A/N: Welcome to new followers, and thank you for the recent reviews! It's neat to have more people joining as the story winds along.
When Hermione opened her eyes the next morning, she was immediately aware that Malfoy was once again draped across her, holding her lightly against his front with a heavy arm across her waist. A quick assessment revealed their sleeping bags were near the center of the tent (though they were slightly closer to her side, as her mind was frantic to point out). She was just preparing to ever-so-carefully extract herself from the little spoon position—she was sure she could do so without waking him this time—when he suddenly tightened his arm around her waist and pulled her, gently, further into his chest. She felt her heart clench behind her ribs, and then she damn near felt it break a little when Malfoy let out a small sigh into her hair.
Fuck it, she thought. It had been so long since she'd just snuggled up with someone. Hermione was a very physical person, and her close friends were all used to a rather clingy companion from time to time and would indulge her with lengthy hugs, hand-holding, and any manner of soothing contact that fit her mood. Ginny was a particularly cozy cuddle partner—she always played with Hermione's hair, which in turn always left Hermione inexplicably crying soft tears of release.
In this moment, the sudden urge to feel that comfort overwhelmed any objections. She shut off the part of her brain that was trying valiantly to remind her that this was Draco Malfoy for fuck's sake and settled back into his embrace, feeling him rustle closer in his sleep. She smiled sleepily and let herself doze.
Maybe half an hour had passed (it came as no surprise that she hadn't been able to fall back asleep cuddled up with a former enemy) when she became aware of Malfoy beginning to stir behind her. She fought the instinct to hold her breath as she felt the muscles in his arm tense and focused instead on keeping it deep and even. She supposed she hadn't quite thought this through, and her mind was now helpfully supplying her with all the ways this could lend to yet another awkward start to yet another uncomfortable day. But much to her surprise she soon felt Malfoy relax, and he continued to hold her for several long moments before finally, carefully shifting away. Hermione let out a small noise as he slowly extracted the arm that had been pillowing her head and she felt him still, but when she stayed (apparently) asleep, he finished the job quickly, setting her head gently back on the ground before sliding his sleeping bag back over to his side of the tent.
She waited a minute or two longer and was just preparing to execute an oh-what-time-is-it-I'm-just-now-waking-up stretch when Malfoy's voice cut through the silence.
"You have got to be fucking kidding me."
Hermione jolted and raised herself onto her elbows, equal parts concerned at the sudden outburst and relieved that she didn't have to go through the effort of pretending to awaken just to avoid some awkwardness.
"What is it?" she asked, not needing to fake the sleepy crack in her voice.
Malfoy snorted from where he sat, still half in his sleeping bag. "Thirsty, Granger?"
She sat up fully then, reaching for her glowing water bottle and eying Malfoy warily as she saw he was holding his as well.
"Don't look at me like that," he groused. "I had nothing to do with this."
With a feeling of dread growing in her stomach, Hermione looked at the message that had been waiting for them last night.
Welcome back to Hogwarts! Exciting news for Saturday: the Ministry and staff have planned a school dance celebrating inter-House unity, with two surprise guests of honor! You'll meet the Headmistress at the front entrance at 4:30pm. Have a marvelous time!
Hermione heaved a sigh that seemed to originate from somewhere deep in her bones. Of course, she thought bitterly. No matter how many years passed since the war, she didn't think she would ever shake the feeling of being an on-call poster child for the Ministry. Especially not when they continued to pull stunts like this at random intervals.
"Not a fan of dancing, eh?" Malfoy deadpanned, and she scoffed.
"Quite the contrary," she replied with an exaggerated toss of her head and a posh accent that sounded suspiciously similar to his. "I was just lamenting how little time I'll have to fashion my hair."
Malfoy let out a surprised laugh and shook his head. "All I know is they'd better be supplying us with suitable dress robes, springing something like this on us while we're roughing it in this blasted tent." As he spoke, he stretched his arms over his head, several joints popping in enviable release. Hermione's eyes dropped back to the message on her water bottle and she sighed again, her frustration ebbing slightly at the prospect of facing this unplanned event with a fair amount of snark at her side. She took a long drink of water and cleared the message from her bottle, watching out of the corner of her eye as Malfoy exited through the tent flap.
/\ /\ /\ /\ /\ /\
After a solid but not-too-heavy breakfast, Hermione and Malfoy made their way to the edge of the lake nearest their tent. The sun was well into making its climb, but the air still had a chill to it, and there was no hope that the water would somehow be warmer. At least we've got magic, she thought to herself, eying the dark pool with more than a little trepidation. She cleared her throat.
"So," she started, "the plan for today is to enter the lake and begin practicing for our—hopefully—future interactions with the deeper colony. We're not going too far, probably five meters max. Assuming our warming and bubble head charms are up to snuff, our main concern will be grindylows. A stinging hex should do the trick if we come into any issues with them."
Malfoy was nodding as she spoke, not looking at her but staring unfocused at the lake's surface. Hermione waited for the surge of annoyance that always came when she noticed her friends doing the same—going all misty-eyed and nodding vaguely when she wandered into lecture mode. But somehow, she could tell Malfoy was actually taking in what she was saying. That's new, she thought, and was immediately struck with the realization that her friends didn't much listen to her when she was sharing her knowledge, and how that was a bit shitty. Malfoy listens. She tried to shake off the unsettling feeling that came with that, rationalizing that he was only listening because he was getting paid to do so. But the feeling that came with that thought was worse, so she threw the whole train out the window and refocused her attention. She continued.
"As a reminder for bowing—" Hermione pulled out her notebook. "You are suspended in the water, your feet held as a tail. The tail arcs backward and ends over your head, chest and face parallel with the depths, displaying trust and esteem, and channeling your intention into deference." Malfoy's jaw tightened, but he nodded again, exhaling heavily.
Hermione looked at him expectantly. "Any questions? Anything to add?" He shook his head, still gazing out over the water. She shrugged.
"Alright then."
She turned and walked a few steps from the shore, pulling her jumper off over her head to reveal a long-sleeved base layer underneath. It was insulated with a high neck, but she knew that wouldn't make any difference in the lake. She shivered in anticipation of the cold water creeping into her clothes and cast a warming charm over herself. Like opening a sauna door, a wave of warmth enveloped her, chasing away even the thought of the cold to come. Sufficiently cozy, she made quick work of her trainers and jeans. Her spandex pants were a nearly fluorescent yellow—she wanted Malfoy to have as little trouble as possible making out her form in the murky water. To perfect the bow of respect, they would need to practice and provide each other with feedback.
Hermione tightened the straps on her leg holster before straightening and pulling her hair back in a low bun. Then she turned to face Malfoy.
He was similarly clothed, though his was a matching set—black from head to toe. He eyed her pants with a look of revulsion and Hermione rolled her eyes.
"I'll never be able to give you notes if I can't see you, you know," she huffed. "Or, rather, if the only thing I can see is your hair."
He sneered back at her. "Looks like you had to tuck all yours away, Granger, lest it become sentient and suffocate you in your bubble."
"Exactly," she shot back, unfazed. "It's called situational awareness, Malfoy. Now at least change the color of your trousers or I'll be forced to do it for you." She smiled wickedly, her hand twitching toward her holster. "And I get the feeling you don't want me pointing my wand 'round those parts."
Their eyes were locked, and between his smirk and his glare Malfoy looked positively predatory. But after a few seconds he bit out a short "Fine" and waved his wand casually, never breaking eye contact, before returning it to the holster in his arm. He had gone for electric yellow as well, but there was some pattern that forced Hermione to shift her gaze when she caught it from the corner of her eye.
Speckled against the fluorescent background were tiny depictions of grindylows, and they were all flipping her off.
Hermione let out an unintelligible noise of disbelief—and then she was laughing.
She laughed until there were tears streaming down her face, clutching her stomach and trying to speak but only managing short phrases like "ridiculous" and "so rude" and, on a particularly good lungful, "rather impressive magic." When she had finally settled enough to wipe her eyes, Malfoy was looking at her in amusement.
"I never realized your sense of humor was so utterly debased," he said, nearly smiling.
"Just the fucking audacity," was all she could say in reply, shaking her head and letting the lingering chuckles out of her system. When she had finally settled down, she shook out her arms and legs and rolled her neck, feeling even more relaxed than when she'd woken up that morning. She grinned at Malfoy.
"Warming charms?"
His almost-smile tightened a bit and he nodded, both of them casting nonverbally over themselves. Hermione closed her eyes as warmth flowed over her again, filling any pockets from the previous charm that may have begun to crack.
"And bubble head."
Again they both cast silently and Hermione's mind delighted in his skill. She'd never before been in a position to appreciate his knack for magic without berating herself for thinking positively about him in any way, but now that they were… well, whatever they were, she was excited to be allowed to recognize what he was capable of.
Malfoy took a deep breath and muttered something to himself—or maybe he was talking to her and Hermione just couldn't hear him through two bubble head charms—then he strode forward into the lake.
Hermione breathed deeply, letting her heartbeat regulate, and followed him straight into the cold water.
It was a strange feeling to be surrounded by the wetness and undeniable pressure of water without feeling any sort of shift in temperature, but Hermione would take that strangeness over the cold any day. She saw Malfoy a little ways ahead of her, having reached a point where he could just about float upright with a yard or so of water above and below him. He pushed his arms upward to move his body to the lake floor, where he gathered several loose stones and added them to the small pockets at his hips. He straightened upright again and stilled, waiting a few moments before nodding to himself in apparent satisfaction.
Hermione didn't have to wonder what he was doing. Already she was having trouble keeping her feet on the ground, her natural buoyancy pulling her upward with each step. Taking a deep breath (before remembering she was already underwater and didn't need to do anything further to prepare), Hermione carved her arms through the water and propelled her body downwards to the nearest of the scattered stones. Thank goodness for bored Hogwarts students, she thought, knowing that the Black Lake had an enticingly skippable surface on calm days (and there was always the chance the Giant Squid would send one back).
Hermione grabbed two fistfuls and righted herself, dropping one from each hand when she felt herself sinking slightly. The rest she packed away in her own pockets while adding WEIGHTS to her mental list for the coming days.
Malfoy was watching her by the time she had settled into her neutral buoyancy, and he flashed her the OK as soon as she met his eye. She nodded and sent it back, glad they had agreed to use basic scuba hand signals until they thought of a more effective way to communicate underwater (though she had avoided the term scuba altogether in that discussion, lest they get sidetracked by an as-yet unnecessary rabbit hole).
The water was green and a bit murky around them, with weeds reaching their overgrown tendrils ever upwards. Visibility was no more than three meters, and that was if she strained her eyes. Hermione was immediately validated—one of her favorite feelings—for her insistence on neon pants, as Malfoy's legs were by far the most visible thing about him. She made her way over to him at a dreamlike pace, glancing this way and that and trying not to think about all the creatures that might be hovering just outside their range of sight.
When she was a few paces in front of him Hermione turned her gaze back to Malfoy's face. He quirked a small smile and, with a slow-motion flourish of his hand, swept into a rather haphazard semblance of a bow. Hermione let out a "Ha!" that echoed strangely in her bubble, then set herself to practicing in the unfamiliar environment.
The two worked together to perfect their respectful bows, using increasingly complicated hand signals and gestures that Hermione was sure went way beyond PADI repertoire to communicate what adjustments were needed, only pausing to recast their warming charms. They had been at it for several hours when, caught up in the end goal and tired from the surprising effort it took to repeatedly bend that way underwater, Hermione reached out to correct Malfoy's form, lightly gripping his ankles and pulling them to curve just a bit further over his head. She felt him tense at the contact and let go quickly, embarrassed by her default familiarity and backing away as hastily as her surroundings would allow.
Malfoy held the pose for a moment then seemed to rock his body upward, still held in a crescent moon shape so he was facing her. He gestured to from his head to his feet and sent her the OK signal with a questioning look before arcing gracefully back, ending with his toes pointed like a dancer's toward the crown of his head and his chest and face parallel to the lake floor. It was a beautiful motion, and Hermione felt rather than saw the deference it exuded when properly executed. When he righted himself she smiled and nodded excitedly.
A little while later, Malfoy had all but mastered the graceful act and had insisted that Hermione, too, was good to go, but the movement still felt awkward to her, stilted. Finally, when she righted herself in frustration for the fourth time in a row, Malfoy gently grabbed her by the shoulders. When she met his eye, he tapped his finger to the bubble outside his temple and mouthed the word Intention.
Hermione blinked then nodded, letting out a long breath and backing out of his grasp. She closed her eyes and imagined herself actually meeting the merfolk of Black Lake, which was a very real thing that she would hopefully be doing in less than a week's time. She channeled all of the respect and reverence that she felt, letting her desire to communicate those messages direct her movements. Slowly, her feet came upward, arching her spine forward to propel her body into a backward curve. When her momentum naturally stopped, she opened her eyes to find her face level with the floor beneath her. She didn't need his nod of approval when she straightened to know she'd finally gotten it.
After a few more quick rounds (Malfoy was clearly ready to wrap things up, but Hermione just had to get in a little more practice, now that she knew what the right way felt like), they finally made their underwater way back to the shoreline, swimming lazily until they could trudge. As soon as her feet touched the bottom and the top of her bubble head charm skimmed the surface, Hermione dropped the stones from her pocket.
She felt heavy without the support of the surrounding lake as she made her way onto dry land, flopping tiredly onto the grass and pulling her wand out of its holster.
"Accio towel," she summoned, barely completing the movements and giving it a 50/50 shot that she'd actually put enough power into the spell for it to work. But sure enough, her soft towel landed on her face and she let out a muffled mmph.
"Why not just use a drying charm?" Malfoy asked sleepily, and she reached up to shift the towel from over her eyes so she could see him. He was lying on the bank nearby, staring hazily at the mid-afternoon sky. With a surprising amount of effort, Hermione lifted herself into a seated position and began gently working the water out of her coiled hair with the fabric.
"Trust me, Malfoy," she said, "you don't want to see this hair after a drying charm."
He chuckled and tilted his head in her direction. "Oh, now I really do."
Hermione glared halfheartedly at him. "Don't you dare even think about it," she warned. "I know it's practically being forced on us by the Ministry, but I'd still rather not look a complete fright at tonight's event."
He gave a resigned sigh. "I suppose I can resist the temptation."
She snorted, draping the towel around her neck and casting a modified drying charm from her shoulders to her toes. The water logged in her clothes seemed to dissipate in an instant and she felt lighter—light enough to haul herself to her feet and make her way to where her more seasonally-appropriate attire was waiting. She wiggled into her jeans and pulled her jumper back over her head before finally taking out her hair tie, using the towel to continue soaking up saturation from her heavy curls. She glanced at Malfoy, who was still dripping wet and had returned to staring at the sky.
"Care for a light lunch?"
He groaned in the affirmative and sat up slowly, each inch looking like a terrible effort. At Hermione's words, their table had filled with a selection of small sandwiches and soups, simple, cozy, and satisfying. She made her way over rather swiftly now that she had a good reason to move, and Malfoy was quick to join her.
They ate in silence for a while, the only sounds the soft clink of the table settings and Hermione's low reminder to stay hydrated after the extended time they'd spent in the lake. After a while, Malfoy interrupted the quiet.
"When we were down there today," he started suddenly, "did you feel anything strange? Like… like maybe we were being watched?"
Hermione paused, setting her spoon by her bowl and trying to ignore the chill that went down her spine at his words. She had been pretty actively trying to ignore the idea of anything beyond her line of sight existing, focusing instead on the task at hand lest she drive herself into a worried frenzy. It would hardly surprise anyone who knew her that Hermione had a particular dislike of the unknown, and preferred to keep her thoughts on more certain ground.
"I didn't notice anything directly," she said carefully, not wanting to discount his instincts. "This is a prime grindylow ecosystem—maybe we were near a camp?" Her eyes widened as a thought struck her and she leaned forward. "Or do you think it was one of the merfolk?"
Malfoy shook his head. "Maybe, but I don't think we're important enough for them to rise from the depths to observe. And grindylows… I don't know why, but I can just tell you it wasn't them. This felt… human, somehow?" He shivered. "Almost familiar."
"Hm," said Hermione thoughtfully. "Well I'm not really sure who else lives in the lake. There's the squid, of course, but I doubt we'll be seeing them at all while we're here. Although…" her lips twitched in a small smile. "Harry did mention he saw Myrtle in the relative shallows during the second challenge. Maybe it was her?"
Malfoy sat up straighter. "How does she get there?" he asked quietly.
Hermione shrugged. "Pipes," she said simply.
His eyebrows furrowed and he looked out over the lake. They finished their meal in silence.
When she realized they had less than an hour before it was time to head up to the school, Hermione practically dove for her notebook and pen, scribbling down everything she could think of to help her internalize the execution of the mermish bow. She had just remembered to jot down weights in the appropriate place in her agenda when she heard Malfoy cast a tempus somewhere off to her right and sigh heavily.
"It's time," he said, standing and stretching his arms above his head. Hermione nodded and stood, her throat suddenly dry. She took several large gulps of water before putting it and her notebook away and grabbing her hygiene bag, warding their campsite when Malfoy had collected what he needed. Together, they made their way up the path to the front entrance of the old castle, each lost in their own thoughts. Before Hermione realized it, they had reached the enormous front doors and Malfoy had lifted the heavy knocker three times.
The doors opened noiselessly, revealing a noticeably older (but still very intense) Minerva McGonagall.
"Ms. Granger," she said with a warm smile, "and Mr. Malfoy. Welcome back to Hogwarts."
