Hermione lay under the covers of her four-poster, squeezing her eyes shut against the breaking dawn. Despite her exhaustion, she couldn't hold back the smile that crept across her lips as she recalled events from the night prior.

Hermione barely contained her squeak of surprise after flying around the corner and narrowly avoiding Umbridge, who was lurking in the corridor outside of Professor McGonagall's office, surrounded by at least three-quarters of the Inquisitorial Squad. Umbridge wore a tight smile, tapping her foot with badly concealed impatience.

McGonagall's voice floated out of the open door. "Dear me, I'm certain I left them around here somewhere…"

"Minerva," Umbridge began sweetly, "it will take but a moment to let me inside—"

"I'm afraid I must insist, Dolores," McGonagall replied firmly. "Ah yes, here we are." Edging along the far wall and being careful not to accidentally trod on any toes, Hermione caught a glimpse through the doorway of McGonagall pushing her spectacles up to the bridge of her nose. "And now for the contracts—"

Umbridge made a small noise of frustration, drawing herself up to her full height. "Really, now, this is quite unnecessary. I am your Headmistress—"

"And as such, you surely realise the importance of following procedure given the circumstances. We cannot allow the entire school to gain access to the Gryffindor common room. Now, if you are amenable to leaving behind your… company… as I advised before—"

"Out of the question."

"Then we shall still require the records."

McGonagall's tone implied that there was no discussion left to be had. Umbridge's smile twitched, but remained fixed in place as she continued to tap her foot without further comment.

Holding her breath as she skirted around the last of the students gathered, Hermione passed close to Theo for the first time in months. He stared blankly ahead, his dark eyes nearly lost in shadow and his hands curled into fists at his sides. The air of casual joviality about him was gone, replaced by something darker, something more… sinister. She had the strangest urge to reach out and place a reassuring hand on his shoulder, but refrained.

Back in the common room, all-out chaos ensued. Gryffindor House tidied up in record time, disappearing to their dormitories with minutes to spare (no small thanks to McGonagall's expert stalling tactics). When Umbridge finally appeared, she'd immediately requested the presence of every Gryffindor prefect in the common room. Hermione had come downstairs to find Umbridge surrounded by Filch and the entire Inquisitorial Squad, most of whom were looking around the common room with a mixture of interest and revulsion. McGonagall was nowhere to be seen.

While Umbridge had prattled on about rules and rule-breaking, her beady eyes prying for any signs of weakness amongst the Gryffindors, Hermione tried unsuccessfully to keep her eyes off of Malfoy, who hovered back near the portrait hole. He'd finally changed out of his Quidditch kit, but his hair remained tousled and his cheeks still pinched pink from the cold.

Unable to distract herself from the fact that it had been her hands mussing his hair less than an hour ago, she flushed brilliantly every time they made eye contact, having to bite her lip hard to fight the smile that would surely damn them all. Malfoy managed to control himself only slightly better, but then, no one was looking at him. His last smirk had nearly sent her over the edge and she'd had to stifle the mad impulse to giggle.

She still suspected that Umbridge's narrowed gaze had landed on her more often than anyone else, likely due to her ruddy cheeks and overall frazzled demeanour, but it couldn't be helped. Even Neville had eyed her sideways once or twice, confusion etched into his features.

Umbridge had finally left in a fury at her inability to find concrete evidence of Gryffindor's celebration. It would have been laughable, except that the look in her eye as she clambered out of the portrait hole promised harsh retribution for their successful evasion that night. Hermione and the others had retired to their dormitories, relieved but subdued. She'd only bothered to remove the dressing gown she'd thrown hastily over her daywear before falling into bed and allowing sleep to take her.

Her reverie was interrupted in short order by a huge, reverberating thud.

Hermione opened her eyes to see Lavender and Parvati already sitting up in their beds and looking towards the dormitory door.

The sound repeated thrice more in quick succession.

Exchanging a look of bewilderment, Hermione and the others divested themselves of their bedsheets and started for the stairwell. It appeared they weren't the only ones who could hear the inexplicable hammering; Angelina, Alicia, and the other seventh year girls were already on their way downstairs, all wearing the same befuddled expressions.

Hermione stepped off the last stair to find a small crowd around the wall adjacent to their dormitory. Spotting a shock of red hair above the rest, she pushed her way through to where Harry and Ron stood and turned to see the cause of the commotion.

Filch swayed ominously on a rickety step stool, a heavy hammer reared back in one hand and an iron stake already stuck halfway out of the wall in front of him. As she watched, he swung the hammer forward, driving the stake deeper into the aged stone. A portrait of an austere-looking woman with starched yellow ruffs around her neck and wrists lay at his feet.

The woman inside took turns between watching Filch's progress and surveying the assembled students through shrewd eyes. Hermione eyed the portrait suspiciously, unable to recall ever seeing it before.

"What's going on?" she whispered to Ron and Harry over the quiet murmurs of the other Gryffindors.

Ron nudged her shoulder, pointing to the opposite corner of the room. She received a small shock to see Umbridge there, dressed in robes of bold fuchsia with her hands folded at her waist. A satisfied smile stretched her lips.

Realisation setting in, Hermione let out a quiet gasp. "To watch us?"

Harry nodded solemnly, giving Umbridge such a look that had she seen it, it would have surely earned him a week's detention.

Hermione grimaced. Outrage, an all-too-familiar companion nowadays, began to simmer beneath her skin.

"This is vile," she whispered heatedly, gaze cutting back to Filch now straightening the portrait on its stake. The woman inside the frame adjusted her collar before opening a small book that had been clutched inside one hand, studiously ignoring the attention of the entire common room.

"S'all done, Headmistress ma'am," Filch said, offering Umbridge an ingratiating grin and knuckling his forehead.

"Thank you, Argus," Umbridge replied with an indulgent smile. "Your assistance is most appreciated." Clasping her hands together, she turned to address the common room, now entirely filled with bleary-eyed, pyjama-clad students.

"I hope this will serve as a potent reminder that I expect your full compliance with all school rules and Educational Decrees, along with any other entities that I have established," Umbridge continued, her voice changing from breathy to rote. "Due to the appalling degree of inferiority of the standards to which you were formerly held, conformity is requiring stricter measures than anticipated, but it is by no means impossible. The participation of each and every student is vital to the future success of Hogwarts as an institution, and I will not accept anything less than your very best efforts, whether or not they are willing. I am confident that, in time, you will come to not only accept, but to agree that you are all the better for it. And you would do well to remember: I rarely give second chances."

She paused briefly, gaze lighting on where Hermione stood next to Harry and Ron. With a little giggle, Umbridge then swept her eyes across the assembled Gryffindors and clapped her hands together, some of the breathiness seeping back into her voice as she concluded her monologue.

"That's that, then. We have much to do before our dear Minister's upcoming visit to Hogwarts, but I know you'll all work very hard to show him how much Hogwarts has improved under new leadership. A very good morning to you all."

"And a good morning to you, Headmistress," Hermione ground out with the other Gryffindors in unison, knowing the price for defiance.

Umbridge gave a righteous little nod before sweeping off after Filch to exit the common room. Hermione bit her lip against the angry tears threatening to form. The portrait hole closed, leaving the room unnaturally quiet.

"This is some shite," Seamus said loudly, breaking the silence. "What right does that old geebag have to spy on us in our own common room?"

In comical unison, all heads immediately swivelled from Seamus to the new portrait. Without saying a word, the austere woman directed a withering look at Seamus before reaching to pick up a quill. She began to write in her pocketbook with slow, deliberate strokes.

Seamus visibly paled. Grumbling under his breath, he allowed Dean to nudge him back towards the boys' dormitories.

"See you at breakfast. I'm going back to bed," Ron muttered sourly before shuffling off after them.

A few other small murmurs took up around the room, but most everyone followed Ron's example and began meandering tiredly back to bed.

Despite the early hour, Hermione knew she had little chance of getting back to sleep. She was far too keyed up after events last night and this morning. Intent on having a bath instead, she started to turn away when Harry caught her sleeve.

"Er, Hermione? May want to fix that."

Harry's eyes dropped pointedly to the front of her jumper, heavily rumpled from being worn nearly a day solid. Indignation shot through her. Was now really the time to worry about such things? Straightening her jumper irritably, her gaze caught on the silver and green rosette still pinned to the front.

"Oh!" she squeaked, clapping a hand over the offending accessory and quickly scanning the room. Only Neville and Ginny were close by, but they appeared lost in their own whispered conversation.

Harry snorted, looking mildly amused. "I don't think anyone else has noticed yet, but they will if you insist on wearing it around."

"I didn't—"

Without giving her a chance to reply, Harry left to follow Ron and the others back to bed. Hermione groaned softly.

Word spread quickly of Umbridge's intrusion and subsequent infiltration into Gryffindor Tower. McGonagall addressed it briefly during their next Transfiguration class.

"I suggest you all remain on your best behaviour," McGonagall was saying, pinching the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger, "and for the love of Merlin, hold your tongues. Do not give her any reason to incriminate you. Class dismissed."

Hermione traded disbelieving looks with Harry and Ron. They'd been so certain that McGonagall would step in and set things to right. It seemed that her influence was diminishing by the day.

"I'll meet you in Charms," Hermione finally muttered, packing up her materials with the rest of the class. "I'm stopping off at the loo."

She hadn't made it ten feet out of the girls' lavatory when a tapestry of the 1612 goblin rebellion began emitting a strange hissing sound. Completely losing her head, Hermione pulled up short, squeezing her eyes shut against panicked thoughts of basilisks in the pipes. Had she accidentally gone to the second floor toilet instead of the third? She hadn't heard Myrtle's usual wailing…

The hissing sound repeated.

"Pssst. Granger."

What an odd thing for a basilisk to say.

Chiding herself mentally, Hermione opened her eyes and reached for the tapestry. Just as her hand closed around the edge, an arm shot out to reach around the small of her back and tug her gently behind the wall.

The tapestry fell back into place and she found herself in near-complete darkness, her front flush against another warm body. Her brain registered somewhere that this was another alcove, albeit one without a window, but she was slowly losing herself to a heady rush of adrenaline upon realising who was sharing it with her.

"Malfoy, what are you doing?" she asked, attempting reproach but only managing to sound breathless.

She felt his shoulders shake with silent laughter. He kept his hand pressed to the small of her back.

"What?" Malfoy whispered back, chuckling lowly. "How else am I supposed to talk to you?"

Hermione snorted softly, thinking he had a point. Beyond a few meaningful glances, they hadn't had a chance to speak privately in the days between the Gryffindor-Slytherin match and now, and Malfoy had regained his usual composure around her (in contrast to her face feeling perpetually on fire whenever they shared space). It didn't help matters that the new portrait in the common room wasn't Umbridge's only new set of eyes and ears; several unfamiliar portraits had sprung up around the castle overnight, though Hermione wasn't sure anyone else had noticed yet.

Warmth spread through her at the realisation that Malfoy was as eager to find her as she was him. Still, she couldn't help but tease him back.

"That's all you want, is it? To talk?" she asked, her own voice sounding a little throaty. "I'm about to see you in Charms, and of course there's Arithmancy this afternoon. Oh, and prefect patrols after dinner…"

Malfoy hummed thoughtfully and the sound reverberated pleasantly in her chest. "I see. Well, in that case…" He started to loosen his grip.

Unwilling to lose contact, Hermione surged forward, rising up on her toes to press her lips against his. He responded by tightening his grip on her waist, practically pulling her off the floor in his haste to meet her. His mouth was hot on hers, demanding and insistent, and she found herself quickly matching his intensity, winding her arms over his shoulders and pressing into him shamelessly. When his other hand came up to grasp a handful of curls at the nape of her neck, a soft whimper escaped her lips.

Malfoy made a low noise in the back of his throat. Without breaking the kiss, he suddenly spun them so that her back was pressed to the wall. She gasped at the unexpected movement, and Malfoy took the opportunity to break away, lowering his head to trail scorching kisses down the side of her neck. Dropping her head against the masonry and closing her eyes, Hermione couldn't hold back a shudder that rippled through her as his mouth worked down her exposed skin, leaving her boneless in its wake.

"This okay?" he murmured between kisses.

It took her brain a few seconds to catch up.

"Y— yes," she finally managed, only to suck in a sharp breath when his lips brushed the juncture of her neck and shoulder.

Malfoy hummed approval into her skin, beginning to work his way back up.

"We shouldn't," he whispered under her jaw, an echo of the last time they'd embraced.

A breathy laugh escaped her, and she felt his smile against her throat. "I know."

The hand buried in her curls tightened around the back of her neck and he raised his head to capture her lips once more.

"Granger," he sighed into her mouth, and her own name had never tasted so sweet.

There was something decidedly thrilling about the way Malfoy held her, pressed between his body and the wall, leaving her toes just barely skimming the floor. Or perhaps it was the fact that Hermione Granger — prefect, top-of-her-class, and most importantly, Gryffindor — was currently snogging Draco Malfoy in an alcove between classes.

As if he could sense her thoughts, Malfoy placed a final soft kiss to her lips before gently easing her to the floor.

"Let's get you to class, Granger," he purred into her ear. "Wouldn't want a tardy marring that perfect record, would we?"

She tried to agree, but it was difficult to think around the hot breath tickling the shell of her ear. The noise she made sounded embarrassingly close to a strangled whine.

He squeezed the base of her neck once before letting go. When he stepped back, she heard a quick snap of fabric, as if he were straightening his robes.

Fingertips brushed the back of her hand. "See you in Charms," Malfoy said softly, before adding a rather presumptuous, "and after."

She didn't need to see his face to picture the self-satisfied smirk he wore, but she caught a glimpse of it anyway as he backed out into the corridor, eyes glinting mischievously.

Fingers pressed to her mouth, it was with great effort that Hermione uprooted herself from the spot and dashed to Charms, very much not interested in marring her perfect record this year.

"Alright there, Hermione?" Ron asked over the buzz of before-class chatter, concern wrinkling his brow as he took in her bedraggled appearance.

She slid into the seat next to him as Harry looked around from Ron's other side.

"Quite alright, yes," she replied distractedly, combing her fingers through her hair.

Harry raised his eyebrows in disbelief.

Ron smiled fondly and shook his head. "S'pect you just had to run by the library again. Still trying to get that vanishing cabinet open?"

Without pausing for an answer, he reached up to catch the hand that was snagging through her curls. She froze at his touch, giving him her full attention.

"Might want to ease up with that, you're starting to look like you've just come from Potions. Or a thorough snogging," he added, sniggering appreciatively at his own far-fetched absurdity.

Harry choked and Ron let go to turn and clap him on the back.

Hermione managed a weak laugh. "Don't be ridiculous."

She couldn't stop a furtive glance towards Malfoy, who looked unjustly put together as he leaned back in his chair between Goyle and Zabini and chatted unconcernedly. When she looked back, Harry was watching her through narrowed eyes. She dropped her gaze hurriedly, busying herself with readying her materials for class. Out of her peripherals, Harry suddenly looked sick.

Mercifully, Professor Flitwick entered the room then, saving Hermione from further scrutiny. She pretended to be absorbed in the start of the lesson and tried her best to ignore the feel of Harry's eyes on her.

Malfoy found her after Charms as promised. And again after Arithmancy, which was a whole new level of torture for the fact that she spent the entire period less than an armslength away from him. When her inability to satisfactorily pay attention translated into a bouncing leg under their shared table, Malfoy's hand landed gently on her knee to still it and she nearly combusted on the spot.

She was late for prefect rounds with Neville again when Malfoy somehow tracked her down in the middle of the Transfiguration corridor after dinner.

At this rate, her hair would never recover.

It continued this way for a fortnight. Evenings were still taken up by mountains of homework, prefect patrols, A.N.T.I. classes, and in Malfoy's case, Quidditch practice (and whatever the Inquisitorial Squad did these days). P.A. meetings were interspersed throughout it all — they had even decided to begin expanding their core group to include a few other Gryffindors.

But, in an astonishing self-revelation, even the threat of upcoming O.W.L.s couldn't deter Hermione from letting Malfoy snog her senseless against the stacks in the back of the library during free periods. Or in one of the countless hidden alcoves between classes. Or once in the prefect's lounge when they'd lingered behind everyone else.

Somehow he always knew where to find her, even when her routine varied, but she'd never had the wherewithal to remember to ask him when the time came.

"Do you want some of my peppermint toads?" Ron offered once as she excused herself "to the loo" for the third time that day.

"What?" she asked, already halfway out of earshot.

"You know, from Honeydukes?"

Hermione blinked, her confusion evident.

"Mum always let me have extra whenever I had an upset stomach," he explained as he and Harry caught up to her. "It's a mite uncomfortable at first, but the hopping dies down eventually—"

Eager to be on her way, she cut in. "Oh. Thank you, Ron, but no. I'm just going to—"

"Hi Ron," came a new voice from behind Harry. Lavender sidled up between them, looking up at Ron with doe-eyes.

"I wondered if you might give me a play-by-play of your saves in the match against Slytherin? I'm in an argument with Parv, you see, and she thinks it was the shoddy play by the Slytherin Chasers that lost them the first match, but I disagree. I think it was your Keeping abilities."

Across the corridor, Parvati scowled at them before turning on her heel and stalking away.

Ron looked visibly excited at the prospect of retelling his role in the latest match. "Yeah, yeah, of course—"

Another new voice cut in. "Weasley, you're supposed to be taking this to the Potions classroom."

Pansy walked up, surrounded by her usual gang, and shoved her bag into Ron's arms.

"And in one piece, mind you," she snapped, flipping her sleek hair back from her face. "Last time you cracked an ink bottle and very nearly ruined my dream diary for Trelawney. If you thought hauling my laundry was bad, just wait until you're spending a week with only Filch and his chains for company."

Ron's eyebrows raised. "Fine. Consider it done." He turned away from Pansy in what was a clear dismissal. "Come on, Lavender, you can walk with me down to the dungeons and I'll tell you all about the match."

Lavender beamed at him, and together they started off down the corridor.

Not quite far enough, Lavender's next statement floated back to everyone else. "She's so horrible to you. I don't see why you put up with it."

"Ah, not much of a choice, I'm afraid…" and the rest of Ron's words were lost as they rounded the corner.

Pansy ground her teeth audibly before she, too, turned on her heel and stalked away, flanked by the other Slytherin girls.

Hermione traded looks with Harry.

"That was odd, wasn't it?" she asked.

Harry shrugged. "Er, yeah. I suppose."

"I only thought that Ron was trying to get along with Pansy now. You know, 'beat her at her own game' or whatever nonsense."

Harry only tilted his head. "Didn't you have to go to the loo?"

Hermione jumped. "What? Oh, right. Yes. I think I'm going to get some extra studying in as well. It's O.W.L. year, you know. See you after lunch, Harry!" she called over her shoulder as she fled.

She only caught a glimpse of Harry's face, but he wore that rather sick-looking expression again, tinged with a bit of something like exasperation. She'd have to ask him if he was feeling alright — hopefully it wasn't anything serious like his scar hurting.

Hermione was panting by the time she made it to the library, weaving her way through the stacks until she found the cosy back corner where Malfoy was waiting. It was the very same table they'd shared to study for a good part of last year.

"What kept you?" Malfoy whispered harshly. Without waiting for an answer, he vaulted out of his seat, cradling her face in his hands and leaning down to press his lips against hers.

"Long story," she mumbled against his mouth, letting her bag drop to the floor at their feet so that she could wind her arms around his neck.

"I'll say," Malfoy growled back. He brought his hands to her waist and turned her so that her back pressed up against the shelves behind them.

If she thought she'd figured out Draco Malfoy before, Hermione soon learned that there was a veritable repository of information to be had that she'd never before considered. Information she'd never dreamed to consider. The way his voice dropped when they were alone in these stolen moments, husky and rich. The way his body felt moulding itself around hers, the firm evidence of his desire mirrored by the devouring heat coursing through her veins and pooling low in her centre. The way his hands felt against her waist, her arms, her face, sure and firm. The way praises and confessions poured from his lips, as if their embrace had broken down his carefully constructed walls and he simply couldn't help himself. It made her feel powerful in the same way that amassing knowledge made her feel relevant.

On cue, Malfoy broke away to drop his mouth to her throat, dusting a mixture of hushed words and soft kisses across her skin.

"Beautiful."

"Wanted this."

"Wanted you."

And, as always.

"We shouldn't."

Hermione gasped as his teeth grazed her earlobe. "I know," she squeaked out, far too loudly for their current setting.

Malfoy stilled except for the hand he clapped over her mouth to stifle the noise. Keeping his other arm pressed against the bookshelf by her head, he held her gaze as they listened for the tell-tale signs of anyone who might be coming to investigate. Hermione watched him with wide eyes, breathing hard against his hand and more than a little surprised by the way this unintended situation didn't dampen her mood at all, but rather the warmth building inside of her flared white-hot. Surely the whole library could hear her heart thundering out of her chest.

Later, she'd research whether or not Silencing Charms could be modified to contain areas rather than just individuals. For now, she tried to keep from squirming too much in his hold.

The sound of footsteps never came. Malfoy let out a slow breath, uncovering her mouth to bring his hand to her waist. She smiled up at him tentatively, tucking her bottom lip between her teeth. He laughed under his breath.

"This drives me crazy, you know," he said, his thumb coming over to gently extract her lower lip. He left his thumb pressed in the centre.

"Sorry?" she responded against his finger, her smile growing wider.

He smiled back at her, one of those genuine smiles that was becoming less rare by the day. It was almost surreal, she thought, with Malfoy's pale hair luminescing in the weak beam of daylight streaming in from the window, and the cosy, comfortable silence of their surroundings.

She'd once thought it silly to allow herself to indulge in such personal needs and desires when so much hung in the balance, but she'd since come to a realisation that while those desires may be less important than the fate of the world, they were still important. And if there was a falling out from any of this, well, she'd deal with it later. Right now, she couldn't be arsed.

"Can we meet again in the Room of Hidden Things?" Hermione asked minutes later, after a fair bit more snogging. "I've got tomorrow evening free."

Malfoy's eyes lit up. "Why didn't I think of that before?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I meant to continue our lessons. I want to keep practising Occlumency."

Even though she was acting uncharacteristically… besotted… she did, after all, still have her priorities sorted out in the end.

Malfoy grumbled unintelligibly.

"Oh, come on," she insisted. "We haven't practised in ages. And I don't know when we'll have another chance."

"Speaking of," Malfoy said quietly, drawing her over to sit at the table, "where are you off to in the evenings? I know you aren't always studying in the lounge or that ghastly-looking place you call a common room."

She levelled him with a look. "What do you mean? You've found me in the lounge plenty of times, as I recall. And whenever I'm not there or here in the library, I'm pointlessly patrolling the corridors with Neville or attending those horrible anti-Muggleborn classes."

"But not all the time, yeah?" he replied, watching her closely. "There's something else. It happens once or twice a week."

Hermione scrunched her brow in confusion. Malfoy couldn't know about P.A. meetings… could he? And if he was suspicious for some reason, did that also mean Umbridge was suspicious?

She continued to study him, letting the silence stretch too long for plausible denial of other activities. He waited patiently, seeming to already know what she would say.

There was something he wasn't telling her.

"Well," she began slowly, "sometimes I like to study more… practically… if you catch my meaning."

Malfoy sat back, nodding once to show his understanding. Or maybe confirming something to himself?

"And would that happen to take place in the Room of Requirement?" he asked blithely, as if he hadn't just stumbled upon one of her best-kept secrets.

She inclined her head. "How did you know?"

Though they'd never been disturbed here while alone, Malfoy still looked around once before drawing his bag up from the floor to the table. He hesitated with his hand poised over the clasp, looking torn for half a moment.

With a small shake of his head, Malfoy opened his bag and proceeded to draw out a large, square piece of parchment that looked vaguely familiar. Not worn looking enough, though, was it? With a sudden revelation, Hermione's eyes widened in shock.

"Is that what I think it is?" she breathed, hardly daring to believe what he held.

He nodded again. "It is. Theo gave it to me over the summer. Before he… well, you know."

Brimming with curiosity, Hermione leaned forward, fingers already outstretched. Malfoy pushed the parchment into them without hesitation.

Hermione ran her hands over the smooth vellum, revelling in the implications of what she held.

"So this is how you've been finding me?" she murmured, more to herself than anything, but Malfoy still smirked in response. Too enamoured to care, she followed up with another question. "How do I activate it?"

Unexpectedly, Malfoy snorted. "Like this." He placed his wand in the middle. "I solemnly swear that Potter's up to no good."

A crude but functional replica of the Marauder's Map spread out over the parchment before her.

"How?" she breathed in wonder, watching tiny ink dots travel about the castle.

"I don't know," came Malfoy's sober reply. "Theo didn't say much about it apart from he'd made it and he didn't want to keep it."

Hermione frowned. Why would Theo give up such a marvellous creation? It must have taken him every spare moment in those weeks he had the original Map in his possession.

It was really about time she and Theo had a talk. She'd had enough of his standoffishness.

She resumed her perusal of Theo's map, beginning to notice a few other differences besides the relative newness of the parchment. The secret passages in and out of the school were absent, for one, as were several other rooms. The Room of Requirement was missing, obviously. So was the Hufflepuff common room, the Headmaster's office, and most of the teacher's quarters.

"How come so much is missing?" Hermione asked, tracing a finger over where she knew the Hufflepuff common room to be.

Malfoy shrugged. "When Theo had the map last year, he was constantly running all over the castle with it. I assumed he was just eager to try it out, but maybe—"

"—maybe he could only recreate the places he'd actually been!" Hermione finished excitedly.

Malfoy blew out a breath that ruffled the hair over his forehead. "Right."

"Well, can't you just ask him?" she offered, ignoring Malfoy's annoyed expression.

The expression deepened. "You think I haven't tried that? It was the first thing I did. After he handed it over, he refused to talk about it any more. If I even come close to bringing it up, he ignores me entirely."

Now that didn't make sense at all.

Her brows knit together in concern. "And you've been trying to find out what's going on with him?"

Malfoy nodded solemnly, looking uneasy. "I have. Same result."

Hermione sighed, handing the parchment back over. She gathered her bag, preparing to stand.

"I'm sorry, Malfoy. I know how much you care about him, and this can't be easy on you either."

Malfoy grimaced, but didn't respond. Instead, he tapped his wand on the map once, wiping it clear.

"What, no clever password to clear it?" she tried, smiling half-heartedly.

"Theo probably didn't have time, or I'm sure he would have," he drawled in a half-convincing attempt at humour.

Hermione stood, coming around the table to drop a hand on his shoulder. "I'm going to grab a bite before Potions. See you there?"

Malfoy moved his hand up to cover hers, and she had a brief moment of panic when he drew her hand away from his shoulder. Instead, he used it to bring her around in front of him. Then, holding her eyes, he brushed his lips across her knuckles. Her own lips parted in confusion.

"Just didn't want your last memory of that to be from Krum, yeah?" he said, smirking in earnest.

She smiled genuinely this time. "Of course not."

As she left, she couldn't resist throwing over her shoulder, "Doesn't mean it isn't still my best memory with Viktor," and was treated to Malfoy's signature sneer, all but promising retribution. She fled the library, practically vibrating with renewed anticipation.

Another horribly long Double-Potions lesson later, Hermione was trudging out of the classroom behind Harry and Ron when she caught a flash of brown curls rounding the corner up ahead. Malfoy, who was also on his way to dinner with the other Slytherin boys, paused for a moment, taking a long glance down that corridor before shaking his head and continuing on towards the Great Hall.

Gathering her courage, Hermione made a decision.

"Harry? Ron? I'll meet you at dinner, I just need to—"

Harry, wearing a long-suffering expression, cut her off with a wave of his hand. "We know, we know, you're off to the loo."

She shrugged, peeling off after Theo towards the Slytherin common room. She'd need to catch him before he got inside.

Drawing her robes more tightly around herself against the chill of the dungeons, Hermione swept down the next corridor, relieved to find Theo still ahead of her and thankfully, alone.

Before he could utter the password, Hermione planted herself in front of the stretch of bare, damp stone wall that concealed the Slytherin common room.

Theo's face slackened in shock before he composed himself. Then his eyes hardened in anger.

"Move."

She deflected. "Aren't you going to dinner?"

Jaw working, Theo looked as if he were debating how to answer such a remarkably simple question.

"No," he finally ground out. "Now move. I'll not say it again."

When he tried to step forward, she pulled out her wand. Theo sneered at her.

"Go away Mudblood," he snarled, not even decent enough to look her in the eyes as he said it. "Before you get hurt."

She recoiled, more from dismay than anything.

"This isn't you, Theo," Hermione said, lower lip trembling in spite of herself. "I know it isn't. Something is wrong. Let me help."

He quickly rearranged his features into a flat expression, but she hadn't missed his face momentarily crumpling in anguish. Despite the lack of outward emotion, when he spoke again, his voice was filled with pleading.

"Granger, don't. I'm begging you."