Hermione rolled her eyes. "Who said I was inviting you to join me?"
Malfoy didn't respond, only raising a pale brow at her.
Pressing her lips together tightly, she tried to resist the tiny smile that was threatening to break through. She laughed when the smile won out.
"Fine. Yes. I wanted to talk to you."
He looked far too smug, folding his arms over his chest like that. "Go on," he drawled, his smirk widening indecently.
Hermione blinked, a blush creeping up her cheeks at the sudden reminder of her last use for that expression on him.
She stood quickly, hoping Malfoy hadn't noticed. "Come on. I really would like to see the rest of the lounge." She turned on the spot and marched back out into the main area, leaving him no choice but to follow.
It looked entirely the same as it had on her way in, but Hermione strode to the nearest shelf of books, trailing her fingers along the spines until she had herself under control. When she turned around, Malfoy was leaning against the back of the single sofa in the room, hands resting at his sides on the top of it as he waited.
"I found that room on the seventh floor," she announced, relishing the way he immediately straightened up and his eyes widened.
"You did?" he breathed. "How?"
"Well, I didn't find the same room, exactly. It's different every time, you see. And I suppose I can't take all the credit. Or really any of it at all—"
"Spit it out, Granger."
She flashed him an annoyed look before continuing. "It's called the Room of Requirement. It's a room that only appears when you have need of it, like when you wanted to hide from… That's it!" She clapped a hand to her forehead, giving a short laugh. "You needed to hide! Oh, how could I have missed it!"
Malfoy watched her in consternation. "Care to explain, Granger, or are we just going to speak in half-baked thoughts all night?"
She ignored the jab. "That's how we find your room—"
"It's not my room—"
"Shhh," she said, flapping her hands at him. "Let me start over."
Malfoy hung on every word as she explained everything she, Harry, and Ron had discovered about the Room of Requirement today. And now she realised how to call up the version of the room Malfoy had found last year; she just needed to ask the room for a place to hide.
"And it was all thanks to Dobby, he's the one who told us about it in the first place."
Malfoy choked. "Did you just say Dobby?"
Oh, right. Dobby used to work for the Malfoys.
Hermione nodded. "Yes. He's worked at Hogwarts ever since last year. And he gets paid, now," she couldn't resist adding, indulging in a rather smug smile herself. At least Umbridge hadn't managed to undo that, though Hermione was horrified to hear that she'd tried.
"Paid?" he scoffed. "What would a house elf need paying for?"
"The same as anyone needs paying in exchange for labour," she replied heatedly. "Why should house elves be any different?"
His brow furrowed. "Because they're not wiz… because they're not human," he settled on, seeming to realise what he'd been about to imply.
"And?" she asked, seething. She took a deliberate step forward. "The goblins that work for Gringotts get paid, don't they?"
Malfoy looked bemused, tilting his head in thought. "Yeah, well… they aren't… the house elves… they like it!" he said finally, a touch of exasperation colouring his tone.
Hermione wrinkled her nose. "Ugh. You sound just like Ron."
His eyes flew open wide, nostrils flaring. "You take that back."
"I won't," she said, folding her arms tightly across her chest. "You both have some ridiculously outdated and downright barbaric ideas when it comes to the fair and equal treatment of other sentient magical beings. And as for your last point, I don't recall Dobby particularly enjoying himself when he was a slave to you."
He held her challenging stare a moment longer before tossing his head to the side, jaw clenching furiously.
Hermione exhaled sharply, trying to reign in her temper. This was not how she'd meant the conversation to go. Malfoy had changed so much over the past year, she'd forgotten that he still saw the world through an entirely different lens than herself. And unfortunately, it was his outlook that most of wizarding society tended to agree with.
Malfoy was still studying the wall, gripping the back of the sofa so hard that his knuckles were white.
She cleared her throat. "So, um… how did things go this summer?"
"Fine," he replied stiffly, continuing to look away.
Hesitating only for a moment, Hermione closed the space between them, reaching out to tug the sleeve of his robes. Her fingers brushed the back of his hand, and at her touch, Malfoy turned his head sharply so that icy grey eyes met her own.
"Hey," she said softly. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to imply that you were responsible for Dobby's treatment. I just…" she sighed, "I don't like the thought of anyone being forced to do something they don't want to do. Especially when they can't or won't stand up for themselves." She bit her lip, thinking of the very person in front of her being forced to hold Dumbledore at wand point on the Astronomy tower.
His eyes softened, and he ran the hand that wasn't currently held hostage through his hair, taking a deep breath. "You have nothing to apologise for."
She smiled sadly up at him. Malfoy's gaze held hers for a moment before it fell, stuttering past her mouth down to where their hands touched. Hermione suddenly realised she'd been unthinkingly tracing patterns on the back of his hand with her fingertips. She snatched her hand back hurriedly, cheeks burning.
"Was your summer really fine?" she asked quickly, cradling the offending hand to her chest. "No… complications?"
Malfoy's mouth twisted. "There were a few," he admitted finally.
When he didn't elaborate, she gestured for him to continue. "Like…?"
He sighed, looking around once as if to be certain they were really alone. "For one, our mutual acquaintance from last year has reappeared."
"Crouch?" she asked quietly.
"Yes," Malfoy confirmed, voice tight with some unknown emotion. "He is decidedly unpleasant."
Hermione's eyes went wide. "Did he hurt you?" she whispered fearfully.
To her relief, Malfoy shook his head. "No, of course not," he scoffed. "He wouldn't dare. But he required certain explanations. As did someone else."
"You mean… him?" she asked, now looking around the room once herself to ensure their privacy. "Was he… is he at your house?"
"Not often. I can't say more than that."
She chewed the inside of her cheek, turning that information over in her mind.
"Also, Granger…" Malfoy began, hesitating slightly, "just so you know. You made the right call, hiding your parents like you did."
Malfoy suddenly cursed, taking a step forward with arms half reaching out as if to catch her. Mind reeling at the unexpected revelation, Hermione hadn't realised she'd stumbled slightly until the backs of her knees hit something.
Out of her peripherals, she saw one of the plush armchairs directly behind her. She sat down hard, hiding her face in her hands. Death Eaters were actually looking for her and her family. Death Eaters had been to, and possibly inside of, her childhood home. She wasn't surprised, per say, but it was one thing to suspect it as a theory and quite another to hear it confirmed as a fact. She hoped that whoever had moved into that house after them remained unharmed.
Hermione took several deep breaths, willing her racing pulse to slow. When she had composed herself to satisfaction, she lowered her hands to find Malfoy watching her warily, a stricken expression on his face. He lowered his outstretched hands to his sides where they balled into fists.
"I'm sorry," he mumbled quickly, squeezing his eyes shut once. "Maybe I shouldn't have said anything. I only thought it might help you to know that sending them away like you did… well, it wasn't for nothing."
Hermione nodded numbly, mulling over his explanation. "No, no, you're right," she said slowly, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. "It does sort of help, surprisingly. It was always a 'better safe than sorry' scenario, but I'm relieved that it worked all the same. It's all just a little unsettling to know for certain, I suppose."
There was a short pause before Hermione spoke quietly again. "What's he like? Voldemort?" she added for clarification, though there was little question as to who she'd meant.
Malfoy flinched slightly at her use of the name. "The Dark Lord is… formidable," he replied almost as softly, staring at a point somewhere over her head. A curious expression washed over his features.
Hermione wet her lips, thinking of everything she'd heard Harry describe about Voldemort. It didn't escape her that Malfoy referred to him the same way as the other Death Eaters. The Dark Lord. She barely suppressed a shudder.
"Did your Occlumency lessons help?" she asked, drawing Malfoy back out of his own thoughts. Something undefined flashed behind his eyes before he lowered his gaze, now cold and flat.
He gave a curt nod. "Yes. Snape is thorough. And according to him, I am fortunate to have a natural proclivity towards that sort of thing. Techniques of the mind, that is. It can be rather difficult for someone without that, at least when they are faced with Legilimens as powerful as he is."
Malfoy's words gave her a sudden idea. She had already been considering learning for herself, especially since Harry was going to be getting lessons from Snape, too. Of its own accord, Hermione's knee began to bounce, drawing Malfoy's gaze. She stilled it immediately.
Trying to resist squirming in her chair, she hummed as if in deep thought. "I wonder if I might have a — what did you call it? — proclivity for Occlumency? After everything that happened last year, it seems prudent to learn to protect myself against an attack like that again." Malfoy frowned, but Hermione ignored it. "I was planning to ask Harry to teach me once he begins his lessons with Professor Snape, but maybe—"
"Potter is getting lessons from Snape?" Malfoy cut in, looking genuinely shocked now.
Hermione shrugged. "Yes."
"Why?"
"He needs it," she replied ambiguously. Malfoy narrowed his eyes at her as she continued. "Anyway. Maybe instead… you would teach me?"
She held her breath, studying the floor.
Malfoy was silent for longer than she expected. Hermione felt her cheeks redden as she studiously avoided looking anywhere but him. Finally, just when she'd opened her mouth to tell him to forget it, Malfoy spoke.
"Alright."
Her head snapped up, meeting his gaze. He looked conflicted. "Are you certain?" she asked doubtfully. "It's really no trouble to ask Harry, I only thought…"
Malfoy ran a hand through his hair again, mussing it so that several pale strands fell over his forehead. "I'm sure. If I know anything about Potter, and unfortunately I do, he wouldn't be able to Occlude against a Mountain Troll."
Hermione rolled her eyes, pressing on with a smile as though she hadn't heard his slight at Harry. "Excellent. What should I do first? Does the library have anything that could help me prepare? When do you want to start? We've both got our first patrols tomorrow evening, but how about Monday?"
Malfoy snorted softly. "Granger, relax, we've got a whole year ahead of us."
Eyeing the clock on the far wall, she stood, waving a hand dismissively. "Yes, but apparently Headmistress Umbridge decided that we needed several unbelievably ridiculous classes on our schedule this year. Our O.W.L. year of all times! With prefect rounds and meetings on top of that — and I assume you'll be picking up Quidditch again this year — I don't know when else we'll have a chance to speak alone. We should decide on a time and place."
He ran a hand under his jaw as he thought. "How about that Room of Requirement, then? You said it seems that no one else can get in unless they know what the room is being used for, so we'll just both need to ask it for the same thing, yeah? And I suppose Monday evening is fine," he finished with a smirk.
"Perfect," she replied, beaming at him. Malfoy blinked once, his smirk fading as he watched her. Reluctantly, Hermione glanced over her shoulder at the clock again. "I suppose I should get back. I'll see you Monday evening at, say, seven o'clock?"
Malfoy nodded once. "Seven works. The Room of Hidden Things? It only seems appropriate, and I'd like to see that room again."
"Yes, that will do. Thank you, Malfoy," she said softly, still smiling up at him.
"Sure," he replied, his expression giving nothing away. There were a few moments of amicable silence, neither having anything left to say. Malfoy made no attempt to leave, though, so she gestured to the door.
"Shall we?"
He seemed reluctant to move closer. "You go on, Granger. I just want to check out the rest of the lounge before I go up." His lips twisted wryly after repeating the excuse she'd given Neville.
Shaking her head in amusement, Hermione wished him a goodnight and left the lounge. By the time she made it to Gryffindor common room, it was nearly past curfew. The common room was still full, everyone taking advantage of their last homework-free weekend until the end of term, and her entrance went largely unnoticed.
She spotted Harry and Ron on the sofa by the fireplace, passing the time with Ron's Exploding Snap pack. Harry wore a grimace, sitting back to watch Ron, who was angling two cards together with his tongue between his teeth.
"Alright, Harry?" she asked, dropping into the chair next to him.
Harry made a noncommittal grunt, staring straight ahead. Ron looked around at her.
"Harry's got the sulks," Ron answered instead. Harry threw Ron a reproachful look and Ron shrugged in response. "What? You do, mate. Harry's just found out he has Remedial Potions with Snape Monday night." Ron looked at Hermione pointedly. "You know, extra lessons, with Snape, for—"
She cut him off. "Yes, Ron, thank you. I'm well aware of why Harry has to meet with Professor Snape."
Ron rolled his eyes and went back to carefully arranging his cards. He muttered something under his breath that sounded an awful lot like "tetchy".
"Come on, Harry," she tried, nudging his foot with her own. "It probably won't be as bad as you're thinking."
Harry's gaze snapped to hers, a mulish look in his eyes. "Oh, really? It was going to be bad enough before, and now without Dumbledore here to stop him, who knows how awful Snape is going to be to me? To us?"
Hermione frowned. Surely Snape wouldn't treat them any differently without Dumbledore looking over his shoulder. He was a teacher, after all, even if he did show outright favouritism to the Slytherins. Though he did seem to have an inexplicable grudge against Harry…
Harry took her silence for agreement. He grunted again, back to studying the flames flickering under the mantle. Crookshanks, stretched out lazily on the hearth, yawned widely and rolled onto his back, ginger fur spiked out in all directions. He barely even stirred when Ron's cards scattered in a small explosion, collapsing the castle to the table in a heap of smoke.
In contrast to Harry's bitter attitude towards his private lessons with Snape, Hermione grew increasingly restless over the course of the next two days, anticipation building steadily within her. She couldn't explain why she suddenly felt nervous about her impending meeting with Malfoy — she hadn't been this nervous any other time they'd met. Perhaps it was because they had never met in circumstances such as these: a completely intentional encounter, just the two of them, and in a place where the chances of being disturbed were zero to none. Hermione's pulse quickened in spite of herself.
Her first prefect patrol with Neville was uneventful. They walked their assigned sections of the castle after dinner, keeping an eye out for anyone using magic in the corridors, or for younger students trying to blend in with the older to stay out past their earlier curfew. On the way back to Gryffindor Tower, however, they passed Malfoy and Daphne heading the opposite direction to the Slytherin common room in the dungeons. Hermione gave them a brief nod, but Neville came to a complete stop in the middle of the corridor, eyes locked on Daphne.
"Hey, Daphne," he mumbled, ears turning faintly pink.
Daphne smiled kindly at him. "Hello, Neville," she replied quietly, looking over once to include Hermione in her smile.
Hermione looked past Daphne at Malfoy, who was standing a step behind. He wore a bored expression, but the way his mouth tightened suggested he was refraining from one of his typical biting comments towards Neville.
Hermione stepped forward to continue on, but Neville remained rooted to the spot.
"Anything interesting happen tonight?" Neville asked, his voice breaking on the last word. Ears bright red now, he cleared his throat. "Tonight," he repeated gruffly, in what was at least a full octave below his natural voice.
Over Daphne's head, Malfoy shot Hermione a pained look. Pretending to yawn, Hermione bit down hard on her knuckle to stifle the horrible urge to giggle.
Daphne, bless her, maintained an expression of polite interest. "Oh, we caught a couple of third years trying to charm Filch's office door into a stone wall, but it was a quiet night otherwise."
Neville made a face, shaking his head. "That's not good. I've heard a rumour that the new Headmistress is allowing Filch to reinstate some of the old punishments."
Feeling that it would be rude to leave while also unsure about talking to Malfoy in front of Daphne and Neville, Hermione was forced to stand around for several uncomfortable minutes while Neville made casual conversation with Daphne. Neville, for his part, seemed oblivious to Malfoy's presence.
When he wasn't scowling, Malfoy exchanged a few discreet glances with Hermione, communicating silently about their mutual entrapment. Finally, Daphne offered an out, suggesting that she wanted to be well-rested before diving into classes tomorrow morning. Hermione threw Malfoy a tiny smirk before wishing Daphne a pleasant evening and tugging the hem of Neville's sleeve. Neville wore a dazed smile all the way back to Gryffindor Tower.
Monday morning, Hermione tried to put aside her worries and throw herself into lessons as usual. Herbology with the Hufflepuffs first thing helped somewhat; inside Greenhouse three, it was easy to pretend that nothing had changed at all. Of course, lessons every other year hadn't begun with a fifteen minute lecture from Professor Sprout about the importance of O.W.L.s.
Seeing Professor Grubbly-Plank in front of Hagrid's cabin for Care of Magical Creatures shattered the illusion of normalcy entirely. Harry was already contemplating contacting Sirius with the mirror again to see if he had any information on Hagrid's whereabouts when Crabbe sidled up next to them.
"Missing your giant pal, are you?" Crabbe sneered. Hermione looked around, wondering where Malfoy, Theo, and the other Slytherin boys were.
"Shove off, Crabbe," Ron replied hotly.
Crabbe sniggered. "My opinion, they tore 'im to shreds. Maybe you could take up in his place, eh Weasley? Earn a Knut or two to keep your family from starving in that hovel?"
Ron's response to Crabbe was so colourful that had Molly Weasley heard it, he almost certainly would have earned another infamous tongue-lashing via howler. Hermione scrunched her nose in disgust at Crabbe's juvenile antics. What had he said about Hagrid, though? Did he actually know something, or was he bluffing? She'd have to ask Malfoy tonight. He likely knew just as much if not more.
Harry began pulling Ron away from Crabbe, trying to prevent things from escalating. Still sniggering, Crabbe left to stand with the other Slytherins. Putting him out of her mind, Hermione finally spotted Malfoy across the lawn with Theo. It looked like they were arguing — both of them stood rather stiffly, except Theo was waving his hands a lot and Malfoy had his nose in the air. She barely had time to wonder what their disagreement was about before Professor Grubbly-Plank was calling the class to order.
Hermione immediately recognised the bowtruckles piled high on the long trestle table set up in front of Hagrid's cabin, and earned a combined ten House points when she correctly answered Grubbly-Plank's questions. While Hermione and Harry set up at a station, unrolling their parchment and setting out inkwells, Ron went up to the table to retrieve the bowtruckle that they were to sketch and label as today's assignment. Ron unfortunately walked by Crabbe again on the way back, and whatever Crabbe whispered in passing caused Ron to set the bowtruckle down on the table hard enough that it swiped at his hand with two sharp, needle-like fingers. Blood spurted across his parchment.
"Fucking hell!" Ron yelled, immediately clapping his other hand on top of the gashes to staunch the bleeding. He let out a growl of frustration. "You've got to be kidding me. Hermione, could I borrow that handkerchief?"
Hermione's brow furrowed. "What? What handkerchief?"
"The one in your pocket!"
She looked down and noticed the edge of a familiar silk handkerchief poking out from the pocket of her outer robes. Cringing, she stuffed it deeper into her pocket. "Oh, um… sorry, Ron. It's not… it's something else." Ron gave her an odd look, but thankfully didn't press the matter once Harry summoned a roll of bandages that Grubbly-Plank had set out in anticipation.
After lunch, Hermione walked into Ancient Runes looking forward to the chance to finally talk to Theo. Instead, she found Theo sitting on the end of their usual row with Blaise Zabini already on his other side. Hermione dithered for a moment at the door to the classroom, suddenly unsure where to take her seat. Daphne, sitting two rows back from Theo and Blaise, gave her a small wave, and Hermione gratefully took the empty seat next to Daphne.
Daphne offered a soft smile, sticking her hand forward. "I know we've spoken before, but I don't believe we've ever been properly introduced. I'm Daphne."
Hermione clasped Daphne's hand with her own, giving it a firm shake. "Hermione," she replied, returning the smile.
"Are you and Neville good friends?" Daphne asked while Hermione set up her note-taking supplies on the desk in front of her. "I see you around with Harry Potter and Ron Weasley quite a lot, but you and Neville seem to know each other fairly well."
Hermione paused her preparations, pushing the hair that had fallen into her face back over her shoulders. "Oh, we're more acquaintances really, but I like Neville well enough. Now that we've had a few days to settle in, I think he'll make an excellent co-prefect." Daphne nodded while Hermione continued. "What about you? Are you friends with Malfoy?"
Daphne laughed quietly. "No, not really. In fact, we'd hardly spoken two words until that day on the train. I can't claim to know anything more than what everyone else already knows about Malfoy, but he seems… different this year."
Hermione grinned at her as Professor Babbling stepped up to begin the lesson.
By the time the last class of the afternoon rolled around, Hermione already felt spent. The constant lectures about the importance of O.W.L.s this year weren't doing any favours for her anxiety, either. After Ancient Runes, she and Daphne walked together to their second Conduct and Decorum lesson, where most of the fifth, sixth, and seventh year girls were already gathered outside of the Great Hall.
Umbridge herself was waiting inside. Having had only a day's notice of her appointment to Headmistress by the Board of Governors, it seemed that Umbridge planned to cover the classes herself until she could arrange for their first guest teacher to arrive. She started simply, going over a few basic Cleaning Charms and asking everyone to line up in front of her, where they would take turns performing the spells on bits of furniture. When Hermione's turn arrived, she stepped up in front of Umbridge and demonstrated the required spells, torn between pleasure and irritation that she could perform them all perfectly on her first attempt.
Umbridge smiled widely at her. "Very good, Miss Granger. We'll make a respectable young woman of you yet."
Taken aback, Hermione looked up sharply into Umbridge's pouchy face, forgetting to move out of the way for Daphne to take her turn.
Umbridge's smile widened viciously. "You may reply, 'Thank you, Headmistress Umbridge'."
Hermione gritted her teeth in what she hoped the woman took for a smile. "Thank you, Headmistress Umbridge," she ground out.
Before marching off to the other side of the room, she saw Umbridge nodding in satisfaction. Hermione felt her blood boil. Or maybe that was her magic crackling through her veins. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a literal spark jumping from her untamed curls.
Over dinner that evening, Hermione recalled the incident to Harry and Ron, confirming that every terrible assumption they'd made about Umbridge was the unvarnished truth. Harry rubbed his forehead steadily while she talked, claiming a headache, but Hermione noticed that he paid more attention to his scar than anything. Hopefully his Occlumency lessons would prevent his scar from hurting in the future.
At a quarter 'til seven, Hermione forced herself to walk slowly over to the seventh floor corridor. She'd been saved from making excuses to Harry and Ron about her plans with Malfoy; Harry was already off to the dungeons for his first lesson with Snape, and Ron was still obsessing over making the House Quidditch team, insisting he needed to practise even though it was pouring outside.
With a quick glance in both directions to ensure the corridor was empty, Hermione strode past the stone wall three times, concentrating on her need for a place to hide. The door materialised on her third pass.
The room was magnificent. It was just as Malfoy had described last year, with teetering stacks of broken furniture, heaps of dusty clothes, and various magical instruments littered throughout. The space almost felt like a sanctuary, with tall, narrow windows sending shafts of orange light spilling over the mountains of items, many of them forbidden by the list Filch had pinned to his office door. Just as she looked, a Fanged Frisbee hovered pitifully over the nearest pile containing several other contraband, from a bottle of shimmering black potion to what looked like several cracked and empty dragon eggshells.
Malfoy wasn't here yet. Eager to explore, Hermione set off on a quick circuit about the room. She immediately spotted several enormous piles of books, enough to fill the Hogwarts library and then some. She marvelled at the generations of people it must have taken to bring all of these inside. Rifling through the nearest stack, it was obvious that some of these books dated all the way back to the Middle Ages, possibly even earlier. The writing was too faded to really make out, and the pages felt as if they might turn to dust between her fingers.
"Granger?" came Malfoy's distant voice.
Quickly wending her way back through the clutter, Hermione found Malfoy near the entrance of the room.
"Here," she called when she was close enough for him to hear. He turned abruptly, seeking her out in the fading evening light. Quick as thought, several blazing torches appeared in brackets around the room.
"Did you do that?" Malfoy asked, looking around at the additions.
"No," Hermione replied, stopping next to him and eyeing the torches curiously. "The room must have sensed your need."
Malfoy was visibly impressed. "Useful. This might be my new favourite room in the castle."
"What's your old one?" Hermione asked without thinking.
Malfoy smirked at her, crossing his arms. "Have a guess."
Hermione tapped a finger to her lips as she hummed in thought. "Hmm, Slytherin common room?"
"Try again."
"Library?"
He snorted faintly. "No, that's yours."
"Fair enough," she said with a grin. "So what is it?"
"Well, it used to be the Astronomy Tower," Malfoy said thoughtfully, and her heart clenched painfully. "The view up there is incredible, second only to being on a broom."
"But now?" she asked quickly, wanting to change the subject.
"Great Hall," he answered just as quickly, and immediately his cheeks coloured a faint pink. He snapped his mouth closed, seeming almost surprised by his own answer.
Before she could ask why, Malfoy herded her over towards a nearby stack of furniture, where he made quick work of pulling out a pair of mismatched chairs and mending them with his wand. He summoned a cushion from another pile, placing it on one of the chairs and gesturing for her to sit. Hermione perched eagerly on the chair he offered while Malfoy took the chair opposite her, leaning back so that he appeared entirely at ease. Only the stiff set of his shoulders gave him away.
Malfoy cleared his throat. "Let's begin."