By the time morning rolled around, Dumbledore had gone. They continued to check the Map at random intervals over the next several days to no avail.
"This is starting to feel like looking for Crouch all over again," Ron groused.
Harry nodded his agreement. "At least we can be sure there aren't two Dumbledores this time around…" He paused, looking briefly troubled. "...Can't we?"
"I dunno anymore, mate," Ron said wearily. "Crouch and him are both nutters, that's for sure. At least Dumbledore's the good kind of mad, not some psychotic, You-Know-Who-worshipping lackey."
Hermione wasn't so sure Dumbledore's brand of eccentricity necessarily fell on the "good" side of the spectrum, but personal motives aside, Ron had a point: at least Dumbledore wasn't trying to kill Harry.
As time allowed between classes and after meals, Hermione and the boys began making random detours by the Headmaster's office, pausing to whisper various confections to the stone gargoyle.
"Alright there, Hermione?" Neville asked once, watching her uncertainly after they'd passed the statue on their way to the prefect's lounge.
"Um, yes," she replied, clearing her throat and fighting a blush. "Just thinking I could use some more Sugar Quills next time we go to Hogsmeade.
Neville smiled. "Oh! I have a couple of those leftover from our last trip. I'll fetch them for you tonight after rounds."
"Oh, Neville, I couldn't—"
"I insist." He laughed, patting his stomach. "Honestly, I'm kind of sick of them at this point."
Hermione shrugged, a smile tugging at her lips. "Alright then. Thanks."
Inside the lounge, Neville beelined over to where Daphne waited with Malfoy to receive their assignment for the evening. As always, Malfoy watched their exchange of pleasantries with a pained expression.
Hermione subtly nudged her hip into his. "It's sweet," she whispered out of the corner of her mouth, looking pointedly at Neville and Daphne.
He scoffed quietly. "That's one word for it."
She smiled up at him from beneath her lashes. "Thanks for going easy on Neville."
He grunted softly, keeping his eyes forward. "Out loud," he finally amended, the ghost of a smile on his lips.
Hermione snorted delicately and was making to respond when Daphne suddenly addressed her.
"Hermione, I wanted to apologise again for the other night. I truly hope we weren't interrupting."
"Not at all, I promise," Hermione said. "I was quite finished after Myrtle stopped in for a visit."
She and Daphne shared a knowing look.
"I see," Daphne responded with a tinkling laugh. "It seemed to work out anyhow, what with you and Pansy getting along now."
Next to her, Malfoy made a choked noise.
"Oh, um… I'm not sure that's really what happened," Hermione said, eyeing Malfoy sideways. He was looking right back at her, his silver eyes wide. Neville was observing Malfoy with mild concern.
Daphne laughed again, drawing her attention back. "Sure it is. Pansy doesn't talk boys with just anyone. As it happens, I overheard that last bit about Viktor Krum. Do you still keep in touch with him?"
Hermione hesitated, very conscious of Malfoy's eyes still on her. "We write occasionally, but that's the extent of it," she replied after a moment. "He's kept quite busy in Bulgaria with his club team, and he still plays for the Bulgarian National team of course."
"That's wonderful," Daphne said, a sparkle in her eye. "Perhaps you two might reconnect sometime in the future? He seemed quite taken with you."
Hermione made a non-committal sound in her throat, refusing now to even glance in Malfoy's direction. She could feel his eyes boring into the side of her head.
"We should get going, Hermione," Neville said, saving her from further scrutiny. "Looks like we're down on the lower levels tonight... Ah, and Ernie and Hannah've got the dungeons… I'll just flag down Ernie. Daphne, we'll see you tomorrow at the P—" he broke off, glancing once at Malfoy, "Er, see you tomorrow!"
Daphne smiled and gave a little wave, both of which Hermione returned as she moved to follow Neville across the room. Still not brave enough to look at Malfoy full-on, she only caught a hint of his curled lip before she shrugged apologetically and hurried off after Neville.
"Hermione…" Neville began tentatively after they'd branched off from Hannah and Ernie to patrol near the greenhouses, "you're pretty good friends with Daphne, right?"
"Yes," she said simply, privately thinking he already knew that.
Neville didn't speak again right away, instead taking the time to let his fingers trail across Professor Sprout's Venomous Tentacula where its dark red spiky feelers extended out through the window of greenhouse three. It responded by curling several tendrils around his hand. Neville paused there, seeming to draw confidence in his element.
"I'd like to ask her to visit Hogsmeade with me," he said in a rush, his cheeks turning slightly red. He cleared his throat. "It's not for another two months, but I'm sort of hoping it'd be a nice lead-in to… well, you know."
Hermione nodded, a small smile on her lips.
"And I know she's friendly with just about everyone," he continued, "so I just wanted to make sure I hadn't misunderstood anything. Do you think maybe she'd be interested in going with me?"
He immediately dropped his gaze back to the plant, avoiding its spikes with practised ease as he nervously smoothed the tendrils over the back of his hand.
"I can't speak for Daphne," Hermione replied after a moment's thought, "but I do think there's a good chance she'd respond favourably. And she asks after you nearly every Conduct class. That is, when she isn't having to remind me to sit up straight for the hundredth time, or helping me with my French, or saving me from yet another embroidery disaster before Umbridge sees—"
"That's great," Neville said with a dazed smile, his mind obviously already elsewhere. "Really great…"
She rolled her eyes fondly and watched Neville carefully extricate his hand from the mass of spiky red feelers now attempting to encase his arm. Smiling to himself, he didn't speak again until they were passing the History of Magic classroom.
"Does Malfoy seem off to you this year?"
Hermione fought to keep her expression neutral. "How do you mean?"
"I dunno, he's just… he's awfully quiet this year. I mean, sometimes when I'm talking to Daphne, I forget he's even around. It's weird, right?"
"I suppose it's a little unusual given your history," she agreed.
Neville bobbed his head. "Very. Remember that Leg-Locker Curse he put on me first year for no reason at all? The one you had to undo? And I thought I'd never pass Potions third year, with Snape all mad over the Boggart from Lupin's class and Malfoy taking every opportunity to 'accidentally' drop things in my cauldron. He hasn't so much as sneezed in my direction in recent memory. And I haven't heard him making fun of Harry and Ron in a fair bit either…" his face darkened, "or calling you the M-word."
"He hasn't, no."
Neville glanced at her. "He used to do anything for a laugh. Or, you know... for attention, I guess. Maybe he doesn't care about that anymore? I dunno..." Neville paused to push a lock of sandy blonde hair off of his forehead. "Do you think something's the matter? I'll bet you anything Malfoy's dad invites You-Know-Who 'round for dinner every chance he gets."
Hermione grimaced, thinking Neville was probably spot-on. "That might be part of it. But I think..." she hesitated, uncertain how familiar she should seem with Malfoy's seemingly-unexplained personal growth, "...I think he's just growing up, too. Starting to realise that maybe he's allowed to think for himself, and not buy into everything he's been told about people like me, and you, and even Harry. I don't expect all his opinions about us have changed, but he's certainly not the same person he used to be. Who knows, maybe with a little more time we'll even come to all be friends?"
At Neville's incredulous stare, Hermione promptly shut her mouth, realising that the last bit may have been pushing it.
Eager to interrupt the now uncomfortably inquisitive look Neville was giving her, she gave a forced laugh and added, "And are you actually asking me if Malfoy is okay?"
Neville laughed, too, expression clearing at once. "Yeah, I suppose I am. Like I said, weird. I just can't help but feel kinda bad for him if that's the case with his family and You-Know-Who and all. And it's a lot easier now that he's not trying to embarrass me every chance he gets. I do that enough on my own, thanks."
Hermione grinned and bumped her shoulder into his. "Oh, don't be ridiculous."
Neville matched her grin, chuckling to himself as they rounded the corner near the Muggle Studies classroom and took the stairs back to the ground floor.
Saturday morning found every fifth-year and above assembled in the Great Hall, formed into orderly rows to listen to Umbridge speak before their Conduct class. Unfortunately, Malfoy had been right about the rumours regarding Umbridge and her plans for the Minister's visit; the Christmas holidays were to be cut short this year in favour of a demonstration being held on the twenty-ninth of December.
"It will be an occasion such as Hogwarts has never seen before," Umbridge was saying, hands clasped in front of her outrageously fluffy, lurid pink cardigan. "And I know you will all do your very best to show the Minister how much Hogwarts has improved in such a short time. I do of course realise the importance of the holiday season, and will therefore be extending an invitation to all immediate family members who wish to attend the luncheon the next day. Uniform fittings for all students will take place next Saturday afternoon at promptly one o'clock. I know you're all eager to get practising, and so I leave you in Frau Tanzen's capable hands once more."
Frau Tanzen inclined her head graciously while Umbridge began a round of applause, the rest of the room jolting out of a stupor to join in half-heartedly.
As soon as Umbridge stepped off the dais, students began automatically milling towards their usual partners. Hermione had just turned to Neville when Lavender shot in front of her, quickly taking hold of Neville's upper arm and leading him away. Neville glanced back at Hermione looking alarmed.
"Guess it's you and me again, eh?" Ron said at her shoulder, voice thick with amusement as he watched Lavender tow Neville across the room.
Hermione was just about to respond when a series of brisk claps drew everyone's attention back to the dais.
"Before we begin, your attention please," Frau Tanzen said as she surveyed the room. "With the upcoming schulball in only a month's time, I feel we must increase our efforts to present an acceptable demonstration befitting this most prodigious school and the distinguished students who attend it. And, of course, my acclaimed skills of instruction," she added with a smile, looking around as if to share the joke. A few chuckles took up here and there, but the room remained otherwise silent, awaiting whatever Frau Tanzen had in store.
The guest professor cleared her throat. "In the interest of preparing you in time, I shall be selecting new pairings for each student based on my observation of relative skill levels. It is my hope that coupling more experienced students with those still learning will benefit us all. Now, I should like for you to line up according to House and we will begin."
Hermione traded worried looks with Ron. Already over with Parvati, even Harry looked slightly put out at the prospect of adjusting to a new partner.
Frau Tanzen wasted no time selecting the pairs, her tone brooking no arguments or complaints as she worked. Harry was quickly sent off with Daphne. Neville was paired with Hannah. Dean looked somewhat frightened as he went off with a disgruntled-looking Millicent Bulstrode. Cho looked even more frightened when Frau Tanzen hesitated in front of Graham Montague, but broke out in a relieved smile when paired up with Zabini instead.
Ron was up next. Frau Tanzen paused for a moment, surveying the dwindling line of partner-less students. Ron fiddled with the hem of his robes while she pivoted slowly, her gaze appearing to settle longest on a quiet, dark-haired Ravenclaw girl called Mandy.
Suddenly, a delicate, high-pitched sneeze drew the professor's attention towards the Slytherin line-up.
"Gesundheit, Miss Parkinson," Frau Tanzen said, bestowing her favourite volunteer with a smile. Then she hummed in thought. "Why, yes, I think. That will do quite nicely." She gestured Ron forward. "Over with Miss Parkinson please."
Now that Hermione was looking for it, Ron's alarmed expression didn't seem quite as convincing as it used to.
With Frau Tanzen's attention still on the the line of Slytherin students, Hermione stepped forward nervously, briefly locking eyes with Malfoy. What if they were paired together? She didn't think she'd survive being in his arms in front of half of the student body. Her cheeks already burned at just the thought.
Malfoy likely had the same thought. His expression remained even, but she caught the barest hint of a smirk before she looked away, her face about to reach the approximate temperature of the sun.
But Frau Tanzen wasn't looking towards Malfoy. Her gaze swept past Theo, who drew in on himself and kept his head down, and over to the remaining group of fifth and sixth year Slytherin boys. When her eyes landed on Crabbe, Hermione's stomach dropped.
Crabbe smiled unpleasantly.
The professor opened her mouth, and Hermione resolved to track down a Skiving Snackbox as soon as she could manage.
"Miss Granger, over there please. With Mister Goyle."
Hermione breathed a sigh of relief, albeit a tiny one. Being partnered with Goyle was only marginally better than being partnered with Crabbe — Goyle wasn't the brightest, but that hardly made him any less cruel. Although... it hadn't been the worst thing to sit next to him in Potions last year.
Without looking around, Hermione walked awkwardly over to Goyle, who appeared to have frozen mid-nose-scratch in shock.
Stopping in front of his hulking figure, she had to crane her neck back to meet his eyes.
"Well?" she asked, indicating the portion of the room where the newly-partnered students waited, talking quietly amongst themselves as Frau Tanzen continued to pair up the remaining students.
Goyle remained frozen, looking down at her with deep-set, expressionless eyes.
Next to him, Crabbe sniggered. "Have fun with that, Greg," he whispered. "A pity, I'd have liked to show the Mudblood a thing or two myself."
Hermione ignored him, chancing a glance at Malfoy. He was watching Goyle with a slight frown.
Goyle finally gave a small grunt. "'Kay then."
And his eyes flashed to Malfoy once before he stuttered into motion, lumbering past her to cross the Hall. She followed stiffly, unwilling to meet Harry's or Ron's eyes even though she could feel them tracking her progress. Their assuredly horrified expressions might cause her to lose her nerve.
Acutely uncomfortable, Hermione stood next to Goyle as the last pairs were sorted. Theo went with Padma Patil, Susan Bones went with Terry Boot, Crabbe ended up with Tracey Davis (who appeared more annoyed about it than anything), and Malfoy was paired with Lavender.
With the remaining fifth, sixth, and seventh year students partnered up, the lesson began. In the interest of keeping things simple, Frau Tanzen instructed them to begin with the traditional slow waltz and started up the music.
Eyeing Goyle's huge frame, Hermione twisted her hands anxiously. "Um, shall I just...?"
"Here," he grunted, thrusting a hand towards her. She jumped back out of his reach without thinking. Goyle's thick brows drew down in confusion.
Hermione let out a nervous little laugh and stepped forward again, allowing Goyle to place a thick hand around her back and engulf one of her hands in his. She gingerly placed her other hand on his shoulder in return.
It felt like wrestling an elephant. Every time she moved in one direction, Goyle was inevitably going the other. Given that Hermione was no match for his size, she was already feeling rather dragged-about, and they hadn't even completed a single sequence.
Hermione's foot then caught on Goyle's shoe and she went sprawling, only to be hauled back upright in like a small child in his crushing grip.
Hermione brushed the hair out of her eyes, steeling herself for another round. Whatever had possessed Frau Tanzen to think that this would be a good idea?
By the end of the second sequence, Hermione's muscles ached from pushing so hard against Goyle's movements. Goyle was beginning to look visibly frustrated.
"Relax," he mumbled gruffly, nearly pulling her arm out of socket trying to turn in the opposite direction.
She gritted her teeth. "I can't."
Goyle gave no indication that he heard her. They continued their struggle through several more painful minutes. Hermione glanced longingly at the clock on the far wall.
"Feet," he suddenly grunted in between sequences.
She looked back up at him, neck cracking in the process. "Er... what was that?"
"Feet," he grunted again.
And suddenly she was in the air, Goyle's hands crushing her waist to set her feet on top of his own enormous shoes.
"Relax," he repeated, taking her hand to resume their positions.
Hermione could only describe it as flying. Goyle whirled her effortlessly around the room, weaving expertly through the swaths of other dancing students. In a desperate bid to hang on lest she sustain serious bodily injury, her grip tightened until her knuckles blanched.
Despite the fact that her nails were probably digging furrows into his shoulder beneath the robes, Goyle never seemed to notice. He continued to spin them in time to the music, his earlier frustration melting back into his usual flat expression.
It was rather terrifying if she were being honest, not only for the speed at which they were moving, but for the fact that one of her childhood bullies had her completely at his mercy. But if Goyle's formerly-bruising grip was any indication, there was little to no chance he'd let her fall by accident, and for some reason, she didn't think he'd do it on purpose either. Hermione relaxed marginally in his hold, allowing herself to enjoy the sensation just a little bit.
With Goyle doing all the work, she had time to watch some of the other couples as they spun around the room.
Daphne, smiling as usual, appeared to be helping an equally-smiling Harry adjust his alignment.
Pansy appeared to be correcting Ron's footwork, once even reaching down to tap his thigh before pointing to the proper positioning. Ron blushed a fiery red at that.
Crabbe looked strangely subdued as he spun Tracey around, whose mouth was set in a stern line reminiscent of Professor McGonagall.
At one point, Goyle waltzed them over near the fireplace where Malfoy and Lavender were rotating in a tidy circle. When Malfoy looked up to see Hermione spinning by on Goyle's feet, he nearly missed a step in his shock. A startled laugh burst from Hermione's lips at the incredulous look on Malfoy's face as she floated away.
Goyle looked down at the sound, his dull eyes seeming to crease infinitesimally at the corners, and it suddenly occurred to Hermione that she was actually having fun. With Goyle.
She was still somewhat relieved when the bell finally signalled the start of the lunch hour.
"Um... thanks," she said to Goyle, who thankfully released her without resistance. "That was..."
She fumbled for an appropriate word.
"...something."
Goyle grunted in response, and promptly turned away to shuffle off towards the recently-replaced Slytherin table for lunch.
Harry and Ron suddenly appeared at her shoulder, wanting to know all about her having to dance with Goyle while simultaneously offering their condolences.
"No, it wasn't too bad," she assured them as they settled themselves at the Gryffindor table and began loading their plates. "I mean, a little scary, yes. But not as bad as it could have been. Honestly."
"If you say so," Harry replied after sharing a look with Ron.
"How'd it go dancing with Pansy, anyway?" Hermione asked, shifting the focus away from herself.
"Uh, fine I guess," Ron said. "She just bossed me around a bunch, so... the usual." His expression turned puzzled. "Except... she actually said please a couple of times. Can you believe that? Parkinson saying please? Must have been the first time in her life."
Hermione bit back a smile. "I imagine so."
Harry just wrinkled his nose.
After lunch they made their way down the sloping grounds towards the Quidditch pitch; Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw were set to face off in the second match of the season.
Even contending with the bitter cold, the game was much more enjoyable with Harry and Ron by her side. Plus, she wasn't nearly as invested in the outcome. The match ended up lasting only fifteen short minutes, with Cedric swiping the snitch right out from under Cho to secure Hufflepuff's victory.
Angelina found them before they'd even left the stands.
"Emergency practise, boys. Hufflepuff beat Ravenclaw by over two hundred points. That means we'll need to demolish them in the next match if we want to secure our spot at the top of the table."
"But that's months away!" Ron protested.
Angelina fixed him with such a look that he actually backed up a step.
"Er... yeah, we'll be right down," said an equally-cowed Harry.
Hermione made her way back to the castle alone, privately grateful for Angelina's timing. As the previous planned meeting with Malfoy had been thwarted by Snape last-minute, they'd instead agreed to meet in the Room of Hidden Things tonight after dinner. Now, Hermione was saved from having to explain where she was going (and seeing the look on Harry's face as she did).
She scarfed her dinner, intent on getting to the room before Malfoy for a bit of extra preparation.
Settling on the floor in their usual place amidst the labyrinth of knick-knacks and other rubbish, Hermione worked to empty herself of emotion, letting extraneous thoughts and feelings drain away with the inky water from the reservoir conjured up in her mind. She slipped easily into this state of indifference now, her practice beginning to pay off — not only was she practising before bed, but she sometimes found herself using the same method to better focus while studying. Deciding to make the best use of her time while she waited for Malfoy, Hermione pulled out a parchment and quill.
"What are you doing?" came Malfoy's voice from over her shoulder some time later.
She jumped, not having heard him enter the room. Her reservoir cracked and the water gushed in, leaving her buzzing with a strange sort of hyper-awareness.
She let out a long breath. "Drawing up a study schedule for exams," she replied without looking around, beginning to tidy up her work. "They're only seven months away, you know."
"Only," he said with a light tone that suggested he was teasing.
"Yes, only," she repeated, flashing him a small smile over her shoulder.
He was smiling, too. Before she could finish putting her materials away, Malfoy was over in three long strides, dropping his bag at their feet and hauling her into his arms.
He kissed her slowly this time. His hands took their time exploring her face, her hair, her neck. With the peculiar sensation of oversensitivity lingering, every touch felt electrified. A delicate shiver worked down her spine and Malfoy drew her in closer, enveloping her in his arms.
She breathed in the warm scent of him, relaxing into his touch and finding herself at-ease once more. Tucked away into this secret room all of their own, his lips moved unhurriedly against hers as if they had all evening. Which, she supposed, they technically did.
But they had several priorities tonight, and snogging wasn't one of them.
He must have been able to tell she was about to pull away, because he suddenly spoke against her lips. "I know, I know, lessons. Just one more minute like this. Please."
She immediately understood Ron's bewilderment with Pansy earlier — Hermione wasn't sure she'd ever get used to hearing that word from Malfoy. Either way, she wasn't inclined to refuse him.
A minute (or several) later, he begrudgingly pulled away.
"So, what do you want to start with?"
"Occlumency, preferably," she replied. "I want to give it a go before I'm too tired to concentrate properly."
Malfoy nodded his assent and Summoned their regular pair of chairs. She took the chair he offered and handed him one of her two vials of freshly-prepared Calming Draught in return.
"Ready?" he asked, leaning forward to rest his forearms across his knees as he held her gaze.
Hermione scrubbed her palms across her jean-clad thighs, quickly pulling forward a few harmless memories — many involving him — before gently wiping her mind clear of anything but utter calm.
"Ready," she said, keeping her eyes on his as he palmed his wand.
He said the incantation, and his presence immediately settled upon her mind.
It was as she remembered — a soft, familiar touch sliding effortlessly around the cavern of her consciousness, seeking a path into her innermost self.
But at the same time, it was also not quite as she remembered. There was an edge to it now — not painful, by any means — but sharper. And was it warmer than before?
No matter. Her boundaries would hold, she was certain of it—
Hermione gasped as her walls suddenly crumbled and a vivid scene played out before her eyes.
She was in Hogsmeade. A weak sun fell upon the old cobblestone streets and reflected gently from the window panes of the surrounding buildings. A small walled-in garden sat to the side, its greenery draping the wooden posts and the back of the cottage it belonged to. A pair of dark, intense eyes stared down at her from beneath heavy black brows.
Her vision moved closer, and a hand came up to cradle her jaw. The eyes in front of her closed just before her own vision went dark.
"Fuck!"
Malfoy's curse dragged her back to awareness. Her eyes opened and his face swam into view, light eyes in place of dark. He was kneeling down before her looking panicked.
"Granger? Granger, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean for that to happen—"
"What... what was that?" she asked dazedly, still trying to regain her bearings.
Malfoy's expression was wild, but his voice remained even. "I sort of... fell in, I guess? I don't know. I swear I didn't mean to—"
"Did something feel different to you this time?" she asked, finally regaining her composure. "With my mind?"
Malfoy straightened, seeming taken aback at her question. "I... yes, I suppose. It wasn't that you were doing anything wrong, but your mind felt more... familiar? Whatever it was, I should have realised something was off— I shouldn't have let—"
"Malfoy."
He stiffened, making as if to shift further away from her, but she grabbed for his hand before he could move.
"Just tell me what happened," she continued, squeezing his fingers for reassurance. "I know it wasn't on purpose, I just don't understand why that memory surfaced. I haven't thought about Viktor that way in ages—"
Malfoy's face instantly heated, his reddened cheeks standing out starkly against his alabaster skin. He let go of her hand to pull roughly at the neck of his dark green jumper as if suddenly too hot. It was the most uncomfortable she had ever seen him look.
He finally cleared his throat. "That would be my fault."
She watched him with open confusion, waiting for him to elaborate.
Realising he still had a finger hooked in the neck of his jumper, Malfoy quickly pulled his hand down to his side where it stilled completely before he continued.
"Just what Greengrass said the other day, yeah? About Krum?"
Hermione frowned. "What about it?"
Malfoy had composed himself entirely by now, only a hint of stiffness in his posture belying his former discomfort.
He wet his lips before he spoke. "I... suppose I'd thought about it in passing once or twice since then. It must have inadvertently influenced my technique."
"Once or twice," she repeated flatly, beginning to cotton-on.
He blinked. "Yes."
She mulled that over. "And that would be enough to accidentally drag the memory out of me with basic Legilimency?"
His jaw flexed. "Possibly."
"Didn't you once tell me that Legilimency can be enhanced when the Legilimens has an emotionally-vested interest in the subject matter?
A vein at his temple jumped, and he began twisting the ring around his little finger with his thumb. "I did."
She fought to keep her expression neutral. "So, that would mean..."
Malfoy's upper lip began to curl, daring her to call him out on it.
She smirked at him. He got the picture.
"Fine," he said through gritted teeth. "I thought about it a lot."
Her smirk widened, and she couldn't resist the opportunity to parrot his own words back to him. "Jealous, are we?"
"Please," he scoffed, sprawling lazily back in his chair. "What's Krum got on me?"
Hermione burst out laughing and Malfoy shot her an affronted look.
"Oh, relax," she said, still chuckling at his expression. "I'm only laughing because you're right."
"Oh?" he said, raising an aristocratic brow at her.
"Really," she replied simply. She opened her mouth to elaborate, but promptly closed it again, hesitating over saying anything more. They'd never actually talked feelings — whatever was between them now existed solely in the midst of heated passion and stolen moments.
Malfoy didn't inquire further, but he seemed far happier than he had before.
"Are you sure you aren't upset?" he asked instead.
"I'm not," she reassured him. "It was an accident. Besides, from what you've told me, that was really advanced Legilimency — you've improved."
"I can't promise it won't happen again," he put in quickly, watching her carefully. "I'll understand if you'd prefer not to practise anymore."
"Malfoy, I meant it. It's alright. Let's go again, shall we?"
He visibly relaxed, beginning to roll his wand casually between his fingertips.
At her nod, Malfoy cast the spell again.
Hermione recognised the difference right away this time. And now that she was ready for it, she realised the odd sensation to his magic wasn't so much an edge as it was something almost... magnetic. Instead of trying to invade her mind by force alone, Malfoy's consciousness now seemed to call to hers, attempting to lure her defences apart. Her own consciousness responded tenfold as compared to before, leaping forward eagerly to betray her. Some part of her registered her fingers beginning to ache from her white-knuckled grip on the chair.
She managed to resist it this time, if only barely.
Malfoy ceased the spell with a satisfied nod. "Much better."
She slumped forward in her seat, feeling drained. The hand she ran across her forehead came away slightly damp.
"It's still more difficult than before," she panted.
Malfoy frowned. "It shouldn't be — I've not done anything different this time."
She shrugged, straightening in her chair and pushing the hair out of her eyes. "Perhaps I'm just out of practice."
She was able to withstand two more rounds before her walls refused to hold any longer.
"Another second and you'd have had it," Malfoy said, obviously restraining himself from laughing with great difficulty. She wasn't sure if he was talking about her Occlumency or her fractionally-late Shield Charm, as he'd just watched her getting knocked on her arse by a well-aimed Knockback Jinx from Ginny during their last P.A. meeting. "Who knew the Little Weasel could pack such a punch."
Hermione made a face at him.
He smirked at her before continuing in a more serious tone. "So that's what you've been up to in here? You know, if Umbridge finds out, you'll likely be expelled. And anyone else she catches."
"We know," she replied solemnly. "But it's worth the risk, what with V— You-Know-Who back and after us."
Malfoy's posture immediately stiffened, his expression hardening to stone.
"It's not you he's after," he said tightly.
"Maybe not directly, but we've already established that my close proximity to Harry has brought unwanted attention. Look what would have happened to my parents if I hadn't..."
Throat suddenly tight, Hermione had to look away. When she'd managed bring herself under control, she looked back to find Malfoy scowling at his feet.
She sniffed once and cleared her throat. "I'm beat from Occlumency today, but come have a look at these notes." She bent to remove a stack of parchment from her bag before moving to settle on the floor, spreading the sheets filled with her cramped handwriting out in front of her. "I've looked into several of the ingredients you managed to get from Snape, and maybe together we'll be able to work something out. Although, first..." She lifted her vial of Calming Draught to her lips and swallowed the slightly-bitter mixture.
Malfoy's throat bobbed as he downed his own vial and stood immediately, coming to settle next to her on the floor. He was close enough that their hips touched and Hermione bit her lip to keep from... well, biting his.
"I've looked into a few of them, too." He reached into his bag and pulled out a very battered-looking text. The peeling title on the front was nearly entirely worn off. "Nicked this from a cupboard after Potions the other day — figured it might come in useful. It's the N.E.W.T.-level course book."
"Malfoy, that's brilliant," she said, genuinely impressed. She'd hadn't yet thought to look outside of the Potions section in the library, and the most useful texts were always kept in the Restricted Section anyway.
His cheeks tinged pink again as he started flipping through the pages. He paused on one, the book falling open in one hand to reveal a spare bit of parchment inside with his neat script covering it.
"Let's start with your notes," she offered, squinting down at the page to see the potion on which he'd landed. It was difficult to decipher the recipe, as the margins were filled with an obscene amount of scribbling. She gave up trying to read the actual text and motioned for Malfoy explain his findings instead.
He obliged. "Let's start with an easy one — valerian. The sprigs are used in Forgetfulness Potions, but the roots are used several types of Sleeping Potions, including the Draught of Living Death, which makes sense, seeing as valerian roots have powerful sedative properties in all forms. It says here that the sedative quality is especially potent when powdered—"
"Wait, let me see that," Hermione burst in, snatching the book out of his hand. "Are you sure the recipe called for roots and not sprigs?
Malfoy's mouth mashed into a tight line. "Yes," he responded tersely.
"Wouldn't that directly interfere with the sneezewort?" She perused the recipe he had open, which turned out to be for the Draught of Living Death, only half-listening for his answer. At least, she tried to peruse the recipe — the words were nearly illegible even up close. The previous owner hadn't taken very good care of it, had they? Hermione would never stoop to defacing valuable knowledge — imminent Basilisk attacks being the exception, of course.
"Yes," Malfoy repeated, narrowing his eyes at her, "as I was about to say, valerian root would usually counteract the inflammatory properties of the sneezewort. But Snape—"
"Snape has certainly thought of that, considering it's third-year level knowledge."
He blew out a harsh breath. "Right."
She abruptly realised her mistake. "Um, sorry. Here," she said sheepishly, offering the book back with an apologetic smile. She pointedly folded her hands in her lap to show that she would be on her best behaviour.
Malfoy rolled his eyes, but the corner of his mouth lifted as he ran his free hand through his hair, tousling the white-blonde strands artfully. "Well, instead of trying to mitigate it, it's possible that Snape is using the cross-reactivity to enhance the invigorating properties of the sneezewort while reducing the inflammatory."
Hermione nodded. "That makes sense, although I shouldn't think it would be very stable."
"It wouldn't. But remember, we're still missing at least half of the ingredients, yeah? Anyway, I looked at sage next, and I think it's likely just an excipient..."
And they continued trading ideas, taking turns working through the list of known ingredients and their properties and speculating on the purpose of each one. They were still unable to find any singular Potion requiring more than two of them, and for several, they could think of no use at all.
"Do you think that Saturn bit is particularly important?" Hermione asked as they began to stall in their discussion. "I've never put much stock in Astrology myself. And I'm not even sure what black mirror is — I've certainly never heard of it before."
"I haven't either," Malfoy said. "Whatever he's doing, it's definitely experimental and way beyond N.E.W.T.-level. We'll be lucky to ever figure it out on our own."
"Is there anyone we could ask?" Hermione suggested. "Perhaps a seventh year?"
Malfoy was already shaking his head. "Too risky. We can't guarantee it won't get back to Snape. Or Umbridge and her lackeys—"
"You are one of those," Hermione pointed out.
Malfoy ignored her. "But maybe..." He paused with a frown.
"Maybe?" she prompted.
Malfoy sighed. "Whatever Greengrass said, I know you're not on good terms with Pansy, but... she's the only person apart from Theo himself I would think to ask when I have a question in Potions. She hardly even has to try in that class — probably why she spends the whole time yakking to her friends. I could figure out a way to run it by her without raising suspicion."
Hermione mulled that over, tapping her quill against her lips.
"It's worth a shot," she said finally. "But, what if... what if I had Ron bring it up with her? He could tell her its some remedial assignment for Snape or something, and pretend that he's not supposed to talk about it with anyone or receive any help. Then it won't be connected to you."
Malfoy, who had predictably assumed a moue of distaste when Ron's name was mentioned, drummed his fingers across the book in his hands.
"It could work. What are you going to tell Weasley about why you need it?"
"The truth," she said simply. "He and Harry already know a bit about our... cooperation... after last year." She left out the bit where Ron thought it was an ongoing ruse to get information on Voldemort and the Death Eaters.
"And they've got nothing against Theo," she added, the unspoken fact that they did have something against Malfoy hanging unfinished in the air.
Malfoy's expression was unreadable as he twisted the ring on his little finger.
"Okay," he said finally.
Hermione smiled, beginning to pack up her notes. Malfoy stowed the Potions book away and held her bag open so that she could cram her papers inside before standing up.
As she bent to drop her bag out of the way near the pile of broken furniture, Hermione thought of something she'd been meaning to ask him, if somewhat reluctantly. She straightened and turned around.
"Um, about Theo..."
Malfoy's eyes jumped up from where they'd been studying her Muggle jeans to meet her own.
"...have you maybe checked his arm?"
His brows drew together. "His arm?"
She took a deep breath. "You know... for the Mark."
Malfoy's suddenly clenched jaw had her rushing to explain.
"It's just, well, with how he's been acting... and Snape probably being involved... and Crouch living in his home... I'm only saying it might be worth a look, that's all."
"He's not," Malfoy said tightly, a sneer forming on his lips.
"You've already—"
"He's not," Malfoy repeated firmly, louder this time. Then, more quietly, he added, "The Dark Lord wouldn't want someone not committed to the cause, and Theo wouldn't be. There's no way he'd choose Theo over..." he trailed off, suddenly looking uncomfortable.
Her blood ran cold. Was Malfoy jealous at the possibility of Theo being chosen as a Death Eater instead of him?
Malfoy must have mistaken the cause of the fear on her face when he quickly strode over and took her in his arms.
"They'll never touch you."
Allowing herself to be drawn to his chest, Hermione bit her lip. She was forcefully reminded of the last time they'd been in a similar position, just before she'd left to perform the Memory Charm on her parents. Although last time she hadn't had the luxury of turning her face up so that their lips met.
Her fears melted away as their mouths moved together, Malfoy still holding her tightly in his arms. He couldn't possibly still want to be a Death Eater, not now that he'd accepted her and those like her as magical equals.
He had, hadn't he?
Of course he had. She relaxed further into his embrace, until the familiar warmth began to build low in her abdomen. He groaned softly when she fisted her hand into the front of his jumper, pulling him more tightly against her. Eager to dispel the last of her doubt, she brought her teeth down on his lip just the way she'd wanted to earlier. He practically growled in response.
A sense of recklessness possessed her. Hermione splayed her hands on Malfoy's chest and pushed until his back hit the wall. He grunted with the force of it, but still managed to match her frenzied enthusiasm. Her tongue slid easily past his lips while her fingers found the hem of his jumper and slipped beneath the edge.
Malfoy inhaled sharply. As if he'd simply been waiting on permission, he immediately returned the favour, a large hand delving up beneath the back of her pullover to rest in the centre of her back. She shuddered involuntarily at his touch, the imprint of his hand burning into the skin between her shoulder blades.
"Perfect," he praised against her mouth, drawing her impossibly closer. She continued to explore the skin beneath his jumper, a heady feeling beginning to take over.
Malfoy had changed, there was no doubt about it — even the others were starting to notice. She hadn't put in all this work just to lose him now. She'd be damned if she let Voldemort take what was hers.
He suddenly hissed in pain, and Hermione realised she had accidentally dug her nails rather hard into Malfoy's back. She snatched her hands away and he pulled back to look at her. Rather than look upset, his eyes shone bright silver around the edges of dark, wide pupils.
"Sorry," she whispered, her face flushing with embarrassment. Unable to hold his intense gaze for more than a few seconds, she quickly looked down.
He laughed softly in response, removing the hand beneath her pullover to let it settle on her waist. He kept the other hand tangled in her curls.
"Don't be."
She made a face, but doubted he could see it with her face nearly pressed into his chest.
"Unless you mean to take up with Goyle now," he added lightly. "Couldn't keep your hands off him this morning, could you?"
Hermione looked up in time to catch Malfoy's smirk.
"Oh, yes," she replied, tone dripping with acid, "I've simply been biding my time until I could get close to Goyle. Lucky for me, it all seems to be working out."
His body shook with suppressed laughter now, and she couldn't help but smile in return.
"Really, though," she added thoughtfully, "he isn't half bad. Far better than Ron or Neville. I may end up passing that class after all."
Malfoy snorted quietly. "Yeah, I never knew whether Goyle was plain good at it or if his mum had to pay the tutor for twice as many lessons as the rest of us."
"Lessons," Hermione scoffed, "as if you'll all be going to galas and soirées on the regular."
Malfoy simply raised an eyebrow at her.
"Oh my god," she said, unable to keep the shock from her face, "you will, won't you?"
He shrugged.
"Wow," she mouthed silently, somehow still coming to terms with what it meant to be a Pureblood. Even with all of the ridiculous lessons in Conduct and Decorum this year, she'd never really put two and two together.
Without warning, Malfoy reached down to take her hand, leaving his other hand on her back. "Let's see if we can help you use your own feet, yeah?"
She laughed freely, moving her other hand up to his shoulder.
He counted off. They'd only taken three steps before she ran into him, same as she had with Goyle this morning.
"Let me lead, Granger."
She twisted her mouth. "I am."
He shook his head. "You're not. Try to relax," he said, reminiscent of Goyle's gruff command.
"I am," she repeated through gritted teeth.
There was a pause before he said, "Trust me."
Something in his tone made her look up at him.
His eyes, now fully grey and gleaming softly in the torchlight, met hers quite seriously.
It was an easy decision. And wasn't that the scariest bit of all? Lingering doubts notwithstanding, she did trust him. More than she probably should.
She felt her muscles loosen, really loosen, for the first time since she'd entered the room this evening.
The corner of his mouth lifted and he counted off again. She kept her gaze locked on his as they moved fluidly between the teetering piles of furniture that littered their little corner of the room. Before she knew it, they'd completed an entire sequence without any mishaps.
"Malfoy, that was incredible!" she said delightedly as they came to a stop. "You're brilliant!"
He smirked at her. "Well put, Granger. Ten points to Gryffindor for that astute observation."
She pulled up short, looking at him with wide eyes. "Malfoy... you realise you actually just awarded points to Gryffindor, don't you?"
His self-satisfied smirk immediately morphed into a look of horror. "Shit."
Hermione threw her head back and laughed until tears were quite literally streaming from her eyes. She couldn't stop. The thought of Malfoy unwittingly giving points to Gryffindor was just ludicrous enough to keep her going.
Malfoy simply watched as she kept on. When she'd brought herself under control enough to notice, his horrified expression had been replaced by something undefined.
"You know," he finally drawled, "normally I'd take those points back and then some, but... I want to try something."
And he took his wand out of his pocket. Hermione looked on as Malfoy took one more glance at her before closing his eyes and raising his wand out in front of him. She counted five deep breaths before he opened his eyes and spoke.
"Expecto Patronum."
A huge figure took shape — even larger than her own Patronus. As silver as his eyes, it continued to grow, a blinding light that finally unfurled into the form of an enormous, silvery winged dragon.
Hermione's mouth fell open in awe. Malfoy's eyes were alight with excitement as he looked back at her.
"Malfoy, you did it!" she cried, running to throw her arms around his neck. He caught her and spun her around once before his eyes returned to the dragon that was now soaring splendidly across the room, just beneath the vaulted ceiling. Even in a space the size of the cathedral, the creature still looked massive, and its radiant glow brought the room into sharp relief.
Eventually, the dragon wheeled around in a huge arc to return to Malfoy's side, making a graceful and somewhat surprisingly silent landing. It cut an imposing figure.
"It's beautiful," she murmured, studying the ridged back and the rough-looking scales covering its serpentine body. It stretched a bat-like wing and a small puff of silver smoke escaped its nostrils to float over their heads. "A Hebridean Black, I think?"
Malfoy nodded mutely, still studying his Patronus. He seemed, for once, at a loss for words.
She gave him another minute to process his accomplishment before teasing lightly, "A little on the nose, don't you think?"
He raised his pale brows incredulously. "Says the Gryffindor with a lion for a Patronus?"
She sniffed. "Lioness."
He grinned in response, eyes alight with fervour, and she silently vowed to never forget the way he looked at her in that moment.
They stood mesmerised until Malfoy eventually lowered his wand and let the dragon vanish. The room seemed far dimmer without it.
After a glance at her watch, Hermione was the first to speak.
"I'm loathe to call it a night after that, but—"
"Then don't."
She looked up at him. "What?"
"Stay," he urged, his eyes still bright and his hair carelessly dishevelled. "Just a little longer. I want to try again."
Her exhilaration was such that Hermione was now sorely regretting not bringing Harry's cloak along so that she could continue to share in the excitement of Malfoy's triumph. She'd never seen him so animated.
"Malfoy, I can't— it's already ten 'til curfew and that portrait will report me to Umbridge if she sees me come in late. I'll lose my badge."
"Then don't let her see you," he insisted.
"I'd stay if I could, but I don't have the cloak—"
He looked at her as if to say she were missing the most obvious solution.
"She can't see you come in late," he began, his eyes practically glowing, "if you don't go back at all."
Hermione froze upon realising what he was implying. "What... stay? Stay here?"
"Why not?" Malfoy asked. "Didn't you once say you're almost always up before Brown and Patil? They won't even realise you never came in."
"Well, yes..."
"And I'm sure the room can come up with accommodations for us—"
That very moment, she spied a huge, canopied bed against the far wall, looking like it had just materialised out of a portrait of some mediaeval chateau.
Malfoy saw it, too. His jaw dropped open and his cheeks heated for the third time that night.
"Ah, that's— that's not quite what I—" he cut off, obviously flustered.
Laughing in spite of herself, Hermione covered her face with her hands out of sheer mortification.
Maybe it was a mixture of his infectious energy and quasi-logical reasoning, or maybe it was just the prospect of being able to spend a little more time with Malfoy like this, but Hermione suddenly found she had no other objections.
She took a deep breath and swept the hair back from her face. "I still think we shouldn't use the room too often — best to prevent drawing attention to its existence — but seeing as we're already here... I'll stay."
His answering smile kindled a familiar warmth within her, somewhere in the centre of her chest. He lifted his wand once more, the ghost of a smirk still on his lips, and paused to look at her with a raised brow.
"Let's cast it together, shall we?"