Hermione brushed a stray tear off her cheek with the palm of her hand, lifting her dress up to her ankles as she quickened her pace. The Yule Ball was drawing to close and Hermione had feigned tiredness in order to get away from Viktor. She had to admit he had been the perfect gentleman making her feel like a princess all evening, but her night had been completely and utterly ruined beyond repair, by Ronald Weasley. He hadn't noticed anything; not her dress, her makeup, the unbelievable effort she put into doing her hair. She wouldn't have minded all that much if he'd at least been civil to her, but instead she'd received a barrage of accusations none of which had any basis in reality. Hermione felt a fool for thinking that her dressing up would somehow change things, Ronald Weasley would never see her the way she desperately wanted him to.

Another tear fell down her cheek and Hermione wiped it away angrily. Her anger at Ron meant that it took her a while to realise that she was no longer going in the direction that she'd intended. She'd been heading towards the Gryffindor Tower, but her steps faltered when, instead of the Fat Lady, she was staring into the familiar blackness of the stairwell where she and Draco had fallen over a week ago.

They hadn't spoken in a while as she'd chosen to ignore the moody ferret, attempting to open the Memoria with new spells. None of them had been successful and she had reluctantly resigned herself to never knowing any more of Mina and the painful world of her memories.

Hermione cast a surreptitious glance around the empty halls before standing on her tiptoes to reach a torch flaming above her head. Gently she coaxed it out of its holder, grinning in triumph when it warmed her face as she held it in front of her. Grasping the material of her dress in her hand and holding the torch forward into the stairwell with the other, she made her way down into the darkness.

Draco was running, glancing back behind him every now and again to check that the angry sixth year he'd hexed wasn't following him. He was, shouting expletives along the corridor, wand pointed forward. Draco swore, dodging into another corridor. If he made it through the experience, Draco promised himself that whatever jinx he ended up the wrong end of, would be dished out on Theo and Blaise tenfold. It was there fault that he'd been forced to Hex the Ravenclaw in the first place, believing that spiking his date drink with a blow-up bonbon was amusing. Admittedly he had laughed at the sight, watching the poor witch blow up like a beach ball and roll around the dance floor with a worried look on her face, but it stopped being funny the instant that Theo and Blaise, in a bid to divert suspicion from their ugly mugs, floated his name around and planted the rest of the sweets in his pocket.

Draco ducked as a jinx whizzed over his head and smashed into a stone pillar. With a gulp Draco dodged down a corridor, nearly crying in relief when he saw the dark stairwell he'd been trying to avoid for weeks, at that moment he had never been more elated to see it. He ducked into its shadowy depths quickly and immediately bumped into something solid.

The fall was over quickly, and Draco lay for a moment trying to get his bearings. He froze when he heard the grating of stone as the stairs moved back into place and he was once again trapped.

"So, this is what a lapse in common sense looks like. Hmmm...interesting," muttered Hermione. She was up and brushing down the front of her dress, the torchlight flickered on the floor beside her making her shadow dance across the carvings.

"Oh merlin, it had to be you didn't it. Of all the people," Draco groaned, flinging his arm across his eyes willing himself to be back in his room or, back at the Yule Ball, suffering from whatever unbelievable jinx the sixth year Ravenclaw wanted to bestow upon him.

"Quit complaining, you were the one that barged into me. We wouldn't be here if you'd just looked where you were going."

"Again, with the blaming." He breathed shaking his head. "I was being chased, Granger. Though it does seem entirely impossible that I missed your bushy mane, I did have other, more pressing, Ravenclaw shaped things to worry about." He glanced at her over the top of his arm and remembered that, for once, her hair wasn't exactly bushy. He hadn't believed Pansy when she'd pointed out the know-it-all in the Great Hall, but now she stood in front of him there was no denying it.

"Being chased? Why were you being chased?" Draco pushed himself up, checking his dress robes for damage; they were dusty, but nothing that couldn't be cleaned.

"Well?"

"I'm sorry I don't remember it ever being any of your business."

Hermione huffed indignantly at his words, whirling round to pick the torch off the floor.

"This is just my luck," Draco muttered, letting his face fall into the palm of his hands.

"Oh, quit whining. This place is actually pretty impressive. Did you know that this," she pointed at the wall, "Is a Memoria Luxareo?'

"No, I didn't, how fantastically uninteresting," Draco commented drily but Hermione ignored him, carrying on with her speech.

"It's used to hide secrets. Witches and Wizards in the 14th Century used them to send each other messages, it really quite amazing. Arden Masarvas created this one, I found his initials on one of those steps."

"Merlin, do you ever shut up?" Draco sighed. "It just goes to show no matter how much you dress up a blast-ended Skrewt, it's still just a blast-ended Skrewt."

"And what is that supposed to mean?" Hermione spat, holding the torch close to his face, Draco moved back quickly stumbling into the wall.

"It means, Granger, that no matter how pretty you make yourself look, your still an annoying little know-it-all that no one in their right mind would look twice at." She knew he'd meant to insult her, but Hermione couldn't help but focus on one particular part of his statement.

"You think I look pretty?" she questioned, head falling to one side in curiosity. Draco's mouth opened and closed, eyes wide in horror.

"That's what you got from that?" He spluttered.

"Well…I'm…I guess." Hermione stuttered, a blush creeping onto her face. Though it was strange she had to admit she felt incredibly flattered, even if the person saying it was Draco Malfoy.

"Personally, I think you look like the wrong end of a Bundimun, what that Krum guy sees in you is beyond me. Still," he sighed pushing himself of the wall, "there's no accounting for taste."

Hermione watched him walk the length of the room lazily, anger simmering in her stomach.

"What's with that by the way?" Draco asked curiously.

"What?" Hermione snapped, inspecting the carvings and refusing to meet his mildly amused gaze.

"Krum? See, I thought you were all hot and sweaty under that bushy hair of yours, for Weasel." Hermione grit her teeth determined not to let him infuriate her. "I think it's a perfectly reasonable question. You that desperate?"

"Why do you even care?"

"Well I just wanted to warn all the unfortunate sods out there that you might be on the pr...OW." Hermione had moved across the room in a flash hitting him hard across the chest. The contact didn't particularly hurt, him having stepped back just enough for the blow to be reduced to a light brush, but he grabbed at her wrists anyway. Her continued flailing posed the risk of him being hit in the face and that was an embarrassment he was not prepared to live through again.

"Seriously, Granger, chill out."

"Let me go you, insufferable ferret." She kicked and spat at him for all she was worth, hatred pouring out of her.

"Me? Insufferable? Think the fall must have addled your brain, you're the pretentious little shrew that tells everyone what to do."

"Ha, hilarious coming from the git that ponces around reminding everyone how utterly important he is," Hermione mocked trying to dislodge her wrists from Draco's grasp.

"I'm sorry but only werewolves and dogs can hear anything at that register."

The two were so busy arguing they missed the light flickering around them, only stopping when the room began to brighten, and colour bled into the carvings, bringing them to life. Hermione's breath caught, and Draco let go of her wrists stepping back and taking in the sight. The trauma of the memory had made him forget just how beautiful the carvings looked when they were all lit.

"'What do you think you're doing?" Draco asked, following Hermione quickly as she strode across the room with determination, "I told you, I am not going back in there."

"You can stay here and rot for all I care, Malfoy, but I'm going through." With that, she pushed her finger against the carving and the walls began to shake.

Draco felt torn; torn between wanting out of the small room and Granger's annoying presence and the overwhelming fear of experiencing the pain and anguish again. He glanced up, watching as Hermione opened the stone doors with ease as if they had been waiting for their return. She stepped through the gap and disappeared. Draco waited on the threshold his heart hammering in his chest. With resolve he finally forced himself to step through making the promise that he wouldn't fall into the weird bowl again.

While he'd been dithering at the doorway, Hermione had been busy seeking out the runed pillar; she brushed her fingers against it and the floor opened up allowing the bowl to once again rise.

Draco walked past her quickly, heading towards the door at the other end of the room, hoping beyond hope that he could make his escape before Granger managed to do anything stupid.

Suddenly an unseen force pulled at his legs dragging him towards the centre of the room. He grasped at one of the green pillars in a panic, holding on tightly as his legs were lifted clear off the ground.

"Mudblood, what in Merlin's name did you do?" He screeched.

"It wasn't me…I swear," she paused, realisation slowly dawning on her. "It's the Sensieve."

"The what?"

"Sensieve, that's what this is," she gestured to the object floating in front of her. "It's like a Pensieve, only you experience the memory rather than just view it. The book said that after using it once the Sensieve and the person who used it are connected in some way. Like a bond." She was mesmerised by the silver mist swirling in its depths, stepping closer without thinking.

"I don't want to be connected to it, make it stop. Seriously, Granger, my father is going to hear about this," He spat.

Hermione chuckled lightly,

"And what's your father going to do about it, Malfoy. You going to try and get a bowl executed too?"

Everything Draco said to her after that simply bounced off her head, her entire focus on the contents of the bowl as it drew her forward. Draco watched as the silvery mist solidified into the shape of a hand that reached out to Hermione. She didn't hesitate, allowing the mist to grip her fingers and pull her into the Sensieve's depths.

Draco screamed, gripping onto the pillar harder as the pull on his legs intensified. He watched helplessly as his fingers, one by one, lost their grip. With one last cry, he was tugged in, enveloped in the crush of thousands of emotions that made it hard to breathe.