Hermione stepped into the Great Hall barely able to contain her grin. Not only had her classes gone better than expected, but that twat Birdwanker had gotten exactly what he deserved. She imagined telling Lucius, imagined the satisfied smirk on his face when she recounted her tales of the day. Proving to him that she could make it in this world—and she could, when necessary, do it her way.

But as she wound around the edge of the crowded hall, slipping past the boisterous students filling up the Gryffindor table, her grin curved into a frown. Lucius's seat was empty. Perhaps he's running late? She was pretty sure he had a potion's class before supper, but the timetable had classes always ending a half hour before meals.

She took her seat beside Professor Gibson, an elderly, kind-eyed wizard who she'd met the other day. He taught Charms and apparently had held the post for the past ninety-seven years. Hermione busied herself with serving a slice of shepherd's pie and picked at it as she scanned the room, searching for Lucius. After another five minutes had passed, with no sign of her fake-husband, Hermione turned to Gibson. "Excuse me, but do you have any idea where Brutus is?"

Gibson gave her a curious look, his wiry, snow-white eyebrows knitting over his round spectacles. "You didn't hear?" When Hermione shook her head, he went on, "There was an explosion in the potion's classroom. Nasty little accident. I heard it from my office two floors above."

Hermione blanched. Her fork clattered against her plate. "What? My husband, is he—"

"No, no, Brutus and the students are fine. Just a little scorched, is all." Gibson let out a hearty chuckle and lifted a gnarled finger towards the students. Hermione followed it towards Hufflepuff table. At least ten students had streaks of soot covering their necks, faces, and hairlines, though they seemed cheerful enough, laughing and eating and gesturing wildly over a serving bowl. Perhaps recounting the incident to their friends. Hermione let out a sharp breath of relief. A warm hand patted hers, and she turned back towards the professor. "First time?" he asked, with a kind twinkle in his eyes.

"First time for what?"

"Working alongside your husband. Yes, we are professors, but it has not been known to be the safest of professions. At least at this school. I imagine it's rather nerve-wracking, to both be here yet busy with your own subjects."

Hermione gave him a soft smile. "Yes, it is," she answered. It was the truth, though they'd been working together in an even more dangerous capacity for months in that prison cell. "I just pray that a cauldron explosion is the least of our worries," she said, as she picked up her fork and began to eat. "What with those…disappearances Headmaster Viridian told us about."

Gibson's eyes were glued to his plate as he pushed his pie around. "Hmm, yes. Terrible, terrible," he muttered.

Hermione mulled her next words over carefully. Lucius hadn't had any luck finding out about the three disappearances, but she ought to give it a shot too. "I must wonder…if it was the professors that held Brutus and my postings that disappeared, alongside that poor student, does that imply a pattern? Could my husband be next?"

Gibson broke out into a coughing fit. When Hermione offered him his goblet, he waved her off, eyes watering. "No, no, Brutus has nothing to worry about."

"And what about me?"

"You? I, ah…well…" Gibson stood abruptly and, with barely a glance down to her, sputtered, "I—I must be going, Professor Jean. Papers to write—ah, mark—and such. Busy, busy night." He took off from the dais with a pace befitting a man fifty years his junior. As he raced away, the professor in the next seat over shot her a disapproving glare.

Well that was interesting, Hermione mused as she took a bite of pie. Rich lamb soaked in gravy melted on her tongue. Professor Gibson seemed to think Lucius was immune to the disappearances that had plagued this castle. But if Gibson's flustering was any indication, that immunity didn't extend to herself. The question was…why? And how dangerous was it really for her to be here while they figured out a way home?

And even worse…how dangerous was it for her if they were forced to stay?

Hermione swallowed her bite and scrubbed a hand down her face. Another mystery for us to solve. Bloody fantastic.

To Hermione's smug satisfaction, Birdwhistle let her into the restricted section without so much as a sneer. Or direct eye contact. After unlocking the iron gate that blocked the section from the rest of the library, Hermione stepped inside and let her gaze wander over the rows upon rows of leather spines, most unmarked. This is going to take a while, she thought, as the gate shut behind her with a metallic groan.

The restricted section was more of a free-for-all compared to the cataloged shelves in the rest of the library, meaning that she was practically going in blind. Apparently centuries of Hogwarts librarians had never thought it useful enough to organize a section utilized by so few. With that in mind, Hermione began her search for the alchemy anthology Corvinus had mentioned in the most logical point: the very start.

It was well into the evening when the gate rolled open, and Hermione tore her gaze up from the heavy book in her lap. She could not help but clamp a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing.

Disheveled didn't even begin to cover the current state of Lucius Malfoy. Soot streaked down his front, coating his robes, his hands, his hair, his neck where he'd apparently torn out his flouncy collar in what she only imagined was a gesture of complete and utter exasperation. Only his pale face had been wiped clean, and Hermione was glad for it—never in her life had she seen such a look of petulance on a man so stoic and restrained.

"You think this is funny, do you?" Lucius crossed his arms as he gazed down at her.

Hermione took him in one more time. She pressed her fingers harder into her mouth, composing herself, before managing to squeak out, "Just a little." Lucius let out a sigh and joined her on the floor, his back against the shelf behind them. "Lucius…why didn't you clean yourself up?"

He let out a snort and fished for his wand in his pocket. "So you could see the extent to which I maintain our cover at this deplorable school full of idiotic, insolent chits who don't know their Fire Seed from their Fluxweed."

Hermione grinned as he began siphoning off the soot with the tip of his wand. "You're beginning to sound like Snape."

"The poor bastard had it right, rest his soul," Lucius huffed. He vanished the last speck of soot, then looked around the shelves like he was noticing where they were for the first time. "It appears your day went better."

"Birdwanker was quite accommodating after a little…convincing."

"Do I want to know?"

"Probably. But it would be a better story over whiskey. And if I told you when you were sober enough to remember, you might go around calling me a Slytherin for the rest of my life. And we can't have that, can we?" Lucius snorted. "Anyway, we have far too many books to get through. And you," she said, grabbing the next ridiculously heavy book off the shelf and plopping it in his lap, "can start with this one."

They worked like that until the sun set completely beyond the windows, until Birdwhistle had paced back and forth outside the gate a dozen times, his stomps growing louder with each crossing, and until the entire first group of shelves were completely searched through.

Nothing.

They had found no mention of Sir Drayton's journal entry.

And Hermione didn't want to read a single more word of the horrific, disgusting, or downright evil books that littered these shelves.

She stood, groaning, and met Lucius's tired eyes. "Tomorrow?" she asked with a yawn.

"Tomorrow," he agreed with a yawn of his own.

Tomorrow turned into two days. Then three. Then a week, then another, before they finally found it.

It was a Sunday morning, and the library was eerily quiet even for the restricted section. There was a Quidditch game going on—Slytherin against Ravenclaw, Hermione had heard from the boys in her second-year class—and the weather was perfect for a game. Unseasonably warm for the second week of October. Or perfect for lounging on the grounds, basking in the sun by the lake and forgetting all about their seemingly endless, seemingly fruitless research…

"Bloody fucking hell," Lucius muttered from behind her.

Hermione didn't tear her gaze from the open window she was perched by. She could just barely see the Quidditch pitch from here, and she watched, amused, as the two seekers appeared to be in some kind of manic dance. "More detailed accounts of torture?" she asked, as the speck of green shot upward into the sky, the speck of blue close on his tail.

"Hermione, come look."

"Lucius, I really don't need to read about some potion design to boil your blood from the inside out, or braid your intestines together, or—"

"Hermione, I found it." His voice was breathless, excited.

She slid off the ledge and met Lucius's eyes. The pale blue-grey were bright with excitement. Tendrils of hair had escaped his low ponytail, curving against his cheek beside a massive, beautiful grin. She almost didn't want to move—didn't want to lose sight of the joy on his face that had been absent after two weeks of difficult classes and research. But her wits finally got the better of her; Hermione darted forward and fell into the chair beside him.

"Look," he directed, pointing at the loopy ink that decorated the yellowed parchment. As she scanned, her heart began to hammer. "Sir Edward Drayton," he read, finger ghosting over the man's name. "And the text, it's hard to read with the Old English, but look when I cast the translation charm." He pressed the tip of his wand into the ink, and the letters writhed and wiggled before stilling.

What a peculiar soil it was! Glowing green and buried deep into the ground inside the caves of the Forbidden Forest.

"That…that's it!" Hermione breathed out. "The two things we were unsure of. The original text called it a substance, but…"

"But he meant soil," Lucius finished for her. "Some kind of time magic soil. Perhaps like the sand used in time turners? And here." He tapped his wand on the page. "He didn't mean the 'Twilight Forest', that was a mistranslation. The caves are in the Forbidden Forest. They're here." Lucius pulled back and met her eyes. "The answer to going home was at Hogwarts all along."

Hermione felt too stunned to speak—excitement rushed through her veins, pulsing through her body like a drug. It was here. The solution was here. "Oh, Lucius, we're going home!" she whispered, reaching out to him without thinking. He caught her hands, grinning, squeezing her fingers. I'm going home, she thought giddily. We'll track down Dolohov, fix the curse, then I'll get to see Ginny and Harry again and meet their baby. And Ron! Maybe I was wrong about him. Maybe he's changed, maybe he'll be thrilled to take me back once I'm healed.

Suddenly Lucius's eyes changed as they stared back at her. Was it sadness in them? Disappointment? A change so minute that she barely noticed it. But it was there—a glazing over, a transformation of blue into grey, like a stormcloud swiftly obscuring a clear blue sky.

"We're going home," he agreed, with a smile that didn't reach his eyes.

Her fingers felt too warm, almost burning in his larger hands. She pulled away, clearing her throat and keeping her eyes trained on the book. "Well then, the next step is to locate the cave to get some of the soil," she said, trying to keep her voice even. "I haven't heard of any cave systems in the forest, have you?"

"I haven't, though my knowledge of the Forbidden Forest is quite limited."

"We'll have to start researching. Asking other professors, see if there are any maps of the forest…"

"Excellent plan." His voice was clipped, back to the cool tone of the man she'd known before they landed here. Before they'd become what she dared to call friends. "I'll start with the professors. I know the History of Magic professor takes his tea in the staff room this time of day." Lucius stood, grabbing his wand and inserting it back into his cane. "I'll see you at supper?"

"Yes, I'll…" But he had disappeared through the shelves before the words could finish. Hermione slumped back in her chair and stared at the book she'd been so excited to find only moments earlier. Now, that excitement left a pit festering in her stomach.

A pit of unease…and guilt.

"I don't get it," Hermione grumbled, staring at her hands folded over stomach atop the covers. "This castle has existed for centuries, and not a single person thought to draw up a proper map of the place?"

Lucius shifted beside her, rolling onto his side. "Perhaps people tried, but they never came out alive from the forest."

Hermione rolled her eyes and looked over at Lucius, who was sprawled out half-naked in their bed. It was late morning on a Sunday, and they'd both stayed in bed long after breakfast was held. After another two weeks of research and classes, they were both desperate for a lie-in. And Hermione had to admit she didn't mind the view. After four weeks of living with Lucius in cramped quarters, her anxiety over her attraction to him had turned more into an ever-present simmer than a scalding boil.

Mostly, anyway.

"I've been in the forest before and never died," Hermione retorted. "It's a fear tactic to keep students out who don't know how to handle themselves. Any grown witch or wizard who knows basic defense and has been around long enough to become familiar with the magical creatures…" Hermione sat suddenly upright as an idea struck her like a hammer to the head. The covers pooled around her waist, leaving her exposed in her thin shift. Usually, it would send her cheeks blooming with heat to know he could see her like that. But at the moment, she hardly noticed. "Lucius, oh my God."

"Your God now, am I? Took you long enough to realize."

She smacked his arm and twisted to look down at him. He grinned lazily back. "All this time, we've been trying to find a map or someone alive who's familiar enough with the forest. But if there are no records, and no one alive that knows the caves…Lucius, where do you reckon the Bloody Baron is this time of day?"

Apparently the answer to where the Bloody Baron liked to haunt on a miserable, drizzling October Saturday was the Astronomy Tower. They heard the ghost before they saw him, his low groans and mutters whispering down the staircase as they climbed.

"Did he have to pick here to haunt?" Hermione hissed, wrapping her woolen shawl tighter around her waist. High up above the rest of the school, and without the thick castle walls to shield them, it was bitterly cold. Wind howled around the tower like a pack of wolves narrowing in on their prey, circling closer and closer with each step they climbed. Rain cut in from the east, soaking the cobblestones underfoot so badly that Hermione had to cling to the handrail to keep from slipping.

"Apparently it's always been his favorite pastime," Lucius said. Wind licked at his loose hair, whipping it back from his face as he reached the top step. "A masochistic sort of pastime," he clarified. "Torturing himself over the fact that he can't simply jump off and end his misery."

Hermione paused as Lucius turned around. She glanced over the side of the tower at the dizzying view of the muddy grounds below. A shiver raced up her spine. Hermione grimaced and tore her gaze away from the archway. Lucius offered her a hand, which she accepted with a smile. For just the moment his fingers curled over hers, she basked in the warmth of his touch. He hadn't touched her since that day in the library, and she couldn't help but miss it.

Once she was safely at the top of the tower, Lucius dropped her hand, and Hermione's eyes landed on the Bloody Baron. He floated on the other side of the giant gyroscope that filled the center of the round room. The Baron didn't turn, even as their footsteps shuffled closer. From behind, she could see the silver bloodstains that sprouted over his chest, the chains that looped over his body. She heard that he put them there as a constant reminder of his sins against Helena Ravenclaw. A masochist indeed.

"Baron?" Lucius called out. "My name is Brutus Malfoy. I'm here with my wife, Lady Jean. We're both professors here, and we could use your assistance." When the ghost didn't react, he continued, "We're searching for the cave system inside the Forbidden Forest. Are you familiar with such a thing?"

Hermione shared a look with Lucius as they waited for a response. "Maybe he doesn't know. We could try Helena, maybe. Or one of the other older ghosts—"

A sudden rush of icy air blew past as the Bloody Baron whirled around. His translucent eyes traveled over them as his body drifted up and down in the wind. "You seek the caves," the Baron drawled in a low, gravely voice. It was devoid of inflection, of emotion. "Why?"

"We're…researching the magical properties of the land," Hermione answered. It was a lie they had agreed on at the start of their search for the caves. "We heard rumors of these caves but found no record of their location."

The Baron floated around the edge of the tower as he spoke. "Perhaps there is a reason for that. Perhaps the caves ought not to be found." He stopped before them, ignoring Lucius. His eyes locked on Hermione's, and she shivered again. "Speak the truth now, witch, or leave me to my haunting. What do you want with the forest caves?"

"Jean," Lucius warned in a low voice.

But Hermione ignored him. The Bloody Baron knew something—he was their best shot. And she wasn't letting this lead go so easily. "We're trapped here, the same as you." She eyed his bloodstains, the chains that cinched around his chest. "I'm sorry you can't leave, but we can. We have to try. The way home is in those caves. and I think you know what's buried there."

The Baron's head tilted to the side, assessing her. Then, in a loud, harsh voice, he called out, "Peeves!"

It was like the poltergeist had been attached to a tether suddenly reeled in—with a crash of metal, Peeves shot through the center of the tower floor and rammed into the gyroscope.

"The lobodiest of barons!" Peeves cried out, untangling his jester's hat from the now spinning device. When he was free, he zipped over to the Baron's side. "The noblest of nobles! The terriblest of terrors—" He cut off and stared wide-eyed at Hermione and Lucius. "And who might be you two?" Peeves floated closer and tumbled forward, legs sticking out behind him as sniffed the air. "My Baron, sir, these two stink like…like…" Suddenly his orange eyes squeezed shut, and he let out a disgustingly impressive fart.

"For Merlin's sake," Lucius muttered, and he and Hermione recoiled. Peeves broke out into cackles.

The Baron held up a hand. "Peeves, you will show these two to the Forbidden Forest caves."

Peeves' eyes went wide as he jolted back upright. "Excuses you, Baron, did you just say—"

"I did. And you will not let them get lost on the way there, understood? I want them escorted, Peeves, do you hear me?"

Peeves rolled his eyes. "Yessss sirrrr, your bloodiest. Peeves will escort the stinkers to the caves." His whole body drooped, like a petulant child told to take out the bins. A second later, a Cheshire grin broke over his face. "Time to go! Follow Peeves, if you please!" He launched himself straight towards them, and Hermione had to jump back to avoid getting knocked in the face with his hat. Or an elbow.

"You can't show us yourself?" Lucius asked as Peeves began singing off-key as he descended the stairs.

The Baron's eyes darkened. "The castle does not permit me to leave its walls. Peeves follows my commands…most of the time. Either you follow him to the caves, or you never return home. It is your choice." He cast a forlorn look towards the sea of grey beyond the tower. "I know what I would choose."

"Promise me," Lucius muttered as his boot squelched into a particularly deep patch of mud, "after we return home and kill Dolohov, that Peeves is next on our list."

Hermione chuckled as she dodged a low hanging branch. "Promise."

They had been trekking through the forest for what seemed like an hour now, and Peeves hadn't once decided he wanted to shut off his stream of strangled singing, nonsensical rambling, and farts. Oh, the fucking farts.

Though the day was still early, they both had their wand tips lit. Under the thick cover of the ancient trees, only weak light broke through the cracks of the canopy. It was colder here too, a cold impenetrable by their warming charms. Dark magic lurked in this forest. It was too quiet. Too cold. Too dark. She longed for their bed back in the castle, for a good cuppa and a bath. Or maybe another bottle of whiskey was in order, to warm them up from the inside out.

Just when Hermione was convinced they'd been walking in circles, Peeves cried out, "Aaaaannnddd…stop!" He came to an abrupt halt. His head swiveled left, then right, then left again. "Just a teensy weensy bit further now." He darted off again, and they hurried after.

After another ten minutes of picking through the forest, side-stepping trees that seemed to reach for them and roots thicker than Hermione's whole body, she finally saw it—up ahead, nearly entirely buried behind a thicket of moss-slickened trees, was a huge rock formation jutting up from the ground. In the center was an opening, a black hole that seemed to swallow the lights of their wands.

"Ta-da!" Peeves stuck out his tongue and spun in a circle, blowing a raspberry in celebration. "The cave! Nasty little hole, don't know why you'd want to go in there," he muttered, as Lucius and Hermione stepped closer. "For the fucking, perhaps? Nice, dark, filthy place for the stinkers to fuck…"

"That's enough," Lucius ground out, and Peeves grinned. "You're sure this is the right spot?"

Peeves bobbed his head. The tassels of his hat swung madly around his face. "Yes sir, your stinkyness!"

Lucius met Hermione's eyes. "What do you think?"

She pursed her lips. "Could be it. Might as well investigate." Hermione turned to Peeves. "Stay here while we go inside, okay? We'll be out shortly."

Peeves responded by turning around, grabbing his arse, and letting out a fart that echoed through the silent forest. She took that as a yes, and they stepped up to the opening of the cave.

Lucius took the lead, and for that Hermione was grateful, even if she knew she could handle herself. The lights of their wands cast the narrow walls in pale blue, illuminating the cold stone walls that shrunk the further they walked. At first, they both stood upright. Then Lucius began to duck his head, then crouch, then Hermione was bending over too. Her fingers trailed along the rough wall as her throat closed up. She never liked tight spaces. She didn't know when, how long it took, but at some point a hand reached out for hers. She wasn't sure if it was for her comfort, or his. But she was glad for it, and the weight on her chest lifted just a bit.

They were crawling on hands and knees when Lucius stopped. "What is it?" Hermione whispered, panting. Even her soft voice carried through the tunnel. Her breaths swirled around them, matching Lucius's. "What do you see?"

"It's…Merlin's beard, the cave is gone."

"Gone?"

"Come up beside me." Lucius shifted himself into the left side of the tunnel so she could squeeze up beside him. Their shoulders and hips pressed together. Hair tickled her cheek as she lifted her gaze.

Her eyes widened. The tunnel suddenly ended, but not at a wall of rock. It was a wall of stone.

Castle stone.

She pressed a palm into it, just to be sure it wasn't some kind of illusion magic. She even cast a Revelio. Nothing. Lucius tried a different charm. Again, nothing changed. Then it hit her.

"Lucius, when did the Bloody Baron attend Hogwarts?"

"Well…he was a student during the first generation of students. One of Salazar's own pupils."

Shit. That was what she had been thinking this whole time—that if anyone knew where the cave was, surely it was one of the oldest ghosts at the school. But if he was a student that far into the past, if the Hogwarts he knew was the very original… "Hogwarts wasn't always Hogwarts," Hermione breathed out as the realization hit her. She turned her head to look at Lucius. They were so squeezed in, their noses nearly brushed. Breath washed over her face. "The castle as we know it wasn't always the castle. It grew over time, expanded. Expanded into this very forest. Lucius…I—I think that the cave is under the school."

He blinked slowly, then the realization seemed to hit him too. "You're thinking what I'm thinking?"

She huffed out a weak laugh. "It appears so."

They scrambled back out from the tunnel as quickly as they could, bursting into the open forest. Hermione gulped in the fresh air, hands on her knees as she caught her breath.

"Hermione."

"Hm?" She raked back her dusty curls and righted herself.

"Peeves. The bastard is gone."

She spun around. They were alone in the forest. "Peeves?" she shouted. "Peeves, this isn't funny! You come back right now, or I'll tell the Baron—"

A hand clamped over her mouth and an arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her sharply back. Hermione's eyes bulged as she twisted to stare up at Lucius. She tried to fight him, to struggle out of his grasp at his ridiculous attempt to control her, when he turned them both around. Pressed into his chest, breathing hard into his hand, she saw it.

Not it— them.

Trolls. At least thirty—maybe more. Lumbering through the trees, snarling, their roars echoing through the darkness. The one closest to them grabbed the nearest tree and tore it from the earth. Soil rained down as it swung the trunk in a viscous arc towards them.

She only hoped it was a warning.

Think. Think, she commanded her brain as Lucius slowly inched them backwards. One troll was easy enough to deal with. Two? Barely a difference. But thirty…thirty trolls was a recipe for disaster.

Or more accurately, a recipe for turning into a meal.

They couldn't out-run them. Couldn't hide—this was their home. They probably knew the pathways through the dense trees blind. Couldn't fight, not unless that was their last option. Fuck, Hermione swore, her eyes madly scanning the forest. If only they could get a clear way out of the forest…

The troll let out an earth-rumbling roar and lunged forward. Lucius slammed backwards into a tree, and Hermione tore free from his grasp to dig her hand into her pocket, where she'd stashed her beaded purse.

"Hermione, run," Lucius hissed, trying to grab her hand.

"Wait, I just need—"

"I don't care what you need, girl, we have to run. Now! "

He grabbed at her arm just as Hermione's fingers closed around it. "Here!" She cried, jerking Lucius back towards her. Her fingers unfurled. In her hand was the tiny Cleansweep they'd escaped Azkaban from.

Lucius stared at her, slack-jawed, for just a second as the group of trolls bellowed behind them. "You beautiful, genius witch Merlin, I could kiss you!"

Hermione grinned as her head whipped back towards the trolls. Trees ripped up from their roots. " Now we run," she said, as she lowered her wand to her hand. " Engorgio !"

The broom sprung up into full size as a tree launched towards them like a javelin, missing them by a meter and exploding into the tree beside them. Hermione hiked up her heavy skirts and clambered onto the broom, with Lucius sliding on behind her and wrapping an arm over her waist.

"Hold on," he growled into her ear as he kicked off from the ground. "And keep your eyes shut."

Hermione shrieked as they bolted forward, nearly vertical, and launched into the air. Wind whistled around them like a tunnel. Hermione closed her eyes and pressed her chest flat against the handle with Lucius flush against her back. The trolls roared and cried as the shot up and up and up until—

Crack!

Hermione shrieked. Lucius must have cast a wordless spell, shattering the canopy of branches overhead. As branches and leaves flew past, a sudden rush of clear air enveloped them, and Hermione opened her eyes.

They were soaring over the Forbidden Forest, the broom leveled off and slowing now that they were free. Hermione glanced back from where they emerged and heard the maddened roar of the trolls, angry that their supper had escaped.

Hermione let out a breathless laugh and threw her head back against Lucius's shoulder. "That was brilliant," she managed to get out as the adrenaline continued to course through her.

Lucius smirked. "Your idea, princess. I just held the broom."

Hermione shook her head, still smiling, as they zipped towards the expanse of lawn at the edge of the forest. The castle loomed to their left, windows alight and glowing. When they finally began to descend, Lucius's warmth slid closer to her, and she tried not to think how much she'd miss it once they landed.

She tried not to think about how he said he could kiss her, too.

By the time they were safely inside the castle, the thrill of their escape had settled into nervous anticipation. They walked through the halls slowly, trying not to catch any passing students' attention. But by the time they made it to the stairway to the second floor, Hermione could barely keep her pace in check.

"As I hope you know from History of Magic, plumbing wasn't introduced into this school until…well, now, so I'm not sure if it's a girls' lavatory yet," Hermione murmured as they walked briskly down the hall, nearing the corner that the bathroom was on the other side of. "But just in case, you should stay outside. I'll let you know if it's safe to—"

She was cut off by a hard slam into her chest. Hermione stumbled backwards into Lucius, who steadied her. Her gaze shot forward at Corvinus, who had fallen to the floor. "I'm so sorry. Here, let me," she began, reaching out to offer him a hand.

The boy stared at it, wild-eyed, for just a moment before a cool expression swept over his sunken features. "My apologies, Professor Jean. It's me who wasn't watching where I'm going." Corvinus ignored her hand and pushed off from the floor, brushing his trousers. "Professor Brutus," he said, nodding curtly at Lucius. His eyes swept the hallway, as if looking for someone, before they stilled somewhere behind them. "There you are, my sweet!"

Hermione turned to find a girl in Slytherin green robes hurrying over. She was a pretty thing, pale with dark eyes and hair, though her features were tight with anxiety. Corvinus grabbed her hand and kissed her knuckles.

"My bride to be, Adeline Goyle," Corvinus explained, as the girl stared curiously at the two professors. Hermione didn't recognize her from any classes—she must not have elected to take the Dark Arts. Most of the older girls didn't. "Adeline, say hello to the Malfoys," he said through a pinched smile.

But the girl was still facing Corvinus, staring at him with her brows knitted together. "Corny, I told you I was going to be late, you should have waited—" she murmured, wringing her hands.

"Later, pet." He said, squeezing her shoulder and forcing her to turn around.

Her large brown eyes were still worried, but she forced a pretty smile. "Hello Professors."

"Hello Adeline." Hermione gave her a soft smile. She was desperate to get into that bathroom, but the strange couple intrigued her enough to not dismiss them right away. There was something off about Corvinus, and she couldn't help but want to get to the bottom of it. "You two are set to be married?"

"The day seventh year ends," answered Corvinus. "Now if you excuse us, dear Adeline has some studying to catch up on." Without even a look at the girl, he grabbed her hand and dragged her behind him towards the stairs. The sounds of bickering began before they had fully descended, though their voices were too quiet to make out.

"There's something wrong with that boy," Hermione muttered as their voices drifted away.

"I'd say that's a given, with a family like the Gaunts. Poor girl probably has no idea what she's getting into."

Hermione pursed her lips as they neared the bathroom. This hallway was a dead end, filled only with classrooms and the girls' lavatory. Had Corvinus come from the bathroom? Or was he up to something in one of the empty classrooms? Meeting his bride to be for some snogging, perhaps, she thought as she directed Lucius to stay outside and passed through the door.

Immediately, Hermione was hit with the scent of plaster and dust. The lavatory was dark, the only light streaming in from the circular window set high into the wall. But even in the dimness, she could make out the state of the room very clearly. It was clearly a construction site—wooden boards that she assumed would make up the stalls leaned against a wall, crates of toilets were piled high, and the huge porcelain structure that would one day make up the central column of sinks was off to the side, wrapped in parchment and twine.

Then her eyes landed on a linen tarp draped over the center of the floor. Her heart rate shot up as she stepped cautiously towards it, as she lifted the corner and whipped back the sheet. Hermione dropped to her knees, skirts blooming out from under her. "Lucius, come in!" she called out, and a second later his footsteps bounded into the room. Hermione twisted to look up at him, grinning. "It's not even locked behind the sinks yet."

Hermione turned her attention back to the trapdoor spread out before her. It was a giant square of wood set firmly into the stone. A ring held in the hissing mouth of a silver snake gleamed up at her. Feeling giddy, feeling ready to find that glowing time soil Sir Drayton had led them to, feeling ready to finally go home, Hermione grasped the ring and tugged.

But the door didn't budge.

She tried again, yanking it, throwing her weight and digging her heels into the floor. The door didn't open. Lucius crouched down beside her, trying to pull it up. They tried together, hands pressed side by side. They tried spells, every unlocking or blasting spell they could think of. But still, the door refused to open. As her wand clattered to the ground, Hermione fell back on her hands and stared helplessly at the door. Lucius cursed under his breath and sank down beside her. His hand came to rest heavily on her shoulder.

The Chamber of Secrets was locked, and their key home was trapped inside.