Rose and Sword

by SanaNGU

Draco Malfoy, due to the prolonged absence of the Ancient Runes teacher, has been stirring up the class as he pleases with the help of his cronies, preventing the other students from studying. Hermione Granger, a responsible and persevering student, is not going to sit idly by.

26. Insomnia

Hello, everyone, how are you doing? I hope very well 😊.

HABEMUS RELATIONSHIP! *insert meme with a room full of people clapping and cheering* 😍 hahaha, well, relationship, or whatever, they haven't dared to give it an official name... But, anyway, we all know what's what 😜

The previous chapter has been an important and exciting one for our main characters, who have ended up reaching the only solution they have found acceptable, in order to feel good about themselves. What do you think of the decision they have made? We'll see how things develop from here on... 😉

Thank you very much, as always, for your support! 😊

And without further ado, let's get to the chapter. Let's see what happens hours after our main characters have decided to embark on a clandestine relationship...

Thanks in advance for reading!

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CHAPTER 26

Insomnia

"Okay, ponytail done, now what?" Lavender questioned, standing in front of the full-length mirror by her bedroom door. Hermione looked up from the book on her lap, already sitting on her bed in her pyjamas. She stared at her roommate through the gap between her open curtains. She didn't want to miss that.

"Split it in two and run the right lock of hair to the left, inside the left split lock," Parvati explained, sitting cross-legged on her friend's bed, with the Witch Weekly magazine open in front of her. She had one finger placed in the middle of the text, which contained an explanation of how to do the hairstyle that famous witches were sporting that season. Next to her, there was also a copy of the Daily Prophet.

"Er — okay," Lavender agreed, a little confused. She waved her wand and her long, light brown hair split into two parts. The right part magically moved, slipping inside the left lock. "Like this?"

"That's it. Now tie both parts together at the top and braid the bottom strands," Parvati reported with little conviction. She lifted her eyes from the magazine and looked apologetically at her friend. Lavender turned to stare at her in open bewilderment. Hermione stifled a giggle.

"Wha-what? Let me see," Lavender, her hair tied back in an awkward ponytail, walked over to her and looked at the pictures with which the magazine supplemented the explanation. "Oh, right, wait..."

She waved her wand again, and her hair was tied up in a sort of bun at the top, and at the bottom it was entwined in a long braid.

"Oh, that's good! Okay, now you have to wrap the braid around the bun and pull it through," Parvati reported, more cheerfully. Her friend looked at herself in the mirror, doubtful. She didn't look very happy with the result.

"How do I do that? It's not long enough. Wait..." She waved her wand and the braid wrapped around the bun, but it didn't quite fit inside any of the strands, getting tangled in the process. Hermione and Parvati watched her work with their mouths ajar, empathising with her frustration. "This is absurd!" Lavender finally snapped. "Stop it, it's useless, I don't like it. Do you want to try it?"

"Oh, Merlin, no," her friend scoffed, giving Hermione a knowing look. She chuckled again. "It might look good on you, Hermione. You have a lot of hair. It would make a very thick bun."

"We'll never know, I'm not going to try," the girl assured her with an amused smile, returning her gaze to the book in front of her. Parvati giggled to herself, and turned to resume her reading of the Daily Prophet, while Lavender picked up a brush and tried to untangle her attempted hairdo. Parvati, after staring at the page she had open for a few seconds, let out an audible sigh. A defeated sigh. Far removed from the jovial moment they had just experienced. Hermione looked up at her at the sound, and her companion returned a glazed look, feeling watched.

"Girls... about the corpse they found, do you think it's that poor Beauxbatons girl?" Parvati questioned, hesitantly. She spoke to both of them, though she glanced at Hermione, since Lavender's back was turned. Hermione pursed her lips and looked down at her knees, abstracted. Lavender stopped combing her hair and stood still for several seconds, looking at herself in the mirror, also unable to speak. The mood in the room became rather solemn.

That morning's Daily Prophet had published the news that some Muggles had found the body of a woman buried in a forest at Heaven's Gate. Not too many miles from the area where the Beauxbatons girl had disappeared. The body appeared to be female witch. The newspaper said she had not yet been identified, and made no mention of the missing French girl, in keeping with its silent policy of not discussing the subject again for fear of reprisals. The Quibbler, on the other hand, did mention it as a possibility in its own version of the story, giving voice to what readers thought.

Hermione cautiously broke the heavy silence in the room.

"It's possible. They haven't confirmed it yet, I think it said it was in pretty bad condition," she looked at Parvati, wanting her to corroborate it as she held the newspaper in front of her. She nodded very slowly. "That would fit, since she disappeared a long time ago. It really could be anyone's, though... but there haven't been any other disappearances lately. At least that we know of."

They fell silent again. Lavender spun around and folded her arms, looking at her roommates. Her face looked tense. Almost defensive. Her hair was a mess.

"If I were that girl's family, I actually think I'd prefer it to be her..."

"Why do you say that?" Hermione questioned, frowning slightly.

"Because at least I would know where my daughter is, or my sister, or whatever. And I'd know that at least she rests in peace," she opined, with unexpected sensitivity. She walked over to Parvati's bed and sat down beside her. "If it's not her... it means he's still got her. You-Know-Who."

"Do you really believe He's got her?" Parvati asked, huskily. Lavender nodded with renewed confidence.

"Of course he does. And who knows what he's doing to her. I don't know if I could bear the thought of someone I love being in that being's clutches... I'm so sorry for her family."

Parvati had paled slightly and was looking at her friend almost with fear in her eyes.

"That's true," she managed to say, then looked down at her hands. "Seen like that..."

Hermione was unable to answer, not sure how she felt about it. After a few seconds of silence, Lavender, with a loud sigh, as if gathering her strength, handed the hairbrush to Parvati.

"Will you help me? I can't untangle it now," she asked, referring to the hairstyle, and trying to force a more normal tone. Wanting to keep such a sensitive subject away from them. Parvati managed a smile and went to work, sitting behind her friend cross-legged. She ran her fingers through her brown hair, first trying to untangle the different strands with her hands.

"Do you know what I heard? Apparently Roger Davies is dating Tracey Davis, the Slytherin," Parvati commented, not abandoning her task, also making an attempt to divert the conversation. The other two girls were perfectly aware, from her tone, that even to her the news seemed absurd compared to what they had been talking about. But they commented nothing, and reciprocated her effort to talk about something more pleasant.

"You're kidding!" Lavender was astonished, forcing herself to look cheerful, "But she was having an affair with Zabini..."

"I thought so too. Either they've broken up or she's now got two flings," Parvati replied, picking up the brush and detangling a lock of hair she'd managed to untangle.

"You could see that coming. By the way, have you seen her new haircut? Merlin, it's hideous. I bet that's why Zabini dumped her."

They both burst out laughing. Hermione smiled half-heartedly and looked back down at her book, signalling that she didn't have much to contribute to the conversation. Her roommates were very nosy about everything that went on in the castle, and she wasn't at all. Over the years she had developed a special ability to tune them out and concentrate on her reading.

But the truth was, that night she couldn't even concentrate on that.

She was in the clouds. She didn't feel like reading. She didn't want reading to distract her from her own thoughts. Or maybe she did. She wasn't sure. She wasn't sure of anything. But she couldn't stop thinking. She leaned back better against the headboard of her bed, letting her back rest against the pillow. She bit her lip, staring into the void, grateful that her companions were busy and not paying attention to her. She felt so strange. Full of emotions. She felt anxious, restless, hallucinated, happy, scared and incredulous. All at the same time. In fact, even though she had put on her pyjamas and climbed into bed, she wasn't at all sure she would be able to fall asleep.

Just a few hours ago she had been in one of the greenhouses, with only Draco Malfoy for company. Kissing. Kissing. And the two of them, after a complex conversation, had decided to start... something. They hadn't known what to call it, or maybe they hadn't dared to call it by its name. Despite remembering it all so vividly, it still felt unreal.

Was it possible that she had… a boyfriend?

God, no. The very idea made her want to laugh. The thought that she had started a relationship with Draco Malfoy bordered on the ridiculous. But she couldn't help but come to that conclusion over and over again. She forced herself to realise that, technically, it was not like that. They hadn't decided to be a couple. They couldn't be, he'd made that very clear. And she backed him up on every syllable. They had simply decided to... let themselves go. To allow themselves to feel the attraction that, against all odds and against all common sense, they felt for each other. Not to martyr themselves by reminding themselves again and again that what they were doing was not allowed. They were going to start meeting alone. To spend time together. Because they really wanted to spend time together. They were going to... get to know each other better. To really get to know each other. That would happen whether they liked the idea or not; whether they intended to or not. And they were going to kiss as much as they wanted...

Hermione realised at that point that her cheeks were burning. She pretended to turn a page in the book, so that her roommates would think she was still reading and not disturb her, but her eyes were unfocused. Still lost in thought.

She was afraid. Of course she was. Draco Malfoy was not a good person. That was the only thing that was clear to her about all of this. At least he had never shown it to her. He was cold, dismissive, arrogant, and enjoyed humiliating anyone he considered inferior. The complete opposite of her. But at the same time... she had witnessed another side of him. A more human side, one she had never seen before. She had seen his eyes mist over with shame as he revealed to her, without words, that he felt the same way she did. She had seen him despair, frustrated as a small child, admitting he couldn't find a way on his own to contain what he felt for her. He had come to her, stomping on his pride, seeking to find a solution that would please them both. He had made her a part of it all. He had wanted to know her opinion. He had asked her if she was sure about starting all this. He had asked her permission with his eyes before kissing her, once they had established that they would have a relationship, even though he knew that she wanted it as much as he did...

Perhaps Malfoy was much more than what he showed to the world. From the façade of smugness and disdain with which he treated everyone around him.

But for all those counterpoints, the Malfoy she had always known won by a landslide. It had been too many years of humiliation and scorn. There was no way she could ignore how his attitude had remained the same. And she wasn't sure how many scruples he possessed. She wasn't at all sure she could trust him. Perhaps, at this very moment, he was in the Slytherin Common Room, laughing and telling his friends that he had tricked and stolen the heart of the Mudblood Hermione Granger. Was Malfoy capable of doing that to her? Of course he was, said a biting little voice in her head. It was perfectly feasible for something like that to happen. That was exactly the Malfoy she knew.

She shook her head in disbelief; how could she feel attracted to him, and yet believe him capable of doing something so despicable?

She closed her eyes, forgetting to pretend she was reading. She put a hand to the bridge of her nose, pinching it with exhaustion. And then she noticed. She breathed in through her nose more firmly. Blinking, she brought her palm closer to her nose. She almost let out a gasp. It smelled like him. She remembered then that she had placed her hands on his body, too, during the kisses that followed the conversation in the greenhouse. She had caressed his arms, over his uniform robes. She had caressed his cheeks, the sides of his neck. And her skin had been impregnated with his scent.

In an instant, her pulse quickened. As if that was the clue they all needed to figure it all out. As if Parvati and Lavender could smell the faint scent of her hands from across the room, and associate it with Draco Malfoy to boot. Realising it was ridiculous, she forced herself to relax. She told herself that she was allowed to feel that way now. That she didn't have to feel overly guilty. So she held her hand close to her nose, and allowed herself to inhale his scent. It smelled... so good. It was definitely his scent. It was the same scent she'd noticed in Honeydukes, when he'd approached her from behind to order her to meet him later at the Hog's Head Inn. Hours before he'd kissed her in the snow...

The boy's face against hers, forehead to forehead, materialised in the back of her mind. The feel of his skin against hers. Of his breath leaving his nose. His slender but firm fingers wrapping around her arms, tracing the sleeves of her robes...

After a steadier, more determined sigh, she shook her head to herself. No. Malfoy wasn't going to betray her. He wasn't in his Common Room telling everyone about it. He wasn't tricking her. She and Malfoy were in the same boat. Even he couldn't be that good an actor. His desperation couldn't have been faked. His kisses couldn't be a lie. His kisses...

Hermione felt herself blush, and an uncomfortable embarrassment washed over her. Confused that she was losing her self-control like that. But she couldn't help it. It was... the first time. The first person she'd ever kissed. To kiss her. And it had been a fascinating experience. It was her first approach to such an act, so, being logical, she couldn't say for sure if it had been... good. Whether Malfoy was skilled in the art of kissing or not. Could it be done badly? She supposed it could. But that hadn't been the case. Absolutely not. She... She'd loved it. Very much. Too much. The previous times Malfoy had imposed a kiss on her, she'd been so bewildered, so enraged, or so worried that she hadn't even allowed herself to enjoy it... But, a few hours ago, in the greenhouse, they'd kissed freely, with complicity, with a sense of intimacy that gave her goosebumps every time she remembered it.

And she wanted to do it again. Now.

For some reason, she tried to recall the taste of Malfoy's lips, and before she realised it, she was running the tip of her tongue across her own, and biting down on them, as if it was still etched there. It wasn't, but, if she concentrated, she could feel it. She bit her lower lip harder. She doubted very much that she had been the first person Malfoy had kissed. He had certainly been more confident than she was about what he was doing. He had taken the initiative in all the kisses. She wondered in an almost distracted way if the boy would have liked her way of kissing as well...

As the realisation of what she was doing dawned on her, she stopped her train of thought immediately, offended. She closed her eyes and snorted discreetly, indignant with herself. What was that all about? What nonsense was she thinking? Was that what was important? Didn't she have more important things to think about?

He obviously liked the way she kissed. Otherwise he wouldn't have kissed her more than once. It was logical.

"Hermione, are you hot?"

The girl stumbled out of her thoughts with a start. She focused her gaze on Parvati, who had risen from her bed and was standing next to hers. She felt her heart racing.

"What?" the girl replied, stunned. She still felt some heat in her cheeks, and feared that the blush she sensed decorating them betrayed that she was keeping some juicy gossip for her roommates.

"I'm hot, and I want to open the window, do you mind?" Parvati asked, looking at her with a tilted face.

"Ah, as you wish," Hermione replied, managing a smile. "I'm fine, but open it if you want to..."

"Aren't you hot in those pyjamas?" Lavender wanted to know too, still sitting on her friend's bed. Her attempted hairdo was still half undone, and the strands she'd let out looked frizzy. "I'm suffocating in this," she mumbled, tugging at the neckline of her sleeveless pyjamas. "It's been a nice day today... I think it's going to be cloudy again tomorrow."

Hermione forced a smile and shrugged. She glanced sideways at her long maroon pyjamas. It wasn't too much, and it was her favourite pair of pyjamas, too. The heat she was feeling at the moment had nothing to do with the temperature in the room.

"I wouldn't mind either," Parvati commented as she opened the window closest to her bed. "I still don't feel like taking out my summer robes..."

"Oh, I'm looking forward to it. I'm sick of wearing a cloak," Lavender complained, as her friend sat back down behind her. "Well, as I was saying, it turns out that if you mix Hair-Raising Potion with a little Essence of..."

Hermione returned to her musings, her attention wandering away from them, still feeling a little startled by the interruption. Relieved, though, that no one could even imagine what was going through her mind. It was hers. Only hers. She felt the sensation of his lips sliding over her mouth again, and a smile threatened to creep across her face. She wondered how something as unreasonable as a kiss had altered her on so many levels.

She had heard accounts of girls who had kissed someone, specifically Parvati, Lavender and Ginny. And she had even read about it. But nothing could have prepared her for the reality. It was an indescribable feeling. That it had shut down everything else, including her sanity. That it slowed her mind, in spite of herself. And she wasn't used to such a feeling. It made her feel vulnerable. But at the same time, she had lost herself completely in the moment, in what was happening between them. Without fear. Forgetting about the world around her. She had felt... desired. She had never thought deeply about what it would be like to feel desired. To feel that somebody was attracted to her in that way...

To feel desired by Draco Malfoy.

She had to take a deep breath, feeling herself running out of air. Then she noticed Crookshanks climb onto her bed and move closer to her, so that he could curl up on her side, ready to sleep. She reached out and stroked her cat's furry head, out of inertia. Feeling a new worry come over her. Talking to Malfoy and being honest, in practice, had only brought other, different problems.

What now? What did they intend to do now? Where did they intend to end up with such an unstable and uncertain solution? They had no future. They both knew it. And yet they had done it.

What if someone found out...?

She felt a sense of despondency come over her. Was it really worth the effort they were going to have to make? They had begun a kind of relationship. That was the reality they dared not admit, that they wanted to manipulate with other names and silly excuses. But was a relationship really like that? They were only attracted to each other. An unexpected attraction, purely emotional, devoid of logic and objectively leading nowhere. For her, being a couple was much more than mere attraction. It meant trusting the other person. To feel safe by their side. Being able to talk about anything, not being afraid to feel judged at all. Being able to spend time together, maybe have hobbies in common.

But she and Malfoy had nothing in common. No hobbies, no ideas. Nothing. Even their encounters wouldn't be quiet. They would meet in secret, perhaps in hidden corners of the castle, constantly worried about not being seen. And when they did meet, what exactly would they do? Kiss? She didn't dislike the idea, but it definitely wasn't enough. Hermione didn't want a relationship like that; not even if it wasn't a real, proper relationship. She needed more than kisses, no matter how pleasant they were.

Overwhelmed with worry, she let her eyelids droop, holding back the urge to cover her face with her hands. How could she be sure that she liked Malfoy, and at the same time have so many doubts? How could she have got herself into such a mess? How could she have come to the conclusion that she liked Malfoy? What on earth had she seen in him to make her feel this way? Proudly, she told herself that there was nothing she liked about a person as narcissistic and unbearable as Malfoy. She focused on his physical appearance. She tried to recall his face, drawing it in her mind, and, to her own amazement, she had no trouble remembering his every feature. Nor was it surprising; after all, she had known him for many years. She concentrated on visualising his eyes, of that unusual colour. She... loved them, to tell the truth. She found them beautiful. Haughty and disdainful most of the time, but beautiful. Almost feline. She thought back to the rest of his face, his blond hair, his height, his build, and was forced to admit that she didn't find him unattractive at all. Quite the opposite.

In addition to his reasonable attractiveness, his mannerisms had an air of elegant superiority, of excessive self-assurance, that made you accept to look at him with interest... At least until he opened his mouth, said some malicious stupidity, and spoiled the effect.

She supposed it was also true that... she liked to talk to him. And that was new. Something she'd discovered in the last few months. She could almost say weeks. She liked it when they shared ideas, even if they were totally opposite, or even when they argued. Even if he drove her out of her mind. She recognised that he pushed her to the limit, that he forced her to use all her argumentative potential. She remembered with nostalgia the discussion about goblins that the two of them had had at one of their meals, during the Christmas holidays... Malfoy was intelligent. He was cultured. And that was definitely a plus.

She reflected on how the way she felt around him had changed. She felt more and more comfortable. More relaxed in his company. She was getting used to talking and dealing with him. She could talk to him more openly, without fear of what he might think. In the greenhouse, despite the stress and awkwardness of the conversation they were having, she had felt generally comfortable around him. As they discussed a solution together. And, when they kissed... she had felt safe in his presence. With him. And, at the same time, excited. She was excited to be near him. To be watched by him. To have him smile at her. Because yes, against all odds, even if all of the young Slytherin's smiles were biting or mocking... even those had begun to please her. Because she had stopped seeing hatred in them. She had stopped seeing contempt for her.

This time she did cover her face with one hand and took a deep breath, wondering again where she was getting these thoughts from. It seemed her mind was managing to find something acceptable in that wall of slyness and self-centredness that the blond was displaying towards everyone.

As she glanced sideways at Crookshanks, not knowing why, her thoughts drifted to Harry and Ron. Another unresolved issue. She'd barely been able to look them in the face when she'd met them for lunch, after being with Draco in the greenhouse. Luckily, Neville ate with them as well, after the girl rescued him from Greenhouse Four and the two of them returned to the Great Hall together. So Hermione had been able to keep a low profile and not participate too much in the conversation the three boys were having.

She had almost felt like she was floating into the Great Hall after what had happened in the greenhouse. Her heart had been fluttering like a little bird against her ribs throughout the meal. And she had been ashamed of herself for feeling so excited about something she hadn't told her friends about. Something she was deliberately keeping from them. She forced herself to relax, realising that even if she intended to tell them what had happened, the Great Hall would not be the place for it. So she tried to behave normally, as if nothing had happened.

But then they had spent the afternoon together, in lessons, and also eating dinner, and studying by the fireplace. And she hadn't told them anything either.

She didn't know what to do. She really didn't know what to do. She was burning to tell them, since she didn't like to keep secrets from them. Her third year had been particularly hard, having to hide from them the presence of the Time-Turner that McGonagall had given her so that she could take more subjects than was humanly possible. And she didn't want to live through another year like that. She didn't really want to tell them because she felt she needed their approval, or anything like that; absolutely not. That wasn't how their friendship worked. Whatever her friends thought, it wouldn't change anything about her relationship with the young Malfoy. But she loved them. And she trusted them. And she wanted to tell them, they deserved to know. But at the same time... she knew exactly what their reaction would be. They hated Malfoy. If she told them, it would only further complicate her and Draco's already complicated relationship. She was sure that they would confront him head on, perhaps ending in a major fight. Of course, at the very least, they would want to argue with Draco, warn him, threaten him, or spy on him to see if he had any ill intentions towards her. They would explain to Hermione in a thousand different ways why it was a bad idea for them to be together, with arguments she knew she couldn't refute.

Anyway, was it necessary to tell him? It was only temporary. Both Malfoy and she knew that. They were only going to meet now and then, for a while. They hadn't set an expiry date for this 'non-relationship', but they knew it wouldn't last long. At most, very most, until the end of the school year. Or sooner, if they regained the sanity they had lost. It had no real relevance; it wouldn't alter her life, or her friendship with Harry and Ron. It wasn't as if she and Draco were a real couple. As if everyone knew but Harry and Ron.

Besides, she had promised Draco that neither of them would tell anyone.

Hermione swallowed dryly. She doubted it would happen, but still... was it possible that Harry and Ron would be really angry with her if they found out? That they would tell her she was a traitor to them for meddling in a relationship with a boy who treated them worse than scum whenever he got the chance?

No. Harry and Ron loved her. They would only care about her. They would worry about her safety, like they always had... And they would have reason to be worried...

She felt her eyes fill with unexpected tears. Was she doing the right thing by getting involved in a relationship with someone like Draco Malfoy?

Forcing herself to stop thinking about it so that she wouldn't burst into hopeless tears, she tried to concentrate on something else. She needed to take her mind off her worries. Everything would work out. She was anticipating everything. They hadn't even started seeing each other in secret yet. Maybe, in two days, it would all be over for good. Maybe none of it would work out. If it didn't, all their problems would be over. And if, for some magical and improbable reason, it did work out... she would plan what to do next.

She relaxed back against the pillows, calmer with a structured plan of action. She let her thoughts wander and, without knowing why, she remembered his kisses again. Again a strong tingle settled in the pit of her stomach. She couldn't stop a smile from curving her lips. She also remembered the feeling of his hands holding her face, preventing her from moving away. It was the most passionate thing the girl had ever experienced.

She remembered the way they had kissed in the empty Arithmancy classroom, after arguing about Hermione not telling him about her encounter with Pansy Parkinson. She remembered how his slender hands felt on other parts of her body. On her arms, caressing them; on her waist, holding her; on her hips, pressing her against him... His teeth, his tongue, on her skin... That time they had stopped, unable to cope with what they were doing. But now they were no longer going to hold back. They had allowed themselves to go further, to give free rein to their attraction. And Hermione realised, having to swallow, that she was wishing for something so passionate to happen again...

She stopped her thoughts instantly as she felt the goose bumps rise on her skin. And a very specific area of her being tingling. When her roommates turned out the light, perhaps...

She held back a smile, incredulous, and bit her lower lip, shaking her head. For the love of Merlin, what had awakened inside her?

Jesus, she'd never let herself go like that. She had never felt like that. And she'd had to feel that way about Draco Malfoy, of all people. What kind of witchcraft was that?

---

As the right side of his body began to ache, Draco rolled over on the mattress, lying on his left. Facing Nott's bed, whom he could not see, but heard snoring softly. He sounded sound asleep. Draco wondered what time it was. It was so dark that he couldn't see the hands of his nightstand clock. It was barely light in the dungeons at night. But he could have sworn he had been awake for hours. He sighed and closed his eyes, not trying to sleep, for he knew he was sleepless, but to rest. He was physically tired, but his brain refused to switch off. He had too much to think about.

The conversation he had been most afraid to carry out had happened. And he himself had provoked it. He had found himself unable to delay it any longer. After their conversation in front of the Hospital Wing, after finding out that she felt the same way, after realising that there might be some possible solution... He hadn't been able to delay any longer.

Finally, he and Granger had talked about everything. They had. And they had agreed to start... something, in light of the fact that they couldn't suppress what they felt. Something that had no name. A... mutual attraction. It was crazy, almost grotesque. But at the same time, surprisingly, the current situation was reassuring. To his own disbelief, and he was sure Granger's as well, the girl and he had understood each other perfectly. They wanted the same thing. They were going to take a step further in the relationship they had been having of late. They were going to allow themselves to feel what they felt. To live it. Without regrets. Knowing that it was only temporary, ephemeral. Draco couldn't bear the thought of having a proper relationship with her. He couldn't bear to have something like that, something official, with a Mudblood. He was a pure-blood. And he wasn't a blood traitor. He wasn't. But... he wanted to have something with her. That was the pure and staggering reality. And Granger had understood and accepted it, even supported it. Which was an embarrassingly immense relief. If the young woman had rejected all that... If she had decided that she didn't want to take the risk, that it was all too incoherent to go any further...

But she had accepted. In fact, she had proposed it. And it was a fucking relief. Like a stone had been removed from his stomach. Although the situation, really, was now getting complicated.

He still couldn't believe it had been hours since their meeting in the greenhouse. It felt as fresh in his memory as if it had been a minute ago. To his own dismay, what his brain was most determined to recall were the kisses they had exchanged. Even more insistently than the conversation. The sensations provoked by the kisses had been rather more interesting than those of the conversation... More pleasurable to remember.

He opened his eyes again, lost in thought, and stared unseeing at the lump he assumed was Nott. The skin on his back tingled. He had to swallow as he recalled the tenderness with which the girl had reciprocated his kiss. In the greenhouse she had attacked his mouth cautiously, still evidently unsettled by the situation. But also with an unusual air of confidence, which she had not had at other times, in previous kisses. Possibly feeling more relaxed, as he did, now that they had allowed themselves to do so. Now that they knew that neither of them would be rejected by the other.

Granger wasn't the first person he'd ever kissed in his life, absolutely not, but his experience bordered on almost null and void. Why lie to himself. It was by no means a subject he had mastered. At all. But, he couldn't deny it, with Granger it had been... different to anything he'd ever experienced before. Everything was always different with her. He hadn't even had to think. It was automatic. It was instinctive.

Fuck, he'd devoured her throat in that passionate meeting in the Arithmancy classroom... He had never, in his entire life, behaved so indecorously with anyone...

He closed his eyes again, as if to wipe the slate clean of so much stupidity. But that only caused the girl's face to materialise in the back of his mind. He saw her dark eyes rise up at him. He felt her forehead against his. The overwhelmed smile that surfaced on her lips, almost pressed to his. A thought, coming from he knew not where, flashed into his mind. What about her? What experience did she have on the subject? He hadn't stopped to think about it. Nor would he have known whether her shyness was a product of inexperience or a consequence of the situation they were in. Their mutual hatred. He could be sure that the latter had something to do with it, but... He really suspected that Granger hadn't made out with too many people either. And, despite that, despite her possibly little to no experience... Fuck, he wouldn't have changed a thing about her damn kisses. That bastard was addictive.

Holding back a grunt so it wouldn't be audible, he rolled roughly onto his back. The mattress creaked under his body. He covered his face with both hands, and felt it burn beneath his icy palms. How could he have got himself into such a mess? He, descendant of one of the most influential pure-blood families in the wizarding world, sole heir to the Malfoy dynasty, was obsessed with a Muggle-born. With Hermione Granger. With Granger, of all people. It was a scandal.

If he thought about it coldly, it was amazing how unlucky he could be. What an arsehole he was.

He released his face and rested one of his forearms against his forehead. He was an arsehole, a real arsehole, but he knew where the limit was. The new limit he had set for himself. And he was convinced that he did not feel, nor would he ever feel, anything for Granger other than attraction. It had been hard enough for him to accept that feeling. Or perhaps it was his body's survival instinct that assured him of such a thing. Maybe his brain knew that Draco would throw himself off the Astronomy Tower if he started to feel anything more than mere attraction for her.

It was madness. It really was madness. What the hell did he see in her? Granger was not attractive in the most primitive sense of the word. She wasn't... voluptuous. She wasn't sensual, she wasn't elegant. On the contrary, she was nervous, haughty, bossy, and a know-it-all. Although it could be said that there was nothing about her body that Draco could describe as negative either. It was barely visible through the unattractive school uniform, with its broad, generic patterns, but he remembered getting slightly more reliable glimpses of her figure. In the first-floor bathroom, for example, when that absurd Longbottom-owned tubercle had been drenching them from top to bottom. There he remembered seeing her wearing a wide woollen turtleneck jumper and straight trousers. Or in Hogsmeade, on Valentine's Day, when she had worn a warm maroon coat. In neither situation had his brain intended to fixate on her body, but it did serve to remind him now in retrospect quite accurately.

She also... had a pretty, lovely face, with rounded features. He had come to discern all its nuances as a result of being so close to her lately. Both through kissing and arguing. Her eyes were gorgeous; big, dark, fierce, fiery, like two bonfires. Eyes that made the back of his neck start to burn when they met his. Eyes that could send him to hell with the blink of an eye. Damn that girl's fierce temper. Damn him for finding it so interesting.

Visualising her dark eyes in his lethargic mind, he felt the heat of her back descend all the way down his spine. His groin suddenly reminding him of its existence, forcing him to readjust his hips on the mattress. Feeling his breathing quicken suspiciously, he urgently forced himself to remember something about the young woman that definitely didn't attract him. For the sake of his own mental health. Beginning to seriously consider that throwing himself off the Astronomy Tower would be a good way to die... Her hair. Now that was horrifying. She had an almost obscene amount of hair, thick, abundant, surrounding her head like a thicket, even reaching past her shoulders to the sides. Eternally tousled, there was not a single defined curl in it. And she didn't bother to change it. She didn't care at all, it was obvious. The corners of Draco's mouth lifted in the midst of his thoughts. Not that she needed to change it either...

He opened his eyes with a start.

What the...?

Oh, come on. He couldn't have thought that bullshit...

He rolled his eyes and had to restrain himself from slapping himself. He snorted loudly. The Astronomy Tower once again seemed like a great place to jump off of. He rubbed his face again, more vigorously. He still felt it burning. Maybe even more than before. He kicked the blankets aside and sat down on the bed. He needed to breathe and calm down. He was thinking about it all too much. And there was no point in doing so. What was done was done. Now they just had to put what they had agreed on into practice, see where it would all lead. Whether they would be able to stand each other alone for more than a week. There was no point in anticipating anything. They would figure things out as they went along. He needed to relax. If he didn't, he would end up losing his mind. Or going into tachycardia. He felt his heart beating steadily in his throat.

Staring out into the void, slowly making out the silhouettes of objects as his eyes grew accustomed to the darkness, he remembered Granger's face once more, even though he didn't want to. Merlin, who would have thought that kissing a filthy Mudblood could feel so terribly good. He allowed himself to admit how much he had enjoyed doing it. He told himself that he was there alone with his thoughts. That he could be honest with himself. No one would know. Still, he bit his lower lip, hard, trying his hardest to contain the smile that struggled to curve his lips. He felt irrationally... happy. His heart was hammering in his chest like a galloping centaur. He felt so full of adrenaline that he wanted to get out of bed and run across the grounds and dive headlong into the icy Great Lake.

He closed his eyes, dropped his face, and rubbed his forehead with his fingertips. Damn, he was really losing his mind. Was this nonsense really getting him excited? Please, that was ridiculous. It wasn't that big of a deal. It wasn't...

He rubbed his closed eyelids. He didn't want to feel like this. Not even if no one was watching. He didn't want to feel excited at the possibility of a relationship with a Mudblood. No matter how attracted he felt to her... He let out a loud snort and dropped back onto the pillow with a thud. He gritted his teeth, reminding himself that he shouldn't feel happy at all. There was nothing to celebrate. The only thing he had accomplished with all this was to add one more problem to his life. Betrayed a lot of things. Betray his family. Betray them all.

"I've gone nuts," he thought, despondently. "And I'm a fucking arsehole who does nothing but complicate his life. As if it wasn't complicated enough."

The only thing that was clear to him, the only thing that was unfortunately clear to him, was that he was dying to see Granger again.

He rubbed his face with both hands again, exhausted, and it was then that he saw between his fingers a sudden greenish light invade the room. His heart skipped a beat. He removed his hands from his face instantly, and turned his face to the bed next to him, searching for the source of the light.

"Are you all right, Draco?" asked a sleepy, dishevelled Nott, propped up on his bed. Still holding the wand, with which he had lit the candle on his bedside table, in his hand.

The blond swallowed. He glanced slyly at his other roommates and noted with relief that they were still snoring peacefully. Lost in his musings, he hadn't even noticed the change in Nott's breathing that would have indicated he had woken up. He hadn't been aware, but now he realised that he must have been making frustrated snorting and snuffling sounds for quite some time, as well as tossing and turning in bed. And he had woken Nott, who had sensed his friend's wakefulness.

Draco couldn't help but feel a little strange talking to him. They hadn't done it again since the day they'd had a heated argument about Granger in the bathroom. He wondered if his friend was so sleepy that he'd forgotten they weren't speaking, or if he thought Draco was sleep-deprived by some concern so important that it was worth setting aside their mutual coldness and talking to him. At the sight of the boy's cautious attempt at conversation, Draco agreed to talk normally as well.

"Yes, everything's fine. Just go to sleep."

"Is something wrong?" his friend insisted, squinting his eyes with concern. His eyes were red and sleepy, and he seemed to be having trouble keeping them open. "Have you had another nightmare?"

"No," Draco muttered. And he frowned, surprised at himself as he added, "No... I haven't had nightmares for weeks now."

It was true, and he was amazed by it. Perhaps everything to do with Granger had exhausted him so mentally that his brain was in desperate need of dreamless sleep.

"Really? That's good. I'm glad," Nott admitted truthfully, blinking to get used to the sudden light he'd himself created. "So?"

"I'm hot, that's all. I can't get comfortable in bed," he improvised vaguely.

"Oh..." the dark-haired boy mumbled, rubbing his eyes, trying to wake himself up. "Open the door to let some air in, if you want."

Draco shook his head imperceptibly, implying that it wasn't necessary. He wasn't sure if he'd rather chat with Nott to distract himself or continue brooding like a lunatic about his problems. But he also noticed a weight, which he hadn't noticed until now in his chest, loosening. Talking to Nott again was a relief. He'd missed the hell out of him all week. Damn him. It was amazing how much he could get on his nerves, and still miss him so much when he wasn't around.

"I haven't seen you this afternoon," Nott commented, lying down on his side to look at him and pulling the blanket over himself. He spoke as quietly as possible so as not to disturb the others. "What have you been up to?"

He treated him as if they had never argued. As if they hadn't spent the whole week without looking at each other's faces. And Draco agreed to behave the same way. Although he had been the one who had refused to talk to Theodore in the first place, considering that he was the one who had been outraged out of the two of them, he didn't feel like being angry with him anymore. After all, a few things had changed since that argument...

"Nothing interesting. I've had Quidditch training, after the Gryffindors," he reported, reluctantly.

"Have you got any new Beaters yet?"

"No. Montague has decided to call trials after the holidays."

Nott gave a grunt of approval, an indication that he thought it was a good idea. He was silent for a moment, thoughtful. Draco closed his eyes, praying that his friend wasn't planning to talk to him about what he sensed was going through his mind.

But luck was not on his side, for a change.

"Hey, Draco... you know, unfortunately, I like to cut to the chase," Nott said softly, his eyes fixed on the slippers at the foot of the bed. He fell silent again for a few seconds, then added, "And I think we need to talk about something. I don't like to leave things half-finished."

Draco allowed himself a heavy sigh. Resigned. He had to have figured that talking to Nott again was not a good idea. They'd only been reconciled for two minutes, and already he was back to his old ways.

"I suppose it's silly of me to ask what you're talking about," Draco muttered gruffly. He was grateful that he was on his back, so he wouldn't have to face his friend. And, by the way, so he wouldn't see the look on his face. The others were still snoring or breathing rhythmically.

"Before you tell me to go fuck myself, I wanted to apologise," Nott continued hurriedly, in a very low voice. Draco said nothing, but frowned slightly. That was new. "The day we argued... I pushed you too hard, too much, and the truth is, it was a sensitive subject. I wasn't very nice. And I wanted to apologise for that."

Draco, for a moment, didn't know what to say. The conversation had taken a turn he hadn't expected.

"Okay," he finally murmured, his tone neutral. Less sharply than he would have liked to use.

"Draco," Nott added in a whisper, almost pleading. In such a low voice so as not to wake his roommates that Draco had to strain to hear him. "I don't want to be a pain in the arse again, I really don't. But I need to talk to you seriously. Don't hit the ceiling, or make a fuss at this hour, please; just listen to me. I don't even need you to answer me, just to listen to me," he said. Seeing that his friend didn't interrupt or protest, he seemed to perk up. He straightened up in bed. He looked clearer. "Look, whether there was something going on between you and her or not... I shouldn't have tried to find out. Something like that only concerns you two. I found out about... what I told you almost by chance, without really expecting it. I didn't expect what she told me. The reality came to me all at once, and I got scared. I got scared of the possibility that something was really going on between you. That you loved her back. I was scared of the consequences. I told you in the Changing Rooms, Draco, you can't get involved with her like that. You're going to cause yourself a lot of trouble, a lot worse trouble than you've already caused yourself," he nodded at Crabbe and Goyle, who were snoring like elephants in the adjoining beds, though his friend wasn't looking at him and didn't see his gesture. But he knew what he meant.

Draco didn't respond immediately. He just stared at the ceiling, at the canopy of his bed, with the 'S' for Slytherin embroidered on it. Listening to his voice. Listening to so much truth. So much truth that he couldn't refute. When Nott said nothing for several seconds, he realised he was waiting for him to say something.

"That's obvious," Draco murmured, quietly and calmly. It was the only thing he felt capable of saying on the matter.

Nott took a breath and exhaled, as if trying to take a weight off his shoulders. He seemed relieved that his friend didn't immediately send him packing. Despite how uncomfortable he knew he was with the conversation.

"Yes," Theodore corroborated, staring at his profile, noting how undaunted he managed to look. "And I know I'm not the best person to tell you this. I've made it clear to you many times what side of this war I'm on, and what I think of the likes of her... You know better than anyone that I have nothing against such a thing happening. But not in your situation, Draco. Your position is different. In your case it's... dangerous. You're risking your life. And you have a family. You'd lose your family. I thought I didn't need to remind you of this, that you already knew. But the other day, you scared me with your reaction," he stirred slightly, uneasy. "I'm not going to ask you again how you feel about her. That concerns only you. I'm just asking you to be careful. Be careful not to feel things for her that you're not allowed to feel. You're smart, Draco. And you know perfectly well that it would be stupid. A very stupid thing to do that's... not worth it. It's not worth your life."

"Yes, it would be... The biggest stupid thing I could ever do," Draco thought, and it took him several seconds to find the breath to answer his friend. His mind saturated with so many crude truths, so many obvious things he should have foreseen by now. That he already knew.

And yet he was doing precisely the opposite of what he should be doing.

But Nott didn't have to know. He couldn't know.

"You can rest assured," Draco said softly, still staring at the canopy of his bed. He didn't try to deny anything his friend had said, it was silly of him to do so. "As you say, it was all just a stupid thing with no real relevance. Nothing is going to happen between us. We've sorted it out," he lied, in the most neutral tone he could muster. And, thankfully, it sounded believable.

Nott was silent at those words. A long silence. Draco's heart slowed, waiting for his reaction. Or at least it felt that way. He forced himself to keep staring at the ceiling, unmoving, restraining the urge to turn his face to see his expression. It had sounded believable, hadn't it? How could Theodore even suspect the truth? He was an expert at controlling his feelings, his friend couldn't possibly find out...

"Wow, really?" Nott then questioned. His voice sounded slightly hopeful. Draco's heart returned to its normal rhythm. "I'm glad to hear it. That means... you've spoken to her?"

"Uh-huh," he merely said, dryly. He didn't intend to give any more details. The more he talked, the easier it would be to get caught.

"Well," he sighed, and was tactful enough not to ask any more questions about the conversation, which relaxed Draco. Perhaps he didn't want to ask for details when his partners were around. "That was rather mature of you. And I suppose I'm in trouble now... I haven't spoken to her, but I'm sure she'll kill me for telling you what she told me, and rightly so. I deserve it. But if it's helped you to put all this behind you once and for all, it'll be worth it to be a snitching bastard."

He let out a humorous snort through his nose and lay on his back, one forearm across his forehead. Draco watched him out of the corner of his eye. A resigned smile curved the corner of Theodore's mouth.

"She certainly wasn't very happy with you," Draco corroborated, trying to look unconcerned. Nott widened the sad smile, and turned his face to look at his friend.

"I'd be surprised if she was," he replied. Then there was the shuffling of blankets, and they both turned their faces in the direction of Zabini's bed. He seemed to have made himself comfortable. "Anyway... I'm sorry I brought it up again. I didn't want to keep all this to myself. I promise not to bring it up again... And forgive me for everything. Sleep tight."

At a slight nod from Draco, by way of thanks for his words, he turned out the light with a flick of his wand and turned his back to him, rolling over in his bed. Draco did not close his eyes. He tried to keep staring at the canopy, though now he could no longer see it in the darkness. He felt more confused and demoralised than before he spoke to Nott.

'Draco, you can't get involved with her like that. You're going to cause yourself a lot of trouble, a lot worse trouble than you've already caused yourself.'

'… And you have a family. You'd lose your family.'

'You know better than anyone that I have nothing against such a thing happening. But not in your situation, Draco. Your position is different. In your case it's... dangerous. You're risking your life.'

'… And you have a family. You'd lose your family.'

'You're smart, Draco. And you know perfectly well that it would be stupid. A very stupid thing to do that's... not worth it. It's not worth your life.'

"A little late, Nott..." thought Draco despondently, closing his eyes tightly and placing his forearm over them.

---

"Well, that's all for today, class," said Filius Flitwick in his high-pitched little voice, trying to make himself heard above the chatter that erupted in the Charms classroom as soon as the bell rang above their heads. "Don't forget to read the chapters I've pointed out, and the writing of three scrolls on the Anti-Apparition Charm. Oh, and may I take this opportunity to remind you that this week's orchestra rehearsals have been cancelled. We will resume them after the holidays, so please let your classmates know if necessary. Have a good Easter," he added, warmly, trying to raise his voice even higher.

There were muffled and cheerful "thank you, Professor" from some of the students, as they all tidied up and got up from their seats. At last the long-awaited lunchtime had arrived, and everyone was eager to get to the Great Hall. At the same time, though, the fact that they didn't have a class coming up in a few minutes made everyone look more relaxed, and they picked up their things calmly as they chatted. There were only two days left of classes, and on Saturday they would return home.

Hermione had never opened her bag so slowly before. It took her almost fifteen exaggerated seconds to unzip it completely. She reached inside the bag, cupping the contents, to make space for the items on the table. Not because she needed to, but because she wanted to waste time. As she did so, she looked up to her left. To the blond nape of Malfoy's neck, sitting several rows ahead of her. The boy was also gathering his belongings, his back to her. Zabini was standing next to him, chatting with Pansy over his shoulder, but undeniably waiting for the blond. Hermione's heart was beating very fast. As if she was about to commit some crime, or something definitely wrong.

And maybe she was about to. The look Draco had just given her left little to no doubt.

When the bell rang, and the classroom was in an uproar, Draco's eyes had darted to her. Turning his sharp face just slightly over his shoulder. Hermione caught his gaze and returned it, unsure of exactly what expression to compose. Not quite sure that there was no one watching her, even if by chance. After ravaging her eyes for three seconds, Draco looked straight ahead again, like it was nothing. But nothing more was needed. Hermione understood instantly. Malfoy had wanted to get her attention, to convey something to her with just his gaze. He wanted them to meet at the end of class, to find an excuse to be alone in the classroom. And Hermione, her heart pumping with adrenaline, couldn't think of one.

The meeting in the greenhouse had been two days ago. And they hadn't seen each other alone since. They hadn't seen each other in any of their classes the day before, nor had they seen each other in their scarce free time. And Hermione hadn't thought of any way to contact him so that they could see each other. She didn't know how they could arrange to meet somewhere without arousing suspicion. How do you keep in touch with a person you share no dormitory, no Common Room, no table in the Great Hall, no friends, and who you're supposed to publicly hate?

She shoved one of the parchments into her bag, focusing on thinking of something in a hurry. Draco didn't seem to have found an excuse either, given that Zabini was still by his side. She then saw the young blond say something to Blaise, and Blaise composed a quizzical expression, frowning his dark brow. He replied something, shrugging his shoulders, and, it seemed, complaining. But without much effort. He ended up nodding, at a new unfamiliar phrase from Draco, and headed for the door. Hermione took a deep breath. He really was good at finding excuses to get rid of his friends... Now it was her turn. It was now or never.

Harry and Ron, standing beside her, were turned as they picked up, so that they could discuss something with Dean and Seamus, sitting behind them. Something about which the girl, lost in her own anxiety, didn't hear a word.

"Boys," she interrupted, her voice definitely higher-pitched than could be considered normal. Harry and Ron turned their attention to her, with expectant, relaxed smiles, "'Scuse me, do you mind if I — ?"

"Mr. Malfoy!" called Professor Flitwick's shrill voice, managing to get down from the pile of books he was sitting on so that he could see his students over the desk. "Stay, please. I would like to speak to you for a moment after everyone has left."

Hermione choked in mid-sentence, and turned her head, as did many others, to look alternately at the professor and Malfoy. The girl could only catch a glimpse of the young man's profile now, but she saw that he looked disgruntled.

"Talk about what?" he protested, frowning. Flitwick looked at him sternly behind his delicate spectacles, standing beside the professor's desk, which was about the same size as he was.

"You know perfectly well," he replied, laconically, his hands behind his back. "Come here, Mr. Malfoy, please..."

With an angry snort, and a brief narrowing of his eyes, Draco set his bag down on the table again, half-picking up his utensils, and strode over to the professor's table. Hermione managed to avert her gaze and returned it to her friends. They looked at her with knowing expressions of intrigue.

"Let's go," Harry suggested reluctantly, even so. He glanced sideways at Flitwick, who was waiting patiently for everyone to leave so that he could speak to Malfoy alone. The boy had stood in front of the professor, his back to them, his arms folded, visibly impatient. "I don't think we'll hear anything... By the way, Hermione, you were saying?"

The girl let out a discreet sigh, and managed to give a credible smile.

"Oh, nothing, just nonsense... Yeah, let's go."

She hurried to pack all her remaining personal belongings into her bag, now at a normal speed. There was still a group of Hufflepuff students left in the front row, packing up. Harry, Ron and she left the classroom, the boys continuing the conversation they had started with Dean and Seamus, on some topic that Hermione continued to ignore. Maybe it was about the homework they had to do that holiday. Maybe something about Quidditch. She didn't know. And she didn't really care. The young girl was lost in thought. Painfully depressed. This was proving to be harder than she had imagined it would be. How were they going to manage to see each other, when they weren't even supposed to be speaking to each other? They couldn't be seen talking in public... Maybe send each other an owl? She had thought about it, she could use one of the school owls... But what if someone intercepted the mail and found out everything?

It had been very difficult for them to make the decision to start a kind of secret relationship. And they hadn't stopped to think about how complicated it would be to finally make it happen. To actually put it into practice. She was forced to accept that they would not get to see each other every day, perhaps not even more than one day a week. The frequency of their meetings would not be as frequent as they might wish, but it was certainly better than nothing. It was necessary to keep suspicions to a minimum. And she realised that it was going to be very hard. She longed for his company. If she had known that, after the meeting in the greenhouse, they would go whole days without being together again, she would have enjoyed the moment more. It had only been two days, really only a full day since they hadn't been alone together, but already she missed his closeness. And his kisses.

"Hey, guys!" called Ernie Macmillan, catching up with them as they descended the Marble Staircase towards the Great Hall. He sounded really pleased. "You can't believe the way Flitwick was telling Malfoy off now!"

"No way!" Ron burst out excitedly, exchanging a beaming glance with Harry and Hermione. "He certainly didn't look very happy... Did you hear anything? What was it all about?"

"I heard a bit, yes. Never mind, though, because I know what it's all about... It turns out that Malfoy was supposed to be on night patrol as Prefect this week, but he's been trying to change it. And when I say 'tried', I mean he must have managed to change the document illegally," Ernie chuckled mischievously.

"He did what?" Hermione was scandalised, her eyes widening.

"The document on the Bulletin Board? The one in the Great Hall, that lists your patrols?" Harry wanted to know in turn, both intrigued and puzzled.

"Exactly, that one. He tried to steal my patrol, without it being his turn, and without making the proper legal request," the boy reported, arching an eyebrow with amusement. Indicating that was why he knew so many details. Hermione snorted in dismay. But how had he dared to do such a thing...?

"And why would he do that?" Harry questioned again, looking at Ernie in bewilderment. His brow had furrowed, pondering the reasons for such an action on Malfoy's part. Possibly considering if there was some dark reason behind it.

"This Friday would be his turn," Ernie reported, very pleased with the reactions his story was generating. He shrugged indifferently. "The night before we go home for Easter. He was probably too lazy to patrol on our last night here, and shamelessly tried to change it. He's always trying to wriggle out of his Prefect duties..."

Ron let out a contemptuous laugh. They all entered the Great Hall together, and waited before sitting down to finish their conversation with Ernie, since he had to go to the Hufflepuff table.

"But he got caught," Ron finished the story with a satisfied smile. "Fuck him. He's not always going to get away with it..."

"Indeed," Ernie corroborated, pleased, his hatred for the blond quite rivalling Ron's. "I don't think he's been punished. I only heard they were going to take points off him for Slytherin."

Everyone's eyes shifted, in almost perfect synchronicity, to the four hourglasses, one for each House, that stood in the corner of the Great Hall behind the teachers' table. The different gems in the clocks rose or fell magically, from time to time, as the members of the Houses scored or lost points. At that distance it was very difficult to guess whether Gryffindor had more points, or Slytherin. The two were neck and neck in the lead.

"What patrol did he want to change it for? When was your turn, Ernie? Tonight? Or after the holidays?" Harry questioned casually, as everyone looked away from the hourglasses and back at each other. Ernie shook his head.

"Nah, tomorrow night. It's Goldstein and Hannah's turn today, if I'm not mistaken."

Hermione couldn't hold back an abrupt inhalation. Tomorrow night?

But none of her friends were aware of her unusual surprise, for Ernie smiled mischievously and nodded slyly at something or someone behind them.

"There he is. And he looks pissed," he mocked, chuckling very quietly. Sure enough, they all glanced over their shoulders and caught a glimpse of Malfoy entering the Great Hall, alone. He definitely looked grumpy. His face was serious, his jaw was tense, and he was walking with quick strides that showed he was irritated. He didn't look in their direction, and headed straight for the Slytherin table, deep in thought. Ron laughed a sing-songy laugh.

"You just made my day, Ernie, just so you know. I think you should take a stroll down to the Slytherin Common Room tomorrow during your patrol and bring him coffee to get him through his Friday patrol. Ferrets don't handle the lack of sleep very well," he said solemnly, but with overt irony.

Both Ernie and Harry burst out laughing, looking at each other knowingly. And they proceeded to say a few kind words to each other by way of farewell, before going to sit down to eat. But Hermione did not participate in them. Her eyes were still fixed on the young Malfoy, watching him locate Zabini, sitting across from the Greengrass sisters, and take a seat with them. Draco gave a strained smile at Daphne's sympathetic greeting, and proceeded to simply help himself to something to eat, as the young woman began to chatter excitedly to him.

Hermione's heart was racing.

Malfoy had tried to move his patrol a day. Change his Friday patrol to tomorrow night. He had tried to illegally switch his patrol with Ernie's; on the sly, without telling anyone or officially requesting it.

To coincide with her.

It was her turn to do the night patrol the next day, together with Ernie. It was always done in pairs, usually from different Houses. To encourage inter-House relations and diversity, or at least that was Dumbledore's justification. His friends didn't know that Hermione was on patrol tomorrow, and Ernie apparently didn't know he was sharing it with her either, or maybe he didn't remember. But, if Malfoy had managed to change his patrol, the two of them would have coincided, and they would have been together for several hours, until midnight. Alone. While everyone was asleep.

The girl felt a wonderful warmth radiate from her chest to her cheeks. An overwhelming sense of tenderness came over her. Malfoy wanted to see her as much as she wanted to see him. He was making efforts to try and get them to meet alone, she was convinced. He hadn't done it to try and get out of his Prefect duties on the last night before they went on holiday. He wanted to see her. Without even making her part of it, but he was trying on his own.

She forced herself to look away from him, to return her gaze to the conversation with her friends. But her heart was pounding with excitement. Maybe they still hadn't found a way to meet alone, without anyone knowing. Maybe it was more difficult than they would have thought at first. But they would definitely find a way.

---

Hermione began to rub her icy hands together in a vain attempt to warm them. The wind blowing in the upper stands of the Quidditch pitch was chilly. Despite it being the end of March, the temperature of the last few days of the week had been rather low. The girl regretted not having changed her clothes after classes, and had decided to go to watch her friends' training in her school uniform. To be wearing only the white shirt, the thin knitted waistcoat and the open robe over it was not at all sufficient. Luckily, she had had the foresight to take her Gryffindor scarf, which she had wrapped around her throat. Even her shoulders were a little tense, shrugged, as if her body was trying to keep in the heat in order to survive.

A gust of wind nearly blew away the copy of The Quibbler that the girl had left on the bench beside her. She reached out a hand, grabbing it just in time. She rolled it up in her hands and put it in her lap, just in case. She wanted to show it to her friends as soon as they were done with their training.

A dark, and considerably large, figure moving to her right caught her eye. Hagrid was trying to reach her, side-stepping along the narrow benches of the stands, barely managing to squeeze through on his thick, massive legs. He was dressed in a thick, ankle-length waistcoat, which Hermione, chilled as she was, envied considerably. The big man smiled at her from under his wild beard as he reached her side.

"Have they finished already?" he questioned by way of greeting, plopping down on the bench beside her with a heavy movement. The seat bounced under his weight, and Hermione with it.

"Almost. I think they're going to have one last match," the girl confessed, watching the figures corresponding to the Gryffindor Quidditch team talking in the middle of the pitch. They seemed to be splitting into two groups.

Hagrid gave an affable laugh in his deep voice.

"Wha' hard workers they are. They don' miss a single practice. And yeh're goin' home tomorrow... Are yeh goin' ter see yer parents, Hermione?"

"No, I'm going to The Burrow," the girl admitted, shrugging her shoulders with an apologetic smile. "I want to see my parents... But I also want to see the Weasleys. Ron was very insistent, since I couldn't go at Christmas. And I felt bad about declining his invitation."

"Tha's very nice," Hagrid corroborated warmly, watching the team members take flight on their brooms. The whistle around Harry's neck was blown and the match began. Hermione felt that her friend's voice sounded strange, and looked up to stare at him. Hagrid's eyes glittered with melancholy. "Stay together. As long as yeh can. In this day an' age, yeh have ter have people close ter yeh who love an' protect yeh..."

Hermione looked down at the match again, feeling her heart tremble. Ginny had just caught the Quaffle and was making a good pass to another of her fellow Chasers. People who love and protect us... Draco's sharp face materialised in Hermione's mind. And she wondered why, despite everything, she had thought of him — did he fit either of those two characteristics?

"When we get back, we'll drop in for tea at your house, Hagrid," Hermione offered softly, trying to take her mind off her own ghosts. "It's been a few weeks since we've been there. We've been busy with quite a lot of homework..."

Hagrid smiled again and waved one of his huge, manhole-cover sized hands.

"Don' worry, I know. This year yeh've got the N.E.W.T.s. Yeh have ter study very hard..." He looked down to exchange an intimate glance with the young woman, and it was then that he discovered the magazine she was holding in her hands. "Have yeh taken a likin' ter The Quibbler? Yeh're too sensible fer tha' magazine, Hermione..." he teased, candidly, letting out another hoarse chuckle. Hermione smiled back.

"Between articles about flying snails, there's some interesting stuff. They're the only ones who publish the truth," Hermione replied, unfolding the magazine and staring at the cover, distracted. A hand-painted drawing, possibly by Luna, depicting a band of Heliopaths, took up the entire cover. "The Daily Prophet is too much manipulated..."

"Yeah, I read abou' wha' happened in Diagon Alley," Hagrid growled, thoughtfully, with renewed seriousness. "It was a terrible thing... An' I can understan' 'em being more careful after tha'. They are people, after all, an' they have families..." He suddenly seemed to remember something and turned to the girl, rustling the wood of the bleachers. His small, black eyes looked concerned, "The Weasley boys... Ron's brothers had a shop there. Are they...?"

"They're fine. Fred and George are fine," Hermione hastened to assure him, sympathetically. Hagrid let out a sigh and looked back at the match. Ron had just made an unusually good save, which drew cheers from his teammates. "Did you read about the body found at Heaven's Gate?" she asked, looking up again to try and meet her huge friend's eyes.

"Yes," Hagrid corroborated seriously, "It wasn' the Beauxbatons girl after all, was it? Pomona was tellin' me abou' it this mornin'..."

"Exactly," Hermione admitted, twisting the magazine in her hands. "The Quibbler has confirmed that it's an older woman. They haven't identified her, but they've ruled out that it's the Beauxbatons girl..."

"Who knows where tha' poor girl is and wha' they're doin' with her," Hagrid lamented to himself, returning his gaze to the match. Hermione sighed, gazing down at her friend's thick arm, whose elbow was level with her own head. Wondering the same thing.

A new movement in the stands caught her gaze, and she was surprised to see Theodore Nott ascending the stairs, undoubtedly heading in her direction. He was dressed in dark clothes, casually. He had turned up the collar of the long black coat he wore, to protect himself from the cold wind. His light eyes, beneath his tousled black hair, were locked on Hermione.

She tensed slightly, not quite sure how to feel about his presence. But, of course, the first thing that came over her was resentment. They had an obvious pending conversation, about the young man confessing her innermost feelings to Draco, despite promising not to. That boy had betrayed her. And, on the other hand, the new relationship that she and Draco were having, against all odds, was still up in the air. The young Malfoy had made it very clear that no one was to know what was about to happen between them. Did Nott fall into that category, or would he have told him? Would he come and talk to her about it?

She hadn't been able to talk to Draco since the conversation in the greenhouse. So she didn't know what Nott knew about it.

"Hello, Granger," Theodore greeted in an impersonal tone when he was beside her. Hagrid, sitting next to Hermione, looked the boy up and down with slight reluctance, then looked at his friend.

"Nott," Hermione greeted him coolly, returning an impassive stare. He didn't flinch at her obvious rejection.

"Can we talk for a moment, alone?" he asked calmly, glancing sidelong at Hagrid. Hagrid, his expression grim, questioned Hermione with his gaze. Hermione, after a moment's hesitation, nodded. She made to stand up to go somewhere else with Nott, but it was Hagrid who rose heavily from the bench, intending to leave them alone.

"I'm goin' to wait downstairs fer the boys, they seem ter have finished," Hagrid reported calmly. He was right, as Hermione could see at a quick glance; their friends were heading for the Changing Rooms, broomsticks in hand. "Come down when yeh're done, Hermione."

"Coming right up, Hagrid," the girl muttered, watching him walk away. The big man walked past a tense Nott, who had to stand back as far as he could to let him pass, and then walked away with heavy steps, again with difficulty due to his size. Nott, after asking the girl's permission with his eyes, sat down next to her, in the place occupied by Hagrid. The difference in size between the two suddenly struck Hermione as rather odd.

Nott sighed deeply, staring at the now empty field, as he seemed to gather his thoughts. He was in no hurry to start talking. Hermione, sitting very stiffly, made no move to say anything. Let him speak first. He didn't deserve her trying to soften the cold atmosphere.

"Draco told me that... you two have spoken," was the first thing the boy said, without further ado. Hermione swallowed, but didn't move. It was an interesting revelation, but it was still unclear what Nott knew.

"Yes," Hermione confirmed, cautiously. Nott let out a frustrated smile as he sighed through his nose again. He leaned forward until he rested his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands together in front of him, curving his back.

"Then I guess I don't need to tell you that I did something stupid," he rubbed his hands together, and Hermione guessed he was cold. Or that he was nervous. "Draco must have already done it for me. I don't know exactly what he told you about what I said, I didn't want to ask him about it. And Draco's pretty secretive, I don't know if you've noticed," his lips curved into a resigned, sarcastic smile again. He turned his face to look at the girl, who was still sitting very stiffly, not opening her mouth. "I'm so sorry," he muttered, earnestly. Sincerely. "I didn't mean to tell him what you told me. It was an accident. We were arguing and... it just slipped out. And I couldn't fix it. I'm an arsehole. I'm really sorry."

Hermione held his gaze for a few seconds, then had to look down at her own lap. It had been a blunder, then. He hadn't done it on purpose to hurt her. Even though she had no proof, she found she believed his version without reservation. The boy seemed genuinely remorseful. He didn't seem to have acted in bad faith, despite everything.

The young woman ended up nodding her head very slowly.

"It's alright. Thank you for apologising," Hermione murmured, still cautiously. She wasn't quite sure what to say, "Don't worry, thanks to your tip-off, Draco and I are together now..."?

"Have I caused you trouble with him?" Nott wanted to know, softly. "Draco is usually quite calm. In fact, it's usually hard to upset him. But there are times... issues, rather, that upset him considerably. And this issue upsets him a great deal..." he muttered, now almost to himself. He looked Hermione in the eye again. "He told me that you'd sorted it out."

Hermione stiffened again. She searched his eyes, but still didn't know what to say. In practice, there were so many ways that could have been sorted out...

"You could say so," Hermione said, after a pause. Nott grimaced, almost a lopsided smile, and nodded.

"I'm glad," he said, kindly. "It seems that, despite everything, I haven't made the situation any worse... I suppose at least my stupidity has served some purpose, huh?" He looked at the girl, who gave him a tight smile. "At least it helped to put an end to it. To clear you two up. And get you two away from each other for good."

Hermione's heart thumped more loudly against her ribs. Her brain kicked into gear, analysing those words. There it was.

"What did Malfoy tell you?" Hermione dared to ask, firmly, considering she had the right to ask. Better to go straight than to blunder in by saying something rash. Nott shrugged his shoulders with lazy reluctance.

"Hardly anything. Just that you've talked and sorted it out. That you've agreed that nothing is going to happen between you."

Hermione relaxed her shoulders. She kept silent, her conscience not allowing her to corroborate such a lie out loud. Saying nothing was easier. Draco had decided to lie to Nott, then. He seemed to have been serious about not telling anyone. He was even lying to his best friend.

Harry and Ron, her own friends, fought to pop into her embarrassed mind. But she forced herself to push them into a corner, for the moment. If Malfoy had decided to lie to Nott... maybe she should keep it from Harry and Ron as well. At least for the time being.

"Are you going home for Easter?"

Nott's gentle voice snapped her out of her thoughts. She returned her stunned gaze to the boy, who was watching her out of the corner of his eye. He still seemed to be looking a little embarrassed. He gave the impression that he wanted to regain a good relationship with her. To test the waters, seeing that the girl seemed to have forgiven him.

Hermione forced a faint, more sincere smile and shook her head.

"I'm going to Ron's. And Harry too. We're spending the week at the Weasleys'," Hermione reported, her tone softer.

"Do you go to their house a lot?" Theodore wanted to know, and Hermione noticed the relief in his voice that she was reciprocating his conversation. He might not be the least bit interested in it, but he was making an effort to speak in a more affable tone.

"Sometimes. Short spells in the summer, some Christmases..." Nott nodded, not knowing what else to say. "Do you go home, too?"

Theodore took a slow intake of breath and let it out through his nose. His eyes suddenly seemed to lose their sparkle, becoming slightly clouded. He returned his gaze to the empty field, before replying in a whisper.

"Sort of. I'm going to... Draco's. Since my father was imprisoned, I live with the Malfoy family. You could say it's my home now."

Hermione opened her mouth in astonishment. She didn't know anything about it. She remembered confronting Nott's father in the Department of Mysteries... Well, actually she remembered a Death Eater, robed and masked, who was called 'Nott'. She hadn't seen his face, or heard his voice. She knew he had been imprisoned along with Lucius Malfoy, and many others. And she had never really considered the changes such a thing had brought to their families. Because even Death Eaters had families. People who loved them. Draco, Theodore... both had been stripped of their parents. Hermione felt no mercy for either Lucius or Nott's father. After all, they had tried to kill her. But she did feel a sudden surge of compassion for both boys.

A specific question floated through her mind, and she wondered if she was in a position to ask it. Finally, seeing the sudden shadow of sadness that had clouded the boy's expression, the question escaped her weak lips.

"What about your mother?"

Nott then gave another rueful smile, only with his lips, not his eyes.

"My mother died when I was eleven. I've lived alone with my father ever since," he explained calmly. Without being overly melancholy.

Hermione felt a shiver. And a surge of compassion and tenderness for him. She felt the need to offer him a condolence that he certainly wasn't looking for. He seemed serene talking about such terrible subjects. The young woman thought then that the boy was much stronger than his scrawny appearance and lonely attitude would suggest...

"I didn't know. About your mother. I'm so sorry," she managed to say, gently. She wasn't going to apologise for being one of the causes of his father's imprisonment, and she knew Nott would understand. He had never, since they had begun their friendship, reproached her for it. And he hadn't at that moment, either. He merely nodded his head in thanks.

"Hermione!"

A distant, familiar voice pulled her out of her conversation with Nott. She turned her face to find Ron standing halfway up the stairs, already dressed in his normal clothes. She couldn't quite make out his expression from a distance, but she could have sworn he was frowning. At the bottom of the stairs, in the field, Hagrid, Ginny and Harry were chatting, but with their faces turned towards Hermione and Theodore. The girl waved a hand, indicating that she was on her way, and turned back to Nott. He looked at her carefully, looking a little more serene.

"I'm sorry, I have to go," she apologised, though it was obvious, rising to her feet. "Would you like to come...?" she questioned, hesitantly.

"I'll stay here for a while," Nott dismissed her invitation, shaking his head calmly. He arched a dark eyebrow with subtle irony, apparently thinking that his company would not go down well with her friends. Hermione composed a friendlier smile.

"If I don't see you tomorrow, have a good holiday. I'll see you when we get back," she said goodbye, tilting her head at him.

"Of course, you too," Nott replied, not smiling, but looking at her cordially. He seemed relieved to see them treating each other as friends again. Hermione started to walk across the benches, and then down the stairs towards Ron.

"Is everything all right?" asked the young Weasley instantly, his eyes scanning her as soon as she reached his side. "Hagrid told us that Nott had accosted you when —"

"He didn't accost me," Hermione corrected him gruffly, walking past him and in the direction of Harry and Ginny. "He just wanted to talk to me about something. There's nothing strange about it."

Ron, who had taken one last unpleasant glance in the direction of the Slytherin House boy at the top of the stands, followed her.

"Some important business?" he questioned, still uneasy. Hermione let out a snort.

"Nothing I should tell you about. It's his business," she lied, picking up her pace slightly. She sighed and pressed the copy of The Quibbler to his chest. "Believe me, we have more important things to talk about... The body found at Heaven's Gate is not that of the young French girl. She is still missing."