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 classmates from studying. Hermione Granger, a responsible and persevering student, is not going to sit idly by.

34. Legilimens

Hello everyone, how are you doing? I hope very well 😊. I'm back with a huge chapter, which I sincerely hope you'll like 😊

As always, thank you so much to all of you who follow this story 😍, to those of you who dedicate a little bit of your time to leave me a comment, or simply to everyone who is reading this 😍. If you're new, welcome to the family, and if you're not, thank you for still being here! 😍

I won't keep you any longer, let's read! 😉

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CHAPTER 34

Legilimens

"Hermione, are you going to clean the mortar and pestle?" Ron questioned, his voice full of urgency, as he saw her rise from her seat with the utensil in her hand. The red-haired boy, still stirring his thick potion frenetically, patted the surface of the table and handed her his silver knife. "Clean it for me, please. Slughorn says that if you mix the Billywig stings with the Chizpurfle carapace, it can explode."

Hermione held back a smile and took the knife her friend held out to her.

"You need to stir harder, Ron," she said, watching him move his arm as fast as he could. "The fire seeds will only make the antidote reduce in thickness if it reaches the right temperature. And for that it needs movement."

"And I can't raise the damn heat?" the boy protested, clutching his shoulder with his free hand, already feeling a piercing pain in the joint.

"That's what we get for not remembering that we'd already poured in the powdered Graphorn horn," Harry complained, stirring his potion briskly too, switching the spoon in his hand when his right one grew tired. "Pour it twice — we're idiots... Will you clean my knife too, please?"

Hermione chuckled and stretched out to pick it up.

"Don't worry, you can work it out. Just reduce the thickness," the girl encouraged them, taking a quick glance at her potion, which was bubbling slowly over a medium heat. It had to boil for about ten minutes. "I'll be right back."

She wandered around the tables of the Potions class, peering curiously into her classmates' cauldrons. Almost all of them had successfully made the antidotes, and were now bubbling away hypnotically as their creators took the opportunity to clean up. Though some were still trying to fix any unforeseen mistakes with the help of a solicitous Professor Slughorn, his moustache standing out against the mostly beardless faces of his students.

Hermione approached the gargoyle in the corner. With her back to the rest of her classmates, she set the three utensils she was carrying on the basin in front of her and removed the stone covering the gargoyle's mouth to let the water flow out.

"Wait, Hermione, let me — !" an anguished voice suddenly called out. She turned to find Dean's face twitching with panic, "I have to water Seamus's potion... it's spluttering!"

Without giving any further details, the young man hurriedly refilled a small vial and, after shouting a fleeting 'thank you' to the disoriented girl, walked away with the water spilling out, back to his table. Hermione held back a worried smile and proceeded to rinse out her friends' knives, settling on Ron's first.

It was then that she felt a new presence behind her. She made an attempt to move aside, to make room, but the person would not allow her to do so. They pressed themselves against her, pushing her against the basin without any qualms. Hermione turned her face over her shoulder to stare in shock at whoever was invading her space like that. Without getting a full view of their face due to the close proximity, she caught a glimpse of a sharp chin, a flash of blond hair, and the green of a Slytherin robe. She heard a snort in her ear.

"Do you always have to be in the way, Granger?" Draco's voice was above her head, loud enough for the people sitting closest to them to hear. The girl's eyes went wide and she looked straight ahead again in an instant. Unable to respond to anything at all. What was he doing? How dare he take such a risk? To come so blatantly close to her in the middle of a crowded classroom?

The boy justified his closeness by reaching out to grab one of the clean vials on one of the shelves on either side of the gargoyle's head. Then, with a determined swipe, he pushed her hand away from the water coming out of the gargoyle and began to rinse it off. Hermione couldn't suppress a smile of amused resignation. What an excuse. Those vials were clean. There was no need to clean them again. She bit her lip, pretending to be picking the dirt off Ron's knife with her fingernail, but concentrating on the feel of his body against hers. How big he felt behind her. Though he didn't have broad shoulders, she could feel him almost wrap around her. He was taller and bigger than her, of course. And his body temperature was warming her back. And his breath burned against the back of her neck, even through her thick hair. And she could feel the layers of cloth covering his torso against her back. She could almost guess where his robes began, and where his shirt ended.

Oh, damn it, they were in the middle of class. It was dangerous. And terribly exciting. Despite having her back to everyone, she forced herself to keep a straight face. She couldn't, under any circumstances, allow anyone to suspect that something strange was going on in there.

"Come on, Granger, that's clean enough, move away," Draco added, again in a louder voice than he needed to if he was only talking to her. But he wanted people to hear him. Hermione again had to bite back a smile — did no one else really appreciate how fake his gruff tone sounded?

"I'll step aside when I'm done, Malfoy. I was here first," she spat, trying to sound as convincingly annoyed as the boy. She thought she succeeded, sort of.

He merely let out a credible, boredom-laden grunt. Then, still rinsing the already glistening vial, he slipped his other arm behind her, around her, to reach for another vial. Almost hugging her. Hermione felt something brush against her thick hair on the top of her head, just a little. Maybe his nose. Or he'd pressed his chin. She didn't know. But it was maddening. She closed her eyes for a moment, feeling the heat rush up her neck. Dying with longing. Damn him. She couldn't touch him. She was at a disadvantage, she had to keep her back to the others. Any attempt at contact on her part would be too obvious.

A resentful smile appeared on her lips. She dropped her centre of gravity back, just a little. Just enough so that she wasn't so close to the stone basin. To lean a little closer to the front of his body. Until she felt his chest tighten to support her and not let her fall backwards. She felt him exhale at the top of her head. Hermione closed her eyes again. This time for several seconds. Allowing herself, over the accusing cries of her sanity, to let her imagination run wild. Remembering how his hands felt around her waist from behind. His lips on the back of her neck. His firm fingers holding her hip tightly...

Then she felt something fluttering on her left hip and was startled to realise that it wasn't her imagination. It was reality. Draco's hand was rummaging around inside her robes, specifically inside her pocket. Her eyes snapped open. What the...? No, not that. It was too risky, if someone...

And the contact ended. Draco let out a final, loud, arrogant snort and walked away from her as if nothing had happened. Careful not to let her fall backwards. With two gleaming vials in his hands. Hermione had to take a deep breath to relax her heartbeat as she lost all contact with him. She didn't dare look back. She let her body relax, starting with her tense shoulders. By the skin of her teeth.

Dipping the mortar and pestle under the running water with one hand, she wiped the other awkwardly on her skirt and slipped it into her left pocket. Inside she felt for a folded piece of parchment. She pulled it out and placed it in front of her, away from prying eyes. Her fingertips, still damp, left an imprint on the yellowed parchment, but fortunately, the message was still legible.

It's my turn to put the Quidditch equipment away today.

We can meet in the Changing Rooms at half past five.

Hermione smiled to herself, praying that no one would see her do it. She crumpled up the note and put it back in her pocket, focusing again on cleaning the potions utensils. If it was Draco's turn to put away the training equipment it meant that he would be alone in the Changing Room at that time, his teammates would have already left. They could be alone for a while.

Heart pounding, the young woman pondered what she should be doing at that hour. She felt a pang of shame. She had planned to go with Harry and Ron to the Library and spend the afternoon there, together, studying. She bit her lip, what excuse could she make for them? Maybe, once they were in the Library, she could say that she had left some important books in the dormitory... With the excuse of going and coming back, she could spend at least half an hour with Draco. Maybe longer.

Trying to ignore the wave of guilt that hit her every time she found herself in a similar position, she finished cleaning up the mortar and pestle, and her friends' knives, and returned to their side. She made sure to leave them as clean and shiny as possible.

---

Hermione didn't meet anyone she knew on her hurried walk to the Quidditch pitch. The sky was a leaden grey, threatening rain. The temperature was slightly warmer than on previous days, though. Perhaps even too warm. A storm was likely to fall that night.

A little before the appointed time, the girl was walking through the large double doors that led to the centre of the pitch and, by extension, to the Changing Rooms. Immersed in her calculations of how much time she had before returning to her friends, she didn't notice Theodore Nott until she was two metres away from the door to the Changing Rooms, located under the Hufflepuff House stands. She stopped suddenly, with a shudder.

Shit.

How was she going to justify her presence there now? Draco had told her at the time that he had preferred to lie to Nott, that it was better if he didn't know what was going on between them...

With no time to back away, Theodore's eyes were riveted on her. He was leaning against the door, arms folded in a relaxed attitude. He was obviously waiting for Draco. He looked at the young woman with a friendly grimace of greeting, just a slight lift of his lower lip. His eyes did not match his greeting, though. Suspicion shone in them. She hastened to return the best smile on her face and took a few more steps forward, reluctantly.

"Hello, Nott," she greeted, tilting her head to one side, trying to sound friendly. Come on, think of something... "Are Harry and Ron inside?" she questioned, suddenly inspired. She pointed to the door of the Changing Room. "They've got training now, do you know if they've arrived yet?"

Nott stared at her for a long moment and then gave a wide, amused grin. Hermione had never seen him smile so mischievously.

"As you can understand, if Potter and Weasley were inside, I wouldn't be here," the boy joked, raising an eyebrow. "It's Draco who's in there. But I suspect you already know that."

The smile slipped from Hermione's face, turning into a grimace. What the...?

"Of course I didn't know," she hastened to deny it, struggling to sound believably quizzical. "If I did, I wouldn't be here," she let out a nervous chuckle. She cleared her throat and glanced at her wristwatch. "Then I'll come by later to —"

"Granger, relax, you don't have to pretend with me," the boy said calmly, without uncrossing his arms or moving away from the wall. "I know what's between you two. Or I thought I did," he corrected himself, looking at the girl curiously now.

Hermione almost choked. It wasn't clear to her what expression to make, so she didn't make one. She just stared at him, her brows furrowed slightly. Scrutinising him as intently as he was scrutinising her.

"Between us?" she questioned quietly, though it was almost inertia. Nott's words left no room for doubt. But he had caught her off guard.

"You and Draco, woman. Didn't he tell you? I know you're together, don't worry. Well, that you were. The last information I had was that you'd had a fight. I wasn't sure if you'd make up or not, given your — well, given that it's you two, and you're complicated as fuck. But... I see that you did, otherwise I don't think you'd be here," he didn't seem to find it particularly exciting. And he certainly didn't seem too pleased. But his lips curved, reluctantly, into a sad smile. "I suppose, after my slip-up, you won't feel like telling me anything, but... are you two seeing each other again? Have you sorted out whatever it was that happened?"

Hermione stared at the boy in shock. Her muscles felt stiff. The situation was beyond doubt: Malfoy had told Nott what was going on between them. Why now, when he'd lied to him in the first place? Weren't they supposed to keep it a secret?

She sighed with composure. Still sizing the boy up. She realised he was the only person they knew who could take the news with resignation. Without being shocked. He was the only one who knew much of what had happened between them. He didn't seem angry. He didn't seem willing to tell anyone. In fact, judging by his words, he had known about it for a long time. And he hadn't said half a word about it.

Hermione relaxed her shoulders. She had no intention of looking nervous or upset. Not even defensive. Nott was so sure of everything that it was ridiculous for her to deny it.

And not having to pretend was, for a change, a sense of relief akin to pulling out a dagger.

"Yes, we've — there's something between us," Hermione confessed softly. She tasted the words, feeling them strange in her mouth. She clasped her hands together, in front of her hips, serenely. She had no intention of looking embarrassed. "Did Malfoy tell you about us? And that we'd had a fight?" she asked, unable to contain herself. She was too shocked by the blond's actions to ignore them. "We weren't supposed to tell anyone," she informed him gently, indicating that was the reason for keeping it from him. But there was no trace of rancour on Nott's face.

"And I think that's a very sensible position to take. He didn't really tell me anything, I just wormed it out of him," he admitted, arching his eyebrow again, almost mockingly. A gesture more like Draco's than his. "Let's just say I found out on my own and he had no choice but to admit it to me. It's becoming a habit between us," he smiled more sincerely. "He confessed to me that you two had a fight, though he didn't tell me the reason... It must have been something serious, I suppose," he commented, almost to himself. Hermione pursed her lips and hastily shook her head.

"It really was a stupid fight. A misunderstanding. It's all cleared up now," she said, calmly. Nott looked at her curiously, seemingly surprised that they had managed to sort things out on their own. But then he relaxed his face and pointed to the door of the Changing Rooms with his thumb.

"Did you agree it with him, or is this a surprise?"

Hermione let out a smile. Appreciating the boy's attitude. He knew everything. Everything. And yet, he wasn't overtly against the situation. At least not enough to reproach her for anything. Hermione got the impression, coupled with everything Nott had told her the day she'd told him about her feelings for Malfoy in Arithmancy class, that he didn't approve of such a relationship between them. And understandably so. But he didn't seem to feel in a position to protest either.

And, to have some kind of ally, it was quite comforting.

"We've arranged to meet."

"In any case, I'm not needed here," the boy resigned himself, pulling away from the wall. "I'll see him later. Be careful."

Without another glance at her, he walked calmly away in the direction of the field's exit. Hermione wanted to tell him that she didn't mean to send him away, but she couldn't find the breath to do it. She just watched him walk away. Wondering a lot of things. Wondering how different Harry and Ron's reaction would be if they were to find out about something like this.

Pondering how dangerous it might be for Nott to know the truth, she opened the door to the Changing Room without hesitation and stepped inside. She found it lit by several lamps, giving a cheerful, flickering yellowish light to the place. She closed the door behind her, leaning against the surface, and scanned the room for the boy. It didn't take her long to locate him, being the only moving entity in the place.

He stood with his back to her, next to one of the benches, both hands working at the zip of his black trousers. The skin of his back glistening with pale nudity. With the shadow that pointed to the curve of his spine disappearing into the waistband of his trousers. With the edge of his shoulder blades intermittently showing. The girth of some muscles accentuating as they contracted in sync to move his arms.

She'd caught him getting dressed.

Oh, no.

At the sound of the door closing, Draco turned his head out of inertia, still buckling his belt. And turned his trunk, revealing his bare chest. Which looked even whiter than his back. Except for his dark areolas. And the hollow of his navel. And the shadowed outline of some muscles, little shadows here and there...

His grey eyes focused on the girl, and he seemed momentarily speechless. And unable to move. His hands stopped, still clutching the belt. Hermione brought a hand to her mouth instantly.

"I'm sorry!" she hastened to exclaim against her palm, her voice higher-pitched than usual. Her eyes looked wide. And frightened.

Draco didn't believe that a heart could actually stop beating. It had always seemed ridiculous to him. If it stops beating, you die. It was as simple as that. But his heart stopped beating. He could feel it stagger and stop. Saturated with panic. He lowered his eyes to himself at lightning speed. Not at his naked torso, he didn't care about that. But he did care about his left arm.

The Dark Mark was slightly faded. As if it was several years old and beginning to fade. But it was there. And he knew how black it could turn if the Dark Lord claimed you. Fortunately, Granger couldn't see it from her position in the doorway. He was sure of it. She could only see the back of his forearm, as he was buckling his belt. Bloody Merlin, thank you.

He locked his eyes on her, the ghost of a restrained smile on his lips as he heard his heart in his ears again. When he realised that the fear in her eyes was not because of the Dark Mark.

"You've come," he greeted, mockingly. He feigned amusement at the girl's reaction. She didn't look amused at all.

"I'm sorry, I should have knocked..." Hermione insisted, earnestly, overwhelmed. "I can —" she offered, making to open the door again. But Draco let out a chuckle through his nose and shook his head. He turned his back on her again.

"Never mind. I'm almost done," he reached down to grab the white shirt hanging on the bench and shoved his arms in the sleeves, the belt still half-buckled. Apparently, despite his nonchalant words, he didn't want to prolong being bare-chested in front of her. "The best part is covered, unfortunately, you're late," he joked even so, trying to appear more mischievous and confident than he actually felt.

He gave her his best smug expression sideways, at which the girl looked at him with resigned regret. Feeling her guilt eased by the fact that he was taking it so naturally and not sending her packing. Despite having a relatively intimate relationship on a physical level, she wasn't sure how she was supposed to behave. They had never seen each other so undressed.

Despite the fact that Malfoy had already turned around, and placed his shirt to hide his arms and back, the girl couldn't erase the image of his bare chest from the back of her eyes. Mostly due to the tingling that had come to stay, three fingers below her navel. She'd seen Harry and Ron bare-chested a million times, and she'd never experienced that. She'd never seen the body of someone she was attracted to like that. Someone she really, really desired.

She found almost embarrassing to feel her cheeks burning beyond control, and she prayed it wasn't visible. She averted her gaze to the side, trying not to stare directly at him and give him some privacy. She didn't take her back off the door just yet.

"I'm sorry. Nott was outside and I got distracted talking to him, I just walked in without thinking," she confessed, the shrill tone thankfully leaving her voice. She managed to sound much calmer.

"Nott?" he repeated, no longer mocking, fixing his gaze on her as he sat down on the bench to tie his shoelaces. "Is he here?"

"Outside, waiting for you," the girl corroborated, not needing to give too many details. "He has left."

Draco thought for a moment. He could imagine why Nott had come looking for him, though he hadn't expected it. He'd done it before. Going to find him in the Changing Room because he knew they could talk quietly there, alone, undisturbed.

He wanted to ask him about his mission.

Nott was the only person in the castle who knew he was on a mission for the Dark Lord; besides Snape, of course. Draco had told him while they were both still at home at Easter. Nott offered him instant help, but Draco refused. It was his mission. It was his business. He didn't know to what extent the Dark Lord allowed him to have allies. And it hadn't even occurred to him to ask. Nor had it crossed his mind to even hint at needing any kind of help.

Over the weeks, Theodore had returned to offer his help repeatedly and ask him if he was getting results. Draco refused to tell him anything. He hadn't told him about Filch's maps, or his attempts to learn about the protection charms on the Entrance Gates, or the keys that Rubeus Hagrid kept in his fireplace. He didn't want Nott involved. He was just telling him it was none of his business and to be discreet. That everything was under control. Even though it wasn't.

He didn't want to tell him anything, at least not until he had a concrete plan to work with. And he didn't have one yet.

He closed his eyes, pushing it all out of his head.

Instead, he sighed, resigning himself to the fact that Nott, of course, had to know about his reconciliation with Granger. There was no way to keep anything from him.

"What an exhausting man," he protested in a growl, giving voice to his thoughts. Hermione looked at him, forgetting his privacy, encouraging him to explain himself. "A grilling awaits me when I see him. I forgot to tell you... It happened while we fought about the Potter thing. Even though we told him we weren't together, he was watching us and realised the truth. And also that we'd had a fight. The prick guessed the whole thing. I didn't tell him the reason for the fight, though," he looked at the girl cautiously, not knowing whether or not she would be bothered by his words. Her relaxed smile told him that all was well.

"He just told me something like that, yes," the girl corroborated, folding her arms and moving towards him. Immersed in the conversation, forgetting that he was still not fully dressed. "Now he's put it all together when he saw me here and realised that we've started seeing each other again. I tried to pretend at first, thinking he didn't know anything, but it didn't work..."

Draco shrugged, resigned. He leaned his torso back a little, so he could buckle his belt while he continued seated.

"It doesn't matter. I'm not really too worried about him knowing," he admitted, thinking aloud. "Even though the situation seems complicated to him, of course, he's taken it well. At least he's not judging me. He's just... worried, I think. He won't tell anyone, I'm sure," he added, looking at the girl as if he thought it might upset her.

"I know," Hermione reassured him, with a tiny smile. "He's a good friend. He'd never do that to you. Luckily, he's... the best person to find out. The only mutual friend we have," she commented, almost amused at the idea.

Draco composed a subtle grimace of agreement, not looking at her. He moved his hands to the buttons of his shirt to begin buttoning it, starting at the collar area. As he stared at the floor, deep in thought. Hermione stared at the boy, absorbed before her, and it was then that she remembered that she had caught him getting dressed. His shirt was still half-buttoned, and she was able to see the funny folds his stomach made as he was sitting, between the fabric. She also noticed then that his blond hair was slightly damp, looking heavier than usual. And that, now that she had approached him, he smelled wonderfully of soap. It all corroborated the fact that he had just showered.

"How was the training?" the girl wanted to know, in a softer tone. Trying to keep her voice from trembling. Trying to take her mind off how attractive her own body was perceiving the young man at that moment.

Draco's eyes, to the girl's surprise, sparkled with unexpected excitement as they rose to look at her.

"I had a blast... Look at this, I just got my new broom yesterday," he revealed, standing up without finishing buttoning his shirt. His face was struggling to look smug, and elegantly pleased, as if it were simply news worthy of mention, but the excitement was betraying him. He seemed genuinely excited. He walked over to the broom cupboard and pulled out an auburn one, gleaming, with the brush elegantly combed. Hermione walked over as well, her lips curving into a smile.

"How pretty," she corroborated, touched by the emotion that the young man was unable to conceal despite his obvious efforts. "Did you finally buy the Thunderbolt VII?"

It was an unnecessary question, as the name of the broom was clearly visible in gold letters on the side. She clutched it in her hands as she saw him hold it out to her. She felt a little clumsy, not knowing how to hold it properly. She didn't fly very often, she didn't even have a broom of her own. She only used to play Quidditch at The Burrow with her friends in the summer, and she always borrowed the Weasley family's brooms. Hermione knew perfectly well, even if her friends didn't tell her clearly so as not to offend her, that she was a terrible player.

"Yeah, and it's amazing," Draco admitted, with ill-contained complacency. "The handle is polished ebony, and the brush is hazel. It's more precise than previous models and can do 175 miles an hour. And the braking is spectacular," he said, seemingly too pleased to realise that his interlocutor would not appreciate the information. Hermione nodded her head as if everything she heard sounded fantastic.

"Sounds great," she admitted, amused, and weighed it with her arms. "And it weighs quite a lot. Did you pay per pound? That would explain the price," she joked, playfully. He narrowed his eyes.

"Exactly, I paid per pound, like Doxy eggs," he grunted. Rolling his eyes as if she made him desperate, he snatched it out of her hands. He turned to put it back in the cupboard, but gave her a sly grin over his shoulder as he did so. "Remind me to show it to MacDougal..."

Hermione dropped her eyelids and merely replied with a snort. Her lips curved into a resentful smile. She knew he was just trying to annoy her.

"Don't worry, I'll remind you," she assured him, disdainfully, her nose pointed at the ceiling. "Clearly, with such a broom, there won't be a girl who can resist you," she sneered, folding her arms.

Draco closed the cupboard door and Hermione saw in his profile that a cocky smirk lifted the corners of his mouth. He turned his face to look at her, smug, his eyes glinting with mischief.

"It's not the first time I've been told that," he said, his voice turning to a silky whisper.

Hermione rolled her eyes and shrugged reluctantly.

"Well, yes, your Nimbus Two Thousand and One was also —"

"Granger, sense the tone," he protested, interrupting her and looking down at her with drooping eyelids.

Hermione returned his gaze quizzically, her brow furrowing. Feeling like she was missing something. Draco's eyebrow arched, and then, magically, she understood.

She snapped her mouth open, offended.

"Oh, stop it!" she shocked, raising her voice, and slapping him on the arm. "That's not what I meant, you pervert..."

Draco let out an evil laugh. He leaned his shoulder against the cupboard, facing her, and brought his hands to his shirt to continue buttoning the rest of the buttons.

"I know, but it was wonderful that you didn't notice the double meaning yourself," he gloated. "I'd pay three times this broom to see the look on your face again..."

"Idiot," the girl protested resentfully, folding her arms again. "Can you please go back to being seventeen instead of twelve?"

"If you insist... But you're right, I know of only one girl who would resist me, even if I had this magnificent broom," he hissed, looking at her with a smug gleam in his eye.

He approached her as he spoke, and, when he stood in front of her, he released the shirt so that he could grab her elbows, firmly crossed over her chest. Pulling her close enough to give her a quick but determined kiss on the throat. Her lips curved into a smile as she squirmed at the sensation. She looked up at him with resigned amusement when he straightened his face again. Without a second thought, she uncrossed her arms and brought them forward to finish buttoning the last remaining buttons on his shirt herself, out of sheer inertia.

"Hey, you really could show it to MacDougal, that's not a bad idea," Hermione suggested, gently. Her fingers were working with difficulty on the tiny buttons. "If it's as good a broom as you say it is, I'm sure she'll be pleased to see it. She'll certainly appreciate it more than I do."

She felt his naked stomach brush sporadically against the back of her fingers. She could feel the warmth emanating from his soft skin. The fabric of his uniform shirt was the same as hers, and so were the same buttons she buttoned every morning. And yet she felt totally different. She looked into his eyes as she pushed the button through its corresponding buttonhole. Wondering if he would notice the very different feeling too. He was already staring at her, scrutinising her face. As if he was silently asking her why she was doing it.

The corners of his lips twitched.

"I ran into her yesterday after class and it didn't even occur to me. I barely speak to her. In fact, I don't think we've spoken again since you saw us..."

Hermione's smile widened, turning sympathetic. She went down to the next button. The boy's tense belly contracted discreetly under her knuckles as he felt them slide down. Hermione could feel a fine, almost invisible fuzz tickle her skin.

"Well, now you have an excuse. Next time you see her, tell her. It'll make her happy," the girl insisted, looking proud of herself at the idea. She focused her gaze on the buttons.

"At your command," Draco murmured, with listless irony. He looked down to watch her work as well, to see her lower her hands further, intent on buttoning the last two buttons. At the level of his silver buckled belt. Draco's hands were unnaturally still, dangling on either side of his hips. The boy felt them throbbing. Eager to move. To grab the body in front of him. Wherever it was, he didn't care. But he wanted to touch her. To bring her closer. Being still while she touched him like that felt almost unnatural. Feeling her hands in that area was being... disturbing. He felt his thighs tense, holding back he didn't know what. He was trying to breathe as shallowly as possible so as not to brush against the backs of her fingers, to no avail. He needed oxygen. The skin on his belly was tingling. It was burning. He could feel it tighten under her indirect touch, and he knew she would be feeling it, but he couldn't help it. He couldn't control the sensitivity of the area. Unheeding what little sanity he had left, he imagined then that her hands went lower. That they were touching his skin directly. And he could almost hear his own breathing faltering. How would it feel if she...?

"Merciful Merlin, don't go there..."

Hermione had stopped brushing his skin. She was now in contact with the belt. Though she was able to notice how the boy's stomach moved in accordance with his breathing. Rising and falling. The last button. And she realised that she had stopped sensing her surroundings. That she only felt the presence of the boy standing before her. The coldness of the metal of the buckle against her knuckles. The closeness of his body. The intimacy of touching his clothes. Why was she doing it, and why wasn't he stopping her?

Her mind flew, against her lucidity. She imagined, in a flash, the opposite situation. She imagined unbuttoning his shirt, button by button, revealing little by little his skin... That skin she had seen minutes ago... Unbuckling that belt, listening to its metallic clink as it fell to the floor... She imagined herself brushing his skin gently with her fingers. Maybe it would bristle at her touch. Maybe she'd make him shiver. Maybe he would sigh...

As soon as the last button slipped through the buttonhole, Hermione was ready to pull her hands away from the area quickly, needing to get away from him. But she didn't have the chance. She felt Draco's hand circle her body until it reached her lower back and pulled her to him with a firm gesture. The young woman bumped against his chest, their hands trapped between their bodies, and she was unable to contain a brief giggle of pure surprise. She felt the boy's belt pressing against her belly, such was the closeness. A sensation that made her close her eyes momentarily. When she opened them, Draco had already leaned over her face. The gleam in his eyes surprised the girl. It was a... hungry gleam. That was the word that best described it. And the girl felt a rush of longing run down her spine. Unable to analyse such a gaze in its full magnitude.

Draco pressed his lips to hers in a firm kiss. Hard. Decisively. As if he'd been wanting to do it for a while, and he'd finally made up his mind. The girl closed her eyes and pursed hers to reciprocate, relaxing against him. She moved her hands as best she could to place them on either side of his waist, allowing herself to feel its shape, then clutching at his shirt. The hand Draco kept on her lower back squeezed her a little tighter. His fingers twitched in his attempt to grip her tighter. As if that wasn't enough closeness. Holding back and letting go at the same time.

They separated from each other's lips and looked at each other for a few seconds. They just looked at each other. Without saying anything. Without smiling.

He was the first to move away, blinking slowly. He released her back, allowing her to move away too, and took a step back himself. He looked down, bringing his hands to his own waist so he could tuck his shirt into his trousers.

"Are you in a hurry?" the boy questioned then, in a calmer tone. Subtly changing the subject. As if he wanted to avoid talking about what had just happened. "How much time do you have? I brought something..."

Hermione was still struggling to catch her breath, still lost in his brief kiss and his avid gaze. But she felt her pulse tingle as she took in those words. She gazed at him as he walked away back to the bench.

"Brought? Brought what?" she managed to mumble, following him with some hesitation. He was rummaging through a leather bag he had lying next to the rest of his clothes. Hermione heard a clink, and then the boy turned to show her a glass bottle, with a golden liquid inside, which he held in his hand. With his best smug expression. Hermione almost burst out laughing at the sight.

"Butterbeer?" she looked surprised, and amused, moving closer to look at the small bottle.

"I assumed you liked it," he justified himself, smugly. Hermione smiled, pursing her lips.

"Yes, of course I like it," she corroborated, touched, without mockery. "But where did you get it?" she questioned then, and the suspicion in her voice showed her rank as Prefect, which would not allow anyone to break school rules.

"A man has his contacts..." he said with vanity, slipping it back into his bag. Ignoring her suspicious look. "Do you have time? Do you want to go somewhere?"

Hermione turned her forearm to look at her wristwatch. She bit her lip. She really didn't have much time. But... he'd brought Butterbeer for them to drink together. That had been really nice of him. Maybe she could stay a little longer than she'd intended...

"I have to get back soon," Hermione complained, musingly, in a whisper. "I don't have much time before they get suspicious... Oh, but I know where we could go, nearby. For a little while," she proposed, suddenly inspired. Draco arched an eyebrow.

"Nearby? Where?"

"You'll see... Come on, get your things, hurry," she urged, visibly excited, waving her hands at him. Draco gave in with a grimace, looking around to see what he had left to pick up. He slung his bag over his shoulder and carried the last of his belongings in his hands, his robe, his tie, and wand among them. In less than a minute they were both out of the Changing Room, turning off the lights behind them.

Outside it had begun to rain.

They stood in the doorway for a moment, staring resignedly at the thin but definitely moderate rain that was beginning to turn the pitch to mud. Hermione looked around, searching for the shortest route where they would get the least wet. She led him silently along the edge of the pitch and they walked up the stairs leading to the stands. He kept looking around to make sure no one was nearby. With a distracted wave of his wand, Draco shielded them from the rain with a simple spell. He wondered if the girl was sure where they were going. If the stands, facing directly towards the centre of the pitch, were the safest place to stand. It was precisely the place where they would be most visible...

But the girl didn't intend that. When they ascended to the second level of stands, what she did was to duck down and sneak through the timbers that held the seats in place. Draco, impressed, followed her. Together they entered the iron and timber structure that supported the stands, walking hunched over. Draco was tempted to go forward on his knees; the place was definitely not meant for anyone to be walking around. Least of all someone of his height. The wood creaked under their feet, and some of the planks wobbled.

Hermione stopped when she reached a small space, surrounded by wooden beams, just over five feet square. A few drops trickled down through the slats of the upper tiers, but there they were, for the most part, protected from the rain. And from prying eyes.

"How about here?" the girl questioned, plopping down on the plank floor, adjusting her uniform skirt. She looked excited. "Not bad, is it?"

Draco looked around with a petulant look on his face. He dropped awkwardly onto the floor in front of her, settling his long legs into the cramped space. He set aside the small pile of his belongings.

"Acceptable, Granger. Undistinguished for my liking, but it will do. Certainly, no one will be looking for us here. Mind you, if I see a spider, I'm out of here," he said, resting his elbow on one of his knees and pointing an accusing finger at her.

Hermione tilted her face to one side and gave him a smirk.

"I'll keep you busy so you don't see it, then," she teased, stretching forward until she reached him. She cupped his face in her hands and pressed her lips against his in a soft kiss. Draco let the air out of his nose, as if he'd found it funny, and lowered his head, making it easier for her to reach him. Making it easier for himself to lose in her mouth once more. He stretched out his hands and rested his open palms in her lap, over her uniform skirt. Giving the tops of her thighs a squeeze. Wanting, plain and simple, to touch her.

Hermione pulled away from his lips after several seconds, but he leaned in again to repeat the kiss. He pressed his lips to hers, forcing an urgent intake of breath through her nose, and then he lowered his face even further to run his mouth along the line of her jaw. She had to pull her hands away from his face to allow him to manoeuvre, leaving them resting on his shoulders. The boy's lips reached the upper part of her throat, parted and sucked the area cautiously. He felt the girl sigh and her shoulders heave. One of her small hands slid down his shoulder, reaching for the back of his neck. Encouraging him to continue. The girl's hand felt cold; or maybe the back of his neck burned, he wasn't sure. He repeated the gesture, lower, more decisively. This time using his teeth. Her breath stuttered as it left her mouth, as if hiding a nervous laugh. His fingers twitched in her lap. Draco exhaled against her skin. Losing himself. Stopping. Regaining control. His own breath trembled against her neck. How could she make him tremble without even touching him?

After one last kiss close to her ear, he broke away from her a little, just enough to see her face without squinting. She looked back at him, the shadow of a smile on her lips. She let her hands descend to rest on his, in her own lap. The raindrops hitting the seats could be heard clearly above their heads. It was a situation full of intimacy, of privacy. It was just them. Them, the rain, and the beams around them.

The girl's hair was slightly damp with a few raindrops glistening on its surface. And it was frizzy, looking fluffier because of the humidity. Draco didn't know by what light, but her dark eyes twinkled in the gloom of their hiding place. The ghost of her smile seemed to him at that moment something he would never tire of contemplating. Her hands were still cold against his.

She was... beautiful.

"Any spiders in sight?" Hermione questioned in a whisper, amused, snapping him out of his thoughts. And then he realised that he had been silent for far too many seconds. Staring at her. And he must have been looking like an idiot.

He straightened slightly, pulling himself together, and shrugged indifferently, pretending it was nothing relevant. He cleared his throat subtly, trying to regain his own dignity. He also let go of her lap.

"How did you discover this place?" he questioned, pretending that was what was going through his head. He took a quick glance over his shoulder and noticed that he had a horizontal beam close enough to lean against. He leaned back until he felt the wood against his back. His heart was pounding in his chest, and he wasn't quite sure why.

"I came here to talk to Nott once," the girl confessed, looking around, lost in thought. "It was during a match. We snuck in here so we wouldn't be seen. Well, actually, I think the space Nott showed me was in a different area, it was a bit bigger..." she commented thoughtfully, remembering.

Draco gave a sudden, suspicious, sideways smile. She looked at him blankly.

"Blimey Nott. What a bastard. How quiet he kept it..."

Hermione blinked. Finding funny the malice that suddenly flashed in the boy's eyes.

"What are you talking about?"

She mimicked him, leaning her back against a beam, in her case a vertical one, behind her. They moved their bodies away from each other, though their legs still kept touching in the cramped space. Draco reached to the side to dip his hand into his bag and pull out the glass bottle.

"Don't you know he's dating Daphne Greengrass?" he questioned mockingly, arching an eyebrow, as if that explained everything. He turned his body to one side, just slightly, and stretched his long legs out as far as he could, placing them to one side of her body. He couldn't stretch them all the way out. With a quick, firm twist of his wrist, he removed the cap from the bottle and reached out to hand it to the girl.

Hermione didn't even manage to give him a grateful look as she took the drink. She just opened her eyes wide in astonishment at his words.

"Really?" she gasped, breaking into a beaming smile. She stretched her legs out as well, placing them parallel to his. Her own legs were fully stretched out. "Not at all, I had no idea... How long have they been together?"

"A few months," he calculated reluctantly, after a moment's thought. "It was at the beginning of term."

"Why didn't he say anything to me?" she pretended to be annoyed, still smiling. "Oh, tell me, how are they doing?" she questioned a moment later, excitedly, and then took a quick swig of beer.

Draco arched an eyebrow at her tone. He hadn't thought she'd be so excited.

"Well, I don't know. I don't usually ask him anything."

"Oh, come on," the girl complained, now looking at him impatiently. "He must have told you something..."

"We don't talk about things like that," he protested, haughtily, as if the contrary were almost offensive. She continued to stare at him, as if she didn't believe him. "Well, they're still together, aren't they? That must mean they're doing well." She didn't alter her expression. He forced himself to think about it, so that he could add something to wipe the annoyance off her face, "I don't know... Anyway, Daphne is great, and... you'll never see her quiet. She's a good counterpoint to Nott, who says an average of ten words a day. Fifteen, if he's had coffee," he scoffed, reaching for his tie on top of his pile of personal belongings. "I'm sure they've come here at some point..." he added jokingly. She blinked slowly and smiled uncertainly.

"You think so? But they don't have to... hide, do they?" she said gently. Draco snorted disdainfully, pulling his shirt collar up and then wrapping the fabric of his tie around it.

"Well, no. They don't have to hide," he chuckled as he expertly knotted the tie. Hermione could hear the resentment tainting his voice. She knew what he was thinking. He was comparing the situation he was in with Hermione and the one his friend was in with his partner. Theodore and Daphne didn't have to hide if they didn't want to. They had to. "But, well, there were some things you couldn't do in public..." he added later, in a lighter tone. His light eyes bored into hers, so suddenly that she was taken by surprise. She didn't know what expression to make. Though she understood instantly what he meant, she couldn't help but look at him with confused hesitation.

"Here?" she questioned, incredulously, looking around. As if she felt it was not at all an appropriate place for what he was suggesting. He gave her a condescending look.

"Wherever, Granger," he replied in return, with jocular emphasis. "You'd be surprised where people are able to hide..."

Hermione looked at him without seeing him, pondering. Realising how many couples there were at Hogwarts. Couples from different Houses who might need to find hidden places to indulge their passion... On her rounds as Prefect, she had reprimanded people she had caught snogging in the Library, in some corridors or in empty classrooms, but it hadn't occurred to her that people were looking for even more secluded places. To do things more intimate than kissing.

She considered protesting. To say firmly that such a thing was not right. That there was a time and a place for everything. But... wouldn't that make her a hypocrite? She recalled too many things in an instant. The vivid memory of the Arithmancy classroom, feeling the desk bump against her back, resting against it to sit down, legs spread wide, the boy before them, his mouth on hers... Their encounter in Filch's broom cupboard, the boy's strong hands on her thigh, her own lips on his neck...

Hermione cleared her throat and pulled herself together, hurriedly. They hadn't actually… It was a different case altogether.

She studied Malfoy carefully. Would he have caught classmates in places like this on his Prefect rounds? Would they have told him? Would he have...?

Wherever...

Draco didn't wipe away his satisfied smile. He leaned back better against the beam, once the tie was knotted around his neck, and folded his arms. Not noticing the girl's confused expression.

"Before you punish Nott and Greengrass for having sex in public places, as I know you're considering doing," the boy sneered, looking at her smugly. She let out a grudging smile. "Let me tell you that they've had our dormitory available lately. I usually try to take advantage of Zabini going off with the Quidditch team to go with them as well. That way I leave the dormitory to them for a while," he said, absentmindedly, looking up at the lower part of the seats above them.

And then he wondered why he had confessed that. Why he was having this conversation with Granger. Why it didn't feel weird to be having it. Just... different. With her, damn it, he could talk about anything.

Hermione let out a resigned sigh. Partially satisfied. She reached forward, offering the bottle back to him. He hesitated for a brief moment before accepting it. As if he didn't expect them to share it. And Hermione wondered if he had really meant for it to be for her. Just for her. If Draco Malfoy would have broken school rules to smuggle in a Butterbeer just for her.

"That place seems rather more appropriate," Hermione agreed, in the smug tone she used to scold first-years running through the corridors. She watched Draco snort with amusement before taking a long swig of beer. She allowed her gaze to follow the line of his sharp jaw as he raised his face to drink. "It's a nice gesture of you to do that for them," she added more softly.

She saw him blink, apparently surprised that she thought so. But he just shrugged reluctantly, the hint of a vain smile on his lips at her compliment. Hermione bit her own lip to keep from asking if he'd ever had the same favour done for him... She blinked away those recurring thoughts. Now was not the time to be thinking about any of that.

It felt... unusual to be talking about something like this with him. But easy at the same time, because of the way he addressed it. With total spontaneity. With confidence. As if they were friends. As if they were a couple.

She looked at her wristwatch. It was worryingly late.

"Are you free on Thursday?" the girl questioned, looking apologetically at him. An indication that she had to leave imminently. "In the afternoon. After classes."

Draco pursed his lips, breaking with that simple gesture the girl's hopes of seeing him again in a few days. The boy reached forward, offering her the bottle again.

"I have Quidditch practice," he revealed. And though he tried to sound elegantly resigned, he could hear the frustration in his voice. Hermione felt the disappointment rise in her chest. "Friday?"

The girl considered for a few seconds, taking a swig from the bottle. Figuring out what to say. According to her strict self-imposed schedule, she was supposed to start studying for her exams. In fact, she was starting that afternoon. She could meet him on Friday, yes, but she'd lose hours of study time.

"I have to study," she confessed, calmly, quietly. No shame in her tone. "I want to start preparing for exams. I'm sorry."

Draco arched an eyebrow.

"Arithmancy midterm?"

"N.E.W.T.s," she specified. Draco's eyebrow remained raised.

"They're almost two months away," he reminded her, as if it was obvious. She looked at him with assurance.

"I know," she said, impassively.

Draco snorted with a chuckle. But he just looked away. Thoughtfully. Looking for another solution. Hermione scanned his face thoroughly, but saw nothing. There was no irritation, no rancour. He wasn't going to mock her for starting to study so rigorously for the N.E.W.T.s two months in advance. Possibly he had come to terms with the idea that something like this could happen. That Hermione Granger would prioritise her studies over him.

"Shall we try at the weekend?" Draco mumbled. Without much conviction. The girl pursed her lips.

"It's more complicated," she muttered, depressed. "I think we'll have to wait until next week..." The boy looked at her. And saw reflected in her dark eyes the same disappointment that had taken hold of him. Almost a whole week? He said nothing. She sighed, "That's a long time. This is —" Hermione interrupted herself. She looked frustrated. Discouraged. He continued to stare at her. Feeling his back tingle with annoyance. He didn't want to see her like this.

"What?" he encouraged her to speak, in a whisper. She looked into his eyes. The girl's were sparkling. With sadness. A new kind of sparkle that Draco didn't like one bit.

"I'm tired of seeing you once a week, or sometimes not even that," Hermione whispered. "In stolen moments when we have to watch the clock. Seeing each other from afar in class isn't enough. I want to see you more often. This is getting harder and harder for me. I want to spend more time with you."

Draco didn't look away. Scrutinising her face, which looked genuinely distressed. Wondering how it was so easy for her to say things like that. He felt the same way. Exactly the same. But he couldn't bring himself to say it out loud. And it was ridiculous because, if she felt that way too, she wouldn't make fun of him. He could say what he felt. And yet he couldn't. To hear his own voice letting out such a thing was — he couldn't.

His teeth were clenched, and, for a moment, he feared he would never be able to unclench them again. Because she was depressed before him, and he didn't know how to fix it.

When he managed to separate his jaws, he didn't know what to say.

"We can't," he hissed. Undaunted. "See each other more often, we can't. It would draw attention. If it's hard enough to see each other once, or twice, it's almost impossible to do it more often."

He sounded coherent. He sounded mature. Reasonable. Everything that, for the first time, she wasn't being. And yet he felt like he was missing the truth. The sentence in which he told her that he was just as angry as she was. That he needed to see her more often, too.

"I know," Hermione said resolutely. And Draco watched her pull herself together, squaring her shoulders. Regaining her judicious, objective nature. "I've looked at the Prefect rounds. It's our turn together in almost four weeks."

"Oh, yeah?" he replied, in a whisper. It hadn't occurred to him to look so far ahead.

"In two weeks' time it's your turn with Hannah Abbott. We get on so well, I thought I'd ask her to let me go in her place. I can tell her that my round is just before the exams. The first one is Arithmancy, and she doesn't have it. So maybe she'll accept."

"Not a bad idea," Draco heard himself say. She offered him the bottle again, and he took it, almost without noticing. He still felt strange. With an urgent need to say something.

"Maybe I could also... come watch you practice," she commented then, glancing around. "What do you think of this place to hide?"

He frowned, blinking. Confused.

"Watch me practice?" he repeated, wanting to make sure he'd got it right. "What for?"

Hermione looked at him. And she gave him a smile so full of tenderness, so far from the sadness she was showing moments before, that it made his fingers unclench, almost dropping the bottle.

"For nothing, really. I'd just like to see you. See if that broom is worth the price," she let out a candid chuckle. "Maybe one day I could sneak in here and see you through the stands," the girl looked around more intently, proud of her own idea. She squinted, trying to guess if she could see anything through the structure.

Draco didn't say anything at first. He had been forced to grit his teeth again. Not allowing his face to soften. Not sure he wanted to allow the expression he longed to make. He had to take a long swig of beer before he could speak again.

"If you do, don't even think of letting me know," he managed to protest, in a smug tone that was fortunately convincing. He set the bottle aside. Hermione gave him a puzzled look.

"And why not?"

With a silvery gleam in his eyes, becoming almost feline in the gloom, the boy sat up suddenly, separating himself from the beam, and lunging straight at her. He pressed his face against hers, his legs cramped at her side, one hand resting on the beam behind her for support. He managed to time his movement so that their faces were pressed together, their foreheads touching, their noses brushing, without having hit each other. Barely leaving a yearning millimetre of distance between their skins.

Hermione barely let out the breath that the movement made her hold.

"Because, if I know you're looking at me, I won't be able to catch that Snitch even if it was Longbottom's size."

And his mouth covered hers, almost like the bite of a snake.

---

Draco peeked around the corner to make sure there was no one in the third-floor corridor before walking down it, the copies of Filch's maps rolled up in his hand. Fortunately, he had passed almost no one in the corridors. The vast majority of the students were in class, with the exception of a few of the upper years who had a free period. That was not his case. Actually, he was supposed to be in Potions class, but he had preferred to skip it and continue his research to see if any of the passages crossed out on Filch's maps were passable in any way.

He didn't care about skipping Potions. Slughorn was just a moustachioed walrus who taught them ridiculous and useless potions. And who favoured the Gryffindors above all else. He'd only have to ask Nott for the syllabus and he'd be up to speed. He was good at Potions. He could study on his own if necessary. Though even that didn't bother him. He saw no point in going to class. Not that one, not any of them. If he found a way to help the Dark Lord get into the castle, the term would be over abruptly, and he wouldn't even be taking his N.E.W.T.s. And if, on the other hand, he failed, the Dark Lord would murder him without hesitation, despite any good marks he might have obtained in his exams.

In truth, the only thing that appealed to him about Potions class, or any other class where they were with the Gryffindors, was that at least he would see Granger there. But sometimes, even that wasn't enough of an incentive. They only glanced at each other from time to time, sometimes reciprocating, sometimes failing to make eye contact. Without being able to speak to each other. And as exhilarating as it was to share those forbidden glances with Granger, not being able to even get close to her could be slightly frustrating at times. He was beginning to get tired of the situation. Of having her in front of him and not being able to say anything to her. Not being able to greet her when she walked into class. Not even a fucking kiss.

He knew it was stupid to complain about something like that. But he couldn't help it.

Abandoning such thoughts, he continued down the corridor. Reaching the adjoining to the main one, which corresponded to the Armour Gallery. It was just a shortcut between two corridors, with a dozen or so armours flanking both sides. But, according to Filch's map, there was a hidden passageway inside. Crossed out, just like the others.

He had checked all the other passageways, and they were all effectively blocked or demolished. He had even been about to get trapped inside one of them when a small and unexpected cave-in threatened to engulf him. He only had one left, and it was the one on that floor. His last hope.

He counted the armours on the map, and then the ones in reality. Choosing the second to last one on the right side, he approached it and looked at it cautiously. It did not move. He checked the map again, unwilling to work for nothing, and corroborated that he was in the right place.

The crossing-out appeared to be on top of the square that corresponded to that armour. He scrutinised it, noting the rust on the metal, and its watertight helmet. He studied the pedestal on which it rested. That must be where the entrance was, but how to open it? He looked at it carefully, from all angles, but saw no obvious handle or opening. He tried to push the armour, carefully, trying to lower it to the ground. But it wouldn't budge a millimetre. It weighed a quintal. He pulled out his wand and tried various spells. From a promising Wingardium Leviosa to a desperate Evanesce. Nothing.

A few people wandered into the corridor on a couple of occasions, and he was quick enough to sneak out and walk down the corridor, as if he were just passing through as well. Or stop and look at his watch as if he were waiting for someone. When he was alone again, he shook the armour without any delicacy, but it too had no effect. It only made the metal creak dangerously, potentially attracting someone. He tried talking to the armour, being friendly, threatening it. He knew they could move. He knew they could understand. But nothing worked. It remained as still and as harmless as it was at first. Unmoving. Silent. Useless.

In a fit of rage, Draco threw a frustrated punch at the statue's metal breastplate. His knuckles scraped against the engravings on its surface. Getting scratched. And he got nothing but a cry of pain. He looked at the area. It was skinned. Raw. Damn it.

He breathed out with his mouth open and leaned against the cold metal surface. Feeling his legs give way. That had been his last card. He had nothing left to play with. Plan A hadn't worked. He was back to where he started.

He felt a cold panic grip his back. Chilling all his nerves to the tips of his fingers. What if he didn't make it? What if he couldn't find a way? It was already May. He had two months to find a way. Time was running out. And, at the end of the countdown, death awaited him.

He should have spent more time. More research. That night he would not sleep. He would go to the Library. No, he would roam the castle. He would look for passages on his own. Or maybe in the grounds. The Great Lake. He hadn't looked at the Great Lake. He would use the Bubble-Head Charm that Cedric Diggory had cast in the Second Task of the Triwizard Tournament. And he would spend the night underwater if he had to.

He leaned his back against the statue and let himself slide down until he was sitting on the pedestal, exhausted. He took a breath and let it out tremulously.

He didn't want to die. He didn't want to be killed. He didn't want to disappear...

He didn't want his mother to die because of him.

He felt the sobs welling up in his throat, and rattling in his chest, but he didn't let them out. He was in the middle of a corridor. Anyone could find him there, pathetically sitting on a pedestal, crying like a child. He looked at his hand, trying to think of something else. His scraped knuckles were bleeding slightly. It stung. But he didn't bother to wipe them. That blood indicated he was alive. He was still alive.

Frustration took hold of him. He leaned his head back, resting the back of his neck on the calf of the armour. He closed his eyes. Trying to calm himself. Telling himself that he still had things to try. That all was not lost. But his body didn't understand. He was still frozen with fear.

He wished Granger was there. He wished he had her in front of him so he could put his arms around her. He wished she had her arms around him. He wished she could tell him it was going to be all right. He wished he could tell her everything. Tell her how scared he was. Call out to her for help.

But she was the last person he could tell.

He opened his eyes, forcing himself to regain his composure. Angry at his own weakness. What a load of bollocks. There was nothing he could do about it. She couldn't help him. She couldn't find out. She would never help him to do such a thing.

But he wanted to see her... He could do that. Be with her. A few minutes, a few seconds, he didn't care. Without telling her anything. Just to have her by his side. To have her close. To talk about anything. To look at her.

He couldn't go to class now; Slughorn wouldn't allow him to enter in the middle of the lesson. And he didn't really want to go to class either, to be forced to pay attention to explanations that didn't interest him. Surely, in the afternoon, Granger would be in the Library with Potter and Weasley. She was always there.

---

"Nothing, there's nothing..." Hermione grunted to herself, slamming the dusty, tattered volume shut and setting it down on the mountain of books that corresponded to the discards. She picked up the next book from the pile in front of her, waiting to be checked, and opened it at the table of contents.

Before she began to read, she took a quick, inertial glance down the aisle of the Library next to her, noting that Harry and Ron still didn't seem to have any intention of returning. She wasn't surprised either, they had only recently left. And it usually took them a considerable amount of time to locate specific books in the Library. Seven years later, they still hadn't become familiar with the layout of the place.

At the girl's insistence, the three friends had sat at a somewhat secluded table at the far end of the room. Hermione didn't want anyone to see the books she had taken, and besides, it was hard for her to concentrate with all the noise from the people sitting at the front tables. She had already finished her homework, and the N.E.W.T.s. revision she had scheduled for that day, and now she wanted to spend the rest of the afternoon investigating how the mysterious individual was getting into Harry's mind. She needed to understand how it was possible for someone other than Lord Voldemort to be doing such a thing. And she was hypothesising that, knowing how he did it, they might find out who he was. Maybe there was a way to turn the communication around. Talk to him, or track him down. The Library had always offered her answers, but this time it didn't look like she was going to have any luck. She'd gotten her hands on all the books related to mind intrusions she could find in the Library. She had already gone through an obscene number of volumes, in Ron's own words, but to no avail. The information kept repeating itself. It went on and on about the ability to read thoughts and memories, but nowhere had she found anything about hearing voices in one's head.

As she opened the new book she was about to look through, one of the covers partially concealed the Marauder's Map, which lay open beside her, with the little dots that were the people of Hogwarts, and their corresponding little cards, moving freely across the surface. Hermione looked at it sideways, frustrated, and then pushed it aside, moving it further away from her. She had requested it from Harry weeks ago to check if there were any suspicious names in the tide of students. She checked it doggedly from time to time, looking at random places. Looking for Harry on the map and checking his surroundings, looking for any unique names. Noting down names she didn't know, and that sometimes were repeated, to look them up later. Being a Prefect, she had access to the students' files, and she could see that they all were. There was no one suspicious, at least not that the Marauder's Map could identify. But, after checking it numerous times since she'd borrowed it, she'd given in to the fact that it was almost impossible to find anything among the hundreds of people in the castle. It didn't look like it would be of any use to them in that case. Better not to waste time with it and focus on other things. She would give it back to him when he returned to the table.

As she was deciphering the stale, cursive handwriting written in ink on the index, the left side of the book rose up, closed slightly by a white hand that came out of nowhere. Leaving the cover and the title, written in dark letters, exposed.

"How to read minds," a bored, drawling voice said above her, startling her. "They haven't done much thinking about the title..."

Hermione looked up to find a carefree Draco Malfoy standing beside her, wryly reading the title of the book. He wasn't wearing his regulation robes, he was in shirtsleeves only, and his tie was slightly loosened. He was not wearing a school bag either, and the girl guessed that he was also studying at some other table in the Library. He did have a maroon book in his hands. He looked so serene that the girl was instantly indignant.

"What are you doing here so calmly?" she said in a shocked whisper, looking behind the boy almost in panic. "I'm with Harry and Ron, they could be back any minute..."

"I don't think so," he replied with a wicked grin, putting the book he was holding down on the table. Hermione tilted her face to read the title and gasped in astonishment.

"This is the book they've gone to look for!" she exclaimed as low as she could, indignant, tapping her index finger furiously on the cover twice. Malfoy shrugged, still smirking, and shoved his hands into the pockets of his uniform trousers.

"I know. I've heard them say it when they've been walking past the bookshelf next to me... Hey, don't look at me like that," he then mockingly protested, at the fierce glare she was giving him. "I had already taken it before, I need it for an essay."

"Don't be deceitful," Hermione mumbled, picking up the book and setting it down among her own, out of his reach. "You've already done your Charms essay, you told me the other day."

"Whoops, I didn't remember..." he protested, slyly, seeing himself discovered. Hermione gave him a censorious look, but ended up sighing with resignation.

"You didn't come to Potions this morning," she commented then, less harshly. More softly. Draco's jaw wobbled, preventing him from saying anything at first. She had noticed his absence. He composed a grimace of cautious indifference.

"Yeah, I was busy..." he said, plainly. More quietly and less confidently than he intended. He leaned his lower back against the edge of the table and resumed the subject they had begun, "What books are you reading? We're not learning any of this in any class," he replied, pulling up another of the books on the table to read the title. "I doubt very much that it's anything about Arithmancy..."

Hermione still sized him up for a moment, scrutinising his face carefully. Busy... was that a euphemism for 'fussing around with my mates'? Against her better judgment, at that moment she hoped so. Something in the way he dodged her gaze made her hesitate. Wanting to insist. Uneasy. But she gave in to the fact that it was clear he didn't want to explain his absence in class any further.

"It has nothing to do with classes, I'm reading on my own," she ended replying, quietly, leaning back into the book she had open and continuing to read with the help of her index finger. She always did this when she wanted to concentrate and people wouldn't let her.

"You know you don't always need a book in front of you, right?" he scoffed, shaking his head. "If you've finished your homework, you can stop reading... I assure you, I've verified it. Trust me."

Hermione smiled reluctantly without looking up.

"What's so bad about wanting to learn things that aren't on the syllabus?" she protested, her tone pedantic.

"Absolutely nothing, except that there has to be a limit to that brain of yours. And I don't want to be there when it explodes," he claimed, raising a hand and giving her a flick on the forehead with his thumb and middle finger. Hermione gave him a fleeting, furious glare, but smiled lazily at the same time. "Are you interested in Legilimency?" Draco questioned then, in a more serious tone. No longer mocking.

"Yes... Well, a little," she hastened to say, trying to play it down. "I was just a little curious."

Draco raised his eyebrows.

"And you intend to satiate your meagre curiosity with seventeen books?"

She bit her cheek on the inside, still staring at the book. She didn't know if Draco had had time to count them, but that number was certainly close to the number of volumes that must be on the table. Two seconds of silence passed. Hermione, feeling Draco's eyes pierce her temple, composed another resigned smile and looked up with a knowing look on her face.

"Yes, I'm quite interested in Legilimency. It is simply for pleasure," she hastened to say, in the most believable tone she could muster. "It's a very curious and very complicated subject. For Muggles, it's unthinkable, almost witchcraft... I mean," she corrected herself, with a chuckle, "it's definitely unreal. Impossible to perform. I find it an exciting subject, and I wanted to know more about it."

"It really is a fascinating topic. And you're lucky to find yourself in the presence of someone who has mastered it to perfection," Draco exaggerated remorselessly, lifting his chin with presumption. Perhaps in other circumstances he would have thought twice about telling her about such an intimate quality of his, but that hadn't been the case. Few people close to him knew about it. No one knew. In fact, he was almost certain that he probably hadn't even told Nott, he couldn't remember. Only his family knew. But lately he'd been having trouble controlling what he said in front of Granger. And that couldn't be a good sign.

But Hermione looked at him in awe, her glowing dark eyes going wide, and Draco forgot to curse himself for what he'd revealed. Instead, he wanted the power to replay that moment over and over again. To say those words to her again and watch her keen eyes widen with wonder in his direction again and again.

"Are you serious?" she questioned, seemingly unsure whether to believe it or not.

"I'm actually really good at Occlumency," he revealed, pleased with himself. He was exaggerating, but he couldn't care less. "And I've read a lot about Legilimency, though I'm not an expert..."

"You're an Occlumens? How could you learn such a complicated art? You're only seventeen!" Hermione protested, frowning firmly, suddenly looking more incredulous than impressed. Harry had attended dozens of private lessons with Snape in his fifth year, and, according to the boy, had never been able to master Occlumency. And Harry was one of the most skilled wizards Hermione knew — had Draco really achieved such ability?

"Excuse me, but I'm eighteen next month," Draco protested, folding his arms. "And I learned because... a relative taught me," he reported, vaguely. His Aunt Bellatrix was a fugitive Death Eater, who had fled Azkaban almost three years ago. He wasn't about to reveal to Granger that she was hiding in his house and that she had spent some of her time teaching her nephew the art over the holidays. Luckily, Hermione didn't insist on it any further.

"You can block out emotions and thoughts with Occlumency," the girl muttered, almost to herself, as it was clear he already knew. "It requires a great deal of mental discipline."

Malfoy nodded his head, smugly.

"Yes, it does require a powerful mind," he corroborated cockily, thus praising himself. "Not many people are capable of mastering emotions and —"

"Maybe you can help me, then," she interrupted him instantly, apparently not bothering to listen to him. She began to rummage through some of the parchment in front of her. "I have some questions, things I don't quite understand..."

Draco seemed offended that he wasn't gaining any admiration from the girl, but she didn't even appreciate it as she was busy looking through her things. He arched a blond eyebrow and spoke with a hint of resentment:

"Go ahead..." he agreed, even so. He glanced at the shelves behind him, making sure no one was approaching. Nothing could be heard, no voices, no footsteps. He sat down in the chair next to her, setting it slightly away from the table. He leaned his back against the hard backrest and decided to raise his legs and rest his feet on the table without any remorse.

Hermione finally pulled out a parchment full of scribbles, which she smoothed out and hastily reviewed. Trying to clarify what issues she had written down. Draco scrutinised her profile. Her eyes determined, fully focused on her task. Her thick hair, pushed back over one shoulder to keep it out of her way. Her small, nervous hands, smoothing the parchment delicately. There were ink smudges on them. She had probably been making notes on Legilimency for a long time. She could have gotten rid of the smudges with a simple Wiping Spell, but she didn't seem to have time to waste. Knowledge was more important. Nothing else mattered.

"Let's see... What is the limiting distance, if any, for practising Legilimency? I mean, can I examine the memories of a wizard in Australia while I'm here?" the girl wanted to know, suddenly returning her gaze to him. Finding that he was already staring at her. "There are protections in the castle against Legilimency, correct?"

Draco reflexively averted his eyes for a moment, as if to conceal it, but returned them to her so he could answer.

"You couldn't, not even if you were extremely powerful. Which is not your case, Granger," he replied, with some forced mockery in his voice. "Eye contact is generally an essential part of the process. Besides, as you said, the walls of Hogwarts are protected against outside mental invasion. You can't get inside your Aussie's mind."

Hermione frowned, deliberating. If the existence of those protections were real, and they seemed to be, how was this person getting into Harry's mind? Wasn't that Legilimency he was using?

"I know about the eye contact, they said it in Living With Legilimens: Choose Your Minds Wisely," she replied, tapping him impatiently on the legs to get him to move them away from the table.

"I don't doubt you already knew that," he looked at her, frowning, as he lowered his legs back to the floor without even noticing. Watching as she went back over the parchment, looking for more questions. "What else?"

"But you said 'generally'. So are there any exceptions? Is it possible that I don't need eye contact to get into someone's mind?" Hermione wanted to know, picking up the quill that rested beside her and jotting something down on her parchment. Draco allowed himself to take a slow breath, pondering.

"Yes... and no. It depends on what your purpose is. If you're trying to extract feelings or memories from someone else's mind, yes. That is the most widespread part of Legilimency, and it does require eye contact. You can even tell if someone is lying or not," his voice dropped in pitch, getting slightly lost in that sentence. But he pulled himself together almost instantly and added, "But there are variants. Just as the mind has several layers, so too are there different categories of Legilimency to use. It depends on your intention."

Hermione was listening to him speak with her mouth half open. Without moving an inch. Without even blinking.

"And what might your intention be?" she asked, entranced, in a hurry to continue listening to him. "What else can you do in a mind besides read it? Control it, or — ?"

"For example," he replied, indifferently.

"But there's the Imperius Curse for that," Hermione protested firmly. "What difference would it make, or is there none?"

Draco allowed himself to get lost in her eyes for a millisecond before answering. To lose himself in the fierceness of her gaze, of which she was unaware. If a bonfire had suddenly appeared where she sat, Draco wouldn't have known the difference. It was amazing the passion she could exude when she wanted to learn or understand something.

"The Imperius Curse focuses on your will," Draco explained, unperturbed. "You lose your will to perform any act. Your free will. But with Legilimency, you attack the mind. And if you control the mind, you control everything. They are different mechanisms to achieve the same end. One more powerful than the other."

Hermione shivered. She stared at the boy, taking in the magnitude of his words. Losing herself in the gravity of his voice. There was no sharpness in his tone. He was speaking to her earnestly, sharing with her what he knew. Taking her questions seriously.

"What else can you do to a mind with Legilimency?" she asked in a whisper. Draco shrugged.

"Well... a lot of things. Change what's inside, for example. Alter the person. If you alter the way they see things, what they see and how they see it, you change a person completely," Hermione stared at him, almost breathless. "Or you can also transmit something to them."

"Transmit?" the girl repeated in an instant. Straightening up in her seat. "Transmit what?"

"Information. Memories. False, or real. Specialised Healers at St Mungo's sometimes use it for the cure of certain mental illnesses. In certain cases, patients can be filled with their own memories again."

"Words?" she questioned, stiff in her seat. "Can you speak to someone in their mind? Transmit your voice to them? Is that considered Legilimency?"

"One of its categories, though not the most widespread."

"And eye contact?"

"Not necessary."

Hermione blinked, absorbed in her own musings. Her face was tense. She had been halfway searching for information. That kind of Legilimency was just what she needed.

That voice Harry was hearing spoke to him. It was transmitting something to him. It was asking for help.

"So you can invade someone's mind without searching their memories. Just... to transmit something to them," she repeated, taking it in. She wrote again on her parchment.

"Maybe you're not always interested in getting something out of that person," Draco corroborated, looking down at her hand as she wrote. "But to communicate something to them. A piece of advice. A threat... Have you read An Anthology of Eighteenth Century Charms?"

Hermione, after a long moment's hesitation, was forced to shake her head, slightly offended.

"Not entirely," she protested, in her own defence. "I skimmed it a few years ago..."

"There's a chapter in it where they talk about wizards in the past who were extorted with that kind of Legilimency," the boy reached across the table and pulled a blank parchment from among the girl's items. He reached further and snatched the quill from her hand, writing the title on the page himself. "Not only has the Imperius Curse been used throughout history for something like this, though it is the most famous form... And A Practical Guide to Counter Legilimensy? It's written by Franciscus Fieldwake..."

"I've read that one," the girl hastened to corroborate, proudly, her confidence returning to her tone. "But it didn't clarify much for me. It was a bit technical..."

"In the final appendix, he compares the different categories of Legilimency," he said, writing it down for her as well. "You should take another look at it."

Hermione was breathing heavily. This was all promising. She was getting more useful information from talking to Draco Malfoy than from reading dozens of books. Everything pointed to the fact that the person communicating with Harry was using that kind of advanced Legilimency. Harry had said it wasn't the same feeling as when Voldemort took over his mind. It wasn't that connection. It wasn't the scar that hurt, nor was it the sharp, terrible voice of the Lord. It was someone very skilled in Legilimency.

Her eyes were drawn to the boy's hand as he wrote on her parchment in his small, cursive handwriting. He wrote very quickly. Long, steady strokes. But it was not his handwriting that caught her gaze.

And the Legilimency suddenly took a back seat.

"What happened to you?" she questioned in an uneasy murmur. She leaned towards him and brushed her fingertips against the back of his hand. His knuckles were red. She could tell he had been bleeding. There were small scarlet scabs disfiguring his pale skin.

Draco paused in his writing and averted his eyes for a moment to his own hand, but then returned his gaze to the parchment.

"Nothing, I fell off my broom. An absurd accident," he replied, without giving it any thought, and continued scribbling. Hermione looked at him with concern.

"Do you want me to make you a — ?"

"Not at all. It's already healed," he interrupted, unceremoniously, finishing writing the author's surname and dropping her quill. He folded his arms, pulling his injured hand away from the girl's vision. She looked at him with slight reproach, but did not insist. Perhaps he was embarrassed to admit that he had fallen off his broom, and that was why he was reacting so defensively. She didn't want to insist.

"So... the way to transmit information, or whatever it is, with that kind of Legilimency, is through words?" she resumed the subject, trying to choose her words carefully. "Speaking? I mean, if I hear a voice in my head —"

Her caution didn't work. Draco fixed his grey eyes on her. Suddenly they glittered with suspicion. His defensiveness about the wound in his hand had disappeared.

"Hey, these are very specific questions... Is everything all right?" he questioned, unease creeping into his cold way of speaking. But he hastened to add more firmly, and teasingly, perhaps fearing that he had been too gentle, "You better don't have someone's getting into your mind, Granger. That's all you need, as if it wasn't saturated enough..."

"Hilarious," she replied, absent-mindedly, picking again the quill he had put down. "Of course not, I'm just curious. This subject is fascinating... How could anyone get into my mind? It's absurd."

Draco still seemed to be wary, but he also seemed to consider such a thing unlikely, so he drummed his fingers on his own arm before finally answering:

"Most likely."

"And what exactly does it feel like when your mind is invaded? I mean, as I understand it, when they use Legilimency to read your mind, the person feels it," Hermione clearly remembered Harry's explanations of how he had felt about it. "You sense the other person inside you, somehow... What about when you use Legilimency to communicate, do you feel the same way?"

Malfoy was silent for a moment, pondering the question. Sorting out in his head what he knew on the subject. Hermione, despite her impatience and thirst for knowledge, realised, once again, that she found it fascinating to watch him when he was concentrating on something important. Seeing Draco Malfoy without a sneer on his face didn't happen very often.

She had never felt anything like that for anyone else. Nothing so impetuous. She had never believed that feelings could be so strong. So overwhelming. She admired that boy. She admired his intelligence, his vast knowledge in general and about the wizarding world in particular. She admired that he knew so many things she didn't know. She admired his acerbic sense of humour, which denoted a quick brain. The empathy she had discovered he possessed, against all odds. The way he scrutinised her with those keen grey eyes, reading her effortlessly. Caring enough to read her. Because he was interested in how she felt.

There was also the continual need to show off his own virtues, hoping for the approval of those around him. His insecurities. He was human. With lights and shadows. And she liked everything about him. Even his more complicated aspects. She could face it all.

She wanted to have him close. To have him always, not just in sporadic and secret encounters. She wanted it all.

"Yes... I mean, if someone uses Legilimency against you, any kind of Legilimency, they're invading your mind, no matter what the purpose," Draco said, finally. "No one can enter your mind without you sensing it. And it doesn't matter whether you defend yourself with Occlumency or not. You feel it all the same. Which is a considerable advantage."

Hermione nibbled on a fingernail nervously. Frustrated. Her logical mind wasn't capable of working with such abstract ideas.

"But if you sense their presence in your mind, is it possible that you don't know who it is? What exactly do you sense then?" Hermione repeated, bewildered, trying to make sense of it. Almost getting angry with Harry in her head for not knowing who the mysterious voice belonged to. "I can hardly imagine that feeling. Is there any way to find out who it is that is communicating, without seeing them? Which wizard does the communicating mind belong to?"

Draco looked at her with discreet surprise. His eyes glinted with suspicion again, but he didn't say anything about it.

"I don't know," he admitted, frowning. Apparently surprised that there was something he didn't know the answer to. "I don't think so. I've never read anything about it. And it's a hard feeling to explain. You feel like there's something in your brain, something that shouldn't be there, but you don't put a face to it, or a personality, or anything..." he tried to answer, arching an eyebrow with a knowing look on his face at her unconvinced expression. "Do you want to try it?" he offered then, impulsively. "I can give you a demonstration. Then you can feel it for yourself."

Hermione straightened up slightly and looked him in the eye. An alarm went off in her brain, and in her stomach.

"You and me? Here, now?" she protested, incredulously, looking around. Draco's mouth curved into a smug smile.

"Are we still talking about Legilimency or are you suggesting something else?" he sneered. Hermione glared at him, indicating that this was no time for jokes. He tried to appease her by speaking more seriously, after shaking his head resignedly, "I told you, I know something about Legilimency. I know the most basic form, accessing memories. I've practised it two or three times. I think I could do a little intrusion into your mind. If you want to know what it's like... Besides, since you don't know Occlumency, the invasion will be easier for an amateur like me."

Hermione eyed him warily, almost suspiciously. Convinced, for many reasons, that it wasn't a good idea. Harry had told her and Ron a great deal about Lord Voldemort. She knew secrets about her friends that they undoubtedly didn't want Draco Malfoy to know. Including the voice that had been tormenting Harry since the beginning of term, and that was why they were having this conversation.

No, it was definitely not a good idea.

"No offence, but I don't want you to get inside my mind and read it at your leisure," she protested, haughtily, scowling. Draco was unimpressed by her stubbornness.

"Do you have something to hide?" he hissed, scathing, glaring at her with narrowed eyes. She continued to stare at him unwaveringly, determined in her posture, and without a smile. Draco tilted his head at her discomfort, looking less mocking, "Hey, I'm not going to go through your mind like a diary. I can stay for these last few minutes of conversation, if you want. Just there. I won't go any further."

Hermione shifted her gaze between his eyes. Suddenly, this seemed like the most intimate thing two people could do. Give one person permission to access your memories, your innermost thoughts, who you are, and trust that they won't pry any further than you've allowed them to. Having no idea about Occlumency, she couldn't expel him in any way, even if she had to. How could she trust Draco Malfoy to that extent, despite everything that had happened between them?

She took in his face, his clear eyes, which looked at her with unexpected assurance, and a calm look. As if he was quite sure of what he was offering. As if, truly, she had nothing to fear. Hermione felt her chest heaved, overcome with feeling. Trust him...

Footsteps sounded near them. Draco stood up, as if triggered by a spring, and took a step away from the table. His face turned in the direction they had heard the sound, peering between the shelves at something the girl couldn't see from her position. Hermione tensed as well, her heart racing. After several seconds, the footsteps were heard again, moving away. Draco relaxed, and, after leaning his body to look further down the adjoining aisle, he sat back down next to the girl. They exchanged a silent, knowing glance. This situation would eventually give them a heart attack.

Hermione held his gaze. Trust him. She'd trusted him for a long time. They both trusted each other. They were living a clandestine romance, a romance that could cost them their lives, and they had to trust each other to keep it possible. Each had the ability to completely destroy the other's life, and they were trusting each other not to do so. They were alone against the world.

"All right, tell me what to do," Hermione said, turning in her chair fully towards him, straightening up, and staring at him. More than willing to follow his instructions. Draco seemed to be speechless for a moment, as if he didn't really think she was going to accept it. As if he was suddenly aware of how much she trusted him.

He, too, turned in his chair, no longer leaning against the back of it, so that they were facing each other.

"Nothing. Just look into my eyes and relax. It may feel a little strange, or unpleasant, if you've never felt it before. But it'll only be a few seconds," he assured her, pulling his wand out of his back trouser pocket. Hermione swallowed, feeling her heart racing. She looked at the tip of his wand.

"Does it hurt?" she questioned, calmly, before she could help herself. Embarrassed at how childish it sounded even to her ears. But Malfoy shook his head, as he fastened the button on his left cuff, which was already fastened before. The girl got the impression that he was just taking his time. As if he was psyching himself up as well.

"Not at all. It'll be very brief, you'll see."

Draco could see the tension in her shoulders. The stiffness of her body, her back very straight, without leaning on the backrest. As if she was going to fly at any moment. With her hands tightly clasped, resting unnaturally on her knees. Promising himself it was only to keep her still in place, Draco reached out and grabbed one of her hands. He squeezed it. Maybe he was using too much strength, he wasn't sure. But she didn't complain. On the contrary, he felt her fist loosen under his touch. Their eyes met. Her eyes seemed a little apprehensive, but, at the same time, determined. He heard her breathing heavily. She was breathing very loud.

"Relax. I'll count to three," Draco said, unperturbed, and pointed his wand at her. Hermione didn't flinch at the gesture, didn't even blink. "One... two... three, Legilimens."

The Library whirled around Hermione's eyes hastily. It disappeared for a moment, but suddenly Draco was back in front of her. Though he didn't have his wand in his hand as he had moments before. He wasn't holding her hand either. And he was distorted. His arms were crossed over his chest. He looked thoughtful. Serious. Attractive. Hermione suddenly found herself turning to the parchment, jotting down some blurry words... She had no control over what she was doing, she could only watch. And she could notice him. Draco. He was inside her mind, seeing the same thing she was seeing... As if his face was floating above her head, being a spectator of her memories... She couldn't see him, but she knew he was there...

She blinked. And then everything went back to normal. She saw Draco in front of her again, more clearly. He was closer now, though. He had moved forward to the edge of the chair to hold her arms tightly. In fact, the sudden feel of his fingers squeezing her flesh almost made her shudder in surprise. He was holding her upright as he scrutinised her eyes.

"Are you all right?" he asked instantly, in a dry tone, as soon as he saw her focus on him. Hermione blinked again and nodded her head carefully. She felt slightly out of her being, as if her mind had been taken out of her body and put back in again. She felt a couple of pricks inside her brain as she moved her head. Draco's fingers loosened their grip but didn't quite let go.

"I'm fine," Hermione assured him. She put a hand to her temple in confusion, "Did I do something weird? Did I scream, or — ?" She looked down at his hands gripping her arms. Draco shook his head silently and hastened to release her.

"It was a precaution. Sometimes people fall to the floor in shock," he justified himself, impassively.

"Thank you..." Hermione murmured, who already knew that, though she had forgotten it. Harry had told her how he'd ended up on the floor more than once in Occlumency classes. "Have you seen what I've seen, and felt what I've felt?" she added, suddenly embarrassed. She had been thinking how attractive she found him as he pondered the answers to her questions... She scrutinised his face slyly, but she didn't see the satisfaction she knew she would find if he had discovered what she really thought of him.

Draco did indeed shake his head, leaning back in his seat. Relaxed, it seemed, seeing that it hadn't been traumatic for the girl. He was still watching her carefully, as if expecting her to suddenly show strange symptoms. Trying to hide the fact that he was impressed. Of her mental strength. The first time someone had entered his mind like this, he had thrown up. Though perhaps, as he was definitely less of an expert than his Aunt Bellatrix, it hadn't been as traumatic for her.

"No... I mean, I did see the memory. I saw myself, but I didn't feel anything. I told you, I'm not very good," he admitted, arching an eyebrow, managing to look proud of himself even while admitting that he hadn't mastered something. "What did you think of it?"

"It feels very... strange," she admitted, still stunned. "It's very hard to explain, you're right. I didn't feel you. Well, maybe I did. But maybe if I didn't know it was you invading my mind, I wouldn't have identified you. I felt something inside..." she brushed her fingertips against her temple again. "It felt almost like a dream," she focused her gaze on his eyes, suddenly apprehensive. "Was it painful for you, did it hurt you?"

Draco looked back at her, and seemed surprised by such a question. It took him a while to assimilate her concern. He shook his head.

"Not at all," he assured her, his tone harsher than he had intended. Still, Hermione smiled, a little calmer.

"Good... And thank you," she added, smiling wider, holding her hand to her chest. "That was intense. I never thought I'd experience it."

Draco gave a more believable crooked smile, pleased with himself and not hiding it.

"At your convenience, we'll do it again," he mocked, crossing his arms arrogantly. "Anything else you'd like to know?" he added, seeing her turn back to the parchment. Hermione picked up the quill he had taken from her and wrote something else.

"Occlumency," Hermione said, glancing sideways at him. "Are there different types, too, depending on the category of Legilimency they use against you?"

"More or less," he admitted, thoughtfully. "They're not different types, but there are different degrees of difficulty, so to speak. With the most basic form of Occlumency, in which you empty your mind of all thoughts, you prevent your emotions, thoughts and memories from being perceived. If you advance in level, you can even prevent them from communicating with you. Close your mind completely. I think I read that this is the most advanced form of Occlumency. You can't learn one type or another, you have to progress gradually."

Hermione was nibbling on the end of her quill as he spoke, staring at him. Harry might be able to protect himself from the person communicating with him if he went back to Occlumency classes with Snape. But that, besides the practical complications involved, was only a stopgap. Avoiding the obvious. There was someone communicating with Harry Potter. Someone who wanted his help. And putting him out of his mind didn't solve the problem. Harry was right, she understood that now.

But she was still scared to death about it.

They needed to find out who he was.

"What books have you read? Which ones do you recommend?" she asked instantly, her back very straight. Burning with desire for more information. "Or do you know any wizards who are proficient in Legilimency that I can send an owl to?"

Draco had to blink. The question had taken him by surprise, snapping him back to reality. He had caught himself watching the bright quill lose itself inside her soft lips.

"Someone who has read these seventeen books, you mean?" he scoffed. But, as he spoke, he took the quill from her hand again. Almost urgently. "In Maxwell Barnett's Guide to Advanced Occlumency there's some chapter that mentions all this. I don't remember which one exactly. I don't know if it's in the Library... I can lend it to you, I have it in my dormitory. The book contains the author's address for correspondence, I wrote to him a few years ago," he said, absent-mindedly, writing the title of the book on the parchment. Then he glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. "On a side note, since you're trying to become an expert on the subject, you'd better use the proper jargon. Rather than 'wizard', I would use the word 'creature', or 'being'. Humans are not the only ones who can enter human minds."

Hermione was shocked. She was mute for the first time in the entire conversation.

"What?" she whispered in astonishment, leaning precariously in her chair towards him. "What are you talking about? Who else is going to communicate if it isn't — ?"

Draco arched an eyebrow. He was sure she was more aroused right now than in any of the encounters they'd ever had, and the thought almost brought a smile to his face.

"We had a passionate argument over Christmas about the fundamental rights of goblins, magical creatures who control the wizarding monetary system, and you still have the nerve to tell me that only wizards talk?" he sneered, with open irony.

Hermione looked at him, stricken. Surprised at her own stupidity.

"Magical creatures," she repeated, dumbfounded. Taking it in. "Some creatures can talk, too. But can they use Legilimency?"

"Of course," he corroborated, as if it were ridiculous to doubt it. "A goblin could master Legilimency if need be. You don't need a wand if you're a bit proficient at it... Well, only powerful magical creatures, obviously. Specifically the older breeds, from what I understand. A Billywig isn't going to enter your thoughts. Though I don't think it's interested in them either; some of them only live for a few weeks and would rather make better use of their time..."

But Hermione wasn't listening to his joke. Her mind was working at full speed. She hadn't even considered the possibility. And she felt very angry with herself. What if it wasn't a person who was entering Harry's mind, but a magical creature? But a... talking creature? It was strange... though not at all impossible. Draco was right. Goblins did talk. And, over the years, they had known other creatures that did too. Sphinxes, centaurs, spiders...

"Are you sure about that? And would the rules work the same for wizards as they did for creatures? The castle barriers... would they be effective?" Hermione questioned, her voice cracking with emotion. "None of that was mentioned in Hogwarts: A History."

Draco arched both eyebrows.

"I suppose so. But I can't say for sure. There's very little information on the topic, it's difficult to research certain magical creatures to that extent. There's a rather famous Magizoology book..." he muttered almost to himself, writing it down on the girl's parchment as well. "I imagine the rules won't be the same, but I do think the castle's barriers will be effective, they will have taken that into account. Although the mind of a wizard is different from that of a creature, the layers are —"

"Wait a minute," Hermione interrupted him sharply. "You just read my mind."

Draco smiled smugly.

"Let's also be clear that it's not about mind-reading, it's about —"

"Yeah, but you just did," Hermione interrupted him, blushing again with excitement. Her heart was suddenly beating very fast. Draco shifted his gaze from one eye to the other. Suspiciously.

"Well, yes, so?"

"So it is possible to get into someone's mind inside the castle. You can use Legilimency despite the protections against it," she protested, almost incredulously, opening both arms as if the flaw was obvious. Draco, understanding her point, shook his head.

"I've told you before, the castle's barriers protect against external intrusions," he repeated, emphatically. "But not internal. It's a given that a bunch of teenagers aren't going to handle magic to that extent," he chuckled again, looking down at his fingernails on his right hand. "Maybe they should rethink it..."

Hermione was shocked. External intrusions. It said so clearly in Hogwarts: A History.

"I'm an idiot..."

"You mean, if a creature were entering my mind right now, it would be, without a shadow of a doubt, inside this castle?" she repeated in one breath, astonished, not stopping to think about how strange her words would sound. And the agitation in her voice. Malfoy looked at her again, no longer looking smug, and narrowing both eyes now with open distrust.

"Hey, you're starting to make me worry, are you sure you're all right?" he replied, annoyed. "You seem to be really into it..."

"Don't talk nonsense," she replied firmly, hurriedly, getting to her feet. She practically snatched from his hands the list of books he had made up for her. "But this changes everything. I'll be right back..."

"What…?"

But, before he could reply, Hermione was already lost among the shelves with hurried steps. Her uniform skirt dancing around her hips, following her agitated gait. And her thick hair dancing in time. The boy followed her with his eyes for the few seconds it took her to get lost in one of the adjoining aisles. Then he sighed in disbelief. Great, now she was just leaving, just like that. Leaving him alone at a table that Potter and Weasley could come to at any moment. Not that he really cared; if they showed up at that moment, they'd think he was stealing something from them, have a bit of a fight, and then he'd be on his way. There would be no trouble.

He lifted his legs again and put his feet up on the table. They were far enough away from Madam Pince that she didn't notice the boy's rude gesture. In fact, if he hadn't seen Potter and Weasley walking out of there, he wouldn't have been able to see Granger, surrounded by bookshelves and half-hidden as she was behind the mountains of books that decorated the table. He gave a half-smirk at the sheer number of books the girl had selected, and scrutinised the contents of the table with a lazy glance. The books were precariously stacked. There were two of them open, which she was probably consulting when he arrived. There were also a few rolls of parchment, probably still blank, and an occasional scroll already written. His eyes caught one particular scroll, half-hidden among the open books. In addition to words, there seemed to be many lines on its surface. It was drawn. Did Granger draw?

He straightened up, curious, lowering his feet to the floor again. He pushed the open books aside to get a better look at the parchment covered in lines and shadows.

His heart stumbled over its own beating.

Coldness gripped his joints, making them stiff.

His eyes stopped focusing properly.

It was a map of Hogwarts.

He managed to blink, with effort. He tore his gaze from the parchment and looked around in awe. What was Granger doing with a map of the castle? Where had she got it from? Filch's office, too? Obviously, where else? Surely it was the same as the ones he already had, and yet... What if it wasn't?

He couldn't take that risk. He couldn't let this opportunity pass him by.

In one swift, almost frantic movement, he grabbed the parchment, folding it at full speed, and tucked it under his robes. In an inside pocket. His heart was pumping rapidly from the rush of adrenaline. Heat rushed to his face.

He had just stolen from Granger.

He swallowed hard and leaned back in his seat, breathing loudly through his mouth. Fuck, he was shaking. But it wasn't that bad. He hadn't stolen from her. He'd just borrowed it. He just wanted to see if there were any passages on that map that he hadn't already investigated. Just that, he would return it to her as soon as possible, before she noticed it was missing. She wouldn't even notice it among all that parchment, he was sure... But what did she need a map of the castle for? What was she looking for?

At that moment, he heard hurried footsteps that could only belong to the girl. Granger appeared, indeed, panting, with three books in her hands as thick as her arm. She set them down with a resounding thump on the table and sat down, her cheeks flushed from the agitated walk. She picked up one of them and separated it from the pile, placing it before her.

"Dreadful Denizens of the Deep," Draco read, impassive, trying to appear normal. His voice was shaking, but she was so focused on the book that she didn't even appreciate it. He didn't even have time to read the author, when the girl was already opening the book and leafing through it feverishly. "Woman, read it calmly, it will be years before it's obsolete..."

"I know," she replied, distractedly, without taking her nose out of the book. Draco looked at the rest of the volumes she had brought with her and noticed that one was the one he had written down for her, the Bestiarium Magicum, about Magizoology, and the other was Hogwarts: A History.

"Haven't you already read it several times?" he protested, incredulously.

"Yes," she confirmed, using her finger to follow her reading again. Draco shook his head in exasperation, then craned his neck slightly to the left to glance down the adjoining aisle. He thought he heard voices.

"I think those two gits are coming," he muttered, careful not to let the girl hear the insult. Hermione finally looked up, alert. "I have to go..."

He leaned on the table with his hands to give himself a boost and stood up. Before he walked away, he turned his face to look at her. Hermione was staring at him silently, her big brown eyes raised at him. Now ignoring the book in her hands. Draco's heart faltered. The girl's map was still in his pocket. Her eyes looked at him with veiled sadness that he was leaving.

"Sorry to have made you dizzy with this whole Legi —" she began, in a quick whisper. Not wanting to hold him up any longer than necessary. But needing to apologise that their meeting had been so... intellectual, in her favour, and less intimate for both of them. He'd gone to the trouble of looking for her, with the risk that entailed, and she'd only used him as an encyclopaedia to get what she wanted.

But Draco wouldn't let her apologise. Maybe he didn't have time to listen to her. Or he didn't want to. But he interrupted her rapid stammering by leaning towards her and tilting his head to give her a firm kiss on the lips. Careless because of the pressure of the voices that were getting closer and closer, and somewhat clumsy because of the position they were in, him standing and her sitting. But Hermione felt it like the most intimate kiss they had ever had. She almost forgot about reality. As if they weren't forbidden to be together. As if they were just an ordinary couple, saying goodbye and going off to do their own chores.

He pulled away, in a hurry to get out of there as soon as possible, and the slight wet sound their lips made when they lost contact made an overwhelming tenderness come over her. Draco didn't look at her again and walked away quickly and discreetly. Hermione smiled without even noticing, watching him disappear behind the bookshelves. With wide, purposeful strides. Looking very confident, as if he owned the place. He'd had that gait for as long as she'd known him, and never before had she appreciated that there was a certain appeal to his swagger. She could understand that he was a hit with people, and had a lot of admirers in his House.

Harry and Ron then appeared down a different aisle from the one Draco had taken, and caught her gaze. They both wore identical faces of displeasure.

"All right, there's no way to find the book," Ron mumbled, dropping into the same seat Malfoy had been sitting in seconds before, and resting his chin on one hand dejectedly. Hermione opened her eyes wide and prayed with all her might that Ron didn't appreciate that the seat would most likely be warm from holding Draco's body. But her friend didn't comment on that.

"And we've searched the shelf where it should be three times," said Harry, equally disappointed, sitting down opposite them. "And the shelves next to it. And the used book trolleys. Even the Restricted Section, though there was nothing restricted about the subject matter. We've asked Madam Pince, and she says that no one has taken it, that it must be inside the Library —"

"— so we searched the bookshelf again. And the ones next to it. And the trolleys. And we've asked everyone we've seen," said Ron, rolling his eyes comically.

"I actually had it," Hermione replied, smiling ruefully at them, picking it up and holding it out to them sheepishly. "I hadn't noticed it among all the other books..."

Ron's jaw dropped open exaggeratedly.

"Hermione!" he complained, irritated, snatching it from her and gazing at it reverently. He pressed a resounding kiss to the cover, eliciting a chuckle from Harry.

"Oh, please, what a relief. At least we've found it," sighed the dark-haired boy. "We won't have to make up Flitwick's essay anymore..."

"Blimey, you could have warned us earlier, Hermione," protested Ron with a pout, reaching for the page they needed and leaving it open for both of them to see. "How long have we been walking around for? Half an hour? My feet hurt..."

"And we've had the pleasure of running into Malfoy back there, by the way," Harry commented, looking at Hermione with a knowing look on his face. The girl had to control herself to simply grimace with curiosity.

"Oh, yeah?" She hesitated, wondering what would be normal behaviour on her part, then added, "Has he said anything to you?"

"No... Well, he did his usual thing when he saw us," Ron interjected, making a rude gesture with the middle finger of his right hand. "But that's all. Odd of him, but well... He was alone, so maybe he didn't dare bother us. Coward... He wasn't far from here," he scowled around, frowning as if he expected to see his blond head pop up through the shelves. "He didn't come near you to do anything, did he, Hermione?"

"Not at all, I didn't see him," she said, no longer able to look him in the eye. She returned her gaze to the book in front of her, the one Draco had recommended. "He was probably looking for a book..."

"Or some victim for his evil deeds," Ron mumbled, scornfully. Hermione cleared her throat, pursing her lips, and opened her mouth before Harry could say anything back to Ron, most likely to agree with him.

"Guys, I think I've found something," she said immediately, without further ado, looking up from the book. "Something important. About the creature that's getting into Harry's mind."

Both friends forgot all about Draco Malfoy's existence and looked at her in surprise.

"Really?" Ron was astonished, also forgetting his anger at her for not saving him several minutes of uselessly looking for a book.

"What?" Harry asked in return. But then he seemed to notice something and added, "Wait, did you say... creature?"

"I have a new hypothesis. There is a possibility that it is not a person, but a magical creature," she said. "It's not certain, but we have to consider it. And I suspect it's using Legilimency on you. Apparently, the walls of Hogwarts are protected against external mental invasion. But not internal... That's why he can communicate with you. He's in here. In the castle. Or in the grounds."

"External only? What a bloody stupid thing to do!" Ron gasped in disbelief. "What a load of protection crap!"

"It makes sense," Harry replied, upset. "That's why Snape was able to teach me Occlumency in fifth year..."

"You feel the same way you did about Snape, don't you, Harry?" Hermione asked, looking at him intensely. "Do you feel him in your mind? Do you feel him inside?"

Her friend was already nodding his head, almost dumbfounded, from the first question.

"Yes... I hear his voice, but I also feel him inside. I can't say who or what it is, but I feel its presence. I noticed it especially during the Quidditch match. I thought my head was going to explode," he folded his hands on the table and pressed them against his mouth. His green eyes glittered. "I think — I think that's it, guys. It's a magical creature, I'm convinced. That voice never sounded... human to me. It's so... raspy, so wild... I was convinced it was human because I couldn't see any other explanation, but now —" he closed his eyes, taking it in.

Hermione looked at him in anguish, empathising with the desperation in his expression. Ron had gone pale.

"But then... You mean —" the red-haired boy stammered, "— there's a magical creature communicating with you from inside the castle?"

"Exactly," Hermione agreed, swallowing. Sensing that Harry couldn't speak.

"But how did it get there, and what creature is it?" Ron asked, puzzled. "A talking creature? Could it be any animal? A... spider, for example?" he panicked, looking around discreetly. Hermione sighed.

"We know of the existence of talking spiders..." she said, as if it were obvious.

"Aragog," Harry confirmed, his eyes widening again.

"And his wife. And their children. We need to talk to Hagrid," Ron completed, his eyes wide. "Urgently... Are there any more talking creatures in the castle? In the grounds? What about the centaurs?"

"I remember Firenze's voice, and I'd swear it wasn't his," Harry said instantly. "But it could be another centaur."

"We'll talk to Firenze. What about the Great Lake, are there talking creatures there?" Hermione proposed, writing frantically on the parchment.

"There are hundreds of creatures. The Merpeople communicated with me during the Second Task of the Triwizard Tournament," Harry reported, his voice trembling. "But maybe they can only communicate underwater?"

"We'll check. It has to be someone very powerful," the girl corroborated, returning to her writing. "An ancient creature that possesses a lot of magic..."

"Like what?" Ron wondered aloud, thinking urgently. He was growing paler and paler.

"I don't know," Hermione admitted, looking up from her parchment for the first time. "But we need to find out what it is, what it's doing in the castle, and why it's communicating with Harry Potter of all people."