I'm sorry in advance if you find any spelling mistakes or carelessness in this chapter, I reread it in a hurry... By the way, if you see any mistakes in any of my chapters, don't hesitate to let me know in the comments, I'll correct them straight away!

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Hermione

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Ginny frowned. A gust of wind blew a lock of her red hair past her eyes, but she didn't raise a hand to brush it away.

"Ron?" Ginny asked, as if it was obvious.

Hermione closed her eyes for a second. She had expected her to ask that, but his name still gave her a little pang.

"No, it's... It's complicated." Hermione sighed and cupped her face in her hands.

Ginny put a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"What's complicated?" she asked encouragingly.

Hermione ran a hand through her unruly hair and tucked it firmly behind her ears, took a deep breath and stared at the water in the courtyard fountain again as she explained:

"I love Ron. He's my best friend... And a little more than that." she admitted hesitantly. "I don't feel the same way about him as I do about Harry. He manages to... affect me in a different way, to make me feel stronger emotions because he knows me so well."

Ginny nodded, her eyebrows furrowing.

"The other boy..." Hermione said, not looking at Ginny so she wouldn't see her flushed cheeks. "That's different. Completely different. He changes moods all the time and I never know how he's going to react or what he's going to do, he's... unpredictable. He's the most confusing boy I know. And he's so... Ginny, he's so annoying."

The redhead laughed, obviously not expecting such a word to describe him.

"He gets on my nerves like no one ever has." Hermione continued, her eyes now distant. "Harry and Ron know me, but him, it's like he can read me. He knows me so well that he knows where to push to hurt me. And I feel like we're fighting all the time, like I'm always weighing my words when I talk to him, like I'm afraid he's going to snap at any moment..."

"He sounds charming." Ginny commented with a chuckle. "Why do you think you like him, then?"

Hermione sighed a second time, a smile playing on her lips that she couldn't stop.

"Because... With him, I don't spend my time thinking. I can just let myself go. I can put aside all my problems, all the questions that go through my head. With him, I'm the real me. Not the bookworm who helps with homework, not the Gryffindor who has to be brave, not the "perfect Hermione"... Just me. And he likes me for it, I think. We spend a lot of time getting on each other's nerves, because he can be insufferable when he wants to be. But the rest of the time... We talk, about anything and everything, and he's so cultured and funny, and kind..."

"That's contradictory." Ginny said. "You say he's obnoxious, and at the same time you say he's sweet. You say you have to weigh your words when you talk to him, but you also say you don't think when you're with him. I'm having trouble following you here."

"I don't know how to explain it." Hermione said with a shrug. "I don't even know how I became friends with him. It happened very slowly. At first, we hated each other. Then we got to know one another, and one day we had a fight, and he stopped talking to me, and... And I realised how important he was to me that day."

A shadow of understanding suddenly passed through Ginny's hazel eyes.

"Oh." she said. "Oh, Hermione... It's Malfoy, isn't it?"

Hermione sighed for the third time. What was the point of hiding it? It was obvious. Ginny knew about the study sessions in the Library and their fight before the Ball. Hermione suspected she would guess his identity.

She nodded shyly.

"You have a crush on Malfoy?" repeated Ginny under her breath.

"I know it's not… It's not right..." Hermione replied in a small, embarrassed voice. "I'm aware of his family, and what Harry and Ron think of him, and rightly so... He's disgusting to them..."

"But you have a crush on him." Ginny finished.

Hermione nodded again. It was the first time she'd admitted it out loud.

They exchanged a long look. Hermione was unable to decipher what Ginny really thought of this revelation, her face expressed nothing but pure surprise.

"I had no idea..." Ginny murmured after a while. "Ever since the Ball, I'd been under the impression that your moments in the Library were over forever, because he'd hurt you again."

"He had."

"But you made up?" the redhead asked.

"Yes, you could say that..." said Hermione, remembering for a brief second the shouting in a classroom.

There was another moment of silent thought from Ginny, then she admitted with a laugh:

"Well, I think it's safe to say that your conversations about boys are far more exciting than my girlfriends'."

Hermione let out a shy little laugh. Her cheeks were definitely crimson now. Thank goodness there was no one else in the courtyard.

"When did you realise you didn't hate him like you used to?" asked Ginny softly.

"I'm not sure." Hermione admitted with a frown. "I think it happened gradually. At first I thought of it as a bit of a weird study session. And then, as time went on, I got attached to him and couldn't wait to see him again, and then I realised I was looking for him all the time..."

Ginny nodded. Hermione was relieved to see no trace of disgust on her face, just understanding. She continued speaking in a whisper:

"He told me he loved me."

Her best friend raised her eyebrows, clearly taken aback.

"Really?"

"Yes, just before summer." Hermione said, not wanting to tell her about his visit to London. "He told me that he'd fallen in love with me, but that he didn't want it to change anything about our friendship. He thinks I'm in love with Ron..."

Ginny thought again for a few seconds, rolling her tongue against the inside of her cheek.

"I can't believe the boy you're talking about is the same boy I know." she finally admitted. "I mean, I've always thought of Malfoy as... The mean, arrogant, bullying boy. When you told me you were studying with him in the Library, I thought it might be good for him to get to know you, to take away some of the prejudices he's always had. But I never thought it would come to this. I was sure he'd ruin everything first."

"So did I." Hermione said sincerely. "I don't even know how I got here."

"Are you in love with him?" asked Ginny, no judgement in her voice.

"No!" Hermione replied briskly. "No, not at all. It's just... I see him differently. I think it's just temporary affection. He told me he loved me, that must be a normal reaction to someone saying that, right?"

"I don't know, I've never been told that before." Ginny said with a shrug. "I have no idea how I'd react."

"The boys would hate me if they found out..."

For a second, Hermione imagined Ron's face, scarred with pain and betrayal, and she put her head in her hands a second time. She didn't see Ginny's stunned expression.

"What?"

"Harry and Ron." Hermione clarified. "I mean, a Death Eater's son... They've always hated him..."

Just as Hermione was about to succumb to the sobs that threatened to burst from the back of her throat at the thought of this possibility, Ginny took Hermione by the shoulders to face her, and plunged her gaze resolutely into hers:

"Hermione, Harry and Ron love you. More than you know. They'd never hate you."

"They'd stop talking to me, that's for sure." Hermione murmured. She felt the tears trickle down her cheeks but did nothing to wipe them away. "Ginny, I've done a terrible thing. I've betrayed their trust."

"You have every right to talk to whoever you want." Ginny said firmly. "If you don't want to tell Harry and Ron, that's your choice. But don't feel guilty about it. If you feel any... affection for Malfoy, then he's probably not as bad as we think."

Hermione looked at Ginny's determined face through her tears.

"Really?" she sobbed.

"Of course, Mione."

Ginny let go of Hermione's left shoulder to wipe away her tears with her fingers.

"So you're not mad at me?" Hermione whimpered.

Ginny rolled her eyes.

"Of course I'm not angry with you. I'd never blame you for that. If you think Malfoy deserves to be liked, then I support you. You've always supported my choices, haven't you?"

"Yes, but you're dating a perfectly respectable Ravenclaw." Hermione objected with a choked laugh.

"Fair enough." Ginny said with a grin. "But if I was dating someone my brothers wouldn't approve of, you'd back me up."

Hermione nodded immediately, without the slightest hesitation.

"Even if it's Donaghan Tremlett?" asked Ginny with a playful smile.

"Especially if it's Donaghan Tremlett." Hermione assured with a strangled laugh.

"Then, that's all that matters."

Ginny leaned over to give Hermione a hug. It was a habit that was beginning to develop among those close to Hermione, and she gladly accepted the embrace. This one was nothing like Ron's, Draco's or Harry's. Ginny managed to calm Hermione's sobs in a matter of seconds.

Ginny smelled like her brothers, like the Burrow, but also like the floral perfume she wore every day. Hermione breathed in a few times, feeling the relief spread through her muscles. This secret had been weighing on her conscience for months, and it felt so good to share it with someone.

Ginny gently pulled away and looked into her eyes. This time, her features were more severe. She looked a lot like her mother at that moment.

"Mione... I'm happy for you, I really am." she said fiercely. "But I have to warn you, as your best friend. Please, please take care of yourself. Don't forget... who he is."

Hermione swallowed hard, choking back the tears that threatened to fall again.

"I won't." Hermione assured her. "I won't forget."

In fact, she had never forgotten. She'd thought about it every day since Draco had sat down at her isolated table almost a year ago.

"If you're telling me that Malfoy is in the throes of redemption, I'm willing to believe you." Ginny continued. "But his father... Mione, he's far too evil to be forgiven. He's done far too bad things. He's a Death Eater. You have to make sure that his son doesn't go down the same path as him. Because if you fall in love with him and he turns to the same darkness as his family, it'll break your heart. Literally."

Hermione nodded. Her words carried a heavy meaning. Ginny was in a good position to talk about Lucius Malfoy, because it was because of him that she had been possessed by Voldemort two years before, and the fact that she could place her trust in her son was a gesture that Hermione considered an immense proof of friendship. She didn't know if she would be so tolerant if the roles were reversed, and for that, she was very grateful.

Ginny kept her hands on Hermione's shoulders, pressing her fingers tightly against her as if to seal her words. Then, she found her mischievous smile again:

"Well, for what it's worth, I have to admit I'm not surprised."

Hermione let out a small, choked exclamation:

"What? You guessed?"

"No, of course not." Ginny said, tossing her long red hair back over her other shoulder as she spoke. "How could I have guessed something like that? No, I mean I'm not surprised that you get on so well."

"Really?" asked Hermione hopefully.

"It's pretty obvious." her best friend asserted. "Behind Malfoy's prejudices, I'm sure you have a lot in common. And you're pushing him up. I told you when you mentioned you were meeting in the Library : I think it's a good thing. It makes him realise all the lies his family taught him throughout his childhood. He probably realised how brilliant you were, and that you were nothing like his parents' horrible descriptions of Muggle-borns. No wonder he fell in love with you."

Hermione frowned without answering. She was still struggling to come to terms with the fact that Draco had confessed his feelings to her two months earlier. But she was overwhelmed by Ginny's analysis: it was the first time anyone had said anything positive about Draco.

"Uh-oh." Ginny said suddenly, a little louder. "The pest has arrived."

Hermione turned to see Pansy Parkinson, accompanied by Blaise Zabini. Her tights were torn, but she didn't seem to mind the cold.

Parkinson sat down on a bench by the fountain and glared at Hermione and Ginny, to which the Gryffindors immediately responded.

"Let's go." Hermione said, discreetly wiping her wet cheeks. "I have to meet Neville for our study session anyway."

"Fine, I'll come with you."

Ginny's eyes were still on Parkinson, with whom she exchanged the most hostile look possible.

The two girls got up and left the Transfiguration courtyard. Neville was waiting for them outside the Library and the three of them sat down at the usual Saturday table in the middle of the room. Ginny worked on her Transfiguration while Neville and Hermione studied Potions, and as Hermione watched her best friend work, she couldn't help but think that while Ginny was an expert at gossip, she was also an expert at listening.

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Hermione didn't go to the Library that evening, as if Draco could have guessed her morning confession just by looking at her. She preferred to take refuge in the Common Room to do her homework, then after crossing the last line in her timetable, she settled down on her favourite sofa in front of the fireplace to knit.

Harry and Ron arrived about ten minutes later, sullen looks on their faces.

"So, how was practice?" asked Hermione coldly, because she still hadn't digested their escape from breakfast.

"It was..." began Harry hesitantly.

"Completely pathetic." finished Ron as he dropped into the armchair next to Hermione.

She watched him for a second and noted how distraught he looked. She rested her needles on her lap and immediately lost her coldness.

"Oh… Well, it was only the first session." she said softly, consoling him. "It's bound to take time for you to..."

"Who said it was dismal because of me?" retorted Ron dryly.

Hermione frowned, caught off guard.

"No one." she said. "I thought..."

"You thought I'd necessarily be rubbish?" he asked angrily.

"No, of course not! You just said yourself that it was pathetic, so I..."

"I'm going to go and do my homework." Ron cut in, furious.

He stood up and stomped off to the boys' dormitory. Hermione bit her lip, not expecting such a turn of events. She looked at Harry, who had been sitting next to her, watching the exchange with confusion.

"Was he really pathetic?" she whispered.

"No." Harry replied valiantly.

Hermione raised her eyebrows, and Harry's eyes automatically dropped.

"Of course, he could have played a little better..." he muttered. "But like you said, it was only the first session..."

"He'll get better." Hermione said with as much conviction as she could muster.

"He plays well." Harry said thoughtfully. "It's just stage fright. He's so stressed that it's stopping him from showing his true potential."

"What's got him stressed?" asked Hermione, picking up her knitting again. "Angelina?"

"Fred and George, I suppose." Harry guessed with a shrug. "He's afraid they'll laugh at him. And the Slytherins, of course."

"The Slytherins?" asked Hermione. "They were at the practice?"

"Yeah." said Harry, suddenly clenching his jaw. "Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, even that bloody Parkinson. They kept making fun of Ron, it broke his concentration so much he lost it."

Hermione pursed her lips and stopped herself from rolling her eyes. "Second condition. That rule does not apply to Quidditch." Draco always had a knack for keeping his word, it was very frustrating. He was just doing it to prove to her that she didn't have the last word.

"I see." she said simply.

"I hate them so much!" Harry said, his voice suddenly shaking with anger. "Always around when they shouldn't be! Always laughing when they know Ron's stressed! They've ruined the entire practice. I swear I can still hear Parkinson's hyena laugh and see her bulldog face!" he finished aggressively.

Hermione raised her eyebrows again, surprised to see Harry give in to anger so quickly. Ironically, he reminded her of someone.

She had never thought Parkinson could look like a bulldog, in fact, she thought she was very pretty, but she preferred to keep her mouth shut.

"Calm down Harry..." Hermione said instead, putting a comforting hand on her best friend's arm. "It's over now, what's done is done. And it was just practice."

Harry relaxed his clenched jaw and let out an exhale through his teeth.

"You're right." he said, still as upset as ever.

He looked down at Hermione's hands and pointed to her knitting with a gesture of his chin:

"New one?"

"Yes, I finished the blue hat last night." she said proudly, showing him the yellow square she was trying to make. "I'm getting into the socks, but I'm still struggling to find the right spell for the measurements..."

Harry nodded, but his eyes were elsewhere. Hermione continued knitting while he pondered in silence.

"I'm going to check on Ron." Harry said, suddenly standing up. "See if he's drowned in the shower like Olivier Wood two years ago..."

Hermione gave a short, mirthless laugh and Harry hurried up the stairs. She resumed her knitting, trying as best she could to coordinate the needles with the spells she was casting. Mrs Weasley's advice was priceless, but when she wasn't around it was much more complicated to knit with magic. Hermione was about to give up and start again the Muggle way when the painting swung round again, revealing Fred and George.

They weren't too happy either. Their faces were closed and they still had their Quidditch robes on their backs.

"Oh, hi Mione." Fred said gloomily when he saw her sitting there.

"Good evening. Good training?" she asked, already knowing the answer.

George stretched out on the sofa next to her and put his arm over his face with a tired sigh. Fred, meanwhile, stood in front of the fire to warm his hands.

"Absolutely horrible." he replied bitterly. "The Slytherins were there, laughing and humiliating Ron. He panicked so much he threw a Quaffle in Katie's face..."

Hermione squealed. Harry hadn't told her that detail.

"What?" Hermione exclaimed. "Is she all right?"

"Not really." said George, annoyed. "She had a nosebleed, and Fred had the brilliant idea of giving her Blood Blisterpod instead of the antidote..."

"Hey! It's not my fault they're both the same colour!" cried Fred, turning to George in indignation.

"Anyway, we've just taken her to the hospital wing." George grumbled, ignoring his brother. "I think she'll spend the night there, she was in a really bad state..."

"Your inventions are really dangerous." Hermione commented, wrinkling her nose. "You're giving them to first years when you're not even sure the antidote works, it could turn into a disaster very quickly!"

"Yes, we know, Miss Prefect." Fred said as he sat down in the chair Ron had occupied just before.

Hermione growled under her breath at the appelation, and started knitting again. The clicking sound of the needles intrigued George, who lifted his head to watch her:

"What are you doing?"

"Knitting, obviously." Hermione grumbled.

"And since when have you been knitting?" asked Fred in surprise.

"Since the end of the summer. Your mother taught me." Hermione explained. Then she added more quietly: "It's for the elves."

"The elves?" repeated George, confused.

"Oh no, Mione, don't tell me you're the one leaving handkerchiefs all over the Common Room?" asked Fred.

Hermione felt the same irritation with the twins as she did with Ron when he criticised her knitting. She glared at Fred:

"They're not handkerchiefs, they're hats." she corrected dryly.

"Are you still going on about S.P.E.Y. or something?" snorted Fred. "But, Hermione, you know they'd never take pieces of cloth, they'd be freed on the spot!"

"That's exactly why I'm doing it!" Hermione argued in a loud voice.

Several students playing cards a little further away turned their attention to the outbursts.

"They'll never be fooled, Mione!" continued George. "How many times do we have to tell you? The elves don't want to be freed!"

Hermione abruptly rested the needles in her lap for a second time, ignoring the sting in her thigh.

"I'm not asking you to agree with what I'm doing, just to respect my beliefs!" she said vehemently.

George smiled:

"It's a give and take, Mione. We don't ask you to go along with our pranks, just to respect our work."

"It's not work, it's just a hobby..."

"... Like knitting?" Fred finished in an amused tone.

Hermione exhaled loudly in frustration. The twins looked at her with that mocking look she couldn't stand. So, she grabbed her things and stood up in a huff.

"I'm going to bed." she announced coldly.

As she left, she could clearly hear laughter behind her and hurried on.

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Hermione was so furious with Fred and George that she couldn't sleep properly. She tossed and turned several times during the night, and when she had to face the fact that she couldn't get back to sleep, she went to the Common Room. She wasn't even careful not to make any noise in the dormitory: she couldn't care less about waking Lavender any more.

She read for a while, then Ginny arrived a little later and they had an early breakfast. The Great Hall was practically empty. Hermione realised how much she'd got used to watching Draco at an angle, because when he wasn't there, she was bored stiff. She was just dipping her brioche into her coffee when Ginny asked in a light tone:

"What are you going to do today?"

"I'm going to do my homework." Hermione replied quickly. "I absolutely need to be early so I don't get caught out by the extra O.W.L. work. I'll finish my Astronomy essay, reread the History of Magic chapter, and if I have time, I can even get a head start on tomorrow and start learning the Herbology class on the effects and uses of Dittany..."

Ginny grimaced:

"Merlin, I'm not looking forward to next year." she muttered. "And where are you going to do all that?"

Hermione felt her cheeks blush slightly.

"Er... The Library."

Ginny nodded but said nothing more. She hadn't mentioned what Hermione had told her the night before, much to her relief. Ginny didn't look particularly disapproving, continuing to drink her pumpkin juice without letting anything show on her face.

"What about you?" asked Hermione, trying to change the subject. "What are you going to do?"

"Quidditch." the redhead replied. "I was counting on my brother putting everything off until tomorrow so he could work all day and I'd be left alone."

"So you're never going to tell them you've been flying in secret all this time?" asked Hermione with a smile.

"I suppose it wouldn't be so bad to tell them now." Ginny said with a shrug. "I've been thinking about it, and I don't think it's really a good idea to keep things from them. I don't really care what they think anymore."

Hermione was secretly impressed by how easily Ginny didn't care what anyone around her thought. Hermione was always afraid that someone would find out her secret.

But it had to be said, her secret was a little more scandalous than Ginny's.

Just then, Luna Lovegood arrived at the Gryffindor table and greeted them in her floating voice. Hermione couldn't help but clench her hand against her coffee cup. She couldn't really explain it, but that girl had a way of annoying her.

"Hello Luna!" Ginny said warmly. "What are you up to today?"

Luna stepped over the bench and stood to Ginny's left, directly in front of Hermione. Her questioning gaze automatically landed on the brunette.

"I'm going to say hello to the Thestrals." she replied, as if that were a perfectly normal activity to do on a Saturday.

"There are no Thestrals at Hogwarts." Hermione replied, unable to stop herself.

Luna looked at Hermione with her big, clear blue eyes in such a penetrating way that Hermione flinched slightly.

"Of course there is." Luna replied. "They're on the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Maybe you can't see them."

"Yes, that must be it." Hermione replied ironically.

Luna frowned and helped herself to some food. Every move she made was painfully slow. Hermione counted forty seconds just to pour the milk into her bowl, which was an awfully long time for such a simple movement. By the time Luna had closed the milk bottle, poured herself some cereal and dipped her spoon in it, Hermione had already finished her coffee.

Hermione had never liked slow people. Just looking at Luna, she was already stomping under the table, eager to get going.

"I'm going to the Library." she announced, jumping to her feet.

By the time she had crossed the Great Hall, Hermione was thinking that Harry's tantrums must be contagious, because she had just lost her temper for no particular reason. Maybe Luna's behaviour really was annoying. Or maybe she hadn't slept enough last night...

She was just coming up with theories about her mood when she turned into the corridor and collided with someone. She gasped in surprise and took a few steps back, a little stunned.

Hermione didn't have to look up to see who it was: the minty smell of his clothes was everywhere. So, when she did look up, she wasn't surprised to meet grey eyes.

Draco was clearly shocked, certainly not expecting to bump into her like this first thing in the morning. He had instinctively raised both hands, as if to catch her, but had stopped short. He glanced at Parkinson, who was walking beside him.

Draco's surprised face immediately turned into a fake grimace:

"Look where you're going..."

Hermione watched the boy's lips, expecting an insult, but nothing came. The word seemed to be stuck in his throat. Hermione frowned. She had expected to see Malfoy, not Draco.

His eyes clouded over and he walked around her into the Great Hall. Zabini and Nott didn't seem to mind the exchange, but Parkinson looked at Hermione with barely concealed hatred. Then she moved on, with the perfect steps of a dancer with years of experience, and followed Draco into the Great Hall.

Hermione stood there for a few seconds, too surprised to move. Draco was supposed to be insulting her. Become Malfoy again in front of the others, to keep up the illusion. But he had failed.

She didn't really know if that was good or bad news.

Hermione looked around to see if anyone had heard, but she was in the middle of the corridor and no one had noticed. So she walked into the Library, her heart pounding in her chest.

Without thinking, she sat down at the secluded table. Even if the Library was empty, going to another table was out of the question. She got out her Astronomy books and started working, and fortunately she was so focused that she forgot about the incident that had just happened. There, in her haven of peace, Hermione was far from reality. She worked without a break, not even taking her eyes off the text, taking sips of cinnamon tea at regular intervals.

When Draco came up behind her, she was so startled that she spilled half of her tea on her parchment.

"Granger." he greeted her with a nod.

He sat down opposite her while Hermione muttered a "Tergeo" to clean the stains from the paper. She watched as Draco took out his things.

"You were supposed to insult me." she said bluntly.

Draco stopped rummaging through his bag and looked at her with a confused expression.

"Insulting you… To say hello?" he asked, not understanding.

"No, earlier!" Hermione said, rolling her eyes. "In front of the Great Hall! You should have insulted me, we agreed on that..."

Draco understood what she meant and frowned, as if the simple idea had never occurred to him.

"Apologies, I didn't expect you to literally run into me at nine in the morning." he said with a hint of irony in his voice.

"I didn't do it on purpose." Hermione replied. "And if I'd done that two years ago, you'd have insulted me to the point of breathlessness!"

"Probably..." said Draco, still confused.

He sat down in his chair and looked at her with deep incomprehension in his features.

"You said you were going to insult me!" she reminded him. "Instead of Harry! So people can see we still hate each other!"

"People do know we still hate each other, Granger." Draco said, frowning even more. "Just because I don't insult you once doesn't mean people will understand that we've become friends."

Hermione sighed loudly. He was probably right, but she had found his reaction strange, and she hadn't liked the look on Parkinson's face at all. As if the fact that Draco hadn't insulted her was her fault!

"All right, fine." Hermione said, picking up her quill again.

For several seconds, all that could be heard was the sound of her quill scratching furiously against the paper.

Then, suddenly, Draco asked:

"Insomnia, yesterday?"

It was Hermione's turn to be confused.

"What?"

"Did you have trouble sleeping last night?" asked Draco very seriously. "You always get irritable when you're tired."

"Oh." she said. She was always surprised that he could read her mood in seconds. He knew her much better than she thought. "Uh, yeah."

"Because of the O.W.L.?" he asked, looking worried.

"No, not really... I had a bit of a row with Fred and George last night." Hermione admitted, looking away.

Draco raised his eyebrows.

"Are they against Potter too?"

"No, not at all... It was stupid. Let's not talk about it anymore."

Draco didn't insist, though he looked troubled. Hermione took a sip of tea and was about to return to her essay when she heard Draco call softly to her:

"Granger?"

"What?"

"You know that was over three hours ago?"

"What was?"

"When you bumped into me outside the Great Hall." he explained, a flicker of concern in his greyish eyes. "That was over three hours ago."

Hermione couldn't help but look surprised.

"What?" she squeaked.

"It's 12:30." Draco said very slowly, as if he feared her reaction to hearing the time. "You've been here since 9?"

"It's 12:30 already?!" she asked at the same time as him.

Hermione couldn't believe her ears, the hours had gone by so quickly! She looked down at her essay and realised that she had written far more than she had asked for, the end of the parchment almost falling off the edge of the table.

"Oh... I didn't... I didn't see the time go by." she said pitifully.

"Granger... These O.W.L.s, I think they're really starting to get to you." Draco said in alarm.

Hermione said nothing and went back to writing about Galileo Galilei, the astronomer who discovered the moon of Io. Draco started to work as well, glancing furtively in her direction as if he was suddenly afraid she was going to faint in the middle of the table.

Some time later, Draco cleared his throat:

"You should go and eat." he advised gently.

Hermione shook her head. She was reading a very interesting paragraph about Lisette de Lapin for her History of Magic class.

"No, no, I really want to finish this..."

Draco opened his mouth to argue, but must have realised that there was no point in trying to convince her, because he said nothing and continued working.

After a while Hermione looked up from her lesson to see Draco rubbing his eyes tiredly.

"You can go and eat, if you want."

Draco looked up at her. He was both surprised and worry.

"Granger, it's been an hour since I told you this." he said slowly. "Lunch was over a long time ago. Are you sure you're alright?"

"What time is it?" asked Hermione, surprised at how quickly time passed. She felt as if he had just told her to go and eat...

"2pm."

"Oh."

"You should take a break." Draco said. "You're scaring me."

"You're not taking a break either." she pointed as she poured herself another cup of tea.

"I haven't been here for five hours." he said with a sneer. "Seriously, Granger, you can be really creepy when you're studying."

"I'm just really focused." Hermione said bitterly.

She returned to her reading and Draco clicked his tongue to show his disapproval. Hermione ignored him.

"I have to go." Draco announced suddenly, rising to his feet.

"What? Where?" she asked, surprised.

"It's the Slytherin Quidditch Seekers trials today."

Hermione had no idea. She looked at the clock and saw to her amazement that it was 3.40pm.

"Um... At what time?" she asked.

"In twenty minutes." he replied as he put on his cloak.

"You came to the Library when you have your Quidditch tryouts today?" she asked, surprised.

"Yes." Draco said, as a matter of course. "Why?"

"I don't know, I thought you'd be practising before..."

Draco laughed wickedly.

"No need. I'm not Weasley."

Hermione rolled her eyes and he laughed at her reaction.

"Speaking of Ron... Harry told me you came to their practice yesterday..." Hermione began reproachfully.

"Hey Granger, that was on my terms." Draco interrupted, holding his hands out in front of him as if to end the subject before Hermione could even bring it up. "I'll be back tonight to finish my Potions essay. I'm begging you, Granger, go out for a bit. Get something to eat, some fresh air, whatever, but don't stay cooped up in this Library all afternoon, you're really worrying me."

Hermione nodded, although she had no intention of coming out until she had finished her homework. He turned and just before he disappeared into the bookshelves, she called out to him:

"Good luck!"

He turned to her, a proud smile on his face:

"I don't need luck, I'm already talented." he said in that arrogant tone he always used to boast.

She rolled her eyes and he walked away laughing.

While Draco was gone, Hermione finished reading her History of Magic chapter, took notes, finished her explanation of how to hold a Bowtruckle (because she had a feeling Ron and Harry would never do it) and then started her lesson on the use of Dittany. It was then that he returned. This time, she recognised his footsteps.

"You haven't been out all afternoon, have you?" Draco guessed, looking very displeased.

"How did the trials go?" Hermione asked innocently.

He sighed and sat down opposite her, a disapproving look on his face.

"I got in." he said.

"Oh, congratulations!"

Draco pretended to be disinterested, but Hermione could clearly see a proud smile spread across his lips for a second.

"It wasn't really a surprise, there were two of us running, with a third year on the verge of fainting from stress. Montague would have been wrong not to take me."

"Has your whole team been chosen yet?" asked Hermione as she poured herself another cup of tea.

"No, we're missing two Chasers and two Beaters. The Beater trials were just starting when I left."

"Didn't you want to see the rest?" asked Hermione, surprised.

Draco shrugged.

"No, I'd rather be with you."

Hermione immediately felt the usual blush burn her cheeks. She took a sip of tea and couldn't help but smile into her mug before mentally calling herself an idiot and returning to her homework.

"Do you have much left to do?" he asked, looking down at her parchments.

"No, I'm ahead of schedule." she explained, showing him her Herbology textbook. "I'm studying the effects of Dittany, so I'll be ready for the next lesson."

"Merlin, Granger." he replied, rolling his eyes.

He pulled out his Potions essay, already well advanced. Hermione lingered for a second over the rings that adorned his fingers. She had seen the silver one with the crest on it before, but she had never noticed the one he wore on his left middle finger. She tried to decipher it, but couldn't, and quickly looked away before he noticed what she was doing.

As Hermione finished Herbology, Draco was still writing his Potions essay. She was surprised at how fast he was writing, but she couldn't read what he was doing. She put her textbook and notes away and was thinking about what to do when Draco's voice rang out:

"Have you finally finished?"

Hermione turned to him: he was still writing without looking at her. She was incapable of doing that, talking and writing at the same time.

"Yes." she replied. "But I'm waiting for you to finish."

He smiled very slightly. She was sure he was pleased with this little attention.

"All right, I think I'll be done before dinner."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. Given where he was, she doubted he would manage to finish before dinner. She said nothing, however, and instead decided to take out her needlework to continue working on her yellow sock. It was in a sorry state: because of her little spat with the twins the day before, Hermione had let off a bit of steam on her knitting, which had obviously not appreciated. She placed the wool on her lap and pointed her wand at it, practising the gesture without speaking.

Soon bored, her eyes went to Draco's writing hand instead. His peacock quill was moving so fast that it was blurred. Hermione tilted her head to the side so she could read a few lines. Draco was describing the restorative effects of moonstone powder in Draughts of Peace.

"Stop trying to correct my essay, Granger." Draco muttered as he wrote.

Hermione straightened in her chair in indignation.

"I wasn't trying to correct your essay!" she protested, although that was exactly what she was doing.

"Of course you weren't." Draco said, still writing. "So? Did you find any mistakes?"

She pouted.

"No." Hermione admitted. "Not from what I can see, anyway."

"Even if I made you read the whole thing, you wouldn't find anything." Draco said with a disguised smile. "I thought I'd already proved to you that I'm better at Potions than you are?"

Hermione bit the inside of her cheek as she remembered the painful memory. The third year exams where Draco had overtaken her in the rankings and forced her to drop out of Muggle Studies.

"I'm still convinced you cheated." she argued.

"You know damn well I didn't." Draco said with his usual smirk. "I'm just better at it than you. Just admit it, Granger."

"Nonsense. You're just favoured by Snape."

"Oh yeah, really?" he replied defiantly. "So, I gather you wrote that moonstone can also be used as a sedative in paralysing potions?"

Hermione couldn't help but widen her eyes.

"No, that's completely wrong." she said.

"Well, we'll see about that." the Slytherin replied mischievously.

And he went back to his writing. Hermione had no idea if he'd actually written that, or if it was a bluff. She had never heard of such a use for the moonstone. If she had, she would have read it somewhere... And Draco was cunning. She was sure he was capable of making this up to throw her off balance. Besides, Snape wouldn't mind taking points off her if she wrote something untrue in her essay.

Hermione decided he was lying and went back to her knitting, which was still resting on her lap. When Molly Weasley had done it in front of her, it had seemed like a very easy activity. But Hermione was too much of a perfectionist, and she could see that her wand movement wasn't precise enough. So she practised a few times and then said in a clear voice: "Lanam Nere Macula". Immediately, the piece of wool wrapped itself around her needle and Hermione watched carefully, making sure that it followed the pattern of a sock.

Alerted by the sound of the spell, Draco raised his head.

"What are you doing?" he asked, examining the piece of thread.

"Knitting." she replied, not taking her eyes off the needles.

"What for?"

"For the S.P.E.W." she explained.

"... Are you afraid the elves will catch a cold?" he asked sarcastically.

"No, I'm just laying them out all over the Common Room for them to pick up and become free." she replied, looking up.

She analysed his reaction, expecting him to burst out laughing or to immediately dissuade her like Fred, George, Ron and Harry had. Instead, his eyes widened slightly.

"And is it working?" he asked after a few seconds.

Hermione was so taken aback by the question that she stammered:

"Er, yes, I think so... Three hats I made have disappeared."

He nodded and went back to writing. When Hermione looked down again, all her stitches were tangled.

"Oh, no!" she yelped.

She tried to correct them, but her sock now had a large knot at the ankle. She tried to remove it with her wand, but it was worse, so she removed it by hand.

"Done." Draco announced suddenly as he put his essay away.

"What, already?"

"I told you I'd finish it before dinner." he replied haughtily.

"You botched the ending."

He smiled as if she'd paid him a compliment.

"We'll see, won't we?"

Hermione rolled her eyes at his arrogance and was about to put her knitting away in her bag when Draco pointed to it.

"Will you show me?"

"Oh, uh... I messed it up a bit..." Hermione said shyly.

Draco shrugged.

"Can I see it anyway?"

She showed him the tangled sock. Draco didn't smile in the least, just looked at it attentively.

Then, he simply said:

"That's a nice sock."

And as they parted for dinner, Hermione realised that Draco was the only person who hadn't laughed at her knitting since she'd started.

"Mum doesn't do it like that."

Hermione looked at Ginny blasély.

"No, I suppose not." she replied coldly.

She put down her yellow sock with a sigh. It had tangled up again because of a failed spell and Hermione was extremely frustrated at not being able to knit properly. Ginny looked at her work, her mouth closed to stop herself laughing, and offered quietly:

"Why don't you do it the Muggle way? You seemed to do it so much better."

She was right. Hermione had watched her mother knit since she was a child and she knew exactly what movements to make. She had managed to knit several garments without using magic, she was definitely more efficient when she didn't use her wand. But the very fact of not using it made her anxious. Why couldn't she do it? It was a simple spell, and she was supposed to be good at magic...

She hated questioning her magic. She hated not being good at it, because she always felt like she was proving the insults she'd heard since her first year right. That she was just a Muggle who had been given a wand and didn't know how to use it. That she wasn't a real witch.

Ginny must have sensed her inner debate because she leaned closer to her best friend with a comforting smile:

"We all have things we prefer to do Muggle-style." she whispered, so the students sitting next to them wouldn't overhear. " I, for example, always clean my broom by hand, because I can't do it with a spell. You're good at everything, Hermione. You can knit Muggle style."

Hermione smiled and put her wand back in her pocket. As soon as she picked up the needles again, her movements became more fluid. Her sock was back in decent shape in less than ten minutes.

"Do you think they'll be done before dawn?" asked Ginny, laughing.

She pointed at Harry and Ron sitting at a table further back in the Common Room. Ron was lazily writing on a piece of parchment and Harry was rubbing his eyes and yawning.

"Serves them right." Hermione said, turning her head. "It's not for lack of warning."

She continued knitting as Ginny watched them discreetly over the top of her fashion magazine.

"Ron is looking at you." Ginny said in a singing voice.

Hermione sighed and tried to keep her eyes firmly on her knitting.

"Maybe he's hoping that when I see his dark circles, I'll feel sorry for him and do his homework for him." Hermione grumbled.

Ginny giggled and turned back to her fashion magazine.

"Oh, that dress is gorgeous!" she exclaimed as she turned the page.

She showed it to Hermione, who preferred the one next to it. They then had fun picking their favourite dress from each page and imagining how they could wear it. When Ginny suggested a lace bridesmaid's dress for her wedding to the bassist of the Weird Sisters, Hermione laughed so hard that Crookshanks jumped off her lap in offence.

At 11.30pm, the boys were still doing their homework. Ron yawned so loudly that Hermione feared he might dislocate his jaw.

She finished her socks (one slightly smaller than the other), which she cleverly hid under a crumpled piece of parchment in the hope that an elf might inadvertently get hold of them. Then, she walked over to Harry and Ron's work table:

"Nearly done?" she asked, her sentence cut off by a yawn.

"No." replied Ron curtly.

Hermione rested her eyes on his paper for a few seconds and pursed her lips:

"Jupiter's biggest moon is Ganymede, not Callisto." she said, pointing to a line over his shoulder. "And it's on Io that the volcanoes are."

"Thanks." Ron said moodily, fiercely crossing out the two lines in question.

"Sorry, I only..." Hermione began.

"Look, if you've only come to criticise..."

Suddenly, a movement by the window startled Hermione. She saw an owl resting on the sill. At first, she thought it was Ebony, and her heart skipped a beat. But this owl didn't have the black plumage of Draco's, it was rather brown.

"Ron..." said Hermione, slowly remembering where she had seen this bird.

"I don't have time to listen to a sermon, all right, Hermione?" continued Ron, who had paid no attention to the window beside him. "I'm up to my neck in..."

"No... Look!"

The two boys turned towards the window.

"Isn't that Hermes?" asked Hermione, amazed.

"Blimey, it is!" said Ron in a low voice, putting down his quill. "I wonder why Percy is writing to me..."

He let Hermes in and he landed on Ron's paper, smearing all the fresh ink on it as he went. He held out his paw, to which a parchment was attached, and Ron analysed the adress written on it.

"That's definitely Percy's handwriting." said Ron, dumbfounded.

"Open it!" said Hermione impatiently.

Harry nodded in agreement. Ron unfolded the letter and began to read in silence. At first, there was still a look of disbelief on his face at receiving a letter from his older brother, but as he read on, he frowned. By the end, he was red with anger and looked disgusted.

He handed the letter to Hermione and Harry, who read it at the same time, leaning towards each other.

.

Dear Ron,

I have only just heard (from no less a person than the Minister for Magic himself, who has it from your new teacher, Professor Umbridge) that you have become a Hogwarts prefect.

I was most pleasantly surprised when I heard this news and must firstly offer my congratulations. I must admit that I have always been afraid that you would take what we might call the "Fred and George" route, rather than following in my footsteps, so you can imagine my feelings on hearing you have stopped flouting authority and have decided to shoulder some real responsibility.

But I want to give you more than congratulations, Ron, I want to give you some advice, which is why I am sending this at night rather than by the usual morning post. Hopefully, you will be able to read this away from prying eyes and avoid awkward questions.

From something the Minister let slip when telling me you are now a prefect, I gather that you are still seeing a lot of Harry Potter. I must tell you, Ron, that nothing could put you in danger of losing your badge more than continued fraternisation with that boy. Yes, I am sure you are surprised to hear this - no doubt you will say that Potter has always been Dumbledore's favourite - but I feel bound to tell you that Dumbledore may not be in charge at Hogwarts much longer and the people who count have à very different - and probably more accurate - view of Potter's behaviour. I shall say no more here, but if you look at the Daily Prophet tomorrow you will get a good idea of the way the wind is blowing - and see it you can spot yours truly!

Seriously, Ron, you do not want to be tarred with the same brush as Potter, it could be very damaging to your future prospects, and I am talking here about life after school, too. As you must be aware, given that our father escorted him to court, Potter had a disciplinary hearing this summer in front of the whole Wizengamot and he did not come out of it looking too good. He got off on a mere technicality, if you ask me, and many of the people I've spoken to remain convinced of his guilt.

It may be that you are afraid to sever ties with Potter - I know that he can be unbalanced and, for all I know, violent - but if you have any worries about this, or have spotted anything else in Potter's behaviour that is troubling you, I urge you to speak to Dolores Umbridge, a truly delightful woman who I know will be only too happy to advise you.

This leads me to my other bit of advice. As I have hinted above, Dumbledore's regime at Hogwarts may soon be over. Your loyalty, Ron, should be not to him, but to the school and the Ministry. I am very sorry to hear that, so far, Professor Umbridge is encountering very little co-operation from staff as she strives to make those necessary changes within Hogwarts that the Ministry so ardently desires (although she should find this easier from next week - again, see the Daily Prophet tomorrow!).

I shall say only this - a student who shows himself willing to help Professor Umbridge now may be very well-placed for Head Boyship in a couple of years!

I am sorry that I was unable to see more of you over the summer. It pains me to criticise our parents, but I am afraid I can no longer live under their roof while they remain mixed up with the dangerous crowd around Dumbledore. If you are writing to Mother at any point, you might tell her that a certain Sturgis Podmore, who is a great friend of Dumbledore's, has regenty been sent to Ankaban for trespass at the Ministry. Perhaps that will open their eyes to the kind of petty criminals with whom they are currently rubbing shoulders.) I count myself very lucky to have escaped the stigma of association with such people - the Minister really could not be more gracious to me - and I do hope, Ron, that you will not allow family ties to blind you to the misguided nature of our parents' beliefs and actions, either. I sincerely hope that, in time, they will realise how mistaken they were and I shall, of course, be ready to accept a full apology when that day comes.

Please think over what I have said most carefully, particularly the bit about Harry Potter, and congratulations again on becoming prefect.

Your brother,

Percy

.

Hermione let out several exclamations of shock as she read these words. It sounded like a letter from someone at the Ministry, not Percy, whom she knew well. She looked at Harry and was surprised to see no particular expression on his face. When he finished reading, he said jokingly :

"Well… If you want to... er... what did he say again?" He looked at Percy's letter. "Ah yes, that's right... "sever ties" with me, I promise, I won't get violent."

"Give me that back." demanded Ron, his hand outstretched. "He is..." he said in a jerky voice as he tore Percy's letter in half - "the world's" - he tore it in four - "biggest" - he tore it in eight - "git."

Ron threw the pieces of parchment into the fire. His face had taken on a steady reddish tinge, and he avoided looking at Harry.

"Come on, we've got to finish this before dawn." Ron said, bending over the essay for Professor Sinistra.

She didn't know if it was his overwhelmed voice, his signs of fatigue or his embarrassment after reading Percy's letter, but Hermione felt a twinge in her heart and held out her hand with a grin:

"Oh, give it to me." she said.

"What?" gasped Ron.

"Give me your homework, I'll look at it and correct it." she sighed.

"Really? Oh Hermione, you're a lifesaver!" cried Ron. "What can I..."

"You could say something like, "We promise never to be this far behind with our homework again."" she replied, holding out both hands to take their copies.

"Thank you so much, Hermione." Harry said in a small voice.

Hermione corrected both of their essays, adding a little more information in the margins to complete their paragraphs on each of Jupiter's moons. As the Room emptied, Hermione often looked up at Harry, who had not moved from his chair and was gazing thoughtfully into the fire. Hermione knew he was thinking about Percy. Because, although he had used a tone of amusement, she could sense his unease at the realisation that Percy Weasley might regard him as the fabulist the Daily Prophet had described.

It was after midnight when Hermione finished marking their homework. The Common Room was empty and the fire cast a dim light around them.

"Here, write this down." Hermione said, handing Ron his crossed-out parchment back. "Then you can add the conclusion I wrote for you."

Ron's face broadened into a relieved smile, a far cry from the disgusted look he had after Percy's letter.

"Hermione, you really are the most amazing person I've ever met." Ron said in a weak voice. "And if I was ever rude to you again..."

"...I'll know you're back to your normal self." Hermione finished with a smile. "Harry, what you have written is very good, except for the end. You probably misheard what Professor Sinistra said, Europa is covered in ice, no mice... Harry?"

She looked up when she heard no reply and was surprised to see Harry kneeling on the floor, mouth open, facing the fire.

"Er... Harry?" called Ron in a hesitant voice. "What are you doing on the floor?"

"I just saw Sirius's head in the fire." Harry replied very calmly.

"Sirius's head?" repeated Hermione, surprised. "You mean like the day he tried to talk to you during the Triwizard Tournament? But he couldn't do that now, it would be too... Sirius!"

She gasped when she saw, indeed, Sirius's head between the flames. He was recognisable, despite the strangeness of where he was: his half-length hair framed his smiling face, paying no attention to the fire licking at his cheeks.

"I was beginning to worry that you might go to bed before the others had left." Sirius said, as if it were a perfectly ordinary conversation. "I've been checking every hour."

"You've been popping into the fire every hour?" Harry said, half laughing.

"Just for a few seconds to see if the coast was clear." said Sirius without losing his mischievous grin.

"But what if you've been seen?" said Hermione in an anxious voice.

"Well, I think a girl, first-year, by the look of her, might have spotted me earlier, but don't worry!" said Sirius hastily as he saw Hermione clamp a hand against her mouth. "I was already gone by the time she wanted a closer look. She probably thought I was a log with a funny shape or something."

"But Sirius, that's a huge risk..." began Hermione.

"You sound like Molly." retorted Sirius, still laughing. "It was the only way to answer Harry's letter without using a code."

"What?" gasped Hermione, turning her head sharply towards Harry. "You didn't tell us you'd written to Sirius!" she said accusingly.

"I forgot." said Harry. When he turned his head towards her and met her gaze, he exclaimed, "Don't look at me like that, Hermione! It was impossible for anyone to find out any information from it, wasn't it, Sirius?"

"No, it was very good." said his godfather. "But we must hurry, in case anyone comes to disturb us... your scar."

It was Ron's turn to be surprised.

"What? What about...?"

"We'll tell you about it later." Hermione promised. "Go on, Sirius."

"I know it's no fun when it hurts, but we don't think there's anything to worry about. It stayed sore all last year, didn't it?"

"Yes, and Dumbledore said it happened whenever Voldemort experienced a very strong emotion." Harry replied, indifferent to Ron and Hermione's grimaces at hearing the dreaded name. "So maybe the night I had that detention, he was very angry or whatever..."

"Now that he's back, the pain will come back more often." said Sirius, who had been frowning.

"So you don't think it had anything to do with Umbridge touching me?" asked Harry.

"I doubt it." replied Sirius. "I know her by reputation, and I'm sure she's not a Death Eater."

"She's vile enough to be one." said Harry darkly.

Hermione and Ron nodded vigorously in agreement. To their surprise, Harry's godfather regained his smile, despite the seriousness of the subject:

"Yes, but the world is not divided into good people and Death Eaters. I know she's a nasty piece of work, you should hear Remus when he talks about her."

"Lupin knows her?" asked Harry eagerly.

"No." said Sirius. "But she drafted a couple of anti-werewolf legislation two years ago that makes it impossible for him to get a job."

A wave of protest rose in Hermione's stomach, and she couldn't help retorting:

"What does she have against werewolves?"

"I imagine she's afraid of them." Sirius replied, turning his head towards her. "Apparently she loathes half-humans. Last year, she campaigned to count the water beings and brand them. Can you believe that? Wasting time and energy persecuting water beings while there are toerags like Kreacher on the loose?"

"Sirius!" exclaimed Hermione, outraged. "If you made some effort with Kreacher, I'm sure he'd respond. You're the last member of the family he has left, and Professor Dumbledore said..."

"So, how are Umbridge's classes going?" interrupted Sirius, turning back to the boys. "Is she teaching you how to kill half-breeds?"

Hermione brooded indignantly, outraged that they could all be so insensitive to the fate of these poor elves.

"Oh no." said Harry. "She doesn't want us to do magic at all!"

"We spend all our time reading that stupid textbook." grumbled Ron.

"Yes, it's not surprising." Sirius replied, deep in thought. "According to our information within the Ministry, Fudge doesn't want you trained in combat."

"Trained in combat!" repeated Harry in disbelief. "What does he think? That we want to become an army or something?"

"That's exactly what he thinks." said Sirius. "Or rather, he thinks it's Dumbledore trying to form his own army to take over the Ministry of Magic."

There was a moment of silence, where Hermione considered these words. It was stupid, obviously. But something about the theory caught her attention...

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard." Ron decreed. "Including all the stuff that Luna Lovegood comes out with."

"So, we're being prevented from learning Defence Against the Dark Arts because Fudge is afraid we'll use spells against the Ministry?" asked Hermione angrily.

"Yep." replied Sirius. "Fudge thinks Dumbledore will stop at nothing to seize power. He's getting more paranoid by the day. It's only a matter of time before he'll come up with a plot to have Dumbledore arrested."

"Do you know if there's going to be anything about Dumbledore in tomorrow's Daily Prophet?" asked Harry. "Percy, Ron's brother, reckons there will be..."

"I don't know." said Sirius, suddenly losing his smile. "I didn't see any members of the Order over the weekend, they were all too busy. It was just Kreacher and me..."

"So you haven't heard from Hagrid either?" asked Harry hopefully.

Hermione leaned even closer to the fireplace to hear the answer. The gamekeeper's absence was more painful with each passing day.

"Ah..." said Sirius. "I think he should have been back by now, no one quite knows what happened to him." Seeing their three panicked faces, he hastened to add: "But Dumbledore isn't worried, so don't you three get yourselves in a state. I'm sure Hagrid's fine."

"But what if he should have been back by now..." said Hermione in an anxious little voice.

"Madam Maxime was with him, we've had contact with her and she told us that they returned separately, but there's nothing to suggest that he might have been injured or... In short, there's nothing to indicate that he's not in the best of health."

Seeing that Harry, Ron and Hermione were still not convinced, Sirius sighed:

"Look, don't ask too many questions about Hagrid. You'll only draw attention to the fact that he's not back yet, and I know Dumbledore wants to avoid that. Hagrid's a tough one, he'll be fine."

Hermione was too distressed to reply. This news from Hagrid was not the most cheerful, on the contrary, it was actually very worrying. Probably to lift their spirits, Sirius asked brightly:

"When is your next outing to Hogsmeade? I was thinking we could do the same thing we did at King's Cross Station, nobody noticed the dog..."

"NO!" cried Harry and Hermione in one voice. "Sirius, haven't you read The Daily Prophet?"

"Oh, that..." he replied with a smile. "They're always trying to guess where I am. In fact, they haven't got a clue..."

"This time, it's different." Harry said firmly. "On the train, Malfoy made a hint... and we immediately thought he knew the dog was you. His father was on the platform, Sirius, you know, Lucius Malfoy, so whatever you do, don't come here. If Draco Malfoy recognises you..."

Hermione unconsciously bit her lip as she thought about how much Draco knew, now.

"Okay, okay, I get it." Sirius replied, clearly displeased. "It was just an idea, I thought you'd like it if we got together again."

"I would, I just don't want you chucked back in Azkaban!" said Harry hotly.

There was a silence during which Sirius, his head in the flames, watched Harry. A crease had formed between his sunken eyes.

"You're less like your father than I thought." he muttered at last, with a distinct coldness in his voice. "For James, it was precisely the risk that was the fun."

"Look..." said Harry, but Sirius interrupted him:

"Well, I'd better be going, I can hear Kreacher coming down the stairs. I'll write and let you know when I can come back and talk to you in the fire, shall I? If you're willing to take that risk..."

There was a little pop! and the flames rose again where Sirius's head had been a moment before.

Hermione and Ron exchanged a worried look, then turned to Harry, who was still watching the flames, his eyebrows furrowed.

Hermione had always adored Sirius. And she knew that Harry saw him as the father figure he'd never had. But she couldn't help, at that moment, finding him a little selfish.

.

.

Draco

.

.

On Monday morning, Draco was quietly eating his breakfast when a piercing scream to his left startled him.

It was Theo. And his eyes were wide, fixed on the front page of the Daily Prophet newspaper.

"What? What's going on?" asked Draco, panicked by this reaction.

A series of headlines came to his mind, each as terrifying as the next. "The Dark Lord strikes again", "Theodore Nott Sr appointed Minister of Magic", or "Narcissa Malfoy found dead in her Manor."

In response, Theo spread the newspaper out on the table so that he could see the headline. Seeing the photo of Dolores Umbridge, dressed in her timeless pink cardigan and her curls framing her round face, with the headline "MINISTRY SEEKS EDUCATIONAL REFORM, DOLORES UMBRAGE APPOINTED FIRST EVER HIGH INQUISITOR.", Draco and Blaise simultaneously let out a huge sigh of relief.

Theo, who hadn't noticed their reactions, yelped:

"This is an outrage! That old harpy is taking over Hogwarts, just as I predicted!"

"Yeah, that's..." began Blaise, but Theo had already opened the newspaper, and was reading the article.

Draco watched his facial expressions change as he read, from outrage, to indignation, to anger, to exasperation, to disgust, and finally, to surprise:

"Draco." Theo called more softly, his eyes still on the lines of the newspaper. "Your father is mentioned."

This managed to tear Draco from his sip of coffee.

"What? What's he saying?"

Theo began to read, in a voice hushed enough for only Blaise and Draco to hear:

"I feel much easier in my mind, now that I know that Dumbledore is being subjected to a fair and objective evaluation," said Mr Lucius Malfoy, 41, speaking from his Wiltshire Manor last night. "Many concerned parents have been worried about some of Dumbledore's eccentric decisions in recent years. Today, we are pleased to know that the Ministry is keeping a close eye on the situation."

Theo did not hesitate to roll his eyes gravely at the end of the sentence.

""Dumbledore's eccentric decisions..."" he muttered. "Was that a reason to bring the second darkest witch of all time in Hogwarts...?"

Theo continued his article in silence, his face hidden by the huge newspaper. Pansy arrived just then, and sat down opposite them with a vague "hello".

"Merlin." began Blaise. "Pansy, you're..."

Draco glanced over and knew immediately what Blaise was talking about. Pansy's complexion was waxy, her eyes bloodshot and her dark circles purple. But for once, she didn't seem particularly concerned about her looks: she was scribbling in a notebook at top speed.

"What are you doing?" asked Draco.

"I'm writing down my dream." she replied, very matter-of-factly.

Draco checked that Theo was still hidden behind his newspaper and too preoccupied with his article to make fun of Pansy.

"What for?" asked Blaise with a smile.

Pansy briefly laid eyes on him with a blasé air:

"Didn't you do the homework?" she asked.

"In Divination? Of course not." Blaise replied with a shrug. "What did you have to do?"

"Keeping a dream journal!" exclaimed Pansy, pointing to her notebook.

"Oh." Blaise replied simply, completely unaffected by his lack of work. "And you do this every day?"

"I've been keeping a dream diary for years." Pansy corrected with a dismissive wave of her hand. "But ever since Professor Trelawney asked us to keep one, I've been writing them down every morning. Maybe some of them are premonitions..."

She then launched into a grand explanation of the study of dreams, to which Draco half-listened. Theo was still reading his article. Only Blaise was listening, shaking his head and asking questions from time to time.

"The only problem..." Pansy said with an overwhelmed sigh after her long explanation. "It's that I don't have anything today."

"You don't remember your dream?" asked Blaise.

"No, I had insomnia." said Pansy, which explained her complexion. "I didn't sleep a wink last night. I think I was in such a hurry to write my dream in my diary that it kept me awake."

"Did you sleep with Daphne?" asked Draco.

"No, she asked me to leave her alone for now..." said Pansy pathetically. Blaise sat up on the bench, alert. "So... I slept alone."

Draco pursed his lips without speaking. The three boys knew very well that Pansy had trouble sleeping alone. Whenever she did, she had insomnia and Draco was sure it had nothing to do with her dream diary. Blaise must have understood her distress, because he cleverly changed the subject:

"And what did you dream about the night before?"

Pansy regained her smile and opened her diary excitedly.

"Well... I dreamt that I was bitten by a squirrel." she said very seriously.

"That would symbolise your desire to steal nuts, wouldn't it?" Theo interrupted, still behind his newspaper.

"Shut up." said Pansy. "I looked it up in the Dream Oracle, and it says that if you dream of an aggressive squirrel, it means that I should "beware of someone who's too curious.""

"Theo." Blaise guessed immediately.

"What?" asked the boy in question, who hadn't followed the conversation.

"Nothing."

"Maybe." said Pansy. "It's probably a premonitory dream, I get them a lot around the time of the full moon..."

She went into her own thoughts, her eyebrows furrowed.

"In any case, I'm happy to skip the Divination." Blaise announced. "I can't remember a single dream I've had for at least a year..."

"Then you'll have to make one up." Theo said suddenly, putting the newspaper back on the table. His face had taken on a solemn expression. "Because Umbridge will be going into the classrooms to inspect the teachers from today."

Blaise raised an eyebrow:

"Really?"

Theo nodded gravely.

"Can I take the horoscopes?" asked Pansy in a light tone, completely unaware of the conversation and Theo's serious tone.

Theo remained indignant all morning. He spent Potions class whispering in Draco's ear about all the reforms Umbridge would be able to implement if she ever replaced Dumbledore, and continued his rant during lunch. Draco quickly got bored and stopped listening.

Blaise, on the other hand, was forced to dig out his old Divination book, which he hadn't opened since third year.

"Make up a dream for me, please." he asked on his way to class. "I'm running out of inspiration. Ideally a catastrophic dream in which my life threatens to come to a screeching halt..."

Pansy gave him an enraged look.

"Quidditch accident." offered Draco.

"Already done." said Blaise, consulting what he had written. "Twenty feet high."

"Your marriage to Filch." Theo tried.

Blaise made a face of disgust.

"No, out of the question."

"Umbridge, Inquisitor of Hogwarts?" offered Theo, his face much darker. "Because that really is a waking nightmare."

The other three rolled their eyes.

Blaise and Pansy eventually went their separate ways, while Theo and Draco headed for Arithmancy. It was the only subject that was hard enough for Theo to finally forget about the whole Inquisitor thing. He spent the hour scribbling formulas on his parchment while Draco lazily read the diagram. He didn't need to work now, because he'd probably do it this weekend, with Granger, in the Library.

Speaking of her, he turned subtly to his left to watch her. The double desk she occupied alone was covered with books, inkwells and parchments. Her fingers were black and her chocolate eyes were analysing the diagram at an impressive rate.

Draco returned to his exercises and could have sworn he felt her gaze on him from time to time. Fighting the urge to smile, he pretended not to notice.

The last class of the day was Defence Against the Dark Arts. Draco had never particularly liked the subject, it reminded him of a certain secret room underneath his Manor. But this year, he had to admit, this class had taken on a new dimension he'd never expected: watching Granger rebel.

It was a thrilling sight, and completely new. Never in five years had he seen Granger respond in any way to a teacher. Even when Snape was clearly putting the Gryffindors at a disadvantage, she had never dared to disagree. But with Umbridge, it was different. She was furious with her. And today was no exception.

She raised her hand as soon as Umbridge began her lesson.

"What is it this time, Miss Granger?" the teacher asked.

Rather than question her in front of everyone, Umbridge had chosen to approach her desk so that no one could hear her remark. Draco had to lean subtly to the left to hear:

"I've already read chapter two." Granger said in a firm voice.

Umbridge stared at her with her beady little eyes.

"Then move on to Chapter three." she said, still in a whisper.

"I've read that too. In fact, I've read the whole book." Granger replied.

Draco was surprised to see that she didn't even blush. In fact, she seemed perfectly calm and determined. He could see the famous Gryffindor flame of "courage" dancing in her eyes and could only admire it.

"Well, in that case, you should be able to tell me again what Slinkhard says about counter-curses in chapter fifteen?" Umbridge asked, convinced she had tricked her.

"He says the term counterspell is a misnomer." Granger replied briskly. "And that people call their own curses "counter-curses" to make them more acceptable."

Umbridge raised her eyebrows, clearly impressed by such a definition. Draco was sure Granger had memorised the book during her interminable day in the Library the day before.

"But I don't agree." Granger continued, bold as ever.

"You don't agree?" repeated Umbridge in surprise.

"No." the Gryffindor replied. "Mr Slinkhard doesn't like curses, but I think they can be very useful when used to defend yourself."

Draco clearly heard Theo's muffled and admiring exclamation from the table he shared with Blaise.

"Oh, you do?" replied Umbridge cynically. She had forgotten to whisper. Now, the whole class was watching the confrontation between the two. "Well, I'm afraid it's Mr Slinkhard's opinion and not yours that matters in this class, Miss Granger."

"But..."

"That's enough." the teacher cut in dryly. She returned to her desk, her lip curled over her teeth in a stern scowl. "Miss Granger, I'm taking five points off Gryffindor House."

There were several indignant murmurs from the class, including Theo's, which went unnoticed. Even Draco felt like protesting, but since he could not, he simply clenched his quill in his fist to vent his frustration.

"And why is that?" interjected Potter sharply.

Draco saw Granger stab him in the rib, as if to warn him to shut up.

"For disrupting my class with untimely interruptions." Umbridge replied in her sweet voice. "I'm here to teach you how to use a method approved by the Ministry, which in no way requires students to express their opinions on subjects they don't understand very well. Your previous teachers may have given you more leeway, but as none of them would have passed the exam, apart from Professor Quirrell, who at least confined himself to studying subjects appropriate to the age of his pupils..."

"Oh yes, he was a great teacher, Quirrell!" interrupted Potter loudly. "His only slight flaw was that he had Lord Voldemort glued to the back of his head."

Draco felt the veins in his neck pulsate at the forbidden name. It was one of the first times he'd heard it out loud. His quill, which he had clenched in his fist, tore and fell to the desk.

The silence that followed this sentence was long, deafening. Everyone held their breath.

"I think another week of detention would do you a world of good, Mr. Potter." said Umbridge in a smooth voice.

Granger closed his eyes for a few seconds, her face scrunched up in anguish. Even Weasley, who had watched the exchange with his mouth ajar like an idiot, sighed in desolation. Potter remained impassive. Draco didn't really understand why the announcement of an extra week's detention was so serious. After all, it wasn't as if he hadn't deserved it.

Blaise, Theo, Crabbe, Goyle and Draco went to dinner quite early. Draco didn't eat much, instead spending the meal watching Granger from the side. She was alone with Weasley, with whom she spoke in a low voice, obviously worried about something. Potter was probably in detention with Umbridge, which seemed to frighten the Gryffindors considerably for some reason that escaped Draco.

Pansy arrived about twenty minutes later. Her complexion was still a little pale, but this time it wasn't fatigue. She seemed particularly wound up. She slammed her dream journal down on the table so hard that Crabbe spilled his sauce all over the front of his uniform.

"You're right, Theo, I hate her!" exclaimed Pansy, sitting down heavily.

The boy looked up eagerly.

"Umbridge?" he asked, a hint of relief in his tone of voice.

"Yes!"

"Because of what she did to Potter?" Theo continued hopefully.

Pansy frowned her perfectly waxed black eyebrows.

"Huh? No, not at all, I don't give a shit about Potter." she said, and Theo's shoulders dropped in disappointment. "No, she came to inspect Professor Trelawney earlier!"

"And?" asked Draco.

"She humiliated her in front of everyone." Blaise explained. "It really wasn't a pretty sight."

"Humiliated her? How?" asked Theo.

"She asked her to make a prediction on the spot, in front of the whole class." Blaise said, shaking his head as if this scene reminded him of a moment of intense discomfort.

"That was disrespectful!" growled Pansy, furious. "The Third Eye can't work on command, everyone knows that! Umbridge knew she couldn't See anything, it was disloyal, and she insulted her whole family tree! As if she wasn't a real psychic when she's descended from Cassandra Trelawney, probably the most famous psychic of all time! I hate this Umbridge!"

Theo seemed both outraged that Pansy could defend the Divination teacher with such gusto, and pleased to have someone who shared his contempt for Umbridge. Just before he launched into another speech about how dangerous this woman could be, Draco asked:

"By the way, Blaise, you didn't tell me how the Quidditch trials went?"

Pansy and Theo turned to him, eager to know the answer as well. Blaise dipped his spoon into his soup, raised it to his lips, took a sip, put it back in the bowl and replied very calmly:

"I didn't go."

"What?" Draco gasped. "But you told me you were going to sign up as a Chaser!"

"You've been wanting to join the team for years!" added Pansy, who was also surprised by this answer.

Blaise just shrugged.

"You didn't even go?" continued Draco, outraged. "What about all that crap this summer about finding techniques, perfecting your game, playing aggressively?"

Blaise shrugged again, disinterested.

"But why?" asked Theo, who never took part in such conversations. "You told me this summer that you dreamed of joining the team!"

"Let's just say I... changed my mind." Blaise replied evasively.

Draco frowned, not knowing what to make of this answer. There was a moment's hesitation, when Pansy and Theo looked just as stunned as he did.

"And besides..." continued Blaise, in a much louder voice. "I certainly wasn't going to sign up for a team where they're Beaters."

He pointed to Crabbe and Goyle beside him, and Theo chuckled.

.

.

Hermione

.

.

The next day, Hermione thought that Harry had finally learned his lesson. That getting angry with Umbridge would only lead to a painful detention.

Unfortunately, Harry was a stubborn, hot-tempered boy. He was given another evening detention for a comment he made during an inspection by Professor Grubbly-Plank.

"Harry!" cried Hermione as soon as the lesson was over. "You've got to stop provoking her, she'll never stop giving you detentions!"

"It's Malfoy, he's pissed me off!" snapped Harry as he stormed back up to the Castle.

"I know, Harry, I know he can be annoying..." Hermione admitted, though Harry must not have realised the depth of her words. "But you have to stop retaliating, it's all she's waiting for and it doesn't help you!"

She pointed at the back of Harry's hand, which was covered in reddish scars.

"I know that, Hermione!" he spat.

Hermione almost stopped when she heard Harry's tone. She understood that he was upset, but the fact that he was lashing out at her and Ron was really upsetting.

They arrived at the Common Room and Harry quickly changed before going into Umbridge's study. He passed the table she shared with Ron and gave them a quick wave goodbye. Hermione noticed that he had brought a scarf with him and gasped slightly when she realised what it was for.

"We have to do something." she announced to Ron after Harry had left. "About this Umbridge. This can't go on."

Ron nodded in agreement.

"We have to convince Harry." she decided. "He has to tell someone. I'm sure if McGonagall found out..."

"He'll never agree." Ron muttered ruefully. "Last time, he told me he didn't want to give her "the satisfaction of reaching him." You know Harry, he'll feel like he's showing his weakness, like he's surrendering..."

"So what can we do?" Hermione asked with a sigh.

Ron wrinkled his nose in thought. After a few seconds, he said in a whisper:

"We have to change his perspective. He hates her so much that he thinks he's getting the upper hand by answering her like that, when it's the other way around. He's the one getting his hand slaughtered every night, not her. If we can find another way for him to get his revenge without him getting arrested... I think that might give him the satisfaction he's looking for."

Hermione rounded her eyes slightly at hearing such an ingenious plan from Ron. He seemed to have put a lot of thought into it and she could see how worried he was about Harry. She nodded:

"You're right. That's exactly what we should do..."

"I'll ask Fred and George for their advice." Ron said, getting up from his chair. "See if they have any ideas on how we can get revenge..."

Hermione watched as he crossed the Common Room in a few strides to find his brothers, who were playing a game of Exploding Snap by the fireplace.

Something about Ron's sentence had caught her attention. That desire for revenge. Hermione had already thought of it when she had caught the cut on Harry's hand. She knew that Harry needed to make Umbridge pay, and she completely understood why. But how to do it? How do you get back at a woman who was gaining more and more power in the school?

The urge to go to McGonagall behind Harry's back was tempting, but Hermione knew she couldn't do it. Harry would see it as a betrayal, and she had already suffered the consequences of their ignorance in third year for the same reason. She had to find a solution on her own, one that would help Harry vent his anger...

She thought about it all evening. She didn't go to the Library, too preoccupied to do so. During dinner, she nibbled without paying attention to the conversations around her, then knitted on her favourite sofa, her mind still elsewhere. She thought of Harry a few floors below, gritting his teeth to keep from showing any pain as Umbridge's quill slowly and relentlessly slaughtered his hand, and shuddered.

She hated that feeling. She hated feeling useless, powerless. She didn't know how to help Harry and it was driving her mad.

"Hermione? Where are you going?" asked Ron, surprised to see her suddenly get up from the couch.

"I have to get out." she said. "I'm going crazy in here. I've got to... I need to find something."

Seeing her heading for the painting of the Fat Lady, Ron exclaimed:

"Mione, it's almost eleven at night!"

"I will say I'm on prefect rounds!" she said over her shoulder as she left the Room.

She found herself in the empty corridor on the seventh floor, with nowhere to go. She desperately wanted to do something, anything, to help Harry. She wanted to go to Umbridge's office and beg her to trade places with her, but she knew it would be useless. And Umbridge wouldn't hesitate to punish her, too.

She turned around for a few moments, not knowing what to do. Usually, when she needed a solution, she would seek refuge in the Library, but she realised to her horror that she wouldn't find anything there, because the answer wasn't in the books. What's more, the Library was now synonymous with Draco, and asking him for advice was out of the question. She already knew his answer and hearing him repeat over and over again that Harry was stupid wasn't going to help.

Hermione walked slowly down the stairs. If she couldn't find a way to help Harry, at least she could heal his wounds. His hand was cut deep and there was no time for it to heal before the wound reopened every night. Hermione decided to find some Essence of Dittany to calm him down a little, so she went to the dungeons.

She got there without meeting anyone, apart from a few ghosts who paid her no mind. She reached the damp corridor and silently drew her wand to light the way. Halfway down the corridor, she wished she'd taken Harry's Invisibility Cloak with her: she'd been in such a hurry to get out of the room that she'd forgotten what was most important.

Hermione arrived at Snape's potions supply room and stood looking at the door. Her heart was pounding in her chest, and she could feel her cheeks burning in the dark. Technically, she'd only broken the school rules a handful of times. She'd stolen from Snape in second year to get the ingredients for the Polyjuice Potion. She'd seen Draco do it too, but she'd been far too drunk to realise what he was doing.

This time she was alone. And she was afraid of being caught.

But helping Harry was more important.

She cautiously approached the door, pointed her wand at the lock and whispered:

"Alohomora."

She heard the "click" of the lock and opened the door gently. There was no sound in the corridor, so her every move echoed off the rounded walls of the dungeons. She opened the door wide enough to see the shelves where hundreds of jars lay, inspecting each one for the Essence of Dittany.

Finally she saw it, a small vial of greenish potion, at the top of the cupboard. She pointed her wand at it and said:

"Accio."

The phial flew into her open palm. She studied it for a few seconds when the sound of a door behind her startled her.

Hermione spun on her heels, catching her breath, and came face to face with a boy. At first, she couldn't make out who it was because of the darkness.

"Granger?" he called into the darkness, his eyebrows furrowed. "What are you doing here?"

Hermione raised her wand gently, illuminating the confused face of the boy before her for a second.

Theodore Nott.