Disclaimer to JK Rowling

Chapter Fourteen: Such Lengths of Hours

Already how am I so far
Our of that minute? Must I go
Still like the thistle-ball, no bar,
Onward, whenever light winds blow,
Fixed by no friendly star?

Two in the Campagna by Robert Browning

After sitting in the library until almost his curfew, Draco strolled in the darkness of the Dungeons. A mild headache had begun when he had started going over his Arithmancy charts and had progressively gotten worse as he read through Shakespeare. They were finished with Othello now, which thankfully meant that he did not have to read aloud as Iago anymore. However, they had now moved onto sonnets, and picking apart what Shakespeare meant with every couplet only aggravated his headache.

Breathing through his nose and out of his mouth, Draco rubbed his temples. He would go straight to bed and hopefully the rest of the boys would be quiet when they also retired to bed.

He hoped, at least. Most of the boys in the dormitory knew better than to disturb him when he was like this. His head continued to ache. If it was not so close to curfew, he would stop by the Hospital Wing for something to relieve it. He groaned and carried on walking.

Suddenly, Draco felt someone tug on the strap of his bag and pull him into a darker alcove of the Dungeons. Draco reached inside his robes for his wand, but in what light he could see he could just make out who had grabbed him in the middle of the Dungeon corridor.

"My, my, my, Theo. If I had been aware of your affection for me…"

"Shut up, Malfoy. Have you lost every single one of your Merlin be damned faculties?"

Draco shrugged himself free and raised an eyebrow at Theo, "Language."

"Well, it is difficult to retain one's composure when their best friend is eschewing their company for Hermione Granger."

The latter part of Theo's sentence came out as a hiss. Draco's blood ran cold. He had been so careful, so secretive, that unless someone had been following him, they may not even know immediately that his study partner for the best part of a year had been Hermione.

Draco stared at Theo in the dim light, and he knew what he had to do. He had to deny everything. Although as he tried to, his words simply came out as a series of stutters.

"W-W…What?"

"You heard me."

"Why would I spend time with Granger? You know -…"

"That you hate her. You seem to have a funny way of showing it."

Would you please reconsider?

The parting question from Hermione had been timid, and so despairing and it had been that moment when Draco realised the extent of her loneliness. Twelve months ago, Draco would have cared less about her feelings but now he knew her. He knew about Roald Dahl and how she had pored over his books, and how from that moment that his books had been a sanctuary for her. He knew that she loved exploring, her favourite holidays were ones were she learned everything about her surroundings from nature to history. She was not athletic, and would not be caught dead on a broomstick and skiing terrified her. She only skied to appease her parents, and it came as a relief when she started at Hogwarts and could turn down skiing holidays. She found chewing on the end of a quill abhorrent and she was meticulous in her work.

Draco smirked at the last point, remembering Hermione's horror at seeing a chewed quill that had been left behind on their desk.

Since when did they share a desk?

Draco wondered how much Hermione remembered about him, not that he revealed much about himself. He covertly always seemed to move the topic on wizarding customs when it came to personal questions. Evasion was an inherent Malfoy trait.

"I find her tolerable," Draco acquiesced.

"Tolerable?" Theo repeated, but he looked away as he added, "A Malfoy in disgrace is an interesting creature, it seems that you simply run to the closest Muggleborn."

"We do not."

"Did you really think that no one would find out?" Theo asked, refusing to give him a direct answer. His tone was becoming slightly bitter. "How long did you think that you could keep it a secret?"

Draco became curious at the question and his brows furrowed, "How did you find out?"

Even in the dark, Draco could see the glare that Theo had sent his way.

"Your absence was commented on by Blaise most evenings, secretly, I think he knew from the start."

What was it that he said earlier on in the year?

Granger would be a useful study partner.

"So, I followed you to the library today and I see you reassuring Granger about Professor Hagrid's trial. I did not know if you were being cruel or kind."

Draco's throat was dry but he managed to rasp out, "Pardon?"

"Draco, you know that your father will win the trial. The know-it-all may have spent her life in the library trying to find a defence but she is ultimately fighting against a Malfoy."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

Theo took a step back and raised an eyebrow. "It means that your family may not be able to curry favour from the highest ranking officials, but you still carry influence in that courtroom. If dear Lucius can get our Headmaster suspended, executing an animal is a walk in the proverbial park."

It was a truth that until that point Draco had refused to acknowledge. He had spent too much time enjoying in the delights of appeasing Hermione. He knew of that inevitable outcome, but he had simply ignored it. Now he had to suffer the consequences for being selfish.

Another inherent Malfoy trait.

"I know."

"And you also know that once the trial is over, your father will be able to whisper into the ear of the Minister again. Your mother will recover from whatever daydream she is suffering from and will resume her place as a doting society wife."

"Yes, I know."

"And once that happens, dillydallying with someone like Granger is simply not done, not in our circles. Of course, no one would publicly admit it, but all of the old families do not want a Muggleborn in their ranks."

Draco pinched the bridge of his nose and tilted his head back against the stone wall. If Shakespeare had given him a headache, Theo was giving him a full-blown migraine. He hated when Theo reminded him of their position. Draco only wished that he would pester Lacie instead, but everyone knew that Lacie was a lost cause. He sighed, "Theo, I know."

"Does Granger?"

"She will."

With that, Draco walked away back in the Dungeon corridor and walked towards their Common Room. Draco heard Theo behind him, and he deliberately slowed his pace. Theo easily caught up to him.

"Good," he simply said, before looking at Draco with a rueful smile. "You seem happier."

"I dear hope you are not implying that Granger has had a positive effect on my moods."

"I would not dare."

A smile played on Draco's lips as they reached the wall outside the Slytherin Common Room. He held his friend's gaze and replied, "Good, because you would be quite mistaken, Nott."

x-x-x-x-x

There was a certain corner of the library where one could sit and observe the Quidditch pitch. Of course, you would need a keen eyesight and a good grasp of the game in order to understand what was going on, and Ron Weasley had both. No one had noticed that he was scoping the Ravenclaws as they practised for their match against Gryffindor the next morning. Ron continued to pretend to be working on a difficult Herbology essay whilst peeking outside. Ron had paid attention to every match, and was sure that he had every player figured out. The Chasers were – notwithstanding the Gryffindor Chasers – flawless. The Beaters seemed to focus on protecting their Chasers rather than the Ravenclaw Seeker. The only weakness in their team was their Keeper, but the Chasers were working their Keeper hard today.

However, Ron wasn't focused on the rest of the players. His attention had been on two different Seekers. One was flying recklessly through the skies, as if she was trying to emulate Harry's flying style. The other one was working through a stack of homework.

Ron Weasley, had he been more calculating and a smidge more ambitious, definitely would have had the danger of being Sorted into Slytherin.

For the past hour, Ron had been discreetly watching Malfoy as he worked and tried to solve what had happened during the Slytherin game against Ravenclaw. There had been ten minutes where Malfoy had remained still in the air, and it bothered Ron. A part of him was sure that Malfoy was taunting Chang for costing her team a penalty, and the goals afterwards when Ravenclaw were distracted. Ron knew that Malfoy had engineered the fall, mainly from the bravado that he had displayed when the git had gotten back onto his broom.

He had a match to win, Ron thought scathingly, the smarmy prick.

Those ten minutes though, there was something off. It wasn't just that Malfoy was taunting Chang. Malfoy would taunt a piece of broccoli, given enough provocation… but, it was as if he was trying to distract her. It hadn't made an ounce of sense, though, because the Snitch was nowhere near him at the time. Yet, Malfoy had frozen in mid-air for some reason and Ron was determined to find out why. If it meant spending his Friday night in the library rather than being glared at from across the Common Room by Lacie, then so be it.

Another thing that bothered Ron since he had first sat down, was something completely unrelated to Quidditch. Every so often, a piece of parchment would fly in front of Malfoy that would cause the boy to smile and he would write something down before sending the parchment off again. Sometimes it was almost an essay, or he would write something briefly, but a smile would always appear on his face.

It was a strange occurrence, considering all that he saw on Malfoy's face was a sneer or a look as if someone had stuck dung under his nose. Unless, of course, he was sitting with Lacie. If there was one person at Hogwarts that made Malfoy seem almost like a decent person, it was his twin.

Ron looked out of the window again, and saw that Chang was flying from one end of the pitch to the other whilst dodging Bludgers that were being sent her way. Ron deigned to admit it, but even Malfoy had more finesse dodging a Bludger than Chang did. He was sure that the Ravenclaw Beaters were being too easy on her so she could practice, but leniency wasn't something she could afford when it was going to be Fred and George tomorrow.

There was a rustling beside him and Ron tore his attention away from the Ravenclaws and turned towards it. He frowned. It was only the library hermit, Hermione, browsing for books in one of the aisles next to him. Anger flared up inside him. He had not spoken to Hermione since her cat had murdered his rat.

It wasn't so much the loss of his rat that had annoyed Ron. Ron was realistic, and after several talks with the rest of his family and Harry, he had realised that Scabbers was old and had lived beyond his years. His anger stemmed from Hermione's stubbornness that her animal had done nothing wrong, and her callousness when it came to other people's pets. Lavender's rabbit's death had been foreseeable, and Scabber's death had been justified because cats hunt. Ron scoffed.

The sore point that arose from this was that Lacie had inevitably sided with Hermione. Lacie, who had hated that ginger monstrosity to begin with, had sided with it. Surely she didn't want it to be wandering around and killing things? Of course, she was siding with her best friend, and no matter how much Ron was right, Lacie would never side with him.

Well, sod the pair of them.

Hermione wandered through the aisle, her finger sliding from book to book and her gaze darted in Ron's direction. A blush crept across her cheeks and she scurried in the opposite direction and disappeared behind the shelves.

At least she had the decency to get out of his firing line.

Ron glanced back at the Ravenclaws outside and noticed that they were all grounded, and were stood in a circle. He went to look back at Malfoy, but the other boy had disappeared. Ron felt another twinge of annoyance. If Hermione hadn't distracted him, he may have been able to observe Malfoy some more. Ron gruffly stacked all of his work together and picked up his bag.

"Excuse me," a loud voice said behind him, and Ron turned to the speaker. It was a first-year Slytherin with a snarky look on her face, and she held out a roll of parchment in front of her.

"Draco Malfoy told me to give this to a nosy and unkempt-looking redhead."

Ron frowned and shot a glare at the girl, snatching the roll from her hand. "I am not unkempt."

The girl sniffed reproachfully and said, "Your shirt is untucked, your tie is loose and your hair could do with a trim. If Professor Snape was your Head of House, you would have had several points taken off you, for lowering the standard of your House."

Ron blew a raspberry, and the girl looked at him with disgust before turning on her heel. If the cliché was that Gryffindors were a pack of animals, he may as well perpetuate that image. He caught his reflection in the window, and patted his hair. He frowned. Harry's hair was worse by a long stretch and he didn't get hassle over it.

Lowering the standard of your House, Ron thought bitterly as he unfurled the roll that Malfoy had had delivered to him. No wonder Slytherins were all so uptight with Snape as a Head.

Ron scanned the contents of the parchment, and a smaller slip with a portrait of a sneering Malfoy fell out too. He was confused about the latter until he read through the note.

Weasel,

If you wanted to stare at me from across the library without attracting my attention, I would really control your insufferable breathing. I do not have the time (nor the inclination), to remain the object of your affections all evening, so here is a likeness of myself for you to continue staring at.

Malfoy.

PS. You may want to invest more time into the art of subtlety, I think even the gargoyles outside know you are spying on Ravenclaw, and of course, myself.

Crumpling up the two pieces of parchment with a growl, Ron angrily shoved all his work into his bag. He stormed over to the fireplace and threw the balls of parchment into the fire, paying no attention to the other pieces of parchment that were burning in the fire. As he left the library he stopped just short of the Staircase and remembered what Malfoy had written.

How the bloody hell did he hear my breathing?

x-x-x-x-x

Was there a word to describe how Hermione felt? Adrift? Unanchored? Off-kilter?

Does the hyphen make it one word?

Hermione was drifting, in and out of consciousness, with no idea where she had come from and where she was going to end up next. It was as if she was a rag-doll, being dragged along by a toddler, her heels scraping along the ground, and the only time she became conscious was when she was dropped.

Sometimes she was dropped in the wrong class, attending Charms with the Slytherins and Ancient Runes with a class she knew conflicted with Transfiguration with the rest of the Gryffindors. The professors had looked taken aback when they saw her presence, but proceeded as if she hadn't been there. Hermione didn't mind the curious glances and the hushed whispers, because soon enough she was away again, ready to be dropped in another wrong class.

Yet, even in the mess she was creating by stumbling to and fro different times, she managed to keep atop of all her studies. Her eyes roved over pages in books, like a pianist sliding their fingers across their keys and she devoured information. Did she sleep? What was sleep? Was the loss of her awareness occurring when she was sleeping?

The one constant that pulled her out of these fugues was Lacie, as if she was whirling a lasso over her head and Hermione was her bull. As Hermione blinked, she could see Lacie lips moving in the shape of her name across from her.

"Hermione," Lacie was mouthing. The hubbub of the Great Hall flooded around her, and she was present again.

Hermione blinked again and had asked, "What?"

"Where did you go?"

Hermione forced a smirk, "I was just with you in History of Magic, remember?"

Confusion rippled over Lacie's face as she replied, "That was several hours ago."

"Was it? Aren't we at lunch?"

"We are at dinner, Hermione," Lacie said slowly, and Hermione looked up at the ceiling. It was dark, the slight glow of the moon licked at the edges of impenetrable clouds. She looked back down, trying to think of an explanation but a tug at her neck put that thought to rest. Hermione blinked and she was gone again.

This has to stop, Hermione thought to herself, when she was next anchored. It was 12am and she was staring at her reflection in the mirror. Dark circles outlined tired eyes, and her hair was as uncontrollable as ever. Her skin was dry, and she looked sickly. In fact, she looked a lot like Ginny Weasley did the previous year, when she had been possessed by Riddle.

Am I being possessed?

Before Hermione could answer herself, she was waking up to the sounds of a bell in the Great Hall. Lacie was shoving her awake, and Hermione could only look at her with a gaping mouth.

"What time is it?"

"Time to get Transfiguration before Professor McGonagall berates us for being late," Lacie snapped, angrily standing up. "You slept through breakfast."

"But I-I…"

"Are you okay?" Lacie asked, her earlier irritation had dissipated. "I am worried about you."

Hermione smiled at her and shook her head, "Nothing's wrong."

That was one of the many lies that she was telling. Everything was wrong. Day after day, she was becoming less aware of herself, and she couldn't tell anyone. She had cried into Hagrid's oversized coat about it all, but one of the Groundskeeper's answers had been to go to Professor McGonagall. She didn't want to go to her Head of House, and admit that she couldn't handle it. She had fought tooth-and-nail for this opportunity and failure wasn't an option. She could handle it, but she just couldn't handle the lies.

She had been ducking into crowds of people, avoiding her best friend for weeks to avoid detection. She hid in broom closets and bathroom cubicles, distracting herself with the logistics of hiding her secret, but this only seemed to make her feel more lost. Lacie had stopped asking her where she was going, or how she was attending her classes. Instead, Lacie's questions was directed to ask if Hermione was alright, if her workload was manageable, or if Lacie could help. Hermione brushed it off, but every time she felt more and more rubbish.

To cap it off, she was already feeling rotten over Scabbers' death, and the break-in on Gryffindor Tower had terrified her. She only found out about it when she landed in Herbology, where everyone was baffled about how she didn't know what had happened. Harry had asked her why she was all over the place but Hermione, in her frustration, had reacted with a barbed comment. His reaction was to continue to support Ron, but every so often, he would look over his shoulder in slight concern.

She was lying to him too.

Hagrid's other suggestion, was to go to another Professor. That was how she found herself on the third floor and standing outside Professor Lupin's office. She rubbed her tear-stained cheeks to make herself look presentable before knocking on the door.

She heard a quiet voice telling her to come in. She lifted the door handle, and took a deep breath before walking into the office. Behind a stack of parchment, Professor Lupin sat marking work as well as tending to something in a cage – presumably for one of his classes. He looked up, and before he recognised her, Hermione saw that he looked as worn and exhausted as she was. It melted away as he stood with a warm smile and walked to the front of his desk. He leaned against it and put his arms on either side of him on the edge of his desk.

"Miss Granger, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

Hermione fidgeted with the strap of her school bag. She forced herself to be present, to not allow herself be pulled away by the force around her neck.

"Professor Lupin, I have a question."

"Quite unusual, Miss Granger, as you seem to be one of the few that knows all of the answers."

Hermione blushed. She was suddenly unable to meet her Professor's eye. She knew that she was a swotty, brownnosing know-it-all. However, it was one thing to know something and another to be constantly reminded of it, especially by a Professor. It was as if Professor Snape was chastising her, and she wondered if she had made a mistake by coming to Professor Lupin.

Professor Lupin seemed to sense her discomfort before adding, "You remind me of myself, I was also the more studious one out of all of my friends."

Hermione nodded. She looked up at the Professor who was watching her expectantly.

"Where are my manners? Please, take a seat."

"I would prefer to stand, if that's alright, Professor."

The Professor smiled kindly at her again, "Yes, of course. I believe you had a question for me."

"Yes. Well, you see, Professor… I-I know you're a werewolf."

Professor Lupin stiffened at her words and looked pointedly away and at the stone floor beneath them.

"So, you wanted to know what it was like to be a werewolf?" He rasped, and his words had a harsh edge to them.

"No, I wanted to know what it's like to have a secret that you're not allowed to tell anyone, but people notice that there's something wrong and they constantly try and find out what it is that's wrong," She knew that she wasn't making sense, but the words seemed to burst out of her before she could logically put them into a coherent sentence. The professor regarded her, as if playing out her words in his mind again and trying to understand her. Hermione bit her lip almost apologetically.

She hadn't meant for it to simply tumble out of her mouth in front of him. She had been toying with what to say and how to present her case, but had fallen at the last hurdle and now Professor Lupin didn't know how to react. However, she had been dying to tell someone about her conundrum, even if it was a small portion of the bigger issue and now, it felt there was a weight off her chest. Her professor looked at her with curiosity and raked a hand through his greying hair.

"What is this about, Miss Granger?"

"My Time-Turner." The hourglass seemed to burn under her blouse as she spoke about it, as if it knew it was being talked about it and it wanted to remain a secret. She gulped. It felt as if she was confessing to some wrongdoing, but all of her Professors were fully aware of how she was attending all of her classes. Still, she found herself explaining herself. "I use it so I can attend all of my classes, you see, I take twelve subjects and most of my lessons clash."

Professor Lupin nodded, urging her to continue.

"Well, the problem is, I'm not allowed to tell anyone that I have a Time-Turner but I hate lying to my friends all the time about where I go or how I appear suddenly in different places. I just thought that you may have been in my shoes at one point, about lying to your friends about where you were going every month, because of…"

Hermione tailed off, not wanting to repeat that her Professor was a werewolf, just in case he took it the wrong way again. She wondered if her implication would be taken the wrong way too, but was surprised that a mischievous smile appeared on her Professor's face.

"Well, Miss Granger, I think you're overthinking the problem when you should be finding the loophole of your predicament.

"I was very fortunate that in my condition I was even allowed to attend Hogwarts. Obviously, a very close watch had to be kept over me, considering the potential harm I posed over my Housemates and the boys I shared a dormitory with. I had to lie every month about where I was disappearing off to, and as you can imagine, it was more noticeable than disappearing for a few hours and reappearing randomly in a different place. At first, I didn't mind because I didn't know the boys very well, but then these boys became my closest friends. I was wracked with guilt every time that I had to lie to them, knowing that they cared about my welfare.

"But, I had to lie to them because telling them the truth was out of question. My parents had tried relentlessly to find a cure, and when none existed, they started distancing themselves from my fate. Not everyone is like you, Miss Granger. Those who are from Wizarding households aren't the most accepting of my kind."

"How so?"

"I read the essay Professor Snape had set. You wrote extensively that if more research went into the limiting the moon's effects on the werewolf, defending against or killing werewolves may not be a necessary safeguard. It was a different perspective from what I'm used to seeing."

Hermione pulled a face, considering what he had said before replying, "T-Thank you."

"No, I thank you. It gives me hope for the younger generation," Professor Lupin laughed and continued warmly, "As I was saying, it is very difficult to reveal something that you have forced yourself to keep secret, but people have ways of finding out."

"Like how I found out you were a werewolf."

"Precisely, although, I do believe Professor Snape conducted the lesson and set the essay for the purpose of someone figuring it out," the Professor replied, and his expression had changed. Now, instead of smiles, he was frowning. It soon dissipated as he focused on his advice for her.

"What I am telling you is that if someone finds out, by accident or on purpose, you haven't broken the terms of the agreement. Miss Malfoy will know but you wouldn't have necessarily told her."

Hermione was initially shocked that the Professor knew who she was talking about, but then nodded at his advice.

"Yes, Professor."

"Has that solved your quandary?"

Hermione nodded again and answered, "I-I think so."

The Professor smiled back, and stood up from the edge of his desk and walked back to his seat. Hermione felt slightly embarrassed for a moment, having taken so much of her Professor's time. He most likely had a lot of marking still left to do, and it was inching closer to a full moon. It wouldn't be long until he succumbed to the moon's effects.

"Oh, and Miss Granger?"

"Yes?"

"Could you please keep the details of my ailment a secret? I wouldn't want to incite fear should students get wind of it."

Hermione raised an eyebrow, "More secrets?"

"Ah, but think of it as a secret that isn't yours to tell. You should let other people do the legwork for a change."

"I didn't think of it like that. Thanks, Professor."

Professor Lupin sat down at his desk and he smiled at her. "Any time."

As Hermione turned and left the office, she felt remarkably lighter. A small part of her disapproved of herself for scheming to break a blatant rule that she had been set by her Head of House. The last thing that Hermione wanted to do was disappoint Professor McGonagall, but the weight of keeping things a secret was slowly eating her up. Ron didn't trust her, and Harry only followed what Ron wanted. Hermione couldn't bear to lose the one friend that she had left.

It was a slight shock though, that Professor Lupin had thought of the solution for her. She had always thought that the Hogwarts Professors were by-the-book, and she wondered what mischief Professor Lupin had gotten up to during his days at Hogwarts. It must have been something noteworthy for even Hagrid to remember.

A/N: Apologies for the [later-than-usual] update. Have a good weekend!

[& if you're keen to read more, check out my new story on my profile - Magic Compatible, but it won't be updated as often as Admonitions, or maybe it will? Who knows.]

Happy reading,

CSxo