Warning: This chapter is nsfw due to nudity and sexual situations.
"It's the Full Moon."
Harry and Ron looked up from their sandwiches, faces blank. Regardless of how they amused themselves during the day, it seemed mealtimes always brought the four of them back together.
"We should be pruning aconite flowers in a lab right now," Hermione explained. "It needs to be done on the first day of the cycle… I suppose Snape will be doing it, instead. Or maybe Slughorn… It's a good thing we finished our work that night, before we left the castle. Otherwise, Remus would be stuck without his potion tonight." Hermione fidgeted anxiously with the end of her sleeve. She was restless today.
"I'm sure he's fine," said Harry with a reassuring smile. "Erm — since I've got you here, actually, I thought I might tell you about my plan?"
"Plan?" repeated Hermione.
"Malfoy Manor."
Draco scoffed. "You're not still serious about that, are you, Potter? Because I'm telling you right now —"
"Well, listen first, yeah? I'm not saying we ring the bell and invite ourselves in for tea! Just that — I want to scout the place. Just the outside. Get a sense of what You-Know-Who is doing. What's important to him. I think that's how we find the next Horcrux. We'll have the Cloak. No-one will ever know we're there."
"Potter, the wards on the grounds would give you away immediately —"
"So it's great luck we have you, isn't it, Malfoy?"
"Harry," said Hermione slowly, "even if we do this — which I really think we shouldn't, and I know you're restless here, but — you couldn't come."
Harry's face fell.
"She's right," agreed Ron. "Malfoy would have to come, and at least me or Hermione, too. Preferably both of us, I think. But you've got to stay here, mate. Plus, you wouldn't fit under the Cloak."
"I still think this is madness," said Draco. Hermione nodded.
"But if we did it, would you help us?" demanded Harry.
Draco eyed Harry for a long second. "Yes. I would."
Harry leaned back in his chair, satisfied. "Excellent." He turned to Hermione. "Think about it, okay? I mean, we haven't really got anything else to go on, and if we're careful, it won't be too risky."
Personally, Hermione couldn't think of a riskier thing on the planet. "Harry —"
"Just — just think about it. How's it going with your research on Dumbledore?"
Draco frowned. "You've been researching Dumbledore?"
"Oi!" said Ron. "None of your business, tosspot."
Draco rolled his eyes. "Forgive me for having ears, Weasley." He stood from the table and left.
"You really should be nicer to him, Ron," scolded Hermione.
"I am extremely nice to him, considering he's a mangey ferret."
"You keep forgetting I'm not deaf, Weasley!" came Draco's breezy voice from the hall.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "I've found nothing, Harry. At least, nothing useful."
"So that leaves us with what, exactly?"
"Well, we know he had a… disturbing family life. He was drawn to power, even Dark power, which is why he ended up with Grindelwald. The wand… the wand was significant, somehow."
"And my dad's Cloak."
"Yes, and the memories of the Horcruxes — the ring and the cup."
"And some stuff about Snape."
"Yes…" Hermione sighed. "Without the rest of the memories regarding Snape, it's hard to tell what exactly Dumbledore wanted us to know, but… Oh, I don't know… I got the sense he was trying to tell us Snape was missingsomething."
"Missing something?"
"Like… I'm not sure, exactly. But everything we saw of him was a bit tragic, wasn't it? Like Dumbledore wanted to paint him as this miserable, desperate character."
"Doesn't take much work to do that," snorted Ron.
Of course, Hermione also knew he was the Half-Blood Prince, but divulging that now didn't seem like it would yield anything useful. Still, she filed it away for her own contemplation.
"I'll think about it some more," she promised.
Harry nodded keenly. "Great. I'm going to have a chat with Kreacher, see if he might know anything about what or where the other Horcruxes might be —"
Kreacher appeared then, making Hermione jump. "Master has called?"
"Er — yeah."
"I'll be in the library, if you need me." Hermione stood then and left the kitchen, head already full of Dumbledore and Snape and everything else.
But as she ascended the stairs, she found gooseflesh rising on her arms. The basement kitchen was cosy, but the rest of the house was cold. It was November now; Hermione supposed the temperatures must have dropped without her noticing. She hadn't been outside in over two weeks.
She diverted herself to the stairs, instead, to fetch a jumper from her room, the voices of Harry and Ron fading behind her. The hallway was quiet; she looked longingly at Draco's door.
Perhaps he'd sensed it, because it opened and he appeared. "Oh," he said, looking her up and down. "Hello."
Hermione's mouth went dry. "Harry and Ron are in the kitchen," she explained needlessly. "I'm just… I came to get my jumper."
"I see." He took a step closer. "They're in the kitchen," he repeated.
Hermione nodded. "Talking to Kreacher." She felt frozen by his gaze and couldn't look away from the way his shirt hung from his shoulders. "I'm going to go to the library…"
"Would you like me to come with you?"
She nodded. She could have sworn he'd moved closer. "I might need your help with some of the books."
He smiled. "I'm always happy to help you, Granger."
Heat blossomed between her ribs; she wanted him so badly it hurt. Before she even realised the decision she'd made, she closed the two paces between them, grabbed the front of his shirt, opened the nearest door, and dragged him in.
The gas lights came on as the door shut and she pushed him against it. They were in the bathroom, the desperate sighs she made as she snogged him echoing off the tile. One of his arms wrapped around her middle, the other raised his wand.
"Muffliato!" he grunted. Then he jerked his wand in the direction of the shower and water started gushing from all the taps at once, drowning out the sound of their desperate clawing at each other.
Hermione, however, had a different idea and, without separating her lips from his, tugged him in the direction of the shower while her fingers got to work on the buttons of his shirt. Draco caught on immediately, helping until all the buttons were undone and he shrugged his shirt off; it fell to the floor in a crumpled heap. Her hands hungrily searched the newly revealed expanse of skin, feeling the smooth planes of his chest and torso, squeezing his shoulders and caressing his back, careful to avoid the still-healing cut. He sighed against her mouth, melting into her touch.
Then his hands settled on her hips, grabbed the hem of her shirt, and yanked it over her head in one go. It joined the growing pile of clothes on the floor. Draco pulled her flush against his chest, making her gasp against his mouth at the sudden sensation of so much of his skin against her own. She felt his hands encircle her back, fingers searching, then fruitlessly clawing, at the clasp of her bra.
"Fucking ridiculous," he growled, his head dropping so he could kiss her exposed collarbone whilst he fiddled with the clasp. Hermione, trembling with her own boldness, reached to undo his trousers.
It all happened so quickly and without any thought at all. Suddenly, they were stumbling into the shower, both fully naked now, hot water drenching them as Draco reversed their positions and pushed her against the freezing wall. Hermione yelped, back arching both to avoid the cold tile and to seek more of him — all of him. He obliged, pressing himself against her as he kissed her desperately, one hand holding her jaw, the other exploring her bare side, from her thigh up to her exposed breast. She moaned helplessly and felt a heavy hardness against her abdomen.
Her wet hands slid against his chest as she frantically touched him; she couldn't get enough. She let them drift lower, testing how far he would allow, but he only groaned into her. "Please," he begged softly against her lips, "touch me."
She did.
He was both hard and silky soft in her hand. Her touch made him groan again and press his hips forward; the hand on her jaw moved to the wall behind her, bracing, whilst the other one hovered near her hip. He swallowed, lips millimetres from hers, and she wondered if his head was just as muddled as her own.
"Can I touch you?"
She nodded, which quickly turned into an ecstatic sigh as his hand darted to between her legs. "Oh, fuck," he swore as his fingers slid through her folds. She knew she must be drenched, and his appreciative noise sent another bolt of arousal shooting through her spine.
She gave an experimental caress to his cock, which earned her a particularly loud whine.
"Shh!"
Draco laughed and whispered in her ear, "You do that and you expect me to be quiet?"
She did it again.
He gasped and growled, and then jerked his fingers in just the right way that one ended up inside of her. Her mouth opened in a silent, ecstatic cry, and then it all devolved into a mess of sighs and thrusting wrists and hips. Hermione's free hand clawed at his shoulder, holding on for dear life as he thrust into her hand, forcing her against the wall with sharp jolts while his fingers did the same, teasing spots she'd never known existed. The ever-shrinking lucid fraction of her brain rejoiced that after so long — since Christmas, in the bath, nearly a year ago — she finally had him.
Her hand tangled in his wet hair and pulled him back for a kiss; his hips sped up, thrusting so forcefully into her hand she wondered if it was hurting him. Her back would be bruised tomorrow from being forced against the wall over and over. She hardly cared.
She'd felt it coming, and when Draco suddenly slammed his eyes shut and groaned, going very still, she covered his mouth with her palm and held her breath. His breathing came in great gasps, his features still scrunched up, and she felt his entire body go soft as the orgasm wrung him out. Not sure what to do, she let go of him, sliding her hand from between their bodies as the shower washed them clean.
His eyes opened slowly, blinking at her with heavy lids. Her hand was still on his mouth; she felt him kiss it. She dropped it foolishly to his shoulder.
"Not done yet," was all he said, and then he leaned forward again, bracing himself on the wall, and thrust the finger in her even deeper.
Hermione cried out, the last of her rational thought disappearing as she wrapped her arms around his neck and he laughed breathlessly near her ear.
"Hey, Hermione!"
The finger slipped from her and Draco stood back so quickly she nearly fell. "Why is it always Weasley?" he hissed.
"Hermione — we've got something you need to see — Hermione? Damn, maybe she went back to the library…"
"H-here, Ron!" Hermione called, her voice trembling. Draco had already got out of the shower, taken down the Silencing Charm, and was casting drying charms on his head. "Sorry, I just — I had to wash my hair!"
"Oh. Well, hurry up, because we've got something big you need to see!" A pause. "Have you seen Malfoy?"
"Draco?" she asked hysterically, then flinched as a drying charm was aimed at her chest. "I thought he was in his room!"
"Hmm. Maybe he's just ignoring me. Git. Well, if you see him, you'd better tell him to come, too."
"Will do! I'll be down in a minute, Ron!"
There was a shuffling outside, then the sound of footsteps moving down the hall and, finally, down the stairs, back to the kitchen. Hermione still couldn't breathe quite right, and her heart was hammering too fiercely to put her own trousers own properly. Somehow, Draco was already dressed and dry, though he looked frazzled.
When she'd finally done up her trousers, he stopped her with a hand on her elbow. "I'll go down first," he told her, and then he kissed her so soundly she nearly toppled back into the shower.
He was gone before she could think clearly again.
"Weasley! What's all the shouting about?" She heard his voice echo down the stairwell.
Hermione exhaled, long and even, and set about putting on the rest of her clothes with deliberate and meticulous slowness. She couldn't think about it — what had just happened — right now. Ron and Harry needed her. She had to go downstairs, now, and pretend she hadn't just got Draco Malfoy off in the shower.
She left her hair wet, for appearance's sake, and grabbed the jumper she came up to get in the first place on the way down. She was still settling the hem over the waistband of her jeans when she arrived in the kitchen and found the three boys huddled over a newspaper, their backs to her.
"Since when do we have emergency lunchtime newspapers?" she demanded, trying to sound irritated.
Harry waved her over and flattened out the front page.
SCRIMGEOUR RESIGNS, NEW GOVERNMENT TAKES OFFICE IMMEDIATELY
Below the headline was an image of the Ministry Atrium, populated by serious and pleased looking witches and wizards. The caption identified several Death Eaters — Macnair, Goyle, Lucius Malfoy — and Percy Weasley, amongst a dozen others. The new Minister was not named.
"Well," declared Hermione, "fuck."