The letter in Hermione's hands now was not like Viktor's at all. Rita Skeeter's penmanship was messier than her usual neat handwriting, betraying the same sort of frenzied fear that came shining through every word.

You must be insane to think I'll do anything of the sort. I'd never realised how much being Harry Potter's little accomplice has deluded you!

Hermione sighed, barely bothering to skim the rest of it. She reached for her quill and ink and brought out a clean sheet of parchment. She didn't enjoy blackmail, and she'd abused Rita Skeeter enough, but the Order needed intelligence from inside the Ministry, and who else would be best for the job than an investigative journalist?

Hermione traced her lips with the feathery end of her quill, the strands tickling her chin as she considered how to word her reply in such a way that would not be flagged by the post screenings but would adequately convey her… threat.

Like me, they won't forget what you wrote before. That was vague, wasn't it? And I don't think they'll tolerate an infestation like the previous landlords, if they found out there'd been a lying pest in their midst.

Hermione read it over several times before resigning herself to sending it as it was. She was too distracted; she wouldn't be able to come up with anything better and if that didn't persuade Rita, nothing would.

And then — would Hermione truly out her? The Death Eaters would kill her for being an unregistered Animagus, not to mention the reporter who exposed their ranks in The Quibbler. Could Hermione condemn someone to that?

She went to the Owlery feeling far more troubled than the last time she'd gone to bribe Rita Skeeter. As she watched the letter fly away, she wondered what else the war would turn her into, if she'd be able to live with herself by the end.

Her thoughts lightened a little as she made her way to the lab, but when she opened the door, she found Draco looking troubled, too, his smile strained. "Oh, God. What's happened?"

"Shut the door, first." She did. "Nothing's happened, not really." He ran his hands through his hair. "I'm just stressed. Snape — he told me the Dark Lord wants information from me, for Snape to pass on…"

Hermione's stomach dropped, her bag slipping from her fingers as she tried to hang it on the hook. Now she understood why Snape hadn't been at the Order meeting; he'd been with Voldemort instead.

"You know, since I'm meant to be the plant in the student body, he wants my perspective on what Potter's doing." Draco shrugged and looked down at the benchtop, where their tools were laid out. "I just told him to say Potter's been lounging around all summer, practicing Quidditch, maybe a few defensive spells. Just excited for his last year."

"That's — that's good," croaked Hermione. "That's exactly what you should've said."

Draco just nodded weakly, finally turning to look at her with his head cocked. "Come here."

She did, her bag forgotten on the floor, and he held her like he did these days: long, close, and with a kind of desperation that made Hermione fear he thought he'd never get to touch her again.

She stayed close to him as they brewed, taking every opportunity to brush against him. When they'd finished, she picked up her bag from the floor and pulled out the Invisibility Cloak. "Here." She held it out. "Put this on."

He obeyed, asking curiously, "Where are you taking me again?"

"I told you: there's something I want to show you."

"That still doesn't explain where we're going," he grumbled.

She ignored that and slipped her hand beneath the Cloak to grasp his hand and began the long trek from the dungeons.

They encountered only ghosts and self-righteous portraits, but one flash of her prefect badge quieted their curiosity as to why she was wandering the upper levels of the castle alone at such an hour. No-one noticed the second set of footsteps beside her.

They emerged onto the Astronomy Tower to find a clear night sky, unblemished stars glittering sharply above them. The late-summer air was cool and clean; Hermione stopped to breathe it in and cleanse her lungs of the stuffy castle and the stale Bubble-Head Charm.

"Can I take this off now?"

Hermione laughed, "Yes. Here — give it to me — and take these." She handed him a pair of paper glasses and stuffed the Cloak back into her bag.

"What's this?" Draco tilted the glasses in his hands, examining them from all angles, perhaps for some sort of Weasley booby trap.

"Just put them on. You'll see."

He pushed them onto his nose and squinted, then, when he finally looked out over the balcony, he jumped back in surprise. "Woah!"

Hermione couldn't help her grin. "I told you you'd like it."

"What is it?" He was staring out over the grounds. Where Hermione only saw darkness, she imagined the radiant purple swarms that must have been swirling around the tower.

"They're Nargles, apparently. Luna's mad about them. It's beautiful, though, isn't it?"

Draco nodded and blindly reached in her direction. "Come here." When he felt her hand, he pulled her in front of him, wrapping his arms around her from behind and perching his chin on her shoulder.

Hermione couldn't breathe. He was surrounding her so deliciously, the feeling of his heartbeat and breathing against her back overwhelming her senses until all her fear and nervousness and doubt dissolved, leaving her alone with Draco and the light brushing of his breaths against her cheek.

His hand came up to her collarbone and she held her breath, waiting for him to caress her face, but his touch disappeared as he took off the glasses. "Here. Your turn." Like fastening a necklace, he reached around to settle the glasses on her nose but found it impossible to keep them up; her hair was too thick for the weak paper arms to hook on her ears. "Merlin, Granger," he laughed. "Here. I'll just hold them. Do you see? Over there — by the forest. Look."

She did, smiling ridiculously as he held the glasses on her head, gently steering her in the direction of the forest. In front of her were ecstatic swirls of luminescent purple and green, just like she'd imagined, but she could hardly focus with Draco so close. Her brain couldn't keep up with her eyes, not when there was the feeling of his body to concentrate on instead.

"Oh."

The sight of the forest robbed her of all thought. Swimming through the trees and fluttering above the canopy were specks of gold and white. Dimly, Hermione wondered what such a severe infestation might mean for the health of the trees, but she couldn't bring herself to care much, not when it looked so beautiful.

Draco laughed near her ear and dropped a kiss near her jaw. It brought inexplicable tears to her eyes; she leaned back against him, grateful when he removed the glasses and put them back on himself so he could hold her tighter.

Her scar was dormant, completely quelled by the tenderness and safety he brought her. She wondered if his Mark was the same way, if it troubled him when he was afraid? She hoped she brought him the same sort of relief; she couldn't bear to think of his Mark, let alone look at it, but he didn't deserve the pain it might bring.

"Thank you for showing me the — Nuggles?"

"Nargles," she corrected. "And you're welcome."

"Hm."

That could have been a natural cue to leave, to hide him in the Cloak until it came time to go their separate ways, but neither of them moved. Hermione closed her eyes instead and leaned her head against Draco's cheek, where his chin was still resting on her shoulder. His breathing was long and deep; it coaxed her into a meditation, filling her up with every part of his presence. He still watched the Nargles, gasping when they moved into new formations or drifted nearby.

Hermione didn't mind. Though her eyes were closed, she saw them just as clearly.

"Granger," came Draco's voice from somewhere in the cupboard, "do you care to explain why our ingredients store looks like an apothecary?"

Hermione popped her head in to find him standing, hands on his hips, looking baffled at the small collection of medicinal potions. "I asked Dobby to bring any superfluous potions he finds in the Hospital Wing," she answered airily and returned to the benchtop.

"Why?" He followed her out the cupboard, to where the Wolfsbane was nearly completed. "Are you expecting Death Eaters to attack us in the lab?"

It was a bad joke, and a stupid one at that. Hermione didn't even bother looking at him, just waited for him to realise it himself. He did; it went very quiet all of a sudden, save for a strangled swallow.

"Sorry. Poor taste."

"Mhm." Without looking at him, she patted the stool beside her. He sat next to her bashfully as she pulled out a book, and they settled in to watch the potion finish.

"Nice first day?" he asked quietly. Perhaps he knew she couldn't focus on readings tonight.

"It was alright. Bit strange, since everybody's been here all summer. And there's hardly any first years…"

"And none at all for my house. Or yours, for that matter. Three Hufflepuffs and two Ravenclaws. I wonder if it's something in the water?"

Personally, Hermione didn't think foolhardy courage or greedy cunning was doing anybody any good lately. The world could do with more kindness and wisdom.

Hermione put her book down. She'd done all the readings already. The advantage, she'd found, to staying at school over the summer was she could interrogate professors about start-of-term assignments and prepare in advance.

So, with nothing better to do, she leaned her head on Draco's shoulder. His arm came around her, tracing shapes on her upper arm, his fingers warm even through the material of her robes. The heavy silver cauldron, their dutiful chaperone, bubbled contentedly as the potion mutated through its final shades of purple. At first, this part had seemed torturously long. Now, it always seemed to end too soon, forcing them apart for a whole week during which the world could end or the school could collapse, and then who knew what they would be?

When it finally pulsed from lilac, to blue, to that vibrant indigo they knew so well, they both sighed together. Draco's arm retracted and they set about decanting the potion into the silver wolf flask. Laboratory clean and potion complete, they did away with the Bubble-Heads and shared one long kiss before venturing out.

Remus' office was not terribly far from the lab; in fact, it was so close that they beat him there. He must have been at the Order meeting, Hermione realised with a start, and eyed Draco nervously. How much could she divulge about Remus' whereabouts? Draco was frowning, irritated by being made to wait, but before Hermione could decide what to say, hurried footsteps approached. She nearly forgot herself and reached for his hand; sounds like that were just cause to be alarmed these days.

But it was just Remus, panting and apologetic for being late.

"It's alright, we weren't waiting long. Here." Hermione held out the flask with a smile. "Fresh from the cauldron."

Remus peered into the flask and flicked it closed again in less than a second. "Smells good. Thank you, Hermione, Draco. Would either of you care for some tea?"

"N-no, thank you. Maybe another time," stammered Hermione with a faltering smile. She felt Draco shift uncomfortably beside her and watched Remus' eyes flicker between them. Were they that obvious? Could he smell Draco's touches on her skin?

But he let them go with a kind smile and so they set off down the dark corridor like they always did, their hands not quite too close.

Hermione sighed, steeling herself for their departure and the long week ahead when she would only have the diary to keep him close. They were almost at the end of the corridor when she heard the voices.

"We'll have to grab her — and him, too —"

"Fuck, really?"

"We can't let them interrupt!"

She didn't have time to stop — or even think — before an invisible hand wrapped around her wrist and tugged her sideways. She seized Draco's arm out of instinct, dragging him with her as they were both ensconced in fabric and shoved against the wall with two other bodies. Hermione grappled for her wand, ready to scream, but a large hand over her mouth stopped her. "Shh!"

"Ron?"

"They'll hear you!"

"Potter? What the fuck —"

"Shut up, Malfoy!"

Hermione blinked, the darkness suddenly revealing the hunched figures of Harry and Ron and, around them, the shimmering of the Invisibility Cloak. The four of them were pressed uncomfortably close to fit beneath it, yet she knew it still would not protect their ankles from definite exposure. She was sandwiched between Ron and Draco, both of them feeling familiar and safe and yet entirely wrong in the presence of the other.

She wanted to ask — no, demand to know what they thought they were doing before she saw the thin, flesh-coloured thread held delicately between Harry's fingers. What they could possibly be listening to eluded her — unless it was to eavesdrop on her and Draco? Could they suspect?

"Is that McGonagall?"

"I said shut up, Malfoy!"

But Draco was right; the headmistress was walking down one of the adjacent corridors, speaking with someone.

"We followed her after the meeting," Harry explained, eyes alert in the darkness. "Listen!"

Hermione leaned in closer.

"…chance of recovering the bodies? It's been a month, Severus. They may have been the worst sort of Muggles, but they deserve a proper burial instead of — of being blasted to bits beyond repair!"

"The Dark Lord was most thorough, Minerva. I promise you no-one regrets it more than I do."

"You did what you must, Severus, and if I ever hold it against you, kindly give me a good wallop."

A scoff. "I'll keep that in mind."

Heavy silence. Footsteps. Then, tentatively, "Was he satisfied, at least?"

"I'm not sure. It was not an… equal replacement, so to speak, for what happened in June. Or rather, what didn'thappen. The Dark Mark that night has put me in a difficult position. This summer was not easy."

"But you have not lost his trust?"

"To be frank, it is difficult to tell. He's been pursuing his own project and he won't tell any of us what it is."

"Reports in Eastern Europe suggest his 'project' is not going well. Perhaps he will seek your advice?"

"Perhaps, though unlike you, I don't believe that would necessarily indicate good faith."

"I don't know how you do it, Severus. I thought Albus was difficult to work with!"

"Indeed. Imagine what it was like with both at once."

More silence, sombre this time.

"But he was not angry, Severus, that Potter was not where you promised that night?"

A sigh. "No, I rather think his family made up for the loss. The Dark Lord was amused by the notion of having completed the set, so to speak. I believe that's why he was so… exhaustive."

"God help us."

"A Muggle phrase, Minerva?"

"I am not ashamed of my Muggle heritage, Severus, and nor should you be."

The footsteps got louder; Hermione realised the noise was no longer just coming through the Extendable Ear, but approaching the turn to the corridor where they were crushed against the wall, feet clearly visible in the flickering candlelight. The boys noticed it, too, and she sensed the communal panic as they realised they had no time to run and would not be able to explain their presence in this part of the castle.

Hermione scanned the corridor but found only locked, unused classrooms, but if they could move quickly enough —

"Come on!" She grabbed Draco's wrist in one hand, Ron's in the other, and hoped Harry would keep up as she dragged them down the corridor, nearly stumbling as she struggled to keep as much of their bodies invisible as possible. Snape and McGonagall must've been about to turn the corner, but all she could hear was the breathing of the others. The door was within sight and, just as the voices became clear, Hermione threw it open and pushed the boys inside, letting it fall lightly shut behind her.

They stumbled into the lab, Harry throwing the Cloak off his shoulders and stuffing it into a ball. While Hermione lingered by the door, suddenly doubting if this had been a good idea after all, Ron stood in the centre of the little room, catching his breath, and staring around him.

"This is where you brew? Huh. I thought you did it in the Potions classroom…"

"What, so some third year can peek into the cauldron and die on the spot? Wolfsbane is poisonous, Weasley."

"Oi! I'm not stupid, Malfoy."

"Could've fooled me," Draco muttered as he leaned against the wall by the door, arms crossed. Defensive. He must've felt it, too, how wrong it was for Harry and Ron to be here, in their lab, where they'd been snogging not fifteen minutes earlier.

The three of them settled into a stiff silence whilst Harry paced in the middle of the tiny laboratory, oblivious. "What did Snape mean, he regrets my aunt and uncle died? What does it have to do with him?"

"I — I think he told Voldemort where to find them," Hermione said weakly, ignoring the way Draco flinched at the name.

"Right. Because the night Dumbledore died — that Dark Mark — put him in a difficult place, or whatever, and he had to make it up somehow…"

Hermione swallowed and wondered if it was safe to go back into the corridor yet. Harry was driving himself mad; if he didn't get it out of his system, he'd take them all with him. But she didn't want that to be here, with Draco present. Not if Harry was going to follow this to its natural conclusion.

"The Dark Mark was because of the break-in, wasn't it?" offered Ron as he peered at the recipe Spello-taped to the wall.

"That's what the Prophet said, and that's what Tonks told us, but… what if that's wrong? What if it did have something to do with Dumbledore's death?"

"Harry," began Hermione, "don't you think this is a bit —"

"What if there were Death Eaters waiting in Hogsmeade?"

"Hey!" Draco jerked his head in Hermione's direction. "Let her finish!"

"Why do you care?" demanded Harry. "Isn't she just a — a you-know-what to you?"

"Stop it!" Hermione's scar twinged as she shouted. "Harry, I just meant to say that maybe we should sleep on it."

But Harry was shaking his head. "No, there's something there. Something important. I just haven't figured it out yet."

Hermione couldn't help it; she stole a glance at Draco, expecting to find the same anxious terror she felt, like they were watching a train derail in slow motion, but he only looked irritable and bored. The clenching of his fists, nails digging into his biceps, however, told a different story.

"Maybe Ron's right; maybe there were Death Eaters there. What if the ca— where I went, with Dumbledore — what if us going triggered an alarm? And they knew we would be going to Hogsmeade, somehow, or they did something to the potion — maybe it wouldn't've killed him, otherwise…"

Harry stopped pacing. "We have to tell Tonks, make sure she knows. Or if she does know, that she tells us, because —"

"Potter, will you shut up?"

Harry whirled on Draco, so energised he was nearly shaking. "No, Malfoy, I won't shut up, and if you don't want to hear the truth, you can just leave —"

"This is our lab, in case you've forgotten, and I was there that night, in case you forgot that, too. And I'm telling you this is a load of bollocks —"

"Yeah? And how would you know!"

"Because I cast the bloody Dark Mark!"

Draco's declaration was met with stony silence from all but Hermione, who gasped as a shock of pain danced merrily across her scar.