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Hermione sat in the library, Gryffindor's book balanced on her lap, its weight both physical and metaphorical. The table in front of her was covered with school books, their pages marked with scribbled translations and annotations. She had been at it for hours, her brow furrowed in concentration as she tried to make sense of the ancient notes. Just as she thought she was making progress, she heard a familiar voice.
"Hermione," Draco called softly, his eyes scanning the cluttered table before settling on her. He approached, a smile tugging at his lips. "You've been here all day. Come with me to the Room of Requirement."
Hermione quickly snapped Gryffindor's book shut, sliding it under the pile of other books. "I can't, Draco," she said, attempting a light tone. "I'm studying. I have so much work to catch up on."
Draco frowned, his eyes narrowing. "Studying? You've been glued to this library for days now. Even you need a break."
She forced a smile, her heart pounding. "I know, but... I need to get this done. Soon. Please, just give me a little more time." She hoped he couldn't see the anxiety lurking behind her eyes.
Draco sighed, leaning over to kiss her forehead. "Fine. But don't think you're getting out of spending time with me for much longer," he warned playfully before reluctantly walking away.
Hermione let out a shaky breath once he was gone, her hands trembling as she reopened the book. She couldn't afford to let anyone see what she was really working on—not even Draco. Bustling her books back into her bag, she made her way back to her dormitory. She'd have to return tomorrow.
Hermione hurried through the Gryffindor common room the next afternoon, her mind racing with thoughts of the translations. Just as she reached the portrait hole, she heard Ron's voice.
"Hey, Hermione!" He jogged over, a hopeful look in his eyes. "Could you help me with my Transfiguration essay? I'm struggling with McGonagall's latest assignment."
Hermione forced herself to smile, though guilt pricked at her. "Oh, Ron, I'm really sorry, but I can't right now. I'm supposed to meet Draco," she lied smoothly.
Ron frowned slightly, disappointment flashing across his face. "Right... Of course." He looked down, the hope draining from his expression.
Hermione bit her lip, her chest tightening with guilt. She hated lying to Ron—he was one of her closest friends, and seeing the hurt in his eyes made her heart ache. She wished she could explain, could share her burdens with him, but she knew she couldn't risk it. Not now. Not when everything depended on her secrecy. She forced herself to turn away, pushing down the wave of regret that threatened to overwhelm her. She slipped away, heading not to Draco but to an empty classroom. She knew Draco was at Quidditch practice, and she needed the solitude to continue her work.
She settled into a desk at the back of the classroom, her bag heavy with books and artifacts. There was so much to do, and time was running out.
Later that night, Hermione sat in her dormitory, the curtains drawn around her bed. Ginny's voice broke through her thoughts.
"So, where were you today?" Ginny asked, her eyes sharp. "Ron said you were supposed to be with Draco, but we went to watch the Slytherin Quidditch practice... and you weren't there."
Panic flared in Hermione's chest. She scrambled for an explanation. "Oh... um, well, I wasn't really with Draco. I was... studying." she said, faking a sheepish smile.
Ginny gave her a long look, her brow furrowed. "Hermione, you've been working too hard lately. It's like you're either buried in your books or off somewhere alone. Are you sure you're okay?"
Hermione forced a smile, her heart pounding. "I'm fine, Ginny. Really. I just..." Watching Ginny's disapproving frown, Hermione almost flinched. Her chest felt tight as she struggled to think on her feet. That was, until the perfect plan clicked into place. Trying her best to fake a blush, Hermione added. "Honestly Gin, I was in the bathrooms trying half a dozen terrible spells on my hair. I want to look nice for Draco, you know?" She let out an emphasized gulp, hoping Ginny bought the lie.
Ginny's eyes widened slightly, a hint of surprise on her face. "You? Worrying about your hair for a boy?" She paused, then her face softened into a grin. "Well, it's about time! I knew Draco was having an effect on you, but I never thought I'd see the day you'd be fussing over your hair."
Hermione let out a small, nervous laugh. "Yeah, well... I thought it couldn't hurt to try."
Ginny's expression turned excited, and she moved closer, sitting on the edge of Hermione's bed. "You should've just said so, Hermione. Here, you can use my hair clip—it's charmed to keep everything smooth. You know, the Prewetts always had such frizzy hair, mum said this had been passed down for generations. I'm too much of a Weasley to really need it." She reached up and unclipped it from her own hair, handing it over with a smile. "Take it. I want you to look perfect, and you're basically part of the family."
Hermione felt a pang of guilt but took the clip with a grateful smile. "Thanks, Ginny. You're the best."
Ginny hugged her, her excitement palpable. "I can't believe you're finally getting into boys and hair and all that! I was starting to worry you'd never get there. But you know, Hermione, just take care of yourself too, okay? I don't want you getting lost in all of this. Draco's lucky to have you."
Hermione nodded, her heart heavy with the lie, but she hugged Ginny back tightly, hoping her friend couldn't feel the tension in her shoulders.
A couple of days had passed since her conversation with Ginny, and Hermione had spent every possible moment buried in her books, avoiding her friends and even Draco. She had grown adept at sneaking in and out of the library, her bag always heavy with books; the largest being Godric Gryffindor's tome. It was exhausting, but she had to keep moving forward.
Hermione was rushing from class to the library when she almost collided with a looming figure. She looked up, her breath catching as she met the dark eyes of Professor Snape.
"Miss Granger," he drawled, his voice dripping with skepticism. "What a shock—Hermione Granger, the insufferable know-it-all, doubling down on her unhealthy obsession with books. One might think you're hiding something... or perhaps avoiding someone? Must be quite the secret to have you skulking around like this.""
Hermione swallowed, her heart pounding. "Oh, Professor Snape," she stammered. "I, uh, I've just been working on my research. There's so much to do."
Snape's lips curled into a smirk, his eyes narrowing. "Research, is it? You've been more studious than normal, even for you, Granger. One can't help but wonder—what could possibly drive you to this level of obsessive diligence? Surely, it's not just another Ministry proposal. What are you really up to?"
Hermione's stomach twisted as she tried to keep her face composed. She could feel the intensity of his gaze boring into her, scrutinising every flicker of emotion. Her fingers itched to reach for her bag, as if she could shield her secrets from his sharp eyes. She forced herself to take a steadying breath, trying to calm the pounding in her chest. If she showed any weakness now, it would only confirm his suspicions. She met his gaze, her face a mask of determination, though internally, she was struggling to keep her composure intact. She straightened her back and met Snape's gaze head-on. "Yes, I am preparing for my next Ministry proposal, professor. It's ambitious, and there's a lot to refine, but I believe it's something the Ministry desperately needs and cannot deny," she said, her voice growing more confident despite the lie. "Plenty to bring to them soon."
Snape arched an eyebrow, his expression laced with disbelief and sarcasm. "How noble of you," he said, his tone dripping with mockery. "One would almost think you were hiding behind your books to avoid something—or someone." He paused, his eyes narrowing further as he seemed to weigh his next words. "But very well, Miss Granger. We shall pretend, for now, that I believe you. Tell me," he continued, his voice shifting, "have you managed to keep up with your other responsibilities, or has your so-called 'research' consumed you entirely?"
"Hermione lifted her chin slightly, trying to sound more assertive than she felt. "My studies are going excellently, Professor. Do you really think there would ever be cause to doubt me?" Her voice was steady, but there was an edge of defiance.
Snape's eyes narrowed, and he took a step closer, his presence almost suffocating. "Do I doubt you, Miss Granger? Constantly. Your determination to change the world is dangerous, and determination without caution leads to disaster." He leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper. "And I'm sure you're hiding something."
Hermione's pulse raced, but she stood her ground, her defiance growing. Just then, Ron rounded the corner, his eyes widening at the sight of them. "Hermione! There you are," he called, walking over quickly, a note of concern in his voice. "Come on, come to the common room for once, will you?"
Hermione glanced between Snape and Ron, the tension palpable. "I... I need to finish something, Ron," she said, trying to keep her voice steady. "I'll be there soon, I promise." Snape's eyes bore into her, clearly doubting her words, but she forced herself to turn towards Ron, her face flushed. "Really, just go ahead. I'll catch up."
Ron hesitated, his eyes flickering to Snape before nodding slowly. "Alright, but don't take too long." He gave Snape a wary look, but before he could say anything else, Hermione turned on her heel and hurried off, leaving Ron standing awkwardly with Snape.
Snape's gaze shifted to Ron, his expression as unreadable as ever. "Weasley," he said, his voice filled with disdain, "I suggest you learn to choose your company more wisely." Ron scowled but said nothing, watching Hermione disappear down the corridor.
The Room of Requirement was exactly as they needed it—a cozy, intimate setting with soft cushions and warm lighting. Hermione was sitting on one of the plush couches, her fingers brushing against Draco's as he spoke. She had finally given in to spending time with Draco after days of relentless pressure from everyone around her, Ginny's concerned words echoing in her mind. She realized she needed to keep up appearances, to not push Draco away entirely, even if it meant taking a break from her research and letting herself be with him, if only for a while.
"You've been different lately," Draco said, his eyes searching her face. "You're up to something, aren't you?"
Hermione's heart skipped a beat, and she leaned in, pressing her lips to his in a slow, deliberate kiss. She could feel his hesitation melt away as she deepened the kiss, her hands sliding around his neck.
"Maybe," she whispered against his lips, her voice teasing. "But let's not talk about that now."
She pulled him closer, her intentions clear, and soon they were lost in each other, the tension between them dissipating in the heat of the moment.
Later, as Draco slept soundly beside her, Hermione carefully moved away, her eyes landing on his cufflinks on the bedside table. They were resting on the large bed the Room of Requirement had made for them when they were repairing it months ago—familiar and comforting, yet suddently laden with tension. The cufflinks were unmistakably Malfoy heirlooms—elegant and ancient, just what she needed.
She hesitated, her heart heavy with the weight of what she was about to do. Did she really want to go this far? To risk Draco's trust in her, all for a spell she wasn't even sure would work? The thought twisted her insides, but the determination she had clung to for so long refused to let go. She needed them.
After a moment of internal struggle, she slipped the cufflinks into her bag, her heart aching. Leaning over, she kissed Draco's forehead softly, her voice barely a whisper. "I'm sorry."
Hermione glanced around the room, her eyes landing on a small, ornate quill on the bedside table. She picked it up and focused, her wand moving in precise, careful motions. Slowly, the quill transformed into a replica of Draco's cufflinks—close enough to pass at a glance. She placed the replicas back on the table, her hands trembling slightly. It wasn't perfect, but it would have to do.
The next morning, Hermione sat cross-legged on her bed in her dormitory, having woken up an hour early to sneak back. Now, she was surrounded by stacks of books and parchment. A piece of parchment lay in front of her, and she held her quill poised as she jotted down notes. The list was slowly coming together, and she chewed on her lip as she reviewed it.
She needed seven heirlooms from pureblood families. Seven artifacts imbued with old magic that could make the spell work. She scribbled down the names as they came to her mind:
Prewett
Malfoy
Potter
Longbottom
Lovegood
Weasley
She hesitated before adding the sixth name, her quill hovering over the parchment. She didn't want to take from the Weasleys—not when they had already lost so much. But she was running out of options. She set the quill down, sighing heavily as she glanced over the list. Each name felt like a weight pressing down on her, a reminder of what she had already done and what she still had to do. There was still a name missing, another family she needed to find a way in with.
The day was mostly uneventful until dinner ended, and the Great Hall buzzed with chatter and laughter. Hermione sat at the Slytherin table with Draco, their hands intertwined beneath it. She listened to Draco discuss their latest Potions class, a gentle smile on her lips, when suddenly a familiar shadow loomed over them.
"Miss Granger," Snape's voice cut through the noise, cold and commanding. "You will report to my office immediately after dinner." He gave Draco a curt nod before sweeping away, his robes billowing behind him.
Draco frowned, turning to Hermione. "What does he want?"
Hermione shook her head, genuinely puzzled. "I don't know. He didn't say."
Draco squeezed her hand, concern etched across his face. "Do you want me to come with you?"
Hermione forced a smile, trying to reassure him. "No, it's fine. I'll be okay. It's probably just about the ministry proposal or something." She gave his hand a final squeeze before standing up, her stomach twisting with anxiety.
Draco hesitated, his gaze lingering on her. He frowned slightly, his voice quieter. "It's just... the way he looks at you sometimes. It makes me wonder." He sighed, giving her a half-smile. "Just be careful, alright?"
Hermione nodded, feeling a mix of emotions swirl inside her. "I will, Draco. I promise."
When she reached Snape's office, she knocked tentatively before pushing the door open. Snape was standing behind his desk, his eyes fixed on her as she entered.
"Close the door," he said, his voice low and devoid of warmth.
Hermione obeyed, her heart pounding as she stepped further into the room. Snape's gaze was piercing, and she could feel his suspicion radiating from him.
"Sit," he commanded, gesturing to the chair in front of his desk.
Hermione sat down, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. She tried to maintain her composure, but she could feel the tension building. His eyes hadn't left her for a second.
Snape leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. "I have noticed, Miss Granger, that your choice of reading material has become... eclectic as of late," he began, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Books on ancient languages, dark artifacts, potions that even I shy away from, magical theory beyond your level. Care to explain why you've been checking out half the restricted section?"
Hermione's jaw clenched, her mind racing for an excuse. "I'm just—I'm researching for my proposal, Professor," she said, trying to keep her voice steady.
Snape's lips twisted into a sneer. "Do not lie to me, Hermione. Do you think I wouldn't notice? After everything, you still think you can hide things from me?" His voice dripped with anger, a sharp edge of betrayal cutting through. "I see the books you're borrowing, the secrets you're keeping. Do you really think I'm that oblivious?" He leaned in closer, his voice low and scathing. "I've got the list of every book you've touched. Should I start emptying the ones you've hidden in that bag of yours too?"
Hermione's temper flared, and she instinctively clutched her bag tighter, her glare intensifying. "You're invading my privacy! I don't owe you an explanation for everything I do, and you certainly can't demand access to my bag or my life," she snapped, her voice filled with defiance. "I'm allowed to keep things to myself, and you have no right to pry."
Snape's eyes flashed, his expression darkening. He seemed to struggle for a moment, his frustration boiling over. "You are a student, Hermione," he said, almost spitting the word, as if the label itself was a burden. "It is my job to protect you, and to protect others from you if need be." His voice was sharp, filled with barely-contained anger. He straightened, his gaze hard and unrelenting. "I will not have another student recklessly meddling with forces they do not understand. You may think you're above this, but you are not."
Hermione's heart pounded, her hands trembling slightly as she clenched them into fists. Hearing him call her by her first name made something soften inside her. She took a deep breath, her voice losing some of its edge. "I may technically be a student, but I've already fought in and won a war. I'm not your average teenager; I'm almost twenty. I chose to come back here." She looked up at him, her eyes steady. "I am not reckless, and I know exactly what I'm doing."
Snape's face twisted with anger, but as Hermione spoke of her age, something changed. He flinched, his eyes flickering downward as if the weight of her words struck him somewhere deep. He swallowed, his gaze momentarily breaking before he looked back up, a conflicted expression crossing his face.
For a long moment, he stared her down, his emotions battling behind his eyes, before he abruptly spun his chair away. He stared out the window, his shoulders tense. "You cannot walk this path alone," he said, his voice low but with a tremor that hinted at vulnerability. "I've watched too many read those same books, search for the same kind of answers, and lose themselves in the process." He exhaled heavily, as though the memory itself pained him.
He was silent for a beat before he continued, his voice softer, almost reluctant. "I... I want to help you. I only wish to keep you from straying too far, from losing yourself as they did." His gaze remained fixed on the window, the lines of his face softened by a vulnerability he seldom allowed to surface.
Hermione was taken aback, the weight of his offer settling between them. They sat in silence, the tension slowly ebbing into something more somber, almost fragile.
Finally, she spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. "I may have found a way to bring about real change," she admitted, her eyes searching his back for any sign of his reaction.
She waited, watching his back; the slow rise and fall of his shoulders as he watched the lake out of the tower's window. It seemed like hours before he raised himself out of his chair. Silently he strolled over to the corner, returning with a cup of tea that he placed in front of her.
"Tell me," he breathed, as he rested against his desk, so close that his leg was almost brushing against hers, his knuckles gripping the edge of the wood more tightly than she would have expected and his eyes fixed firmly on her.
Hermione hesitated, her resolve wavering under his intense gaze. She had kept her research secret for so long, but now, standing in front of Snape, she felt the walls she had built start to crumble.
"I... I may have found a way to use ancient magic to bring about real change," she admitted, her voice barely a whisper.
Snape's expression darkened, his eyes flashing with something between anger and fear.
Hermione lifted her chin, her eyes blazing with determination. "I have a tome belonging to Godric Gryffindor. It contains a solution—a spell that can make the magic of pure bloodlines accessible to 'mudbloods' like me." She paused, waiting to see if Snape would react to her use of the term 'mudblood,' but he merely raised an eyebrow. Taking it as permission to continue, she took a breath. "It requires a sacrifice from seven pureblood houses." She noticed his knuckles whiten and quickly added, "A sacrificed item. Not blood . Just an heirloom. It's not terribly dark magic, Professor."
"Severus." He corrected softly, "If I'm to help you with this, you may call me Severus."
"Severus,' she whispered, suddenly feeling the need to distract herself with the drink he had placed before her.
"Real change, is it?" he drawled the moment she replaced the cup on its saucer, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Tell me, do you truly believe this spell alone can accomplish what countless others have failed at? Or are you merely indulging in reckless idealism?"
Hermione took a deep breath, holding her ground. "I know it's risky, but I believe this has the potential to bridge the divide without requiring the approval of those with most to lose. It's not just theory—it can work."
Snape simply turned away, beginning to wander around his office. Then, he began to fire questions at her, challenging her knowledge, dissecting her plan piece by piece with his usual sarcasm and biting wit. Hermione, though tense, responded as calmly as she could, meeting his arguments with her own, the conversation taking on a more equal footing than she had expected.
He questioned her on the logistics, the risks, the moral implications—all the while testing her, probing for weaknesses in her resolve. Despite the challenging tone, Hermione couldn't help but notice that, for perhaps the first time, he was treating her as an equal—a partner in discussion rather than just a student.
Finally, Snape, Severus, let out a heavy sigh, leaning back in his chair. "You are determined, I'll give you that," he muttered, rubbing his temple. "But determination alone does not make one invincible. Remember that."
Hermione paused, the unexpected acknowledgment catching her off guard. His reluctant respect stirred something within her—an uneasy mix of pride and vulnerability. She felt a flicker of understanding for him, a glimpse of the weight he carried, and it softened her anger. "I understand," she replied, her voice gentler. "But I won't let myself fail."
He gestured towards the door, his voice curt. "That will be enough for now."
She nodded, feeling a mixture of exhaustion and relief. She turned and left his office, she barely heard his soft, "Goodnight Hermione," as the door clicked close behind her.
As she stepped into the hallway, she almost bumped straight into Draco, who was waiting just outside. He looked at her with concern, his eyes searching hers. "What happened? What did he want?"
Hermione offered him a tired smile, shaking her head. "Nothing I couldn't handle," she said softly, hoping to reassure him. "Let's just... get out of here."