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Let's see how our protagonists are doing with their secret romance...

CHAPTER 30

Duel

"... Are there any questions about the casting or the counter-jinxes of any of the jinxes we have developed in class today? In theory, you have already worked on them in previous years, so..."

The question from Snape's cold, deep voice was followed by a piercing silence. Perhaps there was some doubt about it, but certainly none of the students seemed to have any intention of opening their mouths. Snape prolonged the silence, drilling them with his black eyes, one by one, until some of the students began to shift uncomfortably in their seats.

"In that case, please stand up. We will begin with the practical lesson," Snape said more quietly. In an eerie tone. Someone was heard to swallow.

With barely enough time for the students to get up and take a step away from the desks, he waved his wand in a sweeping motion, making the wide sleeve of his black robes flutter. All the tables and chairs were pushed into a neat pile against the walls of the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom.

A wide gap remained in the centre of the classroom, where the students waited.

"Form two lines facing each other. Now."

At Snape's command, everyone moved forward, hurrying to obey. There were a few murmurs of people scrambling to pair up with someone else, or someone who didn't know where to stand, but, within seconds, silence returned to the classroom. Harry and Ron decided to stand opposite each other, so that they could duel each other, and Hermione was paired with Neville. On the other side of Hermione were Dean and Seamus, also facing each other. Lavender and Parvati were a little further away. Hermione glanced to the other side, to her right, as discreetly as she could, and straining her field of vision as much as possible so as not to turn her head too far. First she saw Zabini, facing someone with short hair she recognised as Parkinson, and, right next to the young man, she saw Malfoy. She couldn't see Nott, so she assumed he would be in the same row as her, hidden by Pansy, thus being Draco's opponent. On the other side was the pair of Millicent and Daphne. They seemed to be odd, so Tracey Davis stood next to Pansy, rotating positions to face Blaise.

When the last sound of footsteps died away, Snape waited another three seconds, then continued to give instructions.

"You will practise in pairs the three defensive jinxes, and their corresponding counter-jinxes, that we learned in theory a few minutes ago," Snape began, pacing the classroom behind the students, his hands behind his back. "Orbis, Flipendo, and Ebublio. In theory, you've made it clear that there's no questions, so we'll all work together, in sync. If anyone has any problems with any of the spells, they should tell me at the end of the class, so as not to break the rhythm. Is that clear?"

Tracey Davis raised a hand.

"Miss Davis?"

"Are we going to have more than one attempt?" she asked, shifting nervously in her place. "In case we don't get it right the first time?"

"Yes, you will make several attempts. I will be indicating aloud the incantation to be cast. The idea is to make it as close to a real duel as possible, to work on your reflexes..."

"What if one of them goes wrong?" Seamus asked, raising his hand at the same time as he asked the question. "If we fail the counter-jinx and the jinx reaches us?"

Snape's lipless mouth arched into a venomous grin.

"Mr Finnigan, if you had been paying attention to my explanation, you would know that these are defensive jinxes that embody no real concern for the lives of any of you. But don't worry, if you fail to combat the Ebublio Jinx, I'll remove the giant bubble that will surround you in a heartbeat."

The young man blushed and glared spitefully at his taunt, as the Slytherin area erupted in muted but exaggerated laughter.

"If there are no further questions..." Snape said in a louder voice, waving his wand and causing a rolled-up parchment to appear in his hands. Without stopping walking, he continued, "We will begin with practice. One member of the pair is to cast the jinx I command, when I command it, and the other member is to counteract it. You shall perform the jinxes as quickly as possible. When I tell you, the dynamic will change and the person who was counter-attacking will be the one to perform the attacks, and the other one will have to repel them. The idea is that you should be quick to switch from one spell to the other. Any questions?" he questioned louder, coming to an abrupt halt immediately behind Ron. Ron looked at Harry with a sneer, taking advantage of the fact that Snape couldn't see him. "Very well, then. In that case," he held up the rolled-up parchment and smacked a clueless Ron firmly on the head with it. Ron startled, and his face contracted into a grimace of astonishment, "Mr Weasley's row will be Group A, and the other will be Group B. Group A, prepare to begin with the Orbis Jinx. Group B, prepare the counter-spell."

All the students tensed up. They brought their wands forward, watching their opponent hesitantly. Hermione saw panic on Neville's round face, and almost felt guilty at what she sensed was about to happen.

"I will count to three," Snape said calmly, unrolling the parchment and staring at it. "One... two... three, Orbis Jinx!"

The line of Group A were quick to wave their wands in rapid circles, creating a swirling beam of blue light. Hermione managed to generate it and hurled it towards Neville, who tried futilely to block it with the counter-spell. To no avail. The young man began to ascend, enveloped in the blue spiral, looking terrified. However, he didn't even make it three feet when Snape was waving his wand and returning him to the ground, free of the spell. Neville wasn't the only one who failed to block it. Millicent also went up in the circles, and so did Parvati.

"Second attempt. Prepare yourselves. Don't stop," Snape reported without fidgeting. When they had barely caught their breath, he ordered, "Orbis Jinx!"

On the second attempt, Neville managed to successfully repel Hermione's charm. The girl exchanged a glance and a beaming smile with him, cheering him up.

"Next spell. Quickly, I said, don't stop. Flipendo Jinx!"

The results of this jinx were similar to the previous one. Although, this time, Neville managed to repel it on the first attempt, but not the second. Zabini also failed to repel it, and was thrown backwards as if he'd been given a shove, almost crashing into the wall behind him, had Snape not blocked the spell and returned the boy to his place with a flick of his wand. Oddly, he didn't manage to stop Neville in time, and the boy did hit the wall, before being returned to his place with a lazy wave of the wand from his teacher. The Ebublio Jinx that Snape then instructed them to perform produced a variety of reactions, and this time it was Harry and Dean who suffered the sensation of being enveloped in a giant, unpleasant bubble. The professor called out the names of the spells, in different orders, for several minutes, before finally ordering them to stop.

Despite the din in the classroom, the deep voice of his impassive teacher could be heard clearly without having to raise it even slightly. The man's sallow face did not flinch in the slightest as he cast the counter-spells on the students who were suffering from the effects of the corresponding spell.

"Very well," Snape said, undaunted, once silence had fallen. His students were panting. "Now we will switch roles. Group A students will be the ones to repel the spell, and Group B will be the ones to attack. In positions, come on... I won't repeat it... All right, get ready. One... two... three, Orbis Jinx!"

Neville managed to cast the charm correctly on both the first and second attempts, and Hermione skillfully blocked them. Neville's sweaty face showed satisfaction. He exchanged a fleeting, knowing glance with Harry, and the boy smiled back. Hermione suspected that they were reminiscing about their time in Dumbledore's Army, a period in which, with Harry as his teacher, Neville had greatly improved his skills as a duellist.

"All right, not bad," said Snape a few minutes later, once they had performed the three different jinxes, repeated several times. "But mastery of spells comes with practice. So we will continue. Group A, move one place to your right."

All the students tensed up, not expecting to have to change partners. Looking uncomfortable and depressed at being away from their friends, they moved a few steps reluctantly. Hermione said goodbye to Neville with a smile, and met Dean, who tilted his head to one side, with a sympathetic smile that Hermione returned. Seamus, at Hermione's side, did not show the same sympathy with Zabini, standing before him with a haughty grimace curving his lips. Daphne, at the end of the line, took several seconds to realise that she had to go to the beginning of the line, to face Parvati.

"Let's get started. Group A, prepare to attack. Group B, you will defend. One, two, three... Orbis Jinx!"

Hermione enjoyed fighting Dean, who was quite proficient at spells. She remembered facing him on occasion during their encounters in Dumbledore's Army. The boy was only defeated by an Ebublio Jinx quickly cast by Hermione, trapping him in a huge bubble.

"Good. Stop. I said stop, Miss Patil. We'll do one last round. Remember to move your feet, you're in the middle of a duel, and balance is essential. Group B, move two places to your right."

"I think that last Flipendo broke one of my ribs," Ron protested next to Hermione, in a low whisper, as Neville and Dean, before them, moved to the side. The girl looked at him sympathetically, and saw that he was rubbing his left ribcage.

"Does it hurt?" she questioned, with a worried grimace. Ron shrugged reluctantly.

"It'll get better... I hope so," he said, stretching slightly and grimacing, closing one eye. Hermione smiled sadly at him, helplessly.

"All right, get ready to begin," said Snape's deep voice. Hermione looked straight ahead at her new opponent and nearly choked.

Draco was staring at her from barely two metres away, standing in front of her. He was tapping his wand on the side of his thigh, the weight of his body resting on his right foot. His eyes were locked on hers, and Hermione didn't know for how long. And she could have sworn she could see a subtle mocking glint in them, though she wasn't sure. But his face was believably serene and impassive. As if he didn't feel the slightest bit like having the Mudblood Granger as an opponent.

Hermione, her heart racing, squared her shoulders and looked away from him, pretending to gaze around. Staring into the boy's eyes for too long would certainly not be wise. It might look suspicious. They were supposed to hate each other. And that included avoiding any eye contact that wasn't essential. She began to feel a murky warmth wrap around the back of her neck and up her face, and she prayed it wasn't reflecting on her cheeks. She didn't want anyone to see her blush at having to face Malfoy. She was hot as hell, and her thick hair suddenly bothered and weighed her down. Trying to fix it, she brought her wand to her mouth to clamp it between her teeth and raised both hands to pull her hair up into a high bun with the help of a scrunchie she wore on her wrist. As she did so, she couldn't help but glance straight ahead and saw that Draco was following her movement with his grey eyes. One of his blond eyebrows arched, and the corner of that side of his mouth twitched. Hermione felt the heat rise. Blimey, couldn't he just dissemble a bit...?

"Group A will start the attack, and Group B will defend," Snape reported lazily. The students gasped for air, exhausted by this point, and got ready to continue. "This time, you will not practise the spells twice. I'll just point out which one to use, randomly."

Hermione hurried to position herself with her wand pointed at the boy and her body angled in attack position. She herself was aware that her body was tense. Uneasy and worried, she couldn't help it, though she had no reason to be. No one should think for a moment that there was anything strange going on between them. They were just doing a class exercise together, by order of their teacher. It wasn't suspicious, it wasn't...

She had to gulp at the embarrassing sensation of pointing her wand at him. On the one hand, she was able to remember that it was a gesture that, months ago, she would even have found satisfying. But on the other hand, she couldn't help thinking that she was pointing her wand at her... boyfriend. And it was a very strange feeling. But it was her duty to pretend that the boy's presence didn't upset her at all.

Draco, looking impassive more easily than she did, raised his wand as well, pointing it at her face in a determined and elegant gesture. Hermione took a deep breath, forcing herself to concentrate. She was in class, and she was going to do this practice to the best of her ability. Without distractions.

"I'll count to three. One... two... three, Ebublio Jinx!"

Hermione flicked her wand in one swift motion and the spell shot out towards the boy's body. Draco waved his own wand and repelled the spell skillfully, barely flinching. Hermione felt her heart race.

"Move your feet. It's a duel. Flipendo Jinx!" Snape said, almost instantly. Hermione pulled herself together. Each time he asked them to perform the different spells faster and faster. She waved her wand in the appropriate motion and a beam of light was launched in Draco's direction, which he dismissed with another wave of his wand. His serious expression of concentration hardly changed. Hermione could tell by now that he was very good at duelling. He had excellent reflexes. And she felt unexpectedly proud of him.

"Orbis Jinx!"

Hermione waved her wand again, as fast as she could, and the spell shot towards Draco. He was barely forced to take half a step back before he effectively blocked the spell. Without even grimacing. Snape continued to tell them spells to cast, one after the other, and his students kept up as best they could. Hermione, for her part, was enjoying this more than she would have thought she would. She rejoiced in casting one spell after another, without restraint, knowing that the person in front of her was able to block them with skill, to keep up with her. She even allowed herself to cast the spells less directly, at different areas of his body. Watching as he rejected them even so, moving towards where she cast the spell, with little hesitation. They could look each other in the eye now. In fact, they were. And it was an incredible feeling.

"Change. Group B, cast spells. Group A, defend yourself," Snape said suddenly, without giving them a chance to catch their breath. "Flipendo Jinx!"

And Draco began to attack her, without needing a pause. He waved his wand deftly, saving his energy, with brief but effective movements. With confidence, with assertiveness. Moving his feet to balance himself when he had to. Using his whole body to cast the spells. Hermione surprised herself by learning from him, imitating his movements. She was quick and accurate, correct, a perfectionist with technique, but she understood that she lacked the fluidity with which Draco was performing his attacks. The fluency of someone who had been surrounded by magic all his life, since he was a child. The boy was focused, serious, looking her in the eye as he attacked her. He was showing her no mercy. He wasn't being considerate. And Hermione loved it. She would have liked more variety of spells; more speed, even. She felt on fire. She had forgotten they were in a classroom. She had forgotten to look around to see how her classmates were doing. She could only see Draco in front of her, casting spell after spell at her, pushing her to her limits, forcing her to use her full potential.

"It's over. Stop," Snape reported, his voice deep. He didn't have to repeat it twice. The students instantly lowered their wands. Panting and sweating. Nott crouched down, catching his breath. Lavender dropped into a sitting position on the floor, wiping the sweat from her face. Neville lay flat on his back. The gasps of the huge Millicent could be heard above the rest. "We're done for the day... You may go."

With a wave of the wand from the teacher, the desks returned to their usual places, with the students' utensils still on them. Some of the youths standing in the path of the tables were forced to move quickly out of the way. Everyone came back to reality, and went back to their places to collect their personal belongings. Hermione, somewhat dazed, looked around, watching her classmates come and go, struggling to remember where she was. She looked back to the front again, but Draco had already walked away back to his place, sitting next to Zabini.

"Fizzing Whizzbees, I'm knackered," Ron complained to her left, suddenly putting an arm around Hermione's shoulders, and dropping his weight on her, as if he intended for her to carry him. The girl tried to push him off, managing a playful smile.

"Is class over already, has the bell rung?" asked the girl, as they both walked back to their desks together, where Harry was already waiting for them, smiling amusedly at the scene of a feignedly exhausted Ron being reluctantly towed by an irritated Hermione. The girl wondered how she had been so engrossed in her duel with Draco that she hadn't heard the bell.

"Of course it rang, didn't you hear it?" Ron questioned, releasing her shoulders once they reached the desk, looking at her as if she were mad. "It was the most liberating sound I've ever heard in my life. More beautiful than the song of mermaids singing underwater on a clear spring morning..."

Harry let out a laugh. Hermione went to add something, giggling, but suddenly felt a sudden bump on her shoulder closest to the aisle. It was as if something hard had run over her, causing her to spin around on the momentum. She turned her face, alarmed, and saw a glare of grey eyes and platinum blond hair rushing past her like a gale. She felt, briefly, as if something was poking at the palm of her limp hand, and suddenly noticed something that felt like a ball of paper in it. Her fist clenched instantly, reflexively. It all happened in the space of a heartbeat.

"Malfoy!" Ron shouted from beside her, making to leap over Hermione to follow him down the aisle and confront him. But Draco had already slipped away in the direction of the door, not saying a word. "Bloody bastard... Did he hurt you?" he added, mumbling, scowling at Hermione. The girl shook her head, still feeling the roughness of the paper inside her tightly closed hand.

"No, not at all..." she managed to articulate, feeling unsettled. And very, very nervous.

"Bastard," muttered Harry, who had been following him with his eyes until he left the classroom. "I see you've been paired up with him... I'm sorry, Hermione, that's bad luck. I'm sure he was pissed that you're a better duellist than he is..."

"He's actually quite good," the girl mumbled, not looking at them, focused on gathering her things, still not daring to open her left fist.

"Well, shame about that. I would have loved to have seen him inside a bubble..." grunted Ron, smiling dreamily. He turned his face to look at Harry, also beginning to gather his utensils, "You had Nott as your partner, didn't you?" he commented then, staring at him. His blue eyes were narrowed. Harry shot him a quick warning glance and then gave him a forced smile.

"Yes, I've been with him. He fights very well indeed," he remarked in a louder voice, and in a cordial tone, looking at Hermione over Ron's body. The girl, glancing at him uneasily, smiled back. Appreciative of his attitude.

"He's a very good student. I imagine he'd be good at duelling as well," Hermione admitted softly, closing the inkwell and putting it in her bag.

"Yes, certainly, I've only managed to throw him off with an Orbis," Harry moistened his lips, pondering what else to say. He finished by adding, "He even said goodbye as he left."

Hermione smiled to herself again. Ron, on the other hand, cleared his throat with slight abruptness. As if to change the subject.

"Well, I got that Zabini guy... At least I managed to blow him away with a Flipendo," he grinned proudly.

Harry chuckled and recounted how it had gone for him with Lavender. But Hermione didn't hear a word of it. As they spoke, the girl, pretending to look inside her bag for something, discreetly opened the crumpled parchment Draco had given her. Inside were a few words written in the young man's now familiar small, cursive handwriting.

That's what I call a duel. You've really turned me on.

See you Saturday, during the match, in the Changing Rooms?

Come down when Ravenclaw scores 100 points.

Hermione had never felt the heat rush to her cheeks so quickly. She couldn't contain the embarrassed smile that curved her lips, and she hastily bit down on them, dazed. Satisfied, and amused.

'You've really turned me on...'

Damn him. She could picture Malfoy's voice in her head, with his habit of slurring the syllables, mockingly saying such a phrase. It didn't suit his aristocratic demeanour to say such a thing, and it was that which amused her the most.

Did he really mean it...?

She tried to take a deep breath to calm herself, to control the emotion that had come over her, though her breath came shakily from within her. She couldn't stop smiling, and she hoped her friends thought she was smiling in response to what they were saying. She hastily stuffed the note into the bottom of her bag. She would destroy it later. Or... maybe not. But she would definitely go meet Draco in the Changing Rooms that Saturday.

"Look, Ravenclaw's scored!" exclaimed Luna, clapping her hands. Her huge, eagle-shaped hat emitted real screeching noises from time to time, under the resigned gaze of a tense McGonagall. She had apparently been unable to stop her from wearing that accessory. "Let's give them ten points, then! That makes it... 130! Wow, that's a lot! Chin up, Hufflepuff, you've already got 80! And I can tell you're having a great time!"

In the Gryffindor stand, Harry and his friends were not celebrating the eagles' goals with much enthusiasm. The Ravenclaw team had been very good this year, captained by the handsome Anthony Goldstein, and it didn't bode well for Gryffindor if they won, as it didn't suit them to play against them.

"I don't see Hufflepuff coming back," Dean commented, peering through Ginny's Omnioculars. "The Chasers are already very overwhelmed. Not to mention their Keeper..."

"Their only chance would be to catch the Snitch. What about the Seeker?" Harry asked, staring at the boy, squinting to get a better look at him through the sun's rays. That Saturday they had been blessed with a totally summery day in the middle of April. Harry, as he spoke, rubbed his temples discreetly. Trying to relax his head. It had been hurting for a while now. It was probably because of the intense midday sun, which was beating down on them.

"He looks calm at the moment," Ron observed, leaning his arms on the railing in front of them. They had chosen to stand rather than sit on the stands.

"Summerby's doing his job well," said Ginny, picking up her Omnioculars again and trying to follow the Seeker's flight. "He's looking around, keeping an eye on MacDougal."

"Yeah," Ron admitted, suddenly looking around, distracted. "Hey, speaking of keeping an eye on, where's Hermione gone?"

"She's gone to the bathroom," Harry replied quietly. He felt his stomach start to churn from the pain in his head. And he sensed that the nausea would get worse if he raised his voice.

"I know, but it's been about fifteen minutes, hasn't it?" Ron said, listlessly. "It's not that far. There's one right down here, in the lower area..."

"Maybe it's full of people and she's gone to another one. What's it to you? You're such a complainer..." his sister protested, glaring at him with the 'grade one Weasley murderous glare'.

"I just said she's taking too long, that's all," the boy defended himself, offended. "Maybe something's happened to her..."

"Leave her alone, Merlin's beard. She'll come back, she hasn't been flushed down the toilet. Maybe she's met someone she knows and got held up..." Ginny spat, irritated, turning back to her Omnioculars. And then Hufflepuff scored an unexpected goal, drawing a wave of cheers from the stands. Both Ron and Ginny, distracted as they argued, rushed to join in, watching the players celebrate as well.

But, at that moment, the startled cry of Neville, sitting behind them, was heard above the cheers:

"HARRY!"

Everyone nearby turned their heads in alarm. Harry had fallen to his knees on the floor, clutching his head tightly in both hands. He was shaking in jerky spasms.

"Harry!" shrieked Ginny, kneeling beside him at once and trying to cup his face in her hands to check it. But the boy was curled in on himself, rigid and trembling.

"Harry! Harry, what's the matter?!" Ron was alarmed too, crouching down beside him and clasping his shoulders in his hands. He felt them damp with sweat.

His friend couldn't answer. The whole pitch was spinning around him, and he felt as if his head was going to explode at any moment. The pain was sharp, as if his skull was being pierced with a letter opener. The nausea was chafing in his throat. The commotion around him, the cheering of his fellow House members, had made him so dizzy he couldn't stand. And kneeling wasn't much better, either.

"Harry!" Dean's voice called now, a little further away. He could hear Neville saying something, and a voice that sounded like Colin Creevey's, but he couldn't understand a word they were saying. Everything was spinning around in his head, and it was all he could think about.

"Harry…" whispered Ginny's voice, very close to his face. Without shouting. Scanning his contorted expression. But he wasn't looking at her. His green eyes were hidden by tightly closed eyelids.

He could hear it again. He was inside his head. The hoarse voice boomed so loudly inside his skull that he even stopped hearing his friends' voices calling out to him.

"Harry Potter... help me ― come to ―"

"Harry! We've got to get him out of here... Grab his other arm!" Ron's voice said, close to his ear. "Dean, help me! Wait, Ginny, release him!"

"I'm going to get help!" Another voice said. Neville, maybe? Harry had no idea anymore...

He felt two strong arms pulling him to his feet, and feeling gravity take hold of him again was too much. The dizziness was such that he could no longer control himself. He bent over and vomited at his feet without remedy. He heard exclamations nearby, and shouts further away, of people beginning to realise what was happening. He could still hear the voices of his friends, but he could no longer distinguish who was who...

"Let's go straight to the Hospital, he's very sick..."

"He's pale..."

"Find Neville and tell him to take any professor he can find to the Hospital..."

"Shouldn't we wait — ?"

"Are you seeing him? No way, we have to go now..."

"Make way — !"

The silent Changing Rooms were in semi-darkness. The lights were off. The only illumination came from the small high windows on either side of the double doors, which looked out onto the sunny pitch. Casting bright beams of light on the tiled floor.

If someone had entered, and had been absent-minded, they probably wouldn't have noticed the two figures occupying the floor in the far corner of the doorway. Draco Malfoy was sitting on the tiled surface, his back against the wall, his long legs stretched out, crossed at the ankles. Hermione Granger was sitting on the floor next to him, her legs equally stretched out. Her back, unlike his, was resting against his chest and left shoulder. Draco had wrapped both arms around her body so that he could hold a colourful magazine in front of them.

"How about this one?" Hermione suggested, pointing to another of the brooms in the new April Which Broomstick? catalogue.

Though she couldn't see him from her position, she felt Draco shake his head.

"No way. It doesn't even come with built-in vibration control... And look at the shape of the broomtail, it doesn't even go a hundred and seventy miles an hour," he protested, contemptuously.

"What's the broomtail supposed to look like then?" she questioned, vaguely interested. "Can it make that much difference?"

"Of course. It has to be aerodynamic. Look at this one," he pointed to another broom, stretching out his thumb, unable to let go of the magazine lest it fall over, "it's a good shape. But the foot grips don't look like anything special..."

"I didn't know there were good and bad foot grips," said the girl, amused, arching both eyebrows. She heard the boy's grunt rumble in his chest, making it vibrate. "And this one?" she tried again, pointing to another of the brooms. "They give it a good score, so it must be decent, right?"

Malfoy clicked his tongue, not hiding his impatience.

"You have no idea about brooms. Yes, they give it a good overall score, but that doesn't mean anything. Look at the score they give to its Braking Charm: only two Snitches," he remarked, almost sceptically. As if it were absurdly obvious.

"And the Braking Charm is important?" she replied, confused, without much interest. He let out an exasperated sigh.

"Very important."

"Well, this one is reasonably priced compared to the others," Hermione tried again, not giving up, pointing to another broom. Malfoy let out a sort of unhinged snort, adding to the catalogue of disbelieving noises he'd been making since they'd started the conversation.

"Reasonably priced? Granger, don't insult me. I don't want a reasonable price. I want a good broom. The best, if possible."

"That is, the most expensive one," she translated, grimacing with resignation.

"Indeed," Malfoy corroborated, laconically, turning the pages with difficulty until he was almost at the end. "That one you said is used by the Chudley Cannons, and they're pitiful."

"I don't think they're that —" Hermione protested, offended, remembering that it was Ron's favourite team.

"Look at this one, for example," he interrupted, pleased, when he found the section he was looking for. "The new Thunderbolt VII. Don't tell me it's not cool..."

Hermione listened to him and looked at it. It looked the same as the previous ones, only the picture took up the whole page. And there was a big range of bright colours all around it. On the page next to it was a handsome young wizard, smiling radiantly as he professionally circled his broomstick across an idyllic meadow.

"It's pretty, I suppose," she admitted without much fervour. "But I think it's too expensive," she added, glancing at the price at the bottom of the page with raised eyebrows.

"I'm definitely asking the wrong person for an opinion," Draco snorted, turning the page sharply. Offended at the young woman's lack of enthusiasm for his favourite broom.

"It was the first thing I said when you asked me to help you choose a new broom," Hermione reminded him, shrugging. "'I don't know anything about brooms, I don't think I can help you.' What are you complaining about now? I've warned you."

"You're supposed to be such a know-it-all, you've disappointed me," he protested, bored. "You read so many books and you haven't bothered to read one about brooms?"

Hermione turned her face to glare at him.

"I don't play Quidditch, why would I read books about it?" she asked, trying to make him see the absurdity of his complaint.

"Just general knowledge," he defended himself, impassive in his stance.

"Quidditch is general knowledge?" Hermione protested, mockingly. Draco gave her an annoyed look.

"Everything is general knowledge."

Hermione snorted, offended.

"Don't try to make me feel guilty. It's your fault for not asking someone who plays Quidditch for advice. Ask your teammates. Or MacDougal," she spat then, in a burst of inspiration. And the tone of resentment in her voice surprised even herself. She had to restrain herself from folding her arms, realising in time that it would be too childish a gesture.

It took Draco a few seconds to speak again, feeling as if he had missed something. He frowned and leaned slightly to the side, moving away from her. Putting enough distance to see her face.

"Who?" he asked, looking genuinely confused. Hermione arched an eyebrow, hostile.

"MacDougal. The Ravenclaw Seeker. You two know each other, don't you?" she looked away, and lifted her chin slightly. Pretending unsuccessfully that she didn't care. "She sure knows about this..."

It still took Draco a couple more seconds to get his bearings. He stopped frowning when it finally dawned on him who MacDougal was, but he still didn't understand the girl's point.

"Why her? And where do you get that we know each other?" he questioned, looking at her earnest profile, searching there for the answer. Trying to figure out why she seemed determined not to look at him. Her lips were proudly pursed, reducing their width.

"I saw you talking…" she defended herself, trying to make it sound more confident than she felt. She tried to omit the term 'once', as she thought it would sound ridiculous to assume a friendship from seeing two people talking just once. "So I take it you two get along, it doesn't require a genius to figure it out..."

Draco was silent again. And then, as he saw the young woman lift her chin even higher, he understood it all. And he could almost feel his chest swell with ego. He managed to hold back the guffaw that threatened to leave his throat. But he couldn't stop his lips from curling into a wide, satisfied smile. Clearly mischievous.

"Now, please, Merlin pinch me," he scoffed, scanning the girl's offended, snobby profile. "You can't be serious. Who knew you were such a jealous woman, Granger. It's not like you at all..."

Hermione opened her mouth in indignation and arched her eyebrows wide. She let out a superb snort, forcing herself to look at him. Seeing his openly pleased expression made her even more irritated. Shit. Her and her big mouth...

"Jealous of what exactly, Malfoy? Absolutely not. I merely pointed out that —"

"You've merely kept in that little head of yours the fact that you saw me talk, once, to a girl," he interrupted her, not erasing his half-smirk of superiority. He narrowed his grey eyes, vain. Hermione forced a crooked smile.

"And that makes me a jealous person? I have a good memory... Besides, I only mentioned that you two know each other, nothing more. And I've seen you talk to her several times," she added, lying outright in a desperate attempt to regain her dignity.

She felt Draco's chest heave beneath her in muted laughter. Shaking his head, he readjusted his backside slightly on the hard tiles, and shifted a little to better accommodate her on his chest. Still keeping his arms around her, and holding the magazine in front of them both. Hermione relaxed at the gesture, unable to help herself. At the fact that he still wanted to hold her in his arms, despite the subtle discussion they were having. It seemed such a natural gesture to her, taking away any real significance to the conversation, that she felt her anger melt away.

"I doubt that last point," Draco scoffed, not giving it any importance at all. "I've only spoken to her once, at the end of one of your Arithmancy classes. Despite being from a rival team, she was kind enough to retrieve my smashed broom and give it to Bletchley to return to me. I went to see her to thank her. That was our passionate meeting," he finished, mockingly.

Hermione frowned. It sounded coherent. More to the point, she was sure it was true. And she felt an uncomfortable mixture of relief and embarrassment.

"Oh," she managed to say. She cleared her throat and tried to sound calmer. More mature. "I didn't know that. What a nice gesture. She was very kind."

"She was," Draco corroborated, and his tone returned to a more normal one. As if he'd grown bored of teasing her. He turned another page of the magazine, almost distracted.

Hermione smiled to herself. She hadn't really doubted him. She didn't think there was anything going on between MacDougal and him. Least of all when he himself had assured her, at the train station, that he wasn't seeing anyone else. But... it was comforting to hear from his lips that such a nice, pretty girl, as MacDougal seemed to be, did not interest him.

"Luna told me that MacDougal is dating Terry Boot, did you know that?" Hermione commented, suddenly remembering. Trying to regain a more peaceful conversation. Trying to make him forget about the jealous attitude she'd displayed just a few minutes before. And for which she slightly regretted.

"Oh, yeah?" Draco replied, half-heartedly. He seemed to remember something and let out a long grunt of understanding. "Now I understand why he gave me such an unfriendly look when I wanted to talk to her..."

Hermione let out a giggle.

"He saw you as a threat," she teased, playfully. Draco snorted smugly.

"Of course he did. I'm much hotter than he is," he said, without thinking twice, as if it were a matter of fact.

Hermione smiled wider, amused at his self-assurance. Grateful that he had forgotten all about her bout of wanton jealousy. She closed her eyes and let her head fall back slightly, to rest the back of her neck better against his chest. She focused then on feeling his body move beneath her, matching his slow breathing. She could feel his breath caressing her temple.

"Hey, you might actually ask MacDougal about the brooms," Hermione suggested, now speaking with absolute calm. Almost sleepily, feeling him breathe. "From what you say, she seems like a nice girl. And I'm sure she'll be able to help you more than me..."

"I don't want her help," Draco mumbled without interest, folding the top corner of the magazine as a bookmark so he could find the page later. "Besides, just because she knows about Quidditch doesn't mean she's an expert on brooms. They're not just for playing Quidditch, you know."

"I know that," Hermione replied, smiling lazily. "They're also used for sweeping the floor."

Hermione felt his chest tighten as he lowered his face sharply to try and look at her. She didn't bother to open her eyes, but she was sure he was glaring at her. She kept smiling.

"Sweep the floor?!" he repeated, indeed, dumbfounded. "Merlin, you should be locked up for that blasphemy."

Hermione laughed low in her throat. She bent her knees to accommodate herself and leaned her face closer until she felt the line of his jaw at the top of her temple, allowing herself to lean against it. She was a little bored. Brooms didn't interest her in the slightest. But, despite that, she enjoyed the simple fact of spending time in the boy's company. It had been a few days since they had spent any time together. Their last contact had been during the duel in Defence Against the Dark Arts class. The rest of the week they had been busy with classes and a lot of work.

And she had to admit that she'd been surprised that he'd wanted her opinion on choosing his new broom, after his Nimbus Two Thousand and One had been smashed to pieces in the match. His attitude had taken her by surprise. And flattered, all the same. That he valued her opinion over MacDougal's, definitely more enlightened than she was on the subject, made a placid feeling settle in her chest. Malfoy probably hadn't meant to make her feel any way by making the request. Most likely he wanted to use their time together to continue his quest for the perfect broom... But unconsciously he made Hermione feel a part of his life. Closer to him.

"Your parents don't say anything to you for spending so much money on a broom?" she murmured, not wanting to sound accusatory. She tried to make her voice sound soft. To make it sound like an innocent question. Even superfluous, really, given the wealth the boy seemed to possess, and had always bragged about. But she couldn't help regretting it seconds after she had opened that drawer. She didn't know how much the young man would want to discuss his parents with her.

As Hermione had feared, the awkward silence that followed her question made her chest heavier.

"No, they don't," Draco replied, not bothering to hide his coldness. She remained self-consciously silent at his obvious discomfort, not knowing what to say. He swallowed and, probably against his will, but unable to help himself, added, "My father doesn't have much to say right now, so..."

Hermione blinked, taking it in. Trying to work out what meaning he had intended to put into his sentence. Was there accusation in his voice? A veiled reproach? She wasn't sure... Lucius was a prisoner. In the worst prison in the world. He was in Azkaban because of her. For trying to kill her, in the Department of Mysteries. Her and her friends. Because of her, Draco didn't have his father around.

She didn't feel sorry at all. He deserved to be where he was. And, generally speaking, it wasn't her fault. He was the one who had decided to attack her. But, just as she had when she had spoken to Nott, she felt a surge of sympathy for Draco, not for his father.

Hermione realised then that Draco had never openly held it against her since they had been together. Since they had started this precarious relationship. He had never accused her of being to blame for his father's arrest. And she also felt it all suddenly make new sense. She saw Draco's feelings from a different perspective. She tried to put herself in his shoes and realised how crazy he must have gone with his feelings for her. He had been attracted to a person who not only represented everything he had always hated, but who was also responsible for his father being in prison. She wondered then how he could have endured such feelings. How he had managed to make a decision.

How, in spite of everything, he had decided that he wanted to be with her.

"Is your mother... well?" Hermione managed to say as best she could.

She herself was aware of the absurdity of the question. How possibly incorrect, or impolite, it had been; even though her intention had been the opposite. But it was too late, she had already asked it. Draco's body didn't move in the slightest beneath hers. But she could almost feel his breathing getting heavier at the top of her head.

"Yes," he answered tersely. His voice sounded so cold that Hermione could barely associate it with the warm breath that hit her temple. "And I'd ask you to drop the subject. I don't want to talk about my parents with you."

Such words didn't even hurt, much less offend her. It was what she had expected, and she couldn't blame him. He had been rude, but direct. No half-measures. And she almost thanked him for being honest about the subjects he didn't want to discuss. Hermione allowed herself to take a deep breath. She gulped and nodded her head, swallowing a deep sigh as well.

"I'm sorry. I understand," she said calmly.

Draco didn't answer and just turned another page of the magazine. Almost as if he literally wanted to turn the page. Hermione was silent as well. Not quite knowing what to say. How to fix the situation. Still with the side of her head resting on his jaw, which she had felt move every time he had spoken. She wondered if she should pull away, stop leaning so intimately against him as she offended him with her questions. But he hadn't asked her to do so, so she kept still.

Suddenly, it was the young man who broke the silence.

"Your parents," he said, sharply. As if he was forcing himself to speak. "May I ask... what they do?"

Hermione hesitated for a few seconds, taking in the sudden, ambiguous question. Not sure she understood.

"What do they do for a living?" she questioned at last, as that option crossed her mind. He let out a curt grunt of assent. She reciprocated his attempt to defuse the tense situation, also speaking softly, "They're dentists."

Although she couldn't see his face, she could almost imagine his quizzical expression.

"What on earth is that?" he asked, puzzled indeed. Fortunately, the annoyance seemed to have disappeared from his voice. As if the conversation about his family hadn't taken place. Hermione smiled and closed her eyes, relieved that he was comfortable again.

"They fix people's teeth," Hermione explained patiently, knowing from past experience that wizards found such a profession very funny. "You know; if they're crooked, if they have any cavities, or one of them breaks... Dentures for the elderly..."

"I didn't understand half of what you said. Is it really a profession?" the boy scoffed in disbelief. "Come on... You're making fun of me because I haven't got a bloody clue about the Muggle world."

"Ron didn't believe it when I told him years ago either," the girl confessed, amused. Draco snorted loudly, as if he felt insulted.

"Good for Ron," he scoffed, his voice mimicking her tone. "He's been able to think like a wizard for once in his life..."

Hermione, though she didn't want to, couldn't help but let out a giggle, amused at the situation. At the boy's obvious annoyance at having the same reaction as a boy he couldn't stand.

She turned and raised her face higher, so that she could scrutinise his features. She raised her eyes to do so from an uncomfortably low angle, still resting on his chest. His splendid grey eyes remained fixed on the magazine, unaware that the young woman had turned to look at him. Perhaps believing that her movement was only to reposition herself. And that gave her a few seconds to contemplate him at her leisure, to contemplate the naturalness of the expression of someone who does not feel watched.

The seriousness and serenity of his pointed face charmed Hermione. The impassivity of his abstracted expression, free of arrogance, captivated her. She'd never thought that being so close to someone could be so comfortable. It was amazing how good it could feel to be pressed against his chest, feeling his warmth adhere to her own body. Feeling the movement of his calm breathing relaxing her. It was a new closeness, one that they hadn't had before. And one that Hermione had even doubted they could ever have, given the history of their relationship over the years.

When they both met in the Changing Room, and around the magazine the boy had brought, they had both sat against the wall. Shoulders pressed together, side by side. Leafing through and examining the magazine, talking about it. The girl, being carried away by the closeness, couldn't help but lean her face on his shoulder at one point. Almost unconsciously, as they talked about brooms. But then Draco had moved that arm, raising it above her head, forcing her to pull away. Making her realise then that she had possibly been too close. But far from it. Draco, without stopping talking, just as if nothing had happened, put his arm around her body, pulling her closer to his chest, so that he could hold the magazine in front of them both. Hermione, without commenting on the matter either, lowered her body slightly to lean against him. Surrounded by his arms. Feeling her own heart beat out of rhythm against her ribs.

In fact, Hermione had thought that, quite possibly, what had happened was that the boy's arm was going numb under her weight. And he'd wanted to fix that. But she didn't care in the slightest.

After staring at him for a few long seconds without his noticing, the boy then seemed to feel her gaze fixed on him. He looked down, until he met her dark eyes. Hermione made no move to avert her gaze when she was caught. She merely stretched her lips into a slow smile. He returned her gaze, scanning her face. At the sight of her smile, his lips seemed to decide to mimic her, stretching into a grin curiously laden with evil intent. As if something perverse crossed his mind. Without looking away from her eyes, he tossed Which Broomstick? aside in an impatient movement, as if it no longer interested him in the slightest. The girl couldn't hold back a soft, flattered giggle, hearing the magazine land a couple of feet away. Draco bent his face lower, towards her, so he could press his lips to hers. Hermione craned her neck, with the same purpose.

She felt Draco move, and suddenly felt one of his hands reach for her knees. She felt the touch clearly, for, being in a skirt, her skin was exposed. He slipped his hand underneath them, wrapping his forearm around them, and managed to pull them towards him. Hermione couldn't help but laugh against his lips again as she felt him turn her towards him, still attached to his mouth. He pulled her legs over his outstretched ones, sitting her sideways so he could kiss her at a better angle. His other arm was still behind her back, supporting her. Thus keeping her in his arms.

Luckily, her skirt stayed in place. Hermione, after making sure of that detail, reached up with the hand that wasn't imprisoned between her side and his chest, and held his face with it, cupping the angle of his jaw. Feeling his thin cheek under her thumb, and the soft hair at the nape of his neck in her fingertips.

Without releasing her lips for a moment, Draco moved his hand from under her knees to rest on top of them. He lowered it just slightly, almost absentmindedly, leaving it resting on the outside of her thigh. Moving on to caress her bare skin with almost imperceptible thumb movements. Although the girl felt that all her skin receptors were concentrated in that area and in that discreet movement.

Silence took over the Changing Room. The only thing that broke the stillness for the next few minutes were the distant shouts and whistles of the match taking place on the other side of those walls.

Hearing a particularly loud cheer, Hermione broke away from his lips and stared worriedly at the double doors, perfectly closed. Draco took advantage of her turned face to lean closer and kiss her jaw impulsively.

"Another score," Hermione murmured, closing her eyes at the feel of his moist lips near her ear. "Remind me why we're not going to get caught here, please."

Malfoy slid his lips lower, kissing her neck in response. But then he agreed to answer, pulling away as far as he needed to:

"No one comes in here when there's a match. At the end they do, obviously, but not in the middle of it. And the best thing is that they never lock the doors."

Hermione smiled hesitantly and moved her fingers to caress the back of his neck. Ruffling the short strands of hair in the area. She felt his mouth open against her neck, allowing his soft tongue to run along the top of her throat. Hermione stifled a sigh as best she could, restraining herself from throwing her head back. Offering him her entire throat. Her fingertips gently clawed at the nape of his neck, sensing the tension in the musculature of the area as he was craned. She felt him take a lazy bite then, his warm breath setting the area ablaze. Hermione smiled more pronouncedly, holding back a nervous giggle.

"What if someone comes?" she insisted, closing her eyes and turning her face slightly, bringing it closer to his. She brushed his cheekbone with her nose, and placed a cautious kiss on his jaw branch. It was the area of his face that was within her reach, while he was still submerged in her neck. She reached up slightly to place another kiss higher, before his ear, and another higher, on his cheekbone. She felt the boy pull slightly away from her skin. Making it easier for her to reach him. Hermione moved a little further to place a kiss on his temple, and then another above his eyebrow. The boy didn't protest. He seemed to like being kissed on his face. Hermione lingered on the last kiss and then pulled away from him, no longer craning her neck and resuming her original position. Draco straightened up as well. Both of their faces were once again at the same height.

She'd almost forgotten she'd asked anything when he answered.

"Stop worrying," Draco muttered, listlessly, against her mouth. He rested his forehead against hers. "No one's coming. We're alone."

There was another roar of cheers. Hermione turned her face again, trying to separate from him as little as possible. She glanced nervously at the still closed door. Her hand left the back of his neck, sliding down to rest on his shoulder

"Still, maybe we should go now..." she mumbled, hesitant. And visibly discouraged.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, no way," he growled, exasperated.

He raised the hand that was still on her thigh and brought it up to her face. He forced her to turn it in his direction and kissed her lips again, preventing her from protesting any further. His hand then moved to the nape of her neck, to tangle his fingers in her thick brown hair. Pulling her closer to him. Hermione, overwhelmed, allowed herself a few seconds to bask in the passion of his gesture. How he held her close. How he bit her lips and kissed her chin. How he kissed her impetuously, almost wanting to take as much of her as he could, in as little time as possible.

Hermione kissed him back, enjoyed feeling herself melt in his mouth, and deeply regretted that time was always against them. Gathering her courage, she reached for the boy's hand that remained on the back of her neck and grabbed his wrist to gently pull it away from her. She pulled it down, sliding it down her own neck until it rested on her collarbone, still holding it in her hand. She pulled her face away slowly, just enough so that she could speak.

"It's been at least four scores already. I've got to go. They're going to start worrying about me," she murmured, looking into his eyes with a sad resignation shining in hers. As she finished speaking, she kissed the corner of his lips, and if she hadn't closed her eyes, she would have noticed that he had also closed his at her gesture.

"We haven't been here that long," he protested, annoyed, in a low growl.

"Longer than I should have spent in a bathroom," Hermione replied, before he gave her a quick kiss on her bottom lip. With a sigh, she pulled away from him a little further, leaning back to look at him from a safer distance. "Seriously, I have to go. Besides, it's forbidden to be here. If we get caught, we could get in a lot of trouble. You know I'm right."

Malfoy snorted, and agreed to break away completely. He moved back as well until he was leaning his entire back against the wall, also removing the hand that was resting on her collarbone.

He gave her a frowning look. Hermione gave him a conciliatory smile.

"Your friends must be missing you, too," she reminded him quietly, trying to soothe his mood. He grunted as a visibly annoyed assent, averting his gaze to the side. He seemed to have realised that she was right, even if he didn't want to admit it. "Nott will start suspecting us again if he sees you start disappearing. You know I don't want to leave, but it's the right thing to do."

He grunted again, without saying much with that, but agreed to look at her again. Looking less defensive. Though definitely grumpy. Hermione smiled again, bitterly, and dropped her gaze, losing it on the boy's hand he'd left forgotten in his lap. He followed her gaze, wondering what she was watching. Hermione smiled to herself, almost unaware that he was staring at her, and suddenly moved her fingers to intertwine with his.

Draco felt his heart skip a beat at the tender gesture. He barely restrained the urge to slap her away in sheer shock. They had never held hands before. For obvious reasons, they couldn't walk around the castle together as if they were a... real couple. So the feel of her fingers entangled with his was a new sensation for him. A sensation so different that he couldn't quite categorise it. That it caught him so off guard that he couldn't even think about whether it was pleasant or not.

But Hermione had other things on her mind. As Draco tried to get over his own tribulations, she brought his hand close to her face, clasped between her fingers, to look at it closely. Specifically, she wanted to look at the Slytherin ring on his ring finger. The ring that she had inadvertently taken in the Library, months ago. And that she'd given back to him in that very Changing Room, taking advantage of her possession of it as an alibi in case he caught her spying on him. It seemed like ages ago.

"You haven't burned it, as I see," she remarked quietly, mockingly. Her dark eyes raised to pierce his. The mischief that shone in them made Draco take up to three seconds to reply. The seconds he needed to insult her in his head. Then he closed his eyes, half-smiling a grudging grin. When the young Gryffindor tried to speak maliciously, defying her usual air of responsible womanhood, his skin burned.

"Get the hell out of here," he snapped at her with false bluntness, yanking her hand free. But without getting his lips to match his feigned annoyance.

Hermione let out a throaty chuckle. She looked up at him with mocking complicity, then turned in on herself, swinging her legs away from over his body, then stood up. He lazily mimicked her, leaning against the wall to do so. He walked away with sluggish steps to pick up his magazine, forgotten on the tiles a little further away.

Hermione, for her part, headed in the direction of the Changing Room door. She pressed her ear to the white-painted surface, trying to listen to the outside. To make sure there was no one just on the other side. She was able to hear the shouting from the stands, muffling any other sounds. She didn't seem to hear anyone nearby. But it would be better to check cautiously.

She grabbed the handle and opened a crack inside, intending to take a peek. But then a white hand appeared over her shoulder and planted itself against the wood, pushing it shut again. Hermione gave a visible gasp, startled by the unexpected gesture.

"What the — ?" she stumbled, her heart racing. She turned around to face Draco, who had caught up with her and was now standing behind her. "Why did you — ?"

She didn't finish speaking. Not that she was sure she could manage to say anything more coherent, either. But the boy's lips made sure she didn't even have the chance. Draco tilted his face to one side, and leaned over her, bringing their mouths together again. However, it was not the kiss she would have expected. It did not possess the passion with which he had kissed her minutes before, holding the back of her neck. This one was slower. Gentler. Just a caress. A kiss that made her melt against the polished wooden surface, unknowingly resting her full weight on it.

After a few seconds, Draco pulled his mouth away from hers, just enough so that she couldn't feel his lips on hers. Hermione inhaled oxygen, and it seemed to her that the young man before her did so at the same time.

Dear God...

"Why — ?" Hermione whispered, her voice trembling slightly.

"Greenhouses or Library?" he questioned confidently, looking at her intently. Hermione blinked for a moment, pulling herself together.

"What?" she questioned, a little dazed.

"Where are we meeting later?" he clarified, as if it were obvious. Hermione couldn't help but arch both her eyebrows suspiciously.

"Could you at least consider that I might have another plan?" she pointed out, wryly, not hiding a hint of coldness. He arched a single eyebrow.

"Do you have some other plan?" he replied, mimicking her tone of voice with subtle mockery. Hermione narrowed her eyes resentfully.

"No... But that's not the point."

"And would you be so kind as to tell me what the point is?" Draco insisted, beginning to sound annoyed. Hermione let out a frustrated sigh. The boy must have been so used to giving orders that he didn't even realise how authoritarian he could sound.

"Never mind, it doesn't matter," she mumbled, motioning to turn in the direction of the door again.

"Hey, stay there," Draco muttered instead, his voice noticeably softer. He lowered his hand that was still resting on the door a little further, leaving it at the side of her body, acting as a barrier to keep her from leaving. Hermione turned back to him reluctantly. "Don't walk away at the slightest hint that you're bothered by anything I say. I thought the question of whether or not you could see me later was implied in the sentence. But I suppose, even if no one expected it, you and I have communication problems," he pointed out wryly, arching his other eyebrow.

Hermione, though she didn't want to, sensed her own lips curl into a resigned smile.

"I'd be surprised if we didn't have them," she admitted in a quiet whisper, her gaze sweeping over his face.

Draco let the air out of his nose briefly. He leaned his forearm against the door, still looking at her. He moved a little closer to her as he saw her smiling at him again.

"Do you want to meet up later then, or not?" he questioned, also in a whisper.

His tone of voice was more peaceful this time. He was still assertive, sure of himself and her response; but definitely free of that dictatorial air.

"Yes," Hermione replied, still smiling discreetly. She reached up and stroked the blond hair around his ear, combing it absentmindedly. "Behind the greenhouses. Eight o'clock. And bring the Wizard's Chess. I'm going to crush you."

The girl noticed the way his shoulders relaxed at her words, though his expression struggled to appear effectively undaunted. Hermione stretched up to press a discreet kiss to the centre of his lips, then turned and opened the door again. He allowed her to do so this time, and so she was able to exit the Changing Room quickly and discreetly. Draco then took her place and leaned his back against the door. Leaving a few minutes of leeway before leaving so as not to arouse suspicion. He gazed around the empty Changing Room, almost without seeing it.

Definitely, he thought, sometimes he and Granger needed an interpreter to understand each other on the first try.

Hermione pushed her way as best she could through the amused crowd, trying to get to where her friends were. The feel of Draco's mouth against hers was still etched on her lips, and she wondered if they were flushed suspiciously. She didn't think so; the last kiss had been much softer. Still, she moistened them with her tongue and then nervously ran the back of her hand over them, trying to make sure there was no visible evidence of what had just happened. She combed her fingers through the back of her hair as she walked, remembering that Draco had tangled his fingers in that area. Leaving it perhaps a little messy. She then brought her hand to her neck, feeling the area he had been kissing. It didn't feel too warm. She'd forgotten to look in a mirror to see if he'd left a mark. She didn't think so either. He had bitten her rather gently. But, just in case, she pulled her hair forward, over her shoulder, positioning it so that it hid her throat.

She climbed the last few steps, and made her way into the stands, moving behind the people leaning on the railing. Searching for her friends with her gaze. Still slightly lost in thought. Before she realised it, she found herself on the other side of the stairs. She stopped dead in her tracks, confused. She looked back. The people nearby were following the match intently, still cheering, chattering and booing. Was she in the wrong stand? Where were they?

She retraced her steps, now scanning the seats, in case they had decided to occupy some of them.

At that moment she caught a glimpse of Colin Creevey in the crowd, stood on one of the seats, shouting some words in the direction of the players that the girl couldn't make out. She approached him with difficulty, trying not to bump into anyone.

"Colin!" she called out to him when she was in front of him, still standing between the railing and the seats, unable to reach him. She waved her hand, making her presence known. The boy stopped shouting and located her within seconds. His brown eyes widened in surprise.

"Oh, hello, Hermione!" he called out a loud greeting to make himself heard. His face became a little uneasy, much to her surprise. He jumped down from the bench and leaned as far as he could over the seats in front of him, getting as close to her as he could.

"Have you seen Harry and the others?" Hermione wanted to know, almost shouting in his ear.

The young man gave her a serious look. Serious, and almost incredulous. As if he couldn't believe she was asking such a question.

"Yes, of course. Well, I don't know where exactly — oh, wait, right, of course! You don't know..." the boy opened his eyes wide again, looking at her in surprise. Hermione felt something cold invade her stomach like a dagger.

"What don't I know?" she managed to ask, forgetting to shout. But he read her lips.

"They've been gone for a while. It was very sudden..."

As soon as the nervous young Gryffindor had told her what had happened, interrupting himself from time to time because of the deafening shouting, the girl turned around, pale as wax, and pushed her way through the crowd, heading for the stairs.

Draco twirled his wand between his fingers. Feeling truly pathetic. He ran his tongue over his lips and let out a determined sigh, gathering his strength. It was probably stupid, but he wanted to check. Make sure.

Make sure it wasn't possible to sneak into Hogwarts through the gate.

He was standing before the Entrance Gates to the castle grounds. It was a huge double gate, built of sturdy wrought iron. On either side, two huge columns flanked it, with two stone winged boars at the top. Like two massive, plump lookouts.

They seemed much taller than he remembered. The students did not usually go near that area, well away from the livelier parts of the grounds; the lakeside, for example. They only crossed them on their first day at the castle, after returning from Hogsmeade station in those carriages pulled by the grim Thestrals. Still, Draco looked back, following the path that led up the hill to the castle gates. No one was there.

He checked his watch. It was half past seven in the evening. He had plenty of time, he could make a couple of attempts. He could make it to his meeting with Granger by eight o'clock. Before that, though, he also had to stop by his Common Room, to steal the Wizard's Chess that was there, for a couple of hours. Theoretically, that chess could only be used in the Common Room, since it was for the public use of any Slytherin student, but Draco wasn't particularly good at following the rules...

He scratched his jaw, pondering how to begin. He recalled, and sorted through in his head the spell-revealing incantations he had found in the Library the previous afternoon. He would try them one at a time. He wanted to know which spells protected those doors.

After a final glance back and to either side as well, he raised his wand and waved it at the doors, cautiously. The air moved around him, thickening, but nothing happened. That was a good sign, and also a bad one. No alarm was sounding, but it wasn't working properly either. Thinking back, he waved his wand in a different motion. Again nothing happened. He decided to repeat the last spell again. It was a bit complex, and it was the first time he had performed it. He was sure he got it right that second time, but nothing happened. Nothing was revealed. He scratched his blond hair at the nape of his neck and waved his wand again in one long motion. Greenish smoke rose from the tip. With a bubble of nervousness tightening in his chest, he raised his arm and swept the wand in front of the door, like a scanner, covering as much area as he could. The greenish smoke followed the path of his hand, hovering in front of him for several seconds before slowly fading away. White symbols appeared before him. With a pang of excitement, he pulled from his pocket the sheet of paper he had torn from one of the books he had consulted. He unfolded it and tried to interpret the characters. Some he did not understand at all, but others proved useful. There was an Anti-intruder Jinx. Okay, that was obvious. There were also normal Protection Charms, the most common ones. And that was all he could interpret.

Draco scratched an eyebrow. Clearly that couldn't be all of it. But surely there would be other charms that, in turn, avoided revealing what kind of protections were in place. He glanced back quickly. He didn't want to stay there too long. His greatest fear was that pathetic gamekeeper. It would not be unreasonable for him to lurk there. And though he was sure to find some puerile excuse that the dim-witted half-giant would accept, he didn't want to arouse the slightest suspicion, if he could help it.

For the next few minutes, he tried a couple more spells. Until he tried all the ones he could find in the Library. To no avail.

He sighed deeply, aloud. He hadn't really expected better results. It couldn't be that simple. If he could get the Death Eaters into the castle through the front door, he would definitely deserve an Order of Merlin, First Class. But, despite being what he had hoped for, it was still disappointing.

Even if he could figure out what spells were blocking and protecting the door, it would be foolish to even consider casting any kind of counter-spell to remove them. It wouldn't do any good, not even being cast from the inside, he was sure. And it would probably only set off alarms.

His grey eyes were fixed on the lock. The old, thick lock. Mouldy in some areas. He highly doubted a simple key would be enough to open it, considering the presence of the other charms. But maybe it would be worth trying to find it another day... He was a perfectionist, and he didn't intend to leave a single loose end, if he could help it. He had too much at stake.

He had everything at stake. His father...

He couldn't help but feel a surge of anxiety tingle his muscles. A cold panic settling in the pit of his stomach. Quickening his breathing amidst the solitude and silence. He felt his shoulders tighten, sagging under an invisible weight. What if he didn't succeed? What if nothing he planned went right? What if there was no way to get the Dark Lord into the castle? What if, hopelessly, he failed?

He forced himself to take a deep breath through his nose. He couldn't be that catastrophic. It had only been a first attempt. There was still so much he could do. He still had time. He still had options...

He forced himself to close his eyes and relax, breathing slowly for a while longer. Frustration would only make his actions more clumsy. He had to keep a cool head. Tomorrow he would try again, try something else. He just had to think of the next steps to take. But for the day, that was enough. His mind wandered to the meeting with Granger that awaited him. Which was a rather more pleasant thought. The excitement of seeing the young woman again in a few minutes helped considerably to relax the anxiety inside him. He felt his stomach warm. And his breathing evened out. He shifted his stiff shoulders a little, regaining his composure. He wouldn't have been able to explain exactly why, but he had been feeling at ease around Hermione Granger lately.

He glanced at his watch again. He was, in fact, a little late. He had to hurry if he wanted to be on time for their meeting behind the greenhouses. They never had a reasonably long period of time to see each other, they always had minutes ticking at their heels; so being on time was almost essential. But it was worth it. It was worth every bloody second.

He put the wand in the inside pocket of his robes and the torn page as well. He started up the hill, surprised after a few seconds at the speed his long legs picked up of their own accord. His body, overcome with sorrow at the unsuccessful outcome of his mission, seemed to yearn for the girl's company.

"You have to tell Professor Dumbledore, Harry," Hermione repeated for the fifth time, looking at him determinedly.

The dark-haired boy, who had so far managed to avoid giving a definite answer, realised at the silence in the Hospital Wing that he could not prolong it any longer. He held back the deepest sigh of his life and turned his face to look at Ron and Ginny for help.

"She's right, and you know it," Ginny replied, resolute, not giving in to the pleading in his gaze. Her arms and legs were crossed. "Dumbledore has to know about this. It's getting out of hand."

Ron, Hermione and she were sitting in chairs around Harry's bed in the Hospital Wing. It was already half past eight in the evening, and they would soon have to go to dinner. The last rays of the setting sun were tinging the white sheets of the bed a darker and darker orange. A few lamps in the area furthest from the windows had already been lit. The Quidditch match had ended many hours ago, with the score 380-190 to Ravenclaw. Harry had been peacefully asleep all afternoon, until a few minutes ago, thanks to a potion from Madam Pomfrey. And Ron, Hermione and Ginny hadn't left his side all day.

When he woke up, groggy, though visibly in better health, his friends told him what had happened. At least what they had experienced. Harry's version was missing. And it was the one they had feared.

That voice was back to its old ways. And it was becoming a greater and greater impediment to the young Potter's day-to-day life.

"I'm not going to tell him," the dark-haired boy objected, looking down at his hands, which were resting on the sheets. He had pulled himself up into a sitting position, his back against the pillow. "This has nothing to do with Voldemort..."

"How do you know it's nothing to do with him?" Ginny protested, frowning.

"That voice isn't his," Harry repeated, once more, self-assured.

"And it couldn't be one of his followers?" the Weasley girl countered, arching a reddish eyebrow. Harry opened his mouth to protest, but closed it again. Considering the possibility.

"I don't think he's a follower," Ron opined, looking at his still pale friend with a worried look. "He's asking for help. That wouldn't be done by someone under the orders of You-Know-Who..."

"He's asking for your help?" Hermione repeated, thoughtfully. She was sitting very stiffly in her chair, just as frustrated at the situation as Ginny. "Help with what?"

"He didn't specify," Harry muttered, settling his head lightly back on the pillow. The headache hadn't completely gone. "He's just telling me to go to him, and help him. It's as if... the communication, or whatever it is between us, is cut off. They're not complete sentences. They're just... fragments."

"Maybe it's a trap," Ginny said, determined. "Someone who wants to hurt you and is pretending to be in trouble. I'm sorry, but I don't trust that voice, and I don't think it's a victim. Look at what he's doing to you," she pointed at him, upset.

The boy really didn't look the healthiest. He was still terribly pale, and the headache wasn't going away at all, even with Madam Pomfrey's potions. In fact, his whole body ached now, as if all his muscles were protesting. And there was still a slight feeling of nausea. He told the Healer an impromptu story about a possible sunstroke, the result of the sun on the pitch's stands. It matched quite well with the symptoms he had manifested, and the woman asked no further questions.

"If you tell Professor Dumb —" Hermione began again, emphatically.

"Dumbledore won't be able to fix it," Harry protested stiffly, straightening slightly. He was sweating again. "Is there any water left?" he asked, his voice a little hoarse.

"Come on, Dumbledore can sort it all out," Ron exclaimed, scowling at him at his words, but quickly handing him the glass of water resting on the bedside table. It was next to a box of Chocolate Frogs that Neville, Dean and Seamus had brought him in the middle of the afternoon, when he was still asleep.

"Harry, someone is entering your mind," insisted Hermione, who had had a twitch in her leg for a long time and was shaking her knee up and down almost compulsively. "I don't know how, but he's doing it. And it's... torturing you, or whatever..."

"He's not torturing me," Harry protested patiently, regaining some of his voice after his drink. "This isn't because of him. It's just the way my body responds every time he communicates with me. As if the... invasion of my mind is too strong."

"Well, Dumbledore has to know," Hermione insisted, not budging. "We can't let him keep doing this!"

"That person, whoever he is, is not doing me any harm," Harry protested quietly. "He hasn't threatened me or anything like that. He just calls me and asks for help."

"And he makes you almost faint, vomit, and have nightmares!" Ron sputtered, a little louder.

"Nightmares?" Hermione repeated quickly, looking at Harry accusingly. "I didn't know anything about that..."

"Neither did I," Ginny remarked, narrowing her eyes dangerously.

"Thank you, Ron," the dark-haired boy muttered grumpily, glaring spitefully at him. He gave the girls an apology with his green eyes. "I dreamt about him the other day. Well, about his voice. I didn't see him. And he just kept repeating the same old thing. But let's just say... I started screaming or something. From the outside it looked like I was having a nightmare. I woke everyone up," he admitted, reluctantly, embarrassed.

"This is unacceptable, this is even affecting your rest now," Hermione said censoriously, with the scandalised tone that a mother, or a nurse, would have used.

"Now, listen," Harry protested patiently, "I was supposed to have learned to protect myself from intrusions into my mind from Snape. If I tell Dumbledore now that I can't keep them out of my mind, he'll realise that those lessons were useless."

"Well, they were useless," Ron corroborated, grimacing.

"That's a good idea, you need to go back to your Occlumency classes!" Hermione proposed, as if it was the best idea in the world.

"Not a chance," said Harry, with no possibility of a retort. "I had enough in fifth year, thank you. Besides..." he muttered then, and there was a hint of embarrassment in his voice. "Don't make a big deal out of it, okay? But... I'm curious to know who this person is. If he keeps contacting me, maybe he'll reveal himself to me."

Hermione snorted loudly, impatiently, and looked up at the sky for patience. Ron just shrugged, indecisive, but definitely annoyed. Ginny shook her head. Pity shining in her hazel eyes.

"You're never going to change, Harry," she muttered, resignedly. "So much curiosity will one day cost you dearly."

Draco looked at his wristwatch again. It was already a quarter to nine. Shit.

Ever since they'd had this clandestine relationship, he'd never met Granger at a specific time. They'd met in the Library when he'd found her there, once in the greenhouses at the end of the class they shared, during Astronomy class, and in the Changing Rooms that morning during the match, agreeing to go down there when the Ravenclaw team scored a hundred points. But he would have bet an arm and a leg that the disciplined Gryffindor was punctual when she was summoned at a certain time. That didn't seem to be the case. She was almost an hour late.

His back was getting cold from leaning against the castle wall. Luckily, the ground on which he sat was dry, given the heat that had ravaged the castle all day. Though the sun was already conspicuous by its absence at this hour. Darkness was beginning to settle over the grounds.

He struggled up from the ground, his backside beginning to go numb, and walked slowly around the back of the greenhouses, his hands in his pockets. Perhaps the girl was waiting for him somewhere nearby, and they were both waiting for each other like morons. But no, there was no one nearby. He peered around the corner of the greenhouse, cautiously. He even pressed his face to the glass, peering into its deserted, dark interior. He even dared to whisper the girl's name, but got no response. Everything was completely silent. The area he was in was just a wide gap between the greenhouses and the outer wall of the castle, which did not even serve as a shortcut to another area. No one ever passed through it.

He snorted and ran a hand through his hair, ruffling it roughly.

You didn't have to be very smart to realise that she wasn't going to show up. And he could hardly believe it. Granger had stood him up. What was the point of such a thing? Had she not felt like coming? His cruel mind presented him with a vivid image of her sitting peacefully in her Common Room, laughing with her friends, looking at her wristwatch and composing a resigned grimace. Deciding that she had better things to do than keep her appointment. He felt the sting of resentment burn inside him — how dare she? Why...?

He let out a low expletive and leaned against the stone wall of the castle. Next to where his bag rested. With the Wizard's Chess set he'd stolen from his Common Room inside, peeking around a corner, too big to fit inside easily.

His heart beat slow and heavy. As if it had turned to granite. Or as if it had doubled in size. And it ached as if it were covered in thorns.

He could not believe that she had done that to him; had she really not wanted to meet him? He could hardly take in such an option. That morning, in the Changing Room... they had been comfortable together. It wasn't always perfect, but it couldn't possibly be. He hadn't liked talking about his parents, and she'd been annoyed when she felt he'd been too tyrannical in summoning her later without questioning her disposition. They didn't always understand each other, or always get their comments right. But these were minutiae. He had assumed that the girl, despite all that, was comfortable around him. She was... Wasn't she? He was. Fuck, he was.

Shit.

Fuck, shit...

His head was spinning, weighing up a thousand options. All of them were disappointing.

He rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. He deserved it. He was behaving stupidly. In a way unbecoming of him. He was putting too much energy into this thing he and Granger had. When it wasn't that big a deal anyway. She was just a Mudblood. It was only temporary. Until they could sort themselves out and get over the aberrant barbarities they felt. The inappropriate feelings he felt for her. That was what they had agreed, wasn't it?

He straightened up, trying to breathe more normally. Without it taking a terrible effort. Nah, it was clear she wasn't going to show up anymore. He was making a fool of himself waiting for her still. And he was sick of behaving foolishly. Granger was selfish. A bossy, self-interested brat. She had wasted his time. She'd made him feel humiliated. And he wouldn't let anyone make him feel that way. Who did she think she was? He was a Malfoy, for heaven's sake...

He broke away from the wall and bent down to pick up his bag, slinging it over his shoulder with determination. He spun on his heel and started to walk out of the corner. As he passed the door of one of the greenhouses, his eyes caught the small pile of empty clay pots that stood there. Without even thinking about it, as he passed by them, without stopping, he kicked one of them violently. Venting some of his frustration. It broke away from the pile and flew a few feet, landing on the grass, rolling and shattering.

Shards of terracotta scattered across the increasingly unlit grass, as the boy strode off in the direction of the front door with long strides.