The Room of Requirement was now quiet except for the occasional crackle of old magic still lingering in its walls. Every evening, Hermione and Draco had been working for hours, their silence punctuated only by the hum of their wands as they repaired the room's shattered remnants and diagnosed the fragments of magic that hung there. The charred walls and crumbling floors bore the scars of the battle fought within, and Hermione could feel the weight of the memory pressing on her still. On them both.
That evening as they worked, a strange, ancient energy began to pulse through the room. It was subtle at first—a faint whisper of power that brushed against Hermione's senses. But as the hours passed, it grew stronger, more insistent, until it was impossible to ignore.
Draco seemed to notice it too. His movements slowed, his brow furrowed in concentration as he attempted to trace the source of the magic. "There's something here," he murmured, almost to himself. "Something old."
Hermione nodded, her own curiosity piqued. "The Room of Requirement has always been a place of hidden things, of secrets. It makes sense that some of the magic used to create it has been kept secret too."
Draco cast her a sidelong glance, his expression unreadable. "It feels... dark."
"Yes," Hermione agreed, though she wasn't entirely sure if she was referring to the magic or the emotions it stirred within her. There was a sense of foreboding that she couldn't shake, as if they were on the brink of uncovering something best left forgotten.
They continued their work, the air between them growing heavier with each passing minute. The darkness in the room seemed to seep into their very bones, intertwining with their magic and drawing them closer together. The intimacy of their work—of sharing such a powerful and dangerous experience—sent shivers down her spine every time their sleeves brushed.
Hermione found herself becoming increasingly reliant on Draco's presence as they analysed the fabric of the magic. His knowledge of dark magic, once a source of fear and suspicion, now became a vital tool in their efforts to diagnose the issue.
She'd tried a few counter-curses to a range of negative effects, from being completely useless to making her feel instantly drained- as the last one had. Draco had offered a soft smile at that one, sitting beside her on the cold stone floor.
"I never imagined we'd be doing this," Draco said quietly, his voice tinged with disbelief. "Working together, I mean."
Hermione smiled faintly, though there was a sadness in her eyes. "Neither did I. But here we are."
The Great Hall buzzed with the usual breakfast chatter. Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Neville, and Luna had taken seats together at the Gryffindor table, but they weren't alone. Draco had begun joining them on occasion, much like the sorting feast, much to Ron's dismay, and today was one of those days. The atmosphere was tense, but there was a tentative peace as they tried to navigate their new reality. Other students had taken advantage of the move to, not only was Luna on their table most days but each table had a few students from other houses nestled amongst them. All except Slytherin, that was.
"Pass the toast, Neville," Ginny said, reaching across the table.
Neville handed over the toast, his eyes flicking nervously toward Draco, who was quietly eating his porridge. Luna, as usual, seemed oblivious to the tension, buttering her toast with an air of serene detachment.
"Any plans for the weekend?" Hermione asked, trying to make conversation as she poured herself some pumpkin juice.
"I'm going to work on Herbology essays," Neville said, his voice a bit too eager as he tried to steer the conversation away from anything uncomfortable. "Professor Sprout gave us a really interesting assignment on Venomous Tentacula."
"Sounds... fun," Ron muttered, stabbing at his eggs.
Ginny shot Ron a warning look, clearly trying to keep things civil. "Luna and I are thinking of exploring some of the more hidden parts of the castle. There's supposed to be a room that's full of nothing but old brooms."
"Not quite as hidden as it used to be," Luna said dreamily, as if the entire school had become one large exploration for her.
Before the conversation could continue, the sound of fluttering wings filled the hall as the morning post arrived. Dozens of owls swooped down to deliver letters and packages, and Hermione's heart gave a small jolt when she saw a sleek, elegant owl land in front of Draco, holding out a letter with an ornate seal.
Draco's eyes narrowed as he took the letter, his usual guarded expression slipping into something more vulnerable. Hermione glanced down at her own plate, trying not to stare, but her curiosity got the better of her. The owl didn't leave after delivering Draco's letter. Instead, it dropped a second, smaller letter onto Hermione's plate.
Hermione picked it up, her eyes widening as she recognized the elegant script. It was from Narcissa Malfoy.
Ron, who had been watching with narrowed eyes, couldn't help but comment. "Looks like your mum's been busy, Malfoy," he said, his tone laced with bitterness.
"Ron," Ginny hissed, kicking him under the table.
Draco didn't respond, his expression carefully neutral as he broke the seal on his letter. Hermione did the same, her heart pounding as she unfolded the parchment.
Dear Miss Granger,
I trust this letter finds you well. I wanted to extend my deepest gratitude for your willingness to work alongside Draco during this difficult time. I am aware that your history with our family is complicated, to say the least, and I do not take your kindness lightly. Please know that your efforts are not unnoticed, and I hope that this cooperation will lead to a better understanding between you both.
With sincere regards,
Narcissa Malfoy
Hermione stared at the letter, her emotions a confusing tangle. It was a gracious note, polite and formal, but something about it left her feeling cold. Narcissa's words were carefully chosen, but there was no apology, no acknowledgment of what had happened at Malfoy Manor. She had thanked Hermione for working with Draco, but she hadn't acknowledged the pain and suffering Hermione had endured in her home.
Ron leaned over, reading the letter over her shoulder, and his face twisted with anger. "That's it? She's thanking you? Not a word about what happened to you at her house? No apology for... for what they did?"
"Ron, stop," Ginny said sharply, her eyes flashing with anger. "This isn't the time or place."
But the damage was done. Hermione's hand instinctively went to her forearm, where the faint scars from Bellatrix's cursed knife were still hidden beneath her sleeve. She quickly pulled her hand away, but not before she caught Draco's gaze across the table. He was watching her, his expression unreadable, but there was something in his eyes—something that made her wonder if he knew exactly what she was thinking.
The rest of breakfast passed in a tense silence, with Hermione barely touching her food. When the bell rang, signalling the start of the first lesson, they all stood to leave. Draco lingered for a moment, as if he wanted to say something, but then he turned and walked out of the hall without a word.
Later that day, they returned to the Room of Requirement to continue their work. The room was as stubborn as ever, refusing to provide the books or tools they needed to understand the dark magic that thrummed in the walls. But today, there was a different tension in the air, a tension that had nothing to do with the room itself.
As they worked, Draco's gaze kept flicking toward Hermione, as if he wanted to ask her something but couldn't find the words. Finally, as they paused to take a break, he spoke.
"Granger... about what Weasley said at breakfast," he began, his voice unusually hesitant. "My mother... she's not..."
"She's not Bellatrix," Hermione finished for him, her tone sharper than she intended. "I know that. But she didn't stop her either."
Draco flinched, and Hermione instantly regretted her words. She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—"
"You don't have to apologise," Draco interrupted, his voice quiet. "You're right. My mother didn't stop her, neither did I, and for that... I'm sorry. I know it doesn't change anything, but... I just wanted you to know that I'm sorry."
Hermione looked at him, surprised by the sincerity in his voice. For a moment, the walls they had both built around themselves seemed to crumble, leaving them exposed and vulnerable. She didn't know what to say, so she simply nodded, a silent acknowledgment that while some wounds might never heal, the apology—imperfect as it was—still meant something.
As they worked, the magic in the room began to reveal itself more clearly. It was not just old and dark—it was tied deeply to desire, reflecting the intentions and needs of those who entered. This realisation intrigued and unsettled Hermione in equal measure. The room seemed to respond to their presence, adapting and changing based on their emotions and unspoken thoughts.
"Do you feel that?" Hermione asked, breaking the silence as she traced her wand along a wall, watching as the stone shifted slightly under her touch.
Draco nodded, his brow furrowed in concentration. "It's like the room is alive... responding to us, or it should be if it weren't refusing to. But there's something more, something beneath it all."
"It's desire," Hermione said quietly, more to herself than to him. "The magic here is tied to our deepest wants and needs. It explains why the room changes depending on who enters."
Draco looked at her, his gaze intense. "What do you desire, Granger?"
Hermione hesitated, the question catching her off guard. She met his eyes, feeling the weight of the room pressing in on them, amplifying the connection that had been growing between them. "Right now? To understand this place, to fix it."
Draco nodded, his expression troubled. "It's not just refusing. It's almost like it's taunting us, like it knows what we want but it won't give it to us. It's full of... desire, but there's a darkness to it, something we don't understand yet."
Hermione looked at him, her mind racing. "Desire is the key, but we don't know how to unlock it. This kind of magic is powerful, but it's also dangerous. We'll need to study older spells, maybe even ones that manipulate or control desire, to figure out how to make the room respond."
Draco's gaze flicked to the side, as if he was hesitating. "You're suggesting we delve deeper into dark magic?"
Hermione sighed, knowing how that sounded. "I know it's risky, but the room is showing us that we don't have a choice. We need to understand this magic if we're going to fix it. Otherwise, it could become something far worse."
Draco nodded slowly, his expression serious. "Then we'll need to find the right texts, the right spells. This is going to take more than just trial and error."
Later that evening, they joined Snape in his office. He had taken an interest in their work, and his questions were probing, his dark eyes flicking between them as they described the latest developments in the Room of Requirement.
"The room is responding to our desires instead of our needs," Hermione explained, her tone clinical but laced with fascination. "It's almost as if it were alive, shaping itself based on what we need, but now it's only humming with the magic of desire."
Snape leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers. "Magic tied to desire is powerful, but it is also perilous. It can reveal more than you intend, and it can be manipulated in ways you may not foresee. Are you certain you are in control?"
Hermione glanced at Draco, who gave a slight nod. "We're being careful," she assured Snape. "We're aware of the risks."
"Good," Snape replied, though his tone was laced with scepticism. "Continue your work, but remain vigilant. Desire is a double-edged sword, Mr Malfoy, Miss Granger. Do not allow it to cloud your judgement."
As they turned to leave Snape's office, Draco's hand brushed against the small of Hermione's back, a brief but deliberate contact that sent a shiver down her spine. Desire was probably the last thing that she wanted to be researching with Malfoy.
It was late, and the Gryffindor common room was almost empty, the fire burning low in the hearth. The few students who remained were either huddled over books or dozing off in the armchairs. Hermione and Ron sat by the fire, the flickering light casting long shadows on the walls as they waited in silence.
Ginny had slipped out earlier that evening, sneaking through the portrait hole with the excuse that she needed some fresh air. But Ron had seen through her excuse immediately, and it didn't take much for Hermione to guess where she was really going.
"She's with Harry, isn't she?" Ron asked, his voice low but laced with concern.
Hermione nodded, though she kept her eyes on the fire. "I think so. It's hard for them, being apart like this. I can't really blame her."
Ron sighed, leaning back in his chair and rubbing his eyes. "I get it, I really do. But it's dangerous, Hermione. Harry's got a lot on his plate with the Ministry, and Ginny... well, she's stubborn. She won't listen to reason when it comes to him."
"They're both stubborn," Hermione replied with a small smile. "But they care about each other. That's what matters."
Ron was silent for a moment, staring into the fire. "I just want them to be safe. After everything we've been through, I want something to be... normal, you know?"
Hermione looked at him, hearing the weariness in his voice. "I know, Ron. I think we all want that. But things are still... complicated."
Ron let out a humourless chuckle. "Complicated. Yeah, that's one way to put it."
Hermione hesitated before speaking again, sensing that Ron had more on his mind. "You're worried about more than just Harry and Ginny, aren't you?"
Ron sighed again, running a hand through his hair. "It's just... everything's changing, Hermione. And not all of it makes sense to me. Like you and Malfoy, working together all the time. I get that you're trying to fix the room, but... I don't know. It feels like we're all drifting apart."
Hermione's heart ached at the sadness in his voice. "I don't want us to drift apart, Ron. But the Room of Requirement... It's important. There's something in there, something powerful, and Draco's the only one who can help me understand it."
Ron shook his head, frustration clear on his face. "I just don't get it. After everything he's done, how can you trust him?"
"It's not about trust," Hermione said quietly. "It's about necessity. We're dealing with magic that's beyond anything I've seen before, and Draco knows things about dark magic that I don't. I need his knowledge to fix it, to make sure it doesn't get out of control."
Ron stared into the fire, his expression conflicted. "And what happens when it does get out of control? When he uses it against us?"
Hermione didn't have an answer for that, and the silence that followed was heavy with unspoken fears. Finally, she said, "I'll be careful, Ron. I promise."
Ron nodded, though the worry in his eyes didn't fade. "I just want us all to get through this. And I want... I want something more for the future, you know? Something better than all this."
Hermione looked at him, sensing that this was what had been weighing on his mind the most. "What do you want for the future, Ron? What does that look like to you?"
Ron was quiet for a long moment, as if he was considering how much to reveal. "I want to be with you, Hermione," he finally admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "I want us to have a future together—a real one. You know, a house in the country, maybe a couple of kids. You could stay home, and I could work at the Ministry, or maybe even take over the joke shop with George. Something simple, something good."
Hermione's heart sank as she listened, realising that their visions of the future were far from aligned. She carefully chose her words before responding. "Ron, that sounds... nice. But I don't see that for myself. I've always wanted to work, to make a difference in the world. I'm not even sure I want children, and if I did, I wouldn't want to give up my career for it."
Ron looked at her, clearly taken aback by her response. "But you're great with kids, Hermione. You'd be an amazing mum."
Hermione forced a small smile. "Maybe. But I don't think I'd be happy if that was all I did. I want to keep learning, keep growing. There's so much out there, so much I want to do."
Ron's expression tightened, and he looked away, staring into the fire. "I just thought... I thought we were on the same page."
Hermione reached out and took his hand, trying to soften the blow. "Ron, I care about you. But we need to be honest with each other about what we want. We've been through so much, and I don't want to pretend we're something we're not."
Ron was silent for a long time, and when he finally spoke, his voice was tinged with bitterness. "You've changed, Hermione. Or maybe I just didn't see it before."
"Everyone's changed," Hermione replied gently. "We've all been through so much. But it doesn't mean we can't figure out what comes next, even if it's not what we expected."
Ron pulled his hand away, clearly struggling with his emotions. "And what about Malfoy? Where does he fit into all this? You've been spending more time with him than with your own friends."
Hermione sighed, knowing this was a sensitive topic. "Draco... he apologised, Ron. For what happened at the Manor."
Ron scoffed, his expression darkening. "An apology? What good does that do? It doesn't erase what he did. It doesn't make up for what you went through."
"I know that," Hermione said quietly. "But it's a start. He's trying to change, and I think that counts for something."
"Maybe to you," Ron muttered, crossing his arms. "But not to me."
They lapsed into silence again, the only sound the crackling of the fire. After a while, the portrait hole swung open, and Ginny slipped inside, her cheeks flushed from the cold.
"Where've you been?" Ron asked, though his tone was more teasing than accusatory.
Ginny rolled her eyes. "Out. Not that it's any of your business."
Ron grinned, the tension in the room easing slightly. "You saw Harry, didn't you?"
Ginny's smile softened. "Yeah, I did. He's okay, but... well, he's got a lot on his mind. The Ministry's a mess."
Hermione nodded, understanding all too well. "We know. But he'll get through it. And so will we."
Ginny glanced between Ron and Hermione, her smile fading slightly as she noticed the tension between them. "Looks like you two were having a serious talk."
"Something like that," Ron said, his tone subdued. "But it's late, and we should all get some sleep."
Ginny nodded, giving them both a concerned look before heading up to her dormitory. Hermione and Ron remained by the fire for a few more minutes, the weight of their conversation lingering between them, before finally heading up to their own rooms, each lost in their own thoughts.
The next day, Hermione found herself in Transfiguration class, sitting next to Draco instead of her usual partner, Ron. It wasn't an intentional choice, but more of a natural progression of their recent collaboration. As Professor McGonagall lectured on advanced transformation spells, Hermione could feel Ron's eyes on her, but she refused to look back.
When it came time for practical work, Draco leaned over, his voice low so as not to disturb the others. "What do you think about trying to combine our spells? We might be able to create something more stable."
Hermione nodded, intrigued by the idea. "Let's do it."
They worked in tandem, their wands moving in synchronisation as they attempted to transfigure a set of goblets into living creatures. The result was a pair of small, delicate birds that fluttered around their heads, chirping softly. It was an impressive feat, and even McGonagall paused to watch, a hint of approval in her eyes.
"Very well done, Miss Granger, Mr. Malfoy," she said, her voice carrying a note of surprise. "You've shown excellent cooperation."
Hermione couldn't help but smile, pleased by the praise, though she could feel Ron's resentment simmering beside her. The lesson ended, and as they packed up their things, Draco gave her a small nod, acknowledging their success.
But the moment of triumph was short-lived. That evening, Hermione received a letter from Harry. She read it quickly, her heart sinking as she absorbed the news. The Ministry, under increasing pressure to cover up the extent of the war, was obliviating more Muggles than ever before. The captured Death Eaters were being kept under wraps, and the Ministry's heavy-handed tactics were causing more harm than good.
Hermione, Harry wrote, I know you're busy, but I don't know how much longer I can keep doing this. It feels like we're just creating more problems. What's the point of winning a war if we're just going to bury the truth?
Hermione's hands shook as she folded the letter, her mind racing. The news weighed heavily on her, and she knew she needed to talk to someone. But who? Ron was already upset with her, and Draco... well, Draco was dealing with enough of his own guilt.
The next day, she found herself once again in Snape's office, the flickering candles casting shadows on the walls. She hadn't planned to bring up the Ministry, but Snape seemed to sense that something was on her mind.
"Troubled, Miss Granger?" he asked, his voice as silky as ever.
Hermione hesitated before nodding. "It's Harry. The Ministry is... well, they're making things worse. Obliviating Muggles, covering up the truth. It feels like we're betraying everything we fought for."
Snape regarded her for a moment before speaking. "The Ministry has always been more concerned with maintaining the status quo than with seeking justice. It is not surprising that they would resort to such methods."
"But what can we do?" Hermione asked, frustration lacing her voice. "We can't just let this happen."
Snape's expression remained inscrutable. "Change, Miss Granger, does not come easily. Battling tradition is almost impossible without overwhelming demand. The Ministry is a lumbering beast, resistant to change unless forced. But forcing that change often comes with a high cost."
Hermione swallowed, her thoughts heavy with the implications. "So we're just supposed to let this happen?"
"No," Snape replied, his voice sharp. "But you must be strategic. Direct confrontation rarely yields the results you seek. Sometimes, change must be enacted from within, quietly, and with precision."
Hermione entered the hall with Luna, who was talking animatedly about a creature Hermione had never heard of. But Hermione's attention was elsewhere.
As they walked in, Hermione's eyes were drawn to the Slytherin table, where Draco was seated near the end, a small pile of books stacked beside his plate. He was flipping through one of them, his brow furrowed in concentration, completely absorbed in whatever he was reading. The sight was oddly endearing, and before she could second-guess herself, Hermione made a decision.
"I'll catch up with you later, Luna," she said, her voice firm despite the nervous flutter in her stomach.
Luna paused mid-sentence, following Hermione's gaze to where Draco was sitting. She raised an eyebrow but didn't comment, simply giving Hermione a small nod of encouragement before heading off to join Neville at the Gryffindor table.
Hermione took a deep breath, summoning every ounce of Gryffindor courage she had, and made her way over to the Slytherin table. As she approached, Draco looked up from his book, his eyes widening slightly in surprise. For a moment, there was an awkward silence as Hermione stood there, uncertain of what to say.
"Mind if I join you?" Hermione asked, her voice steady but softer than usual.
Draco hesitated, glancing around at the other Slytherins, who were now watching with varying degrees of interest. Then he shrugged, a small, almost amused smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Be my guest, Granger."
Hermione slid into the seat across from him, her heart still racing but her nerves calming slightly as she met his gaze. "You look busy," she remarked, nodding toward the stack of books.
Draco leaned back in his seat, his expression relaxing into something closer to curiosity. "Research," he said simply, tapping the cover of the book in front of him. "Trying to find something that might help us with the room."
Hermione nodded, feeling a surge of appreciation for his dedication. "Anything promising?"
"A few things," Draco replied, his tone casual but with a hint of excitement. "There's a spell I came across that might help us channel the room's magic more effectively. It's ancient, though—tricky to get right."
"Tricky spells are kind of our specialty," Hermione said with a small smile, enjoying the brief flicker of amusement in his eyes.
"That they are," Draco agreed, his gaze lingering on her for a moment longer than necessary. He then glanced back down at his book, though his attention was clearly divided. "You know, I didn't expect you to join me here. It's... bold."
Hermione felt her cheeks warm slightly at the comment, but she held his gaze. "Gryffindor courage, remember? Besides, I figured it was time to shake things up a bit."
Draco smirked, a genuine smile breaking through his usual guarded expression. "Well, you've certainly succeeded in that. The whole table's watching us like we're about to start duelling."
Hermione glanced around and noticed that several Slytherins were indeed observing them with curious, if slightly suspicious, expressions. She turned back to Draco, lowering her voice slightly. "Let them look. We've got more important things to focus on."
"Like breaking ancient, damaged spells?" Draco quipped, raising an eyebrow.
Hermione laughed softly, feeling more at ease. "Exactly. Though I have to admit, this whole situation with the room has been... more challenging than I expected."
Draco's expression turned to a smirk, though the warmth in his eyes didn't fade. "It's nice to know even the brightest witch of our age struggles sometimes." Hermione couldn't help but roll her eyes at him.
"Maybe it's the room trying to tell us something," Hermione mused after a few minutes, her tone thoughtful. "Or maybe it's just testing us—seeing how far we're willing to go."
"Well, if it's a test, I'm not planning on failing," Draco said, a determined edge to his voice.
Hermione nodded, their eyes locking for a moment in mutual understanding. The air between them seemed to shift slightly, but before the moment could deepen, Draco broke the tension with a light remark.
"By the way," he said, leaning in slightly, "I noticed you skipped your usual Quidditch practice-watching session to sit with me. I'm flattered."
Hermione rolled her eyes, though she couldn't help the small smile that crept onto her face. "Well, you know, there's only so many times you can watch Ron nearly fall off his broom."
Draco chuckled, the sound warm and genuine. "I'll have to make sure I'm worth the sacrifice."
Hermione's smile widened, the lighthearted exchange easing the tension that had been building between them. "I think you're managing just fine."
They continued their conversation, the topics shifting between the Room of Requirement, schoolwork, and even a few more personal anecdotes that they hadn't shared before.
As dinner drew to a close, Hermione realised that she had hardly noticed the passage of time. The great hall was almost empty of diners. For the first time in a long while, she felt relaxed, the weight of the day's challenges temporarily lifted.
As she stood to leave, Draco caught her eye, his expression softer than usual. "Thanks for joining me tonight, Granger. It was... unexpected."
Hermione smiled, feeling a strange sense of satisfaction. "Anytime, Malfoy. I'll see you in the room tomorrow?"
"Wouldn't miss it," Draco replied, a hint of a smirk returning to his lips.
It was a few days later when Snape summoned her to his office after dinner. Though she had tried to anticipate the purpose of the meeting, she found herself feeling a bit apprehensive. Working with Snape was always a mix of challenge and learning, but there was also a constant undercurrent of tension, as if he was always testing her in ways she didn't fully understand.
When she reached his office, she paused to take a steadying breath before knocking on the door.
"Enter," Snape's voice called out, smooth and cold as ever.
Hermione pushed the door open and stepped inside. The office was as she remembered it—shadowy and filled with the faint smell of herbs and potions. Snape was seated behind his desk, his dark eyes watching her with that same unreadable intensity that always made her feel as though he could see right through her.
"You wanted to see me, Professor?" Hermione asked, her voice steady despite her nerves.
"Yes, Miss Granger," Snape replied, gesturing for her to sit. "I trust you haven't wasted too much time since our last conversation. Give me an update on your progress with the Room of Requirement. And do try to make it concise. I have other, more pressing matters to attend to."
Hermione took a seat, biting back the urge to defend her efforts. "We've made some progress," she began, "but it's been slow. The room's magic is complex—tied to desire and intent in ways that make it difficult to control. Draco found a spell that might help us channel the magic more effectively, but we're struggling with the wandwork. It's... tricky."
"Tricky," Snape repeated, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "I see. Well, thank you for that thorough and illuminating assessment, Miss Granger. It's no wonder you're struggling—wandwork does require some semblance of finesse, after all."
Hermione bristled slightly at the jab, but she knew better than to rise to the bait. "We've been practising, Professor, but the spell seems to require something more than just precision. It's almost as if the magic is resisting us."
Snape's gaze sharpened slightly, and he leaned forward, steepling his fingers. "Close your eyes," he said suddenly, interrupting her flow.
Hermione blinked, surprised by the command. "What?"
"Close your eyes, Miss Granger," Snape repeated, his tone tinged with impatience. "I'm well aware that you are accustomed to overthinking every little detail, but this time, I'm suggesting something radical: stop thinking so much. When you perform the spell, close your eyes and focus on the intent behind it, rather than the precise movements. The magic you are dealing with responds more to what is felt than to what is seen."
Hermione nodded slowly, absorbing the advice despite the sharpness with which it was delivered. "Thank you, Professor. I hadn't considered that."
Snape leaned back in his chair, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "Clearly. It's a wonder you managed to get this far without someone holding your hand."
Hermione bit back a retort, choosing instead to focus on the advice itself. "I'll try that next time we're in the room."
"Good," Snape replied, though his tone implied that he was more surprised than pleased by her willingness to take his suggestion. "Now, tell me about your time with Mr. Malfoy. And do be honest—I can usually smell lies from across the room."
Hermione hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal. "It's been... interesting. He's knowledgeable, especially about dark magic, and we've been working well together. It's been challenging, but we're making progress."
Snape's eyes narrowed slightly, as if he was assessing more than just her words. "'Interesting.' A fascinating choice of words, Miss Granger. Pray tell, does 'interesting' also apply to spending time with a Blast-Ended Skrewt, or perhaps to reading your old History of Magic essays? I paired you with Mr. Malfoy for two reasons, and it wasn't for your mutual enjoyment of academic tedium."
Hermione swallowed, knowing she was about to get a more pointed lecture. "And what were those reasons, Professor?"
"The first," Snape continued, his voice as silky as ever, "was to use the room to demonstrate to you that the pull of dark magic is ever-present, but it can be resisted. I wanted you to see that even in close proximity to it, you could maintain your integrity—assuming, of course, that your famed self-control hasn't deserted you."
Hermione stiffened slightly, understanding now the deeper purpose behind Snape's decision. "And the second reason?"
"The second," Snape said, his voice dropping to a more contemplative tone, "was for Mr. Malfoy's benefit. He has been forced to mature in the wake of the war, but old habits die hard. Draco was, and still can be, a spoilt, whining brat. I hoped that working closely with you—a person he once saw as beneath him—would push him further along the path to becoming something slightly less insufferable. Perhaps even a better man, if you're lucky."
Hermione felt a surge of conflicting emotions at Snape's words. She had seen flashes of change in Draco, glimpses of someone struggling to find a new identity beyond the one he had been born into. But she also knew that transformation was rarely a straight path.
"I think he's trying," Hermione said carefully. "He's different than he was, but it's a process."
Snape raised an eyebrow, his expression sceptical. "Trying, is he? Well, let's hope he's not just playing dress-up as a decent human being. If he manages to fool even you, then perhaps I've underestimated his cunning."
Hermione bit her lip, unsure how to respond. "I think there's more to him than just that. He's learning."
"Indeed," Snape replied, his tone less sharp but still laced with sarcasm. "Change is never easy, Miss Granger, especially for those who have been steeped in darkness. It is up to you to guide him when necessary, and to resist when you must. After all, someone has to keep him in line, and I doubt he'll listen to anyone else."
Hermione nodded, feeling the weight of the responsibility he was placing on her. "I understand, Professor."
Snape studied her for a moment longer, his dark eyes searching hers. Then, with a slight incline of his head, he gave a curt nod. "Very well. Continue your work in the Room of Requirement. And remember, Miss Granger—sometimes, in order to master the darkness, you must first understand it. But do not let it consume you."
"I won't," Hermione promised, her voice firm.
As she stood to leave, Snape's voice stopped her at the door. "And, Miss Granger?"
"Yes, Professor?" Hermione turned back, meeting his gaze.
"You have the potential to achieve great things," Snape said, his tone still carrying a trace of sarcasm, but with a surprising undercurrent of sincerity. "Do not let the distractions of the heart or the allure of power lead you astray. It would be a waste of your prodigious talents to see you fall prey to the same foolishness that ensnares so many others."
Hermione felt a mix of emotions at the unexpected compliment, though she knew better than to show it. "Thank you, Professor. I won't let you down."
Snape's lips twitched into something that might have been a smirk, though it was gone almost as quickly as it appeared. "See that you don't."
The Room of Requirement had been uncooperative for days. Hermione and Draco had tried everything they could think of—altering the incantation, adjusting their wand movements, and even trying different approaches to channel the magic. But nothing seemed to work. The room, once responsive to their needs, now seemed intent on frustrating them at every turn.
Hermione paced back and forth, her brow furrowed in concentration as she tried to recall every detail of the spell they had been working on. "It's supposed to respond to desire, but no matter how much I focus, it just... it's like the magic is blocking me."
Draco, leaning against one of the crumbling walls, watched her with a mix of curiosity and amusement. "You're overthinking it, Granger. It's not an essay; you can't just brute force your way through it."
Hermione shot him a glare but didn't respond, her frustration mounting. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and tried again, concentrating on the spell's intent. Her wand traced the intricate patterns in the air, her mind focused on conjuring what they needed—a set of books that might help them crack the room's secrets.
But when she opened her eyes, nothing had changed. The room remained stubbornly empty, the magic defiant.
"This is impossible!" Hermione exclaimed, her voice tinged with frustration. "Why isn't it working?"
Draco straightened up and crossed the room to stand beside her. "Because you're too tense. The magic is tied to desire, but you're treating it like a problem to solve, not something to feel."
Hermione frowned, her frustration giving way to doubt. "I've tried everything, Draco. I even closed my eyes, just like Professor Snape suggested, but it's still not working."
Draco hesitated for a moment, then reached out and took her hand, his grip firm but not forceful. Hermione looked up at him in surprise, but before she could protest, he spoke.
"Close your eyes," Draco instructed, his voice softer than usual, but with a commanding edge. "This time, don't think about the spell or what we need. Just close your eyes and feel the magic. Empty your mind."
Hermione opened her mouth to argue, but something in Draco's tone stopped her. She took a deep breath and did as he asked, closing her eyes and focusing on the sensation of his hand in hers. For a moment, all she could feel was the warmth of his skin against hers, the steady rhythm of his breath. She let herself sink into that feeling, pushing away the frustration and the overthinking.
"Now," Draco whispered, "try the spell again."
Hermione, still holding his hand, raised her wand with her free hand and whispered the incantation, her mind clear of everything but the magic thrumming through the room and the connection between them.
This time, when she opened her eyes, the room had changed.
In the centre of the space, where they had been hoping for a collection of ancient texts, stood a large, luxurious four-poster bed. Its silken sheets gleamed softly in the low light, and the bed itself seemed to exude an aura of comfort and opulence.
Hermione's eyes widened, and she quickly pulled her hand away from Draco's, her face flushing in embarrassment. "That's not—this isn't what we need," she stammered, trying to make sense of the room's response.
Draco, however, didn't miss a beat. His smirk deepened, but there was a hint of curiosity in his eyes. "Are you sure about that, Granger? Maybe the room knows something we don't."
Hermione's cheeks reddened further, and she shook her head vehemently. "No, it's—it's just a mistake. I must be tired, that's all. The room is probably responding to that."
Draco chuckled softly, clearly enjoying her discomfort. "Tired, huh? Well, it's good to know that your deepest desire is just a good night's sleep. Though, I have to say, I'm a bit disappointed."
Hermione glared at him, crossing her arms defensively. "Don't be ridiculous. It's just a spell that went wrong. We need to focus on getting the right books, not... whatever this is."
Draco sighed, his amusement fading slightly as he studied her. "Alright, let's try again. Focus on the books, on what we actually need."
They both concentrated, repeating the spell with deliberate care. The room shimmered, the magic pulsing around them, and for a moment, Hermione felt a surge of hope.
But when the spell finished, the luxurious bed remained, the colour of the bedding now Slytherin green and almost mocking in its presence.
"Argh!" Hermione exclaimed, throwing her hands up in exasperation. "Why does it keep doing this?"
Draco couldn't suppress his laughter any longer. "Maybe the room's trying to tell you to lighten up, Granger. You know, relax a little."
Hermione shot him a withering look, but there was no real anger behind it. "I am relaxed. I'm just... frustrated. This isn't helping us at all."
Draco's laughter softened into a more genuine smile. "Well, there's things people do on beds to release frustration."
Hermione rolled her eyes, but she couldn't help the small smile that tugged at her lips. "You're impossible, you know that?"
"Only because it's fun," Draco replied, his tone light but his gaze more serious. "Look, we'll figure it out. Maybe the room is reacting to our confusion, or maybe it's trying to tell us something. But we'll keep trying until we get it right."
Hermione nodded, though she still felt a bit flustered. "Maybe we should try again at the weekend. With a clearer head."
"Or," Draco suggested, his voice taking on a more tentative tone, "we could take a break. Clear our minds with a trip to Hogsmeade this weekend."
Hermione paused, looking at him curiously. "A trip to Hogsmeade?"
"Yeah," Draco said, trying to sound casual but failing to hide the slight edge of nervousness in his voice. "You know, take a break from all this. Just the two of us."
Hermione's heart skipped a beat as she realised what he was suggesting. "Are you asking me out on a date, Malfoy?"
Draco's smirk faltered slightly, and his voice took on a more sarcastic, almost bitter edge. "If you want to call it that, sure. Or maybe it's just two people stuck working together, trying to get out of the castle for a bit of fresh air. Whatever suits you, Granger."
Hermione raised an eyebrow, surprised by his sudden shift in tone. "Is that how you usually ask people out?"
Draco's eyes flashed with something akin to annoyance, but he quickly masked it, letting out a sigh. "Alright, fine. Sorry, I'm not exactly experienced with this."
Hermione softened at his admission, curious now. "What about all those girls who've been after you in Slytherin?"
Draco shrugged, his expression turning serious as he plopped himself down on the end of the bed. "I never had to ask them. They wanted my name, my money, the connections. It was never about me."
Hermione nodded slowly, understanding the emptiness behind his words. "That must have been... lonely."
Draco hesitated, then shrugged it off, quickly shifting the mood back to something lighter. "Well, at least you want something different, Granger." He tapped the bed, "We could always skip Hogsmeade and just stay here?"
Hermione rolled her eyes, though she couldn't help the small smile that tugged at her lips. "You truly are impossible."
"Nothing is impossible," Draco replied, the sarcasm fading into something more sincere. "So, is that a yes to Hogsmeade, then?"
Hermione smiled, feeling a strange mix of excitement and uncertainty. "Yes, it's a date."
After they parted ways, Hermione needed to share the news, and she found herself in the courtyard, where Ginny and Luna were sitting on a bench, enjoying the late afternoon sun.
"Hey, Hermione," Ginny greeted her with a curious look. "You look like you've got something on your mind."
Hermione hesitated for a moment before blurting out, "Draco asked me to Hogsmeade."
Ginny's eyes widened, and Luna looked up from her book, her expression serene as ever. "Did you say yes?" Luna asked, her tone more curious than surprised.
Hermione nodded, still trying to wrap her head around the idea. "I did."
Ginny let out a low whistle. "Well, that's... something. How do you feel about it?"
"I don't know," Hermione admitted, her voice tinged with uncertainty. "It's complicated. We've been working so closely together, and I guess... I guess I'm starting to see a different side of him."
Luna smiled dreamily. "Sometimes the most unexpected people show us things about ourselves that we never knew."
Ginny nodded thoughtfully. "Just be careful, Hermione. Ron's already on edge, and this... well, it's going to complicate things."
Hermione sighed, knowing she was right. "I know. But I can't ignore what I'm feeling."
Ginny reached out and squeezed her hand. "Then go for it. Just... don't lose sight of who you are."
Hermione smiled, grateful for their support. "I won't."
