she trusted he wouldn't use it against her or her friends.
There was a sick feeling pooling in his stomach, especially since he had only just returned from the cabinet when Granger popped up crowing about Christmas.
He gingerly took the mirror she held out to him, placing both on the table and loosing a sigh as he stared at them.
Crookshanks meowed, hopping up onto Granger's lap and then onto the table, sniffing the mirrors cautiously. The cat turned his squashed face towards Draco, assessing him with those beady little eyes. With a sniff to remind the Slytherin not to mess with the kneazle or his familiar, the demon spawn padded toward the forgotten apple crisp.
"Bugger off," Draco warned the cat from hell, "that's mine. Granger gave it to me, not you." Crooks hissed at the taunt, inching a paw closer to the treat until Draco yanked it away. "If I give you your Christmas gift, will you go away?" He snapped. Both kneazle and witch immediately turned to stare at Draco, the similar expression on both their faces almost disconcerting.
"You got Crooks a Christmas gift?" Granger asked warily, and Draco rolled his eyes.
"It's Christmas," he grumbled, ignoring the fact that the only other gift he bought was for Theodore Nott, and that was two packages of Bertie Botts Every Flavour Beans - the joke version (every bean was disgusting) and the regular version (though he informed Theo upon reception that bag was the joke version).
He fished into his pocket for the shrunken gifts, setting out the rubber mouse in front of the supposed cat.
"Happy Christmas," he grinned at the feline, who sniffed at the mouse suspiciously for a moment before pouncing on it. Immediately, the charm reverted to normal, the once rubber mouse now a Screaming Yo-Yo, which shrieked loudly, startling the cat so badly Crookshanks leaped backward, colliding with Hermione - who also jumped - and floundering against the witch until he fell onto the floor.
Draco was glad he had set those muffling charms when he saw Granger or Pince would have hunted them down for sport from the noise.
"Malfoy!" Granger gasped, smacking him in the arm. Draco couldn't stop laughing, even after Crookshanks levied a glare at him. The cat hopped onto the seat across from Draco so the only thing he could see of the beast was his horrid face and death glare.
"I had to, Granger, I had to. The number of times this creature has messed with me, I thought it only fair that I play a little joke in response." Wiping away tears of laughter, Draco pulled out the shrunken gift. He flicked his wand, grinning wider at the distrust in the cat's eyes, but feeling a genuine smile tug at his lips when the witch beside him gasped and the yellow eyes widened.
"It's gorgeous," Granger whispered, and Draco saw her cast several spells to determine it wasn't another joke. It was a fluffy, dark green cat bed, more of a circular pillow than anything else, but Draco had practically purred the moment he put a hand on it, so he figured Crooks would enjoy it. Assuming he would ever trust it wouldn't trap him if he tried to lay on it.
"It's real, I swear," Draco said quietly, not breaking eye contact with the "cat". "Though you'll have to deal with the colour, I charmed it to never change," he added with a smirk, having picked the Slytherin-green shade to purposely mess with both familiar and witch.
After several more moments of hesitation, Crookshanks leaped atop the table, padding closer to the bed to sniff at it. When it was finally deemed safe, the cat gently lowered himself onto the bed, immediately rolling onto his back and purring contentedly. Granger reached out, stroking her cat and then the fuzz of the bed, her hand sinking into the cushion. She let out a low groan, one that had heat flicking in Draco's stomach. He shifted uncomfortably, freezing when Granger moved her hand from the cat bed to his arm. His left arm.
"Thank you, Draco, we love it," she beamed at him, a full sunbeam's worth of light and happiness. He found himself smiling like a fool back at her.
"We? That was just for the demon spawn. I've got something for you, too," he placed her wrapped box in front of her. He winced at the imperfections in the wrapping, he had never wrapped a gift like a Muggle before, so it did look a mess.
"Did you hand-wrap this?" The shock was evident in her voice, and he shrugged to blow it off.
"I thought you might enjoy it more. Now open it, Granger," he said firmly, and she squeezed his arm before tearing off the wrapping with the glee and energy of a child.
"Oh, this is gorgeous," she sighed, fingering the dark green knit scarf. By the glance she gave him, it seemed she had caught on to the colour scheme of her gifts, and he gave her a wide and innocent smile in return.
"There's one more thing in that box," he added cheekily, and she rolled her eyes.
"Is it green?" She grumbled, but still excitedly wrapped the scarf around her neck and reached into the box.
Her pillow matched Crookshanks' new bed, except hers was specifically made with satin instead of cotton to help calm her curls at night. She gripped it cautiously, testing to see if it had the same soft, cloud-like feel to it - it did, nothing but the best for a Malfoy to give away, of course, and to her especially - and, without any words, wrapped Draco into a hug. Her arms went around his neck, face buried against his shoulder, and without thinking, he felt his own arms wrap around her waist.
"Thank you," she whispered, and he couldn't find it in him to say anything in response. He made a small hum instead, unable to piece together a single thought. His short-circuiting brain was most likely melting in his skull, and any moment now he could expect to feel it leaking out of his ears.
One heartbeat, they were hugging, and the next, it felt like they were just holding each other.
"Thank you for my gifts, too, Hermione," he whispered in her ear, smirking slightly when she shivered against him.
This. This moment was one he could have only hoped to experience in dreams. It was like he had died and was now in paradise, just trapped by the warm embrace of Hermione Granger, her parchment-and-apple scent wafting around him. Though, part of that could also be from the crisps.
His stomach grumbled, and he bit back a curse as his stupid body ruined the moment. She pulled back, cheeks tinted pink, and gestured towards the crisp.
"It's meant for eating, you know," she said, glancing up at him.
"Split it with me?" He asked, and she hesitated briefly before nodding slowly.
They split the first apple crisp, somehow still warm - he found out later she had cast a Warming charm on all the containers, brilliant, that witch - and spent the rest of the afternoon staring longingly at the other two and joking around together.
When Draco bid goodnight to Granger, heading down to the dungeons before curfew to hopefully get some sleep, he noticed Potter and Weasley heading toward the library. It was a good thing he left when he did, Draco thought, or else the dynamic duo were to catch them together.
He slipped behind a tapestry, waiting somewhat patiently for them to pass.
"I finished Hermione's apple pie yesterday," Potter said, sighing, "I wish I hadn't eaten it so quickly."
"Could be worse, mate," Weasley replied, "I ate the entire thing the day after Christmas. Where d'you think she bought them? It was delicious."
"She made them, Ron. We both got apple pies, Ginny got some lemon crumble cake, or whatever."
Granger made the crisps?
He couldn't fight the smile - didn't even want to fight it off.
There was a heavy pressure on his foot, and he glanced down to see Crookshanks perched on the dragonhide loafer. He stifled the natural instinct to kick the evil creature off.
"What do you want?" He asked quietly, glancing around to make sure the duo had vanished. Crookshanks meowed just as softly, raising his front legs to rest a paw against Draco's knee. Man and demon beast stared at each other, and Draco nodded as he read the thanks in the kneazle's gaze.
"Happy Christmas, Crooks," Draco said, and with a flick of his bottlebrush tail, the familiar was padding back down the hallway and into the library.
Draco watched him make his way back, wishing he could follow and go back to Granger.
But he could feel sleep weighing heavily on him, and so, clutching his new gifts tightly, he wandered back to the Slytherin dorms, each footstep light and buoyed.
There was a bouncing heat in his chest, one he hadn't felt before. It could have just as easily been heartburn, but Draco liked to think that maybe it was happiness.
a/n: What do you think so far? I've had to shift around a lot of scenes (this chapter's May scene was supposed to be... chapter 3 in my first draft, I think, but I ended up moving it all the way over here) so I'm hoping everything fits nice and neatly. Sometimes I read through it and hate it, other times I love it, so I think it's good? But I'm curious what you all think!
This chapter got a little out of hand, too. Originally, I had a cop-out where Ginny doesn't go looking for Hermione, and then I realised that's dumb - why would I deprive us of Ginny/Draco banter? So they went to Hogsmeade. Was it because there were no other places I could think of that Draco hadn't already checked? Yes, yes it is.
Next update: 6/26
- Meg
