A/N: I started writing this story just shy of 6 months ago, with the main goal of committing myself to a creative project. And while I am still doing it for that reason, I didn't realize how much I would appreciate seeing folks join up with me for the journey. Thank you to everyone who has followed, favorited, and reviewed along the way. It's truly cool—and a little wild—to see this story reaching so many (read: "any") people :]


When Hermione awoke the next morning, she was surprised to find herself in the exact same position she'd fallen asleep in (definitely a first in all of her experience kipping in a sleeping bag): curled softly on her side, her head pillowed on an arm that must by now be excruciatingly numb and her back flush against a warm, firm body. Inhaling gently, she felt Malfoy's arm still heavy across her waist.

He must have been awake already and noticed the shift in her breathing. "I'm genuinely surprised your hair didn't strangle me in the night," he muttered in a sleep-clogged voice.

"Hush, Malfoy," she yawned, not quite ready to open her eyes. "It didn't the last two times this happened."

"I suppose it is still relatively tamed from last night," he mused as though he hadn't heard her, the puff of air pushing some of her curls to rub against her neck.

"Mm," Hermione agreed, finally working her eyes open against the early morning light and shifting forward to stretch her pleasantly stiff body out, "And I suppose that means you'll be risking a soft but untimely death each time we do this, then."

"Not necessarily," Malfoy replied, drawing his arm towards himself when she lifted her head and giving her hair a light tug on the way. Hermione let out a small huff and waved her hand with a muttered tempus. It was just after six in the morning. She groaned and dropped her head back down, having apparently already forgotten that he'd only just taken her pillow away. Her head hit the ground with a thump that jarred her into full wakefulness and another, crabbier groan escaped.

"'Side sleeping, no pillow,'" she heard Malfoy mutter behind her. She flipped onto her back as gracefully as she could in her cocoon and shot him a half-hearted glare. Unsurprisingly, he ignored her.

Within a few minutes Hermione had dragged herself from the coze of her sleeping bag and blearily begun collecting her things from what she now considered "her" side of the tent, flushing a little as she considered that it was now quite notably a more shared space than it had been at the beginning of their journey. But she set her jaw and sent that thought on its way, acknowledged—it was true (and awkward at that), but it was also true that last night was the best night's sleep she'd had in ages, so all in all she welcomed the shift.

She ducked out of the tent flap with her pack in hand, stopping a few steps away to stretch her arms tall and slow over her head as she looked out over the lake. There was a low mist hanging over the surface of the still water and she could hear a gentle splashing coming from a way's offshore. Whether it was the giant squid or someone else, she couldn't be certain.

"Ready to tear down?" Malfoy's soft voice barely startled the morning silence, even if Hermione's heart did stutter a little in surprise at his nearness.

"No," she replied honestly. "I don't want to leave yet."

He let out a low hmph as he stepped closer, nudging her with his shoulder. "Come on, Granger, we'll be back in a few days."

Hermione nodded automatically, her concerns simmering just under the surface. Most people didn't quite relate to what Harry deemed her constant state of worry, and most of her friends had by now adapted to taking it in stride—or ignoring it completely.

Malfoy, she was coming to learn, was not most people, and less so most of her friends.

"We've got a lot to figure out between now and then, don't we?" he asked. Hermione nodded again and brought her arms around herself somewhat protectively. Having someone else put voice to her worries, no matter how simplified, was validating. Unfortunately, as much as she would have liked to appreciate the experience, she couldn't quite manage with the bushels of doubt that came along with it.

"I don't want to fail," she said quietly, almost a whisper, staring resolutely ahead.

"Me neither," Malfoy said, and then added with a shrug, "Maybe we won't."

Hermione huffed a laugh and finally glanced sideways at him. He was looking out at the lake as well, his face blank, and she was struck with a sudden inspiration.

"You know Occlumency, don't you?" she asked suddenly, and if she hadn't already been watching him she would've missed the flash of surprise on Malfoy's face before he schooled his features once more. He caught her staring and gave a curt nod.

"I had to learn," he said shortly. "It's not as necessary as it used to be, but still useful."

Hermione nodded, willing her mind not to get ahead of herself as the gears in her head began spinning with the possibilities.

"And Legilimency?" she said, a little more timidly. This was the important part.

Malfoy raised his eyebrows. "What are you on about, Granger?"

She rolled her eyes back at him. "I'll get to it. Just answer the question." Catching the look on his face, she rushed to add, "If you wouldn't mind." It wasn't a deeply personal question, per se, but it wasn't a common skillset by any means, and anyone who had lived through a wizarding war would likely be inclined to keep such tools a secret from all but their most trusted connections.

He sighed and looked back toward the lake. "Severus taught me," he said finally, confirming what Hermione had suspected.

"Brilliant," she breathed. "I have an idea."

/\ /\ /\ /\ /\ /\

"I'm still not convinced it'll work," Malfoy announced skeptically as they stowed their packs on the train overhead rack. It was still quite early in the morning, and on a Sunday no less, so their car was empty save for a sleepy muggle family of four near the back doors.

"That's why we've got to practice," Hermione said briskly. She could feel a buzz thrumming through her at the idea of playing with magic in this way.

"It's supposed to be much more challenging without eye contact, you know," he pushed back as he took his seat, the hesitancy in his voice letting on to more than he was saying. Hermione sat across from him.

"I know," she admitted with a small smile. "But doesn't that make it more exciting to think we might be able to do it?"

Malfoy shook his head and looked out the window for a long time, though they hadn't yet left the station and there wasn't much activity to observe on the nearly deserted platform. He hadn't quite taken Hermione's proposal of using Legilimency to communicate underwater in stride, in fact stumbling rather clumsily when she had finally pitched the idea on their walk to Hogsmeade.

"When did you learn, anyway?" he asked her abruptly, and though Hermione saw this for what it was—an attempt to put off what was coming—she thought it was only fair to indulge him. He had shared his history with the craft earlier in his own brief way, and she knew maintaining as even ground as possible would help the two of them navigate their experiment.

"I studied Occlumency after the war," she admitted. "I didn't know how else to deal with… well, everything. The panic attacks. The nightmares. And I didn't want to lean too heavily on potions to get me through it."

"Learning advanced magic as a trauma response, I'd expect nothing less," Malfoy said lightly, but he was looking at her with a searching intensity. She smiled blithely at him and shrugged.

"It was a difficult time. I did my best to study and practice responsibly." She blinked, frowning slightly as she thought back. "I'm sure I could've been safer about it, but by that point anyone I knew who could have helped me learn was…" She took a steadying breath. "But I needed to learn. So I learned."

He nodded. "Do you still use it?"

"Not often." Another shrug. "I try to use more mindful approaches that don't include physically parceling my thoughts and emotions away. But sometimes it's just how I need to handle a situation. And I don't deny myself that." Malfoy hummed his understanding and, bolstered, Hermione took a breath.

"I actually spent a fair amount of yesterday's dinner with some shields in place," she admitted. "Being back at the school, after everything we went through there… I started remembering. I felt all of the… all of the grief that, you know, it's always there, right? But it's usually off to the side. I just couldn't risk it coming out there, in front of all those people, acting not only as Ministry representatives but returning students and shining examples of post-war unity." She was shaking a bit now. Malfoy had the grace not to mention it.

"I wondered," he said simply. Then, after a beat, "I was Occluding, too."

Hermione looked at him inquisitively, but he didn't explain further.

"Do you think that's why you were so tired last night?" he asked after several minutes of silence.

The thought had occurred to her. "Probably," she said. "Between that and dancing and forced human interaction, I was employing quite a few skills that I don't often exercise." When he didn't say anything, she pressed forward. "Were you tired after?"

"A little," he admitted. "But I've had a lot more practice than you."

Hermione quelled the instinct to bristle at the nonexistent implication. He did have more experience, and had had three of the most prolific practitioners training and testing him to boot.

"Well then," she said, "let's see if I can't get on your level. Are you ready to do this?"

Malfoy seemed to struggle with his response, swallowing visibly. "I don't want you in my head," he said finally, his voice low.

She softened at that, taking an intentional breath and letting it out slowly. "I understand," she said, deliberately looking him in the eye. "I'm uncomfortable with the idea of you in mine as well. But I promise you: I won't ever go in without your permission. I won't push against any of your barriers. And I'll leave whenever you want me to. You have my word."

He nodded, still looking uncertain but not looking away. "And you can trust me with the same."

Hermione's smile came forward unbidden. "I know," she said cheerily. "So are you ready to try?"

Clearly gathering some inner strength together, Malfoy nodded. She beamed.

"Great! You do me first."

He snorted and shook his head gently while Hermione worked on shelving her errant thoughts until the floor of her mind was as tidy as the Hogwarts library over school holiday. With only a little trepidation, she nodded to Malfoy. He glanced around surreptitiously, confirming the muggle family was continuing to ignore their presence, then locked eyes with Hermione. She shuddered but held his gaze, catching his brief grimace as he whispered, "Legilimens."

It was unlike anything Hermione had experienced before—which, come to think of it, made a lot of sense, since she had never actually practiced her Occlumency with a trained Legilimens, or vice versa. She felt Malfoy's presence creep tentatively into her mind and quelled the natural urge to shove him right back out. Instead, she evened out her breathing and focused her energy on a single phrase to test her theory.

Find the place alright?

She felt rather than heard Malfoy chuckle—ohh, this was weird—as he brushed the boundaries she'd put up, establishing his own map of the space in her mind that he had access to.

This is very strange.

The statement floated into her consciousness, an echo of his voice tinting the words. She smiled tightly, trying not to blink, as her thoughts whirled with possibilities and next steps.

Okay, so we can technically communicate this way, she directed at him. That's a very good start.

But Malfoy was shaking his head and her mind was met with lapping waves of Too much, too much, too much, too much…

Right. Her smile dropped as she did her best to clear her mind again. There's a challenge, then. How might we communicate and think at the same time?

Can you set up a station? Malfoy's mind asked hers. A place for your thoughts and reactions to swirl around somewhere off to the side, accessible to you but out of my way?

Hermione's mind immediately called forth her favorite study nook at Hogwarts, a plush window seat in the library sequestered by bookshelves, a low table nearby. She tucked the space away in a corner and sat herself down, such as it was, then built up a thinner barrier, effective but hopefully porous enough to allow her to send thoughts his way as needed.

Can you find me here? she thought out and waited, feeling him inch closer until he met the wall she'd erected.

I'm here. I don't want to push further, he sent back.

Awfully decent of him, she thought within her station walls, bringing up an image of Snape in Neville's grandmother's dress for good measure. When she didn't get a reaction from him, she focused on a thought to share.

I think this is working. And then, after a brief pause, I've never tried Occluding with so many different layers. If I… get lost, can you reach me?

Malfoy's brows furrowed but he didn't hesitate in his response. I think I could. Do you want me to try now?

Hermione made sure the memory of Snape was front and center in her protected alcove, then she did what she could to relax the barrier without bringing it down and nodded. Please.

Smoothly, and without much resistance, Malfoy's presence eased into the small space. He let out an audible laugh when he entered and saw his godfather in that phenomenal ensemble.

Merlin, Granger, how long have you had this masterpiece in here?

She grinned back wickedly. Oh, a little while, she thought as casually as she could. I wanted to be certain the filter barrier would work. And now that we know it does, kindly remove yourself from my safe space. She gave him a gentle shove in the right direction and saw him smirk as his consciousness drifted out, still present in her mind but protected once more from her errant thoughts.

Let's try breaking eye contact, she suggested, securing her station walls once again. I want to see how well we can maintain the connection through strength of mind alone.

If anyone can… Malfoy let the thought linger for a moment, almost echoing in her mind, then closed his eyes. He was still leaning forward in his seat, his face tight with concentration.

Relax, Hermione thought to him, her instinct to soothe any surrounding discomfort rearing its head. You're still here.

She watched him open his eyes and trail his gaze slowly around, the mental connection strengthening slightly when their eyes briefly met once more during his visual sweep of their car.

That family is looking much more alert, he said, his distorted mind-voice carrying a tinge of uneasiness. Do you suppose they've been watching us?

Hermione shot him a mental shrug. They probably just think we're a weird and boring couple, passing an early train ride with a staring contest. She blinked rapidly now, suddenly aware of how long her eyes had been open before they'd broken eye contact.

A staring contest, mind-Malfoy repeated dryly.

It's exactly what it sounds like, Malfoy, so no need to ask, she sighed back. Then she checked her wristwatch. We've been at it for nearly an hour. Are you ready to withdraw?

Malfoy's eyes snapped back to hers and he looked somewhat alarmed. Shit, yes, I'll… leave. Sorry. Are you feeling okay?

She shot him a bemused look, her mouth quirking lightly. I guess we'll see.

And just like that, Hermione felt his presence seep out of her mind. Slowly, she dismantled the walls she'd put up, paying special attention to keep her safe space intact for future access. When she had finished, she closed her eyes and leaned back in her seat.

"We did it," she said, a little weakly. Across from her, Malfoy let out a long breath.

"Here," he said gruffly, and she heard something hit the table in front of her. She looked up to see a massive bar of dark chocolate.

"Ooh, excellent," she said, all but tearing at the wrapper to break off an enormous chunk for herself. She sent the rest sliding back across the table, meeting Malfoy's raised brow with a glare. "Eat some. That was work for you, too."

He sighed but didn't fight her on it, popping a much smaller piece into his mouth and sucking gently. She felt warmth and a little energy work through her veins as she munched on her own chocolate and closed her eyes once more, still reeling a bit from the experience. She was self-taught in Occlumency and Legilimency both, her textbook understanding of the concepts and theories providing her with a solid foundation for practical application. But she had never before had the opportunity to test her skills with another practitioner—something she had both deeply regretted and counted herself lucky for, as it meant her mind had never been invaded. Now, she could only imagine the potential to hone her skills if she had a willing partner to practice with.

With that thought, she all but lunged for her notebook and began taking efficient (if a little frantic) notes on her first real experience with Legilimency, finding it exceedingly odd yet somehow pleasing to write "Trainer: Draco Malfoy" on the appropriate line.

"You're alright?" Malfoy's voice broke into her reverie after a little while. She let out a vague "mhm" in response, still a bit wrapped up in documenting her account—not to mention the idea of growing her magical abilities with so formidable a counterpart.

"Not very convincing, Granger."

"What? Oh, yes, I'm feeling fine. Only the tiniest bit shaky." Hermione finished what she was writing and let out a huff when she found him looking at her skeptically. "Honestly, Malfoy, I'm not an idiot. If I was feeling overwhelmed, I'd tell you. This type of magic isn't to be taken lightly."

He had the decency to look somewhat abashed. "Right," he said. "I'm still getting to know how you've changed since we were classmates. You used to run yourself into the ground on a regular basis back then, you know."

"Yes, well…" Hermione couldn't think of a decent retort—he certainly wasn't wrong. "I've got my priorities a little more in line these days."

She decided to ignore the smirk creeping up on his face and cleared her throat. "Ready for your turn?"

His smug expression faltered as he straightened in his seat, and Hermione watched his face shut itself off to her bit by bit. His expression slackened and then hardened to the mask she had once been so accustomed to, his eyes slowly shuttering any sign of humanity away. She held back a shiver at the transformation and reminded herself that this version of Malfoy was still the man she was becoming friends with, so far grown from the horrible boy she'd known at school. She did her best to clear her thoughts as well, using the time to make sure nothing of hers would drip into his consciousness in her first-ever attempt at visiting someone else's mind.

Before long he nodded, and Hermione leaned forward, her eyes meeting his, still searching for him in there even as she whispered, "Legilimens."

Malfoy's mind was airy, minimalist, and best of all, not modeled after the Manor that still haunted Hermione's memories. Instead, she found herself on the open ocean, a great, flat expanse of water extending as far as she could see in every direction. Looking down at her feet, she noticed with an unpleasant lurch in her stomach that she appeared to be walking on water.

Oh I don't think I like that very much, she thought, and snapped her mind's eye back to the horizon, feeling out for where Malfoy's boundaries would be set up. But as she traveled this way and that, she was surprised to find that she couldn't locate any walls at all, no matter how far she went in any direction. It was then that she realized that they were all below her feet.

If I'm invited through one of these barriers, she put out tentatively, will I just… fall?

She felt a considering Hm… pushed back her way and grimaced. She never had been particularly good with not knowing.

Don't worry, Granger, Malfoy's thoughts intoned wryly, you won't be invited through.

Are you using a station? she wondered, choosing to ignore his snark.

I am.

It would be rude to ask. She wouldn't ask. He had all but told her it was useless to ask. But Hermione desperately wanted to see what his station looked like.

It's nothing special. She startled. And you're forgetting to keep your separate thoughts separate. I do appreciate the irony of you hyper-focusing on my station and forgetting all about your own, but really, Granger, tsk tsk…

Right! Ugh—don't be a prat. Okay. So now I have to find it from your ocean… Planting her feet firmly on the (gulp) water's surface, she let her mind feel for the familiarity of her favorite Hogwarts hideaway. The cozy window seat slowly materialized around her and she sank gratefully onto the cushions, tucking one leg up under herself and letting the other foot dangle just above the water. She found that little bit of separation quelled some of the disquiet at her own presence in Malfoy's mind.

Okay. Thanks. This is better. How is it for you?

Strange having you in here. I've never experienced such a passive presence in my mind. It's…

His words simply stopped. Somewhere in Hermione's protected mind, she noted that it was very jarring to experience the cutting off of a thought from inside someone's own head.

Okay. Well, it's very peaceful here. Tranquil. Now that I'm settled.

Malfoy rolled his eyes. Thank you. Another pause, and then—I was only joking, you know. You can come in if you want to. The words were sent out flat, but Hermione's heart still jumped at the opportunity. But bring something of your station with you, he added hurriedly. You need to learn how to anchor your train of thought safely away, even while you're sharing your consciousness.

She looked around the small space and scooped up the cushiest pillow she could find, holding it to her chest. Got it.

Good. Can you sense where I am?

Hermione relaxed her mind (while keeping her separate thoughts separate, thank you very much) and reached out with her magic for the now-familiar feel of Malfoy's. She located it somewhere off to her right, and she slid down timidly from her cozy perch and made her way across the water, following the gentle pulse. As she neared the source, she saw a literal hole in Malfoy's ocean and the Pequod's familiar staircase going down into it. Gripping her pillow a little tighter with one hand, she held the railing with the other and made her way below.

The first thing she noticed as she descended was Malfoy's presence surrounding her absolutely. It hit her with the intensity of being swept into hug by a barrel-chested relative. Had he felt her presence this strongly when he'd entered her station?

As I said, Malfoy drawled, nothing special. Though it does have a particularly good entertainment system.

Hermione was about to ask what that was supposed to mean when a memory appeared in front of her—one that she recognized immediately. You wanker! She pushed the thought at him violently, watching with unguarded disgust from Malfoy's front-row view as Harry's arm turned into a wobbly skin sack under Gilderoy Lockhart's ridiculous wandwork. Present-day Malfoy laughed quietly in his seat across from her, eyes crinkling in amusement. She barely held back the memory she wished to offer up in return (something involving a clean right hook and a satisfying crunch), opting for a more mature path instead. This time.

Shall we try letting go of eye contact then?

In response, he closed his eyes and leaned back in his seat, a pleased smile still lingering on his face. Hermione scooted back in her seat as well (while still trying to hold steady the feeling of herself sitting in her nook in his mind) keeping her eyes open and on him for a little while before finally shifting her gaze around the car. It had filled up a bit more, but there were still plenty of seats between them and the other passengers.

Curious to test the limits of her divided concentration, Hermione stood up slowly and pulled her pack down from the overhead.

All good? Malfoy sent without opening his eyes as she began rummaging.

Mhm, she thought carefully back, her hand closing around a random book and pulling it out. Just… testing the waters.

Malfoy chuckled audibly. Hermione smiled.

She replaced her bag and slid back into her seat, a little wobbly on her nook in Malfoy's mind as she executed basic motor function perfectly (if slowly) in the physical world. With practice, she could be good at this.

With practice, I could be good at this.

I don't doubt it.

I suppose you're quite good at it already?

Mmm.

Hermione rolled her eyes—noting with some pride that she didn't so much as teeter on her perch—and looked at the book in her hand: The Mystery of Merfolk by Jay Edvern.

Oh, perfect, she thought, feeling the walls around her station crack open quite automatically as she shifted into research mode. She found she was both more motivated and more tireless when she shared her findings stream-of-consciousness style—"no matter what poor sap may be around," as Ron liked to point out.

Hermione flipped gently to the index, allowing her finger to run down the page as she searched the T column for telepathy, her eyes narrowed in concentration.

Malfoy sat up suddenly, startling Hermione into jumping a bit in her seat (but not in her mind) and snapping her gaze to his.

Granger. His stare was piercing and with his Occlusion in place, he looked singularly intense. Do you have a photographic memory?

Hermione sent him a dazzling smile.

I do, in fact.

She turned her attention back to the book, quickly capturing the relevant information (Malfoy actually spluttered audibly, if only a little) and trying to subdue her ridiculous grin into at least a smirk as she leafed through the pages and refocused on the task at hand.

Anyway, it looks like this book has two references to possible telepathic powers in merfolk. The first one says… ah, here. It says, "There are no suggestions that their powers of persuasion go as far as telepathic ability, but the possibility cannot be ruled out." Okay, so that's… well, that's somehow both reassuring and decidedly not. It was becoming a lot more natural for Hermione to operate on both planes at once, though maybe that was simply due to being in the comfortable context of study. Let's see the other reference. Alright, aaaand… oh! This seems rather definitive, it says here that there was a documented case of merfolk using telepathy on a porting sailor in Norway—oh, no, it turned out he was under Imperio, hm…

She flicked back and forth between a few pages, not quite sure what she was hoping to find. Finally, she closed the book and shored up the gaps in her station walls.

Well, that didn't tell us much.

She looked up to see that Malfoy, as was becoming ever more the norm, was staring at her in open curiosity.

I beg to differ, he sent back with a pointedly raised brow.

Hermione chose to ignore whatever he was implying and considered his words unironically.

Yes, I suppose knowing it's unlikely will certainly help my nerves while we're down there. And if we do have a telepathic experience, both of us would be likely to recognize any outside presence in our minds and respond rationally and tactfully.

Malfoy was wearing a bemused smile by this point, but he didn't say anything else.

It's pleasant. His words reached her abruptly after a few minutes of shared silence. Hermione had returned the book to her pack and was now looking quietly out the window, not really thinking about anything at all. That detachment was just beginning to ring a few warning bells when he sent the thought. Somewhere in her closed-off mind, Hermione made note of his fucking impeccable timing as she turned to face him. He had closed his eyes again, his head tilted back once more against the head rest.

Legilimency like this is… oddly comforting. I've never had a particularly positive experience with it before. He paused, and Hermione saw him swallow what looked to be a considerable lump in his throat. I didn't know it could be used nicely.

Oh. She still wasn't sure how to respond when he was so honest with her. I like using it nicely, too, she said, feeling the inexplicable need to lift the mood, though for her own benefit or Malfoy's she couldn't say. And I think it's lovely that we're not hurting each other anymore.

He grunted, a smile ghosting his lips. Hermione counted it as a win.

It's been a little over an hour, Hermione noted a few minutes later, glancing at her watch. How are you feeling?

Let's take a break.

/\ /\ /\ /\ /\ /\

They had sandwiches with their chocolate this time, a strange sort of brunch at nine-thirty in the morning, and spent the next few hours testing the limitations of their mental connection, Hermione's notebook filling up with data points. When Malfoy cast the spell using direct eye contact, Hermione was able to make it through two and a half train cars—nearly 50 meters—before she felt Malfoy's presence slip from her mind. Malfoy made it just over two car lengths—45 meters or so—before the connection dropped under Hermione's cast, a fact he watched her document from over her shoulder with an obnoxiously casual, "Huh."

Hermione was nearly as proficient when she cast the spell without eye contact, the connection reaching around 40 meters before dissolving. She'd always been particularly in tune with her magic and the magic around her—well, at least since she'd been introduced to the magical world—and that translated here as well: she was quite good at establishing the initial connection even from distances of up to twenty meters away. Malfoy didn't perform quite as well in this approach, the range of his connection reaching twenty-five meters when he cast without eye contact, and he struggled to establish a connection at all from a distance beyond five meters. Hermione wrote it all down, already considering how she might be able to increase her own range over the next few days.

"Obviously I should be the one to establish the link before we go in," Malfoy said, unable (or more likely unwilling) to keep the extra smugness out of his voice. "But we should lean on your skill if we get separated." He paused. "And if that happens, I suppose I'll do my best to… pulse my magic, is it?"

"Pretty much," Hermione confirmed absently, jotting down the last notes. Malfoy groaned good-naturedly and dropped his head heavily onto the table. They had switched back to talking at this point, too mentally weary to maintain the spells for any useful amount of time anyway, and were discussing their findings in low voices and tying up loose ends. With a few minutes to spare before the train's arrival at the station, Hermione reviewed their upcoming itinerary for what must've been the sixteenth time, twirling her pen between her fingers and muttering audibly.

"So we pull in at one o'clock… shuttle to the pier… and catch the two-fifteen ferry to the northern tip of the Isle of Harris… meet our arranged transportation for the hour drive…"

"All of which leaves us with less than forty-eight hours to establish camp, locate the abandoned village, and somehow gain more information than has so far been learned about one of the most well-known yet mysterious societal connections between mer- and magical folk," Malfoy finished for her. "Typical impossible standards, eh Granger?" She scoffed lightly and he stood up and stretched as the train slowed to a stop, reaching into the overhead as Hermione closed her notebook and rose from her seat. He handed her her pack with an easy smile.

"So let's get going."


A/N: The placeholder title for the book Hermione pulled out on the train was Mer-Gonna-Folk You Up by J. Edgar Scuber and by gum I almost didn't change it.