Hermione

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Hermione consulted her watch. 11.45pm.

Before, the prospect of going out after curfew would have been unthinkable to Hermione. She remembered her own horror when Harry had told her that he planned to go down through the trapdoor that Fluffy had kept in first year. She'd been more frightened by the thought of a teacher catching him than by what was under the trapdoor. But when she read the note, Hermione had no hesitation. She pulled on a jumper over her pyjamas, grabbed her wand and a jar of jam Danny had sent her, and prayed that Harry was asleep and not consulting the Marauder's Map to find Cho.

For there he'd see Hermione's point coming dangerously close to her nemesis, in the middle of the night.

She emerged silently and descended the stairs to the deserted Common Room. The fire had died down, leaving a few reddish embers that barely illuminated the sofa. She exited through the sleeping board and slipped discreetly down the stairs to the Astronomy Tower. She knew it would be foolish to light her wand, as a beam of light at this hour would inevitably attract Filch, so she stayed in the dark, groping ahead so as not to fall if she missed a step.

The higher she climbed, the more the icy wind hit Hermione, who struggled to keep her eyes open. Slowly she climbed the steps and opened the door to the Astronomy platform. There was no one there, except for a tall boy with wind-blown blond hair, leaning against the railing with his back to her.

Hermione closed the door and approached him with muffled steps.

"Draco." she called when she was only two steps away from him.

She thought his name would mingle with the wind that blew across the platform, but Draco heard her. He turned and his grey eyes immediately fell on her hair and lit up.

"Oh, fuck." he blurted out unintentionally.

Hermione imagined the state she must have been in at such a late hour. She reflexively rubbed at her dark circles in the vain hope of making them disappear.

"Sorry, I..."

"Your braids." he said, pointing to her hair. "That's... my favourite hairstyle of yours. It had a way of driving me crazy in the early years."

He reached out and took one between his two fingers, looking at it with such touching attention that Hermione felt her heart capsize.

"You said they were awful." she accused quietly, remembering the cruel words he'd used so often to describe her hair.

Draco chuckled merrily:

"I was just scared that you would know what I really thought of you." he explained in a low voice. "I wanted you to think I thought it was horrible so you wouldn't realise how beautiful I thought you were. Still, it was obvious. I couldn't take my eyes off you when you had those braids."

She smiled shyly and he continued to stare at her hair. Clearly, he still hadn't lost the habit. His eyes then slid over her mouth and Hermione wondered if he wasn't going to move closer and kiss her, but instead he pointed to her jumper:

"You're going to get cold, better light your jam jar." he advised.

Only then did Hermione realise how cold she was. December weather was unforgiving, especially in the highest part of Hogwarts. Hermione already had goose bumps. She picked up her glass and sent a spray of blue flames into it. It warmed her fingers a little, but the rest of her body continued to shake. She handed the jar to Draco, but he shook his head.

"We'll take turns." she decided. "Otherwise you'll freeze to death."

"I'm not cold." he said with a shrug, as if he wasn't standing in the middle of several icy gusts.

"Liar."

"You need it more than I do." he insisted.

Hermione rolled her eyes and shoved the glass against his stomach:

"God, take the bloody jam!" she squealed, suddenly annoyed.

Draco, on the other hand, grinned at her irritation.

"I thought you were mad at me?" he asked, clutching the jar close to him.

"That doesn't mean I want you to freeze to death on top of the Astronomy Tower." she said.

Draco watched as the small fire licked the glass. The blue reflection of the flames mixed with the colour of his eyes. They were no longer grey.

"Why did you ask me to come here?" she asked, looking at the platform around them.

Hearing this question, Draco did something Hermione had only seen once in her entire existence. He blushed. And Hermione thought it was a reaction to the sudden warmth of her flames on his cold skin, until he lowered his eyes in embarrassment. Shy Draco. One of her favourites. The most human of all the Dracos she knew.

"Er, well..." he stammered. "I've... I've prepared something for you."

"Prepared? What is it?" asked Hermione, not expecting such an answer.

He was fidgeting with his hands, just as Theo had done the day before. She wondered which of them had picked up the other's tic.

"Earlier you asked me to fix my mistake." Draco said without looking at her. "And I thought about coming to the bench to apologise, but I don't think that's enough. I wanted to prove how much you mean to me, so... I prepared... a date."

He whispered the last word as if he was afraid she'd burst out laughing when she heard it. But Hermione had no desire to laugh at him; she could hardly have found a better reason for coming here.

"A date?" she repeated, unable to hide the excitement in her voice. "Here?"

"Yes..." he murmured, looking up at the Astronomy Tower as if regretting his choice. "I know it's late and cold and all that, but... I didn't want us to go into the Christmas holidays without really talking to you." He dipped his eyes into hers. "I've missed you, Hermione."

Hermione felt her legs weaken as she heard him pronounce her first name like that. She'd always loved it when he called her Granger, because he had a way of doing it that set him apart from the others, but hearing her first name come out of his mouth sent a veritable electric current through her body. Her magic revived instantly, sending a pleasant dose of warmth down her arms, making her goosebumps disappear.

"I've missed you too." she confessed.

She saw Draco's features relax a little when he heard her say that. His cheeks were still rosy with embarrassment, which made Hermione feel the opposite reaction to the anger she should feel for him. It was hard to be angry with him when he was that cute.

Suddenly he raised his wand and a hundred tiny lights lit up the platform floor and balustrade. Hermione took her eyes off him to look around, speechless. When they were all lit, it was as if they were surrounded by garlands of gold. Hermione approached the balustrade and realised that the little beams were actually fairies.

"I stole them from the Christmas tree in the Common Room." Draco explained with a smile when he saw her reaction.

"It's beautiful." Hermione breathed.

The lights produced by the fairies gave off a golden glow that illuminated the entire platform, the same colour as Draco's hair, and spread a tepidness that managed to stop the Gryffindor's shivering. She was so caught up in the spectacle that she didn't notice the green blanket Draco had laid in the centre of the Astronomy platform.

"Here." he said, handing her a chocolate muffin.

"Oh my God, Draco, did you pack a picnic?" she asked, turning around.

"No, not much..."

He pulled out a bottle of pumpkin juice, two glasses, another muffin and Sugar Quills, Hermione's favourite candy, and placed them on the tablecloth. Hermione sat down across from him, her eyes wide as she looked at the feast. It certainly wasn't "not much". For her, it was the best picnic of her life.

"Wow, that's... Thank you, Draco." she said, emotion seeping into her voice beyond her control.

He shrugged again, but Hermione could see he was a little proud.

"Eat." he said, his arm still outstretched for her to take the muffin.

Hermione grabbed it and bit into it, and the chocolate melted on her tongue. She hadn't realised how hungry she was. Seeing her eat, Draco seemed satisfied and took a bite of the other muffin.

"So... where are you going for the break?" he asked to fill the silence.

Hermione stopped herself from bursting out laughing. The difference between their conversation in the broom cupboard and this one was striking. Draco looked troubled, as if he wasn't sure if he was doing or saying the right thing. When he poured the juice into his glass, he spilled it all over the place. It was the first time she'd seen him like this, awkward, shy, and she was almost tempted to point it out, but refrained so as not to embarrass him any further.

"I'm going to the Alps with my parents." she said instead.

"Oh." he replied, handing her the glass of pumpkin juice he'd just poured for her. "The Alps of France or Italy?"

"France."

"What will you be doing there?"

"Skiing." she replied, and seeing the disbelief on his face, she explained, "It's a Muggle sport. You strap wooden planks to your feet and slide down the sides of snow-covered mountains."

Draco looked at her over the top of his glass for a second, then burst out laughing, almost spilling his juice on the tablecloth. Hermione felt a twinge of annoyance when she saw he had the same reaction as Ron.

"Hey!" she snapped indignantly in her high-pitched voice, which she clearly couldn't control. "Don't mock me, you know it's a very important sport in Muggle culture..."

"Oh, I'm not questioning the sport, Granger." Draco scoffed. "I'm just laughing because it's hilarious to imagine you doing it."

"And why is that?" she asked, nose in the air, her ego pricked.

"Because you're afraid of heights." he explained, as if it was obvious. "The idea of you going down a snowy slope on planks, without any control, is a very funny image. And that's why you hate skiing, but you don't dare say so for fear your parents will take it badly, or Potter and Weasley will laugh at you. Am I right?"

Hermione swallowed her sip of juice slowly. He had been right on target. It was disturbing, the way Draco was able to analyse her.

"Er... it's true I don't particularly like it." she said reluctantly. "But since I turned it down last year, I couldn't see myself cancelling again."

Draco rolled his eyes at this reason.

"Granger, it's just the two of us here." he said, gesturing around. "There's no one to please. Admit it. You hate skiing."

Hermione felt a smile animate the corner of her lips against her will.

"I don't like skiing." she confessed.

"So you're going to spend your holiday doing a sport you don't like." Draco concluded. "See? Hilarious."

"What about you?" asked Hermione. "Are you coming home for the break?"

She already knew the answer, but the shadow of seriousness that fell over his face was enough. He poured himself another glass of juice to avoid looking at her.

"Yeah." he said finally. "Yeah, I'm going home."

"Are you going to spend Christmas with your parents?" asked Hermione, hoping the question wasn't so intrusive that he shut down completely.

Draco picked up the muffin and tore off a few pieces, which fell onto the tablecloth. When he remained silent, Hermione realised he wasn't going to answer her question. She was surprised when he hesitantly explained:

"Every year, my parents organise a huge ball and invite half the Pureblood population of the country. So, every year, I have to be there to shake the hand of every person who enters my house with a fake smile on their face. I hate it."

"Oh." Hermione said. She didn't know anything about Pureblood traditions, but she suspected it was an event reserved for the biggest "sacred" families, because she'd never heard the Weasleys talk about it. "So Pansy's going to be there, right? And Blaise?"

It was the first time she'd called them by their first names. Draco didn't point it out.

"Pansy will be there, with her father. Blaise isn't invited anymore. It's... it's complicated."

Hermione felt that the conversation was hurting him, so she stopped talking about it and finished her muffin in silence.

"I've got a surprise for you." he announced suddenly.

Hermione lifted her head and arched an eyebrow, pointing to the improvised picnic:

"Isn't that the surprise?"

"Not really." he said, regaining his smile. "This is just the first part. Finish your juice, I'm taking you somewhere."

Hermione, who had no idea what he was up to, drank the last of the pumpkin juice in one gulp and stood up without understanding. Draco took her hand and she wondered if he could feel the trembling that had nothing to do with the gusts of wind. They approached the railing.

"What are you...?" she asked but Draco cut her off:

"Always with the questions, Granger. Look, enjoy the view."

Hermione looked off into the distance. The valley that surrounded Hogwarts stretched as far as the eye could see. The reflection of the moon, round and full, was drawn on the icy surface of the Black Lake.

Suddenly, Draco put both hands on the railing and leaned forward.

"Draco!" Hermione squealed as she saw him.

"Accio." he whispered into the wind.

Hermione barely had time to hear what he had just done before something flew towards them. She recognised the horned silhouette of his Nimbus 2001. Her exhausted brain finally understood and she recoiled in horror.

"No." she said firmly. "No. Absolutely not."

"Come on, Granger, hop in." he said, taking the broom.

"Draco, no way." she repeated. "I'm not getting on that broom."

"Why?" asked Draco.

"Because I'm afraid of heights." she said, separating each syllable as if he didn't understand her language. "I hate heights and broomsticks in general. And you know that very well!"

"You won't be afraid of heights with me." he said confidently. The shy Draco was gone. "I'm an excellent pilot."

"Unless you intend to fly less than ten centimetres above the ground, allow me to seriously doubt it."

"Try it!" Draco insisted. "If you don't like it, or if you feel unwell, I promise I'll come down. You won't be afraid. Come with me."

Hermione crossed her arms over her chest to show her refusal. Draco rolled his eyes and straddled the broom with one hand.

"I thought you were a brave Gryffindor who didn't need anyone and wasn't afraid of anything?" he called back in a mocking tone.

"You're not going to get me at this little game." Hermione said, although she felt the sentence land painfully in the pit of her stomach.

"Granger, I planned this whole date with the sole purpose of showing you what a broom ride looks like." he said in a calm voice, far too calm for someone about to take off from the highest tower in the Castle. "I promise you, everything will be fine. You do trust me, don't you?"

He gave her a broad smile and she rolled her eyes:

"You can't use that argument."

"Yes, I can. Come on, jump in."

Sometimes Hermione hated her curiosity. She was afraid of heights, she hated it, why did she want to try it with Draco? It would be just as terrifying as the other times she'd climbed on a broom. Why had her curiosity replaced her fear? Hermione's feet moved forward without her consent. Her entire lower body was convulsing with uncontrollable trembling, cold and fear.

"No loops." she warned in a voice she hoped was full of menace. "No dives. No sudden acceleration. No sudden braking. Not too high."

"Yes, yes, yes." Draco said, half humming. "Get on."

Against all odds, her body responded and she swung her leg over the handle to sit behind him. It was very uncomfortable; she wondered how Draco, Harry, Ron, Ginny and the twins could stand it for hours without complaining. Her thighs were already aching and she felt like she was slipping when they hadn't even moved. Draco gently lifted his foot from the ground and the broom stirred beneath her: out of reflex, she clung to Draco with all her might.

"Ouch, okay, Granger, I'm going to need my arms to fly." he warned with a choked laugh.

He took her clenched hands and brought them down to encircle his waist. He turned to look at her, a wry smile crossing his gorgeous profile. Hermione hated the fact that he was so in control at this moment.

"Ready?" he asked.

"No." Hermione replied immediately, the sound camouflaged by his jumper against her lips.

"Here we go."

They climbed up, just enough to clear the railing, and Hermione let out the most pathetic moan she'd ever heard from her own throat. The broom kept moving, so she closed her eyes tightly and pressed herself even tighter against Draco's back. He smelled of mint and she concentrated on the scent to distract herself from the emptiness beneath her.

She could feel the wind rushing through her clothes, but strangely, it wasn't as terrible as she'd imagined. She'd expected to be blown all over the place, but the broom was quite stable. She could feel Draco's muscles rolling under her cheek as he lifted the 2001 Nimbus. After a long moment of silent suffering, he stopped and straightened.

"Open your eyes, Granger." he said.

"How do you know they're closed?" she asked imperiously, even though her face was buried in his jumper and her eyes were, indeed, closed.

"Because I know you." Draco teased.

Hermione was slow to comply, but when she did, no sound came from her mouth. She gazed in wonder at the expanse of the Lake before her, the trees that lined the Forbidden Forest, and most of all, the millions of stars that shone in the sky. Hermione had never been so close to them, as if she could touch them just by raising her arm.

"Oh." she said after a few seconds, more of a stammer than anything else.

"See? I told you it was worth it." Draco said with a touch of pretentiousness.

He let her look at the scenery for a few minutes without saying anything. As her eyes adjusted to the dim light, Hermione could make out the shape of Hagrid's hut, just outside the forest, its roof covered with a huge layer of snow. It looked very small from this height. A little further on, she could recognise the outline of Hogsmeade Station.

"Go back a bit." Draco ordered suddenly.

"Excuse me?" Hermione asked, suddenly remembering what she was holding on to. Her fingers tightened on his jumper again.

"Move back, I'll face you."

Hermione wanted to protest, but there was no time. He turned on the broom as if it were easy, as if they weren't more than seventy metres above the ground. He swung his leg to the other side as easily as if he'd been on the ground. Hermione was forced to hold on to the handle of the Nimbus with a small cry of fright.

"Merlin, Granger, you're all white." Draco commented as he came face to face with her.

"No kidding?" she replied ironically. "I'm afraid of heights."

"Don't look down, look at me." he advised calmly.

Hermione did so, and when she met his blue eyes, which contrasted with the black sky and white ground, she suddenly forgot her fear.

"Look at you!" he exclaimed, pointing at her. "You're flying! It's not so scary after all, is it?"

And he was right. She remembered her phobia of first year flying lessons, and her horror when Fred and George had dared her to ride a broom in Grimmauld Square. Oddly enough, flying with Draco wasn't as terrifying as she'd thought it would be, even though they were higher than any of the times Hermione had had to deal with her vertigo. But not wanting to prove him right, she shook her head resolutely, and he let out a laugh close to a sigh.

Draco pulled the jam jar from his pocket and floated it between the two of them, then made a circle around them with his wand:

"Intactum!"

Immediately the gusts around them died down and Hermione recognised the Imperturbable Charm that Molly had used over the summer to create an invisible barrier between Square Grimmauld's kitchen door and the rest of the house. There, it was like the wind was bouncing off a bubble, muffling the sound and preserving the warmth of Hermione's blue flames. Hermione felt a small pang of jealousy at the thought of Draco being able to cast this spell so easily: she was incapable of it.

"So?" asked Draco, settling into a comfortable position on the broom. "Are you going to tell me what you were doing with Theo?"

Hermione hiccupped in surprise:

"Draco Malfoy, did you just pin me down on your broom in the middle of nowhere to interrogate me?" she exclaimed, scandalised.

She expected him to reply in a scathing voice, but he laughed. A real laugh, lost in the wintry air around them, that relaxed Hermione as soon as she heard it.

The boy was indecipherable.

"No, I suppose not." he said after a time. "Hard to blame you, when you look like that."

He pointed at her with a wave of his hand and Hermione laughed gleefully:

"What, tense, all red, about to throw up?"

Draco approached her, still smiling.

"No." he said, brushing her braid with his fingertips. "Brave."

Hermione found it hard to think of herself as brave at the moment. Her legs and fingers were so tight around the handle that she was starting to cramp.

"For someone who's afraid of heights, you're doing very well." he remarked, not a hint of mockery in his tone. He was genuinely impressed. "Ready to join the Gryffindor team."

"Oh no, I wouldn't want to steal Harry's thunder. He beats you so well." she said cheekily, analysing the way Draco's smirk turned into an indignant grimace.

"Careful Granger." he warned, but Hermione could see he was about to laugh. "You're pretty cheeky for someone sitting on a Seeker's broom. What's stopping me from swooping down to the Lake?"

He pointed to the Black Lake below them, but Hermione didn't dare look down. She continued to stare at him with a shrug:

"I trust you."

An almost smug expression replaced his grimace. Hermione enjoyed their spontaneous exchanges more than she should, the searing retorts they threw back and forth like tennis. She'd always secretly loved it.

"Actually, I wanted to bring you here to tell you something. I guess I cornered myself so I could tell you without being able to run away." Draco confessed.

This made Hermione curious. Ignoring the pain in her knuckles, she listened intently.

He ran a hand through his hair, as he always did when he wanted to confide in her, and the next few seconds passed in stony silence.

"You're right." he finally said.

Hermione frowned:

"About...?"

"I've been thinking a lot about what you said in that broom cupboard." he continued, choosing to stare into the flames of the jam jar rather than at her. "And I think it's like London. I knew I couldn't come and see you, I knew it was against all the rules, that I was risking a lot by doing it. If my family had found out I wasn't there, if Lucius had realised I was wandering around London among the Muggles, I... I can't even imagine what would have happened to me."

Hermione shuddered as she imagined the punishment he would have received. He blamed her for her Gryffindor bravery all the time, but Hermione thought he was as brave as she was, especially that day.

"But... I didn't really have a choice." Draco said with a half-smile on his lips. "It wasn't a dilemma. It wasn't even a question. I had to see you. It was primal, visceral even. From the moment I began to worry about you, I had no choice but to seek you out. It was no longer "Do I break the rules to check on her?" It was "How can I break the rules to check on her?", you know?"

Hermione nodded without speaking, too transfixed by his words to respond with something intelligent.

"When I told you to let me go out with Weasley, or Goldstein, or any of those other assholes... (she clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth to rebuke him for his rudeness, but he didn't rectify), I knew it was the right decision. That it was what I had to do, for your sake. But even though I know it... I can't. It's physically impossible to be away from you. I can't stand it, it's eating me up inside, destroying me bit by bit."

Draco finally looked up from the jar and stared at her, looking more miserable than ever. Hermione felt an urgent urge to move closer and take him in her arms.

"When I saw you with Theo at that table in the Library..." he murmured, his voice full of hurt that crept up on her painfully. "I wasn't jealous because I was afraid you were falling in love with him. I was jealous, because he had a right to be your friend. To talk to you, to hear you laugh, to listen to you talk about poetry and Muggle culture, and I was jealous, fuck, I was furious that it was Theo at the table and not me. That he could have this and I couldn't."

She saw his hand twitch on the handle of the Nimbus, and he closed his eyes for a second, as if to banish the painful thought.

"And that's why I'm all for it, now." he finished, the sadness suddenly gone from his eyelids. "It's selfish, and I'll probably regret it when the time comes, I know it'll hurt us. I know it will. But I accept it, Granger. I'm yours. Because I can't live without you. Let's make the most of the time we have left."

Hermione's breath caught as she heard those last words, the ones she'd been waiting to hear for months.

"Really?" she asked, almost afraid he would change his mind.

"Really." he assured her. "I will fight for you, for us. And I promise I'll protect you. Always. Even if the world is against us, I'll protect you. You'll always be my reason, my first, before anything else."

As if to back up his words, he looked up at the sky they were almost skimming. They were above everything, literally. Away from the war, away from the Dark Lord. In their own bubble.

"Malfoy's word and all that." he added with a smile, echoing his own words from years past, during their countless promises and challenges to each other. This time, however, his words seemed the most sincere of all.

Hermione felt the relief of his words relax her muscles one by one, allowing her to sit up straight. They looked at each other in silence for a few seconds.

Hermione could think of nothing so beautiful, so strong to say. She couldn't express her joy at hearing such a promise. Her emotions were mixing and she couldn't understand them; her brain was in turmoil.

She thought of Harry and Ron, a few feet below her, who had no idea that she was so intensely attached to a boy, and that the boy in question was the Slytherin they had openly hated for years. The guilt immediately returned to her stomach, like an anvil reminding her that what she was doing was wrong.

"I'm glad you changed your mind, Draco, I really am, but..." She bit her lip and looked at the Gryffindor tower to her right. All the windows were dark.

He seemed to understand what she was feeling without her having to put it into words.

"I know. I'm sorry." he said with a sad smile. "I know I've hurt you lately, and I'd like to tell you it won't happen again, but that would be a lie."

"I don't care if you hurt me." Hermione said, and he showed a surprised expression. "As long as you're trying to get better, that's all that matters. I don't care about your tantrums, your fears, your jealousy. I can handle them."

Her voice was so full of certainty that Draco remained silent.

"What I can't handle is you making fun of my friends." she stated more firmly. "I've told you before, Draco, but attacking Harry, Ron, Ginny, Neville, the twins, that's out of bounds. It's hard enough for me to live with the guilt of keeping such a secret from them, if you continue to hate them so openly, it will never work."

She pointed at the space between them, but caught herself on the broomstick far too quickly to complete the gesture. Draco looked at her with a mixture of concern and annoyance in his eyes. She could see the grey slowly filling his pupils, like a blooming flower.

"When you insult Ron, Ginny, Fred and George's mother, you're not just insulting the Weasleys. You're insulting me, Draco. For the woman you criticise, Molly, is the woman who took me into her home, who welcomed me into her family of wizards, even though I had no heritage, no trace of magic in my family tree. If you insult Harry's mother, you're not just insulting your Quidditch opponent, you're insulting the memory of a woman who sacrificed herself for her son, the woman who saved the wizarding world."

She saw Draco run his tongue over his teeth, as if to control himself from retorting too quickly, too spitefully.

"Let me be clear, Granger." he said, his voice filled with a coldness that hadn't been there a few seconds earlier. "I apologise to you, because I don't want to hurt you. Only you. All I care about, and all I have ever cared about, is you. No one else."

"If I insulted Pansy's mother in front of you, how would you react?" she asked, seeing that her words had hit a nerve as he winced and shook the broom between his thighs.

"That's different." he spat.

"I don't see how."

Draco tangled his hand in his hair, sighed and surrendered. His jaw relaxed and when he looked at her again, his eyes were blue.

"Granger, you're the person I've asked forgiveness from the most in my life, because you're the one whose forgiveness means the most to me. When I tell you I'm sorry, it's not empty words, it's not a meaningless promise just so I can have you again. When I cast that spell on your teeth, when I made that silly badge to make fun of Potter, when I insulted Hagrid... I apologised, because I couldn't live with myself if you were angry with me. And you're the one who's forgiven me the most, Merlin knows why. If I'd done half the things I did to you to Pansy, she'd probably never speak to me again. I don't underestimate your trust in me, I value it, even if I don't really know what I've done to deserve it."

"You're not a bad person, Draco." she replied in a soft voice. "You're just someone with bad influences who doesn't know how to react when things aren't right. You throw out mean things to hide your true pain, and I understand that, Draco. I understand why you do it, but I can't tolerate it. You promised me you wouldn't insult Harry and Ron anymore, and you've broken your promise."

These words, she saw, had a considerable effect on Draco. He tried to hide the sadness he felt, but she saw it, that flash of grief that crossed his face as he realised he'd broken his promise. He didn't try to argue that it was for Quidditch. He looked up at the stars above his head and let Hermione's words sink in, as if he wanted to remember this particular moment for the future.

"I'm sorry I broke my promise." he finally whispered.

"Are you sorry for insulting Ron's mother?" asked Hermione.

Draco's face darkened.

"No."

"What?"

"I don't give a fuck about Potter and Weasley." he blurted out, the violence of his words making Hermione tense up even more on the broom. "I'm sorry, Granger, but it's true. I'm not going to apologise for it, if I don't feel sorry for them. I apologise for breaking our promise, but I don't regret for a second what I said after the match. Potter deserved it, and Fred Weasley deserved far worse."

"That's not true." Hermione replied stubbornly, who couldn't stand to hear Draco speak ill of her dearest friends. "Do you think Ron deserved that song?"

"I didn't write that song." he said flatly.

"Well, you didn't seem offended by it." Hermione protested.

"It's Quidditch." Draco replied with a shrug, as if that was a good reason. "Sometimes you have to destabilise your opponent. Do you think your Viktor plays nice? That he hugs members of the opposing team when he loses?"

"Stop calling him that." Hermione hissed.

She wanted to tell him that he sounded like Ron when he said that, but she was far too high to afford it. Draco was certainly capable of letting his anger get the better of him and doing a loop.

Draco lowered his head back and looked up at the stars again, taking deep breaths. Hermione understood that he was trying to calm down and let him do so without speaking, watching his Adam's apple rise up his throat with each breath.

After a long moment he straightened up, locked eyes with hers and continued in a much softer voice:

"I know you don't agree with me. But the difference between you and me is that you see too much good in people. I'm not complaining, it's the greatest fucking blessing in my life to know that Hermione Granger can see some good in me. But I'm not like you. I hate Potter and all the Weasleys, and it's mutual. You're so far gone you can't see my point of view, you only see Potter's and the Weasleys', and I'm not asking you to change that, because I know you love them and I respect that. But don't ask me to like them, because I probably never will."

"You can't hate Harry and Ron and love me." Hermione said shaking her head.

Draco raised an eyebrow:

"I do. You're your own person Granger. You don't like Pansy, yet she's one of the most important people in my life, she's part of my family."

"How can you hate my family?" she asked, her voice getting lower and lower.

Her eyes widened a little and Hermione realised that her sentence had a double meaning. Harry and Ron, and her parents. Her blood. But she didn't correct herself. Her question hung there for a second, and Draco didn't know what to say, so Hermione cut him off:

"I'm going to need some time to forgive you." she admitted. "I'm still angry with you. If you want my forgiveness, you must also apologise to Harry and Ron. I understand it was a Quidditch match, but you went too far, and you need to realise that, Draco. This wasn't just a House rivalry, it was personal. And if I can't insult your family, you shouldn't be able to insult mine." He opened his mouth to challenge, but Hermione cut him off before he could say a word: "But... I know it's a big step for you to confide in me like this. Just a few months ago I could barely get three words out of you, and now you're able to express your feelings, and... I... I'm proud of you, Draco."

She winced slightly as she realised what she'd just said. She half expected him to sneer when he heard that, as if it mattered to him that she was proud of him. This was Draco Malfoy, the arrogant, stubborn, angry boy. What did he care about her pride?

But he wasn't laughing. All his anger melted from his face and he looked at her in silence, almost... emotional?

Hermione couldn't put into words how she really felt, but she didn't need to. For Draco slid down the broomstick, placed both of his icy palms on her cheeks and pulled her towards him to kiss her.

As soon as their lips touched, Hermione no longer felt an ounce of dizziness. Her hands automatically came off the broom to mingle with his hair and she unconsciously moved closer to him, even wrapping her legs around his waist to press herself against him. Draco let out a hoarse, primal sound, as if he was struggling to contain his joy at the thought of her close to him, and it set fire to every nerve in Hermione's body.

This kiss, Hermione realised, was nothing like the other two. The first had been intense, fiery, full of unacknowledged rage, and had exploded the tension that had built up between them in such a violent way that their magic had spurted out without them being able to control it. The second had been desperate, almost a plea. Hermione had kissed him to convince him to come back, to convey her longing. She had wanted to show him, beyond words, how much she loved him.

This one was the sweetest of all, and Hermione decided on the spot that it was her favourite. Their first real kiss. It was equal, neither trying to get the better of the other. It was intense, but not because of any emotion they were trying to get rid of, there was no hidden message, it was just Hermione and Draco, in their purest sincerity, finally free of the constant weight on them.

Draco had put his hand behind her to steady the broom, but Hermione suddenly didn't care about her balance. He could turn her upside down, she'd probably still kiss him. They were already falling. And she wasn't afraid of falling. Only the impact at the end.

But what was the point of thinking about the future when the present was so good?

She pulled away from him to catch her breath, but didn't change position, half straddling him, her hands still in his hair. Draco rested his forehead against hers, his skin giving off that sweet, minty scent she now found on her tongue. He, too, was out of breath.

When she lifted her nose to look at him through her lashes, she noticed that his eyes were a deep blue, as hypnotic as ever, even at this height, even when the wind threatened to blow them off the broomstick.

"That colour. It's my favourite." she blurted out, not even realising she'd said it aloud.

"Which one?" he asked, glancing up at the moon and the black sky.

"Harry asked me a few days ago what my favourite colour was and I said brown, like the Library, or cinnamon tea, or old books." she said, barely aware of what she was saying as she was literally floating in the clouds. "But I think I lied. It's blue, now. Ocean blue, the blue of your eyes when you're Draco. Not the fake Draco, not Malfoy, Draco, the real one. My Draco."

She smiled, but he recoiled slightly and his mouth twisted into a guilty expression. He stepped back and Hermione's hand at his neck fell to the broomstick.

"Well, Granger, about that..." he said, suddenly hesitant, as if every word he was about to say had to be said with care. He ran a hand through his hair and looked away from her. "There's something I need to tell you. I've wanted to for a long time, but I've never found the right moment, and I wasn't planning on telling you tonight, but it's killing me to keep the truth from you like this."

Without knowing why, Hermione had a hunch. Before he could open his mouth again, she asked:

"Is it something to do with the state you were in last Thursday after the Library?"

His eyes widened and she knew she'd hit the nail on the head. There had definitely been something strange about his behaviour. It wasn't just fatigue, there was a logical explanation.

"Those aren't the Alchemy classes you're taking on Thursday nights." she guessed. "Is it?"

Hermione could see admiration and fear fighting it out in Draco's blue eyes.

"No." he blurted out after several seconds of silence. "No, it's not... How do you know?"

Hermione made a sloppy shoulder movement:

"Well, some people say I'm the brightest witch of my generation."

Draco chuckled, but it was too strained to sound natural.

"I like it when you're cocky. It suits you." he complimented, admiration obviously having won the battle.

"You like it when I look like a Slytherin." Hermione corrected.

"Touché. It's my weakness, I'm afraid." Draco said shamelessly. "But seriously, how did you know that?"

"I deduced it, quite simply." she explained matter-of-factly. "I've never heard of private Alchemy lessons, I knew it wasn't until sixth year, and Snape never organised a club or anything like what you're describing. Besides, I may not know much about this branch of Potions, but I knew there was no reason for you to be so exhausted after a lesson. And you weren't just exhausted, you were... off. It was as if every part of your body lacked vitality. It was terrifying. I thought you were going to collapse in the middle of the corridor and there was nothing Theo or I could do about it."

"Ravenclaw, then." Draco said with a smile. "You're much too clever for me."

"Don't be silly." she cut in. "So, when I realised it wasn't Alchemy lessons, I watched you. At least, a little more than usual."

He arched an eyebrow:

"You've been watching me? Where?"

"In Potions class. And I saw that your hands weren't shaking anymore and that you had no visible wounds. I understood that you'd put in a lot of physical effort, but that it hadn't left any marks on you. At least no physical marks."

"That's true." Draco said encouragingly. "So what do you think I do on Thursday nights?"

"I think you're with Snape." she said, her thoughts unfolding as she spoke, as if she was connecting all the dots at that very moment. "I know you're training for something, that it takes a lot of strength. Defence against the Dark Arts perhaps?"

Draco pursed his lips and shook his head:

"Not exactly." he said, an overly vague answer that didn't give Hermione the satisfaction she was hoping for.

"What do you mean, not exactly?" she asked, annoyed. "You never come to dinner after your sessions, and you always look weak the next morning, like you haven't slept well or you're in pain. You have to fight. You duel, don't you?" she asked, eager for the answer to the question that had been nagging at the back of her mind since the day he left the Library limping with Theo.

"I do practise, yes." Draco said, seeming to take some pleasure in her guess. "But not with my body."

He tapped his forefinger on his temple and Hermione frowned.

"Have you ever heard of Occlumency, Granger?" he asked, his tone serious again.

Hermione had come across the word in snippets of magic books before, but had never delved deeper. She knew the principle, but she'd always associated it with dark magic.

He must have seen the answer in her eyes, because he continued in a very calm tone:

"It's the science of being able to close your mind to mental intrusion."

An uncomfortable shiver ran down Hermione's spine.

"What kind of mental intrusion?"

"Legilimency." Draco said, a word that rolled off his tongue but no doubt concealed magic too dark for Hermione to appreciate.

She winced reflexively, as much from disgust at the science as from the realisation that Draco had been lying to her for months.

"Is this what Snape does to you every Thursday night?" she asked, unable to hide the indignation in her voice. "Does he get inside your head and extract information from you?"

"Yes and no." Draco replied, as vague as ever. "Rather, he is training me to strengthen my mind so that no one can get inside it. So that I'm in control of my memories. Now, when I Occlude, it's impossible to capture my thoughts; they're all safely locked away."

Hermione realised what he meant and leaned forward:

"Like us? Our moments in the Library?"

He nodded.

"Not just in the Library." he clarified, obviously relieved to be able to tell her. "All of it. Our moments in the Library, on the bench, in the empty classrooms, in London... But also the thoughts I've had about you, all the little moments when I fell in love with you without even realising it. If my father were to enter my mind, he'd see nothing but Malfoy, as you like to call him."

"Oh. Wow." Hermione said, stunned. She was so impressed by Draco's explanation that she forgot to be angry with him for not telling her sooner. "And you manage to do that? Close your mind, I mean?"

Draco considered his answer for several seconds.

"I used to be able to, but lately I've had a bit of trouble. When you ignore me, I have trouble sorting my thoughts enough to close my mind completely, and I can't meditate anymore."

"Meditate?" repeated Hermione, who suddenly had the impression she was talking to Lavender about the latest homework Trelawney had given her.

"Yes, it's a branch of magic that focuses mainly on oneself, to know one's own mind and to be able to tame it, to arrange it in one's own way. And if I Occlude properly, I can... shut myself off. I can make everything around me less tangible, more blurred. I can feel less. I can lose myself in my own safely tucked away memories and consult them over and over again, but they're inaccessible to any Legilimens trying to get in."

"That's when your eyes are grey." Hermione guessed, analysing his pupils.

Draco nodded. Hermione hadn't been dreaming; his eyes really did change colour depending on his mood. She'd always thought of grey as Malfoy and blue as Draco, but now she understood that the shades of colour changed according to his more or less open mind. There, on the broom, when it was just the two of them, he didn't use Occlumency: his eyes were blue, without a trace of storm grey.

"And it was Snape who taught you that?" Hermione asked, with a hint of contempt that he heard clearly. He tensed slightly and answered her in a slightly colder tone:

"Yes, and I owe him a great deal. Without him, I couldn't protect you with my own head. You'd be in danger just by talking to me."

"How well have you sorted out your memories?" she asked, curious to know what he'd achieved.

"Until recently, I've protected all the memories that concern you. I also keep some of Pansy's, Blaise's and Theo's for myself, the ones that are too secret to share. I only keep the surface, so that if anyone ever enters, they'll only see the hateful boy who hasn't changed since first year."

"How long did it take you to bend your brain like that?"

"I started in February." Draco replied.

Hermione let out a gasp of surprise:

"Is that all?"

"Yes, I've been training a lot this summer." Then he added more bitterly, "It's the only thing I can do, in this Manor."

"Snape must be pleased with your progress. Even though I find it hard to like him. He seems to mistreat you."

"I was the one who asked him to force it a little more than usual on Thursday." Draco explained, eager to defend his master. "I needed him to push me to my limits to see if I could close my mind more easily, but he's right. Without meditation, it's impossible to control your mind. He's given me until the end of the winter holidays to practise."

Suddenly his eyes narrowed a little and he continued, suddenly more serious:

"That's one of the reasons I'm talking to you today, Granger. When Snape told me about Occlumency, I immediately saw how it could benefit me. To protect you. But I think it can help you too. Can you imagine someone with evil intentions poking around in your mind? And I'm not just talking about us, I'm talking about the people you love. You could endanger Weasley, Potter. Even Theo." (He barely stopped himself from commenting on that last name.) "I think you should learn Occlumency. And I think I'll be able to teach you, once I've perfected my Legilimency sufficiently."

But Hermione had something else on her mind:

"Oh, my God, Draco!" she exclaimed as she realised the field of possibilities opening up before her. "This is exactly what Harry needs!"

The boy in front of her dropped his features at the mention of his enemy's name.

"To be perfectly honest, Granger, I didn't take these lessons to help Potter." he gritted his teeth. "I wanted to teach you."

"Oh." she said.

Hermione imagined herself learning Occlumency, not sure if she wanted to venture into this dark science.

"I'm not sure..."

"We'll see when school starts again." he promised more reassuringly. "It's not as bad as it sounds, last Thursday was a bad example. I never thought I'd say this, but it comes in handy in a lot of situations, almost... relaxing, sometimes. I've managed to calm a lot of angry outbursts by meditating or Occluding. And I'm going to be a much better teacher than Snape. All you need to do is practice meditating over the holidays, and you'll have a good base to start from in January."

Hermione imagined herself learning Occlumency, not sure if she wanted to venture into this dark science.

"I'm not sure..."

"We'll see when school starts again." he promised more reassuringly. "It's not as bad as it sounds, last Thursday was a bad example. I never thought I'd say this, but it comes in handy in a lot of situations, almost... relaxing, sometimes. I've managed to calm a lot of angry outbursts by meditating or Occluding. And I'm going to be a much better teacher than Snape. All you need to do is practice meditating over the holidays, and you'll have a good base to start from in January."

Hermione nodded, silently promising to try. She didn't really know what to expect, but she knew that if Draco was offering, it was for a good reason.

They stopped talking and looked at the full moon. It sparkled, casting its white light on Draco's face, accentuating every feature of his perfect face, giving him the appearance of a Greek marble statue. Hermione didn't feel dizzy at all anymore; surprisingly, she had gotten used to the height. In fact, she wondered if Draco had cast a tranquilising spell on her without her noticing.

After a long time, a few snowflakes began to fall on them.

"We should go." Draco said, snow already in his hair. "You'll freeze to death if you stay here."

He took the jam jar back and stood up enough to lead the broom towards the Astronomy Tower, which was still glowing under the fairies' light. Hermione didn't comment on the fact that he was flying his broom backwards, although the mere thought of him feeling the gusts of wind at his back and missing the front of the Castle was enough to make her sick.

When they finally reached the ground, Draco jumped from his broom, suspended in mid-air. But as Hermione tried to climb down, a searing pain shot up her left calf. Apparently her cramp hadn't really gone away, maybe just numbed by the cold. She moaned in pain. Draco was under her in a second:

"What, what is it? Granger, what happened?"

"A cramp." she grumbled, pointing to her leg.

"That's because you spent an hour holding your legs contracted against the handle." he remarked.

"I didn't want them dangling in the air!"

Draco lowered the broom to bring her closer to the ground and Hermione felt his hands wrap around her waist, pulling her gently towards him. She let herself fall, Draco's arms holding her tightly against him.

"What a gentleman." she commented amusedly. "Thank you."

But Draco didn't let her down. As he continued to hold her against him, he pulled his wand from his back pocket and pointed it at her aching calf:

"Lenire cramp."

As soon as the spell touched her leg, Hermione felt it relax and she was able to put her foot down without pain.

"Oh, thank you. I didn't know that spell." she admitted, a sentence she didn't like to say.

"You have to play Quidditch to know it." Draco said. "Very useful after a particularly difficult session. Accio."

Hermione watched as the started picnic and the hundreds of fairies flew to him. He put everything into a bag and slung it over his shoulder. And perhaps it was the ease of his gesture, perhaps it was the precise organisation of his date, but a doubt crept into Hermione's mind and she found herself standing there, her mouth twisted in fear as she watched the bag.

As soon as Draco turned to her, he sensed that her stance had changed. He took a few steps closer to her.

"Are you still in pain?" he asked, urgent and gentle at the same time, looking down at her calf.

"Have you... done this before?" asked Hermione, her sentence a little too shaky.

Draco continued to stare down at her leg:

"Yes, I told you, many times after Quidditch, why, it didn't work?"

"No, I meant the date."

Draco lifted his head sharply and stared at her for a second, as if judging whether she was serious or not.

"Have I ever done this?" he repeated, apparently too tired to understand what she meant.

"This." Hermione said, pointing to the platform around them. "The fairies, the broom, the picnic, have you ever done that, with another girl? Several girls? Have you ever... ever brought other girls here, on a date?"

Draco finally realised what she meant and practically laughed in her face:

"Merlin, is that what you're worried about?" he asked, like he couldn't believe it. "Which one of us is trying to pin the other down now?"

Hermione crossed her arms over her chest reflexively:

"We're not on your broom anymore. You can run away from answering my question, the door's right there."

Draco was still grinning as if she'd just told him the funniest joke of his life.

"Bloody hell, Granger, I just told you I'm finally accepting... this, us, when my father is a Death Eater, my whole family won't accept your blood and they'd rather see you die than hold that wand in your hand, but you're afraid I might have brought other girls here?"

"That means yes then." she guessed, a horrible feeling burning in her chest.

Draco rolled his eyes, still smiling, and approached her. He leaned over and planted a small kiss on her cheek, just above her cheekbone.

"Granger, I've been in love with you since I was eleven." he murmured. "I have looked at nothing but you for five long years. You are the only one I would have planned this date for. How can you doubt that?"

Hermione's relief at hearing this was matched by the blush that rose to her cheeks where he'd placed his lips. She shrugged, trying to hide the relieved smile that threatened to form at the corners of her lips.

"I'll see you out." Draco announced, still amused at the idea that she might be jealous.

He opened the door and motioned for Hermione to follow. She had no idea what time it was, the prospect of being tired in class the next day was too far away in her mind to care. She felt relieved of a weight that had been holding her back for weeks. Being able to talk to Draco like this, without worrying about the outside world and its threats, had been so liberating that Hermione felt as if she'd taken a deep breath after being under water for too long.

As they descended the stairs of the Astronomy Tower, Draco took her hand and Hermione realised how much he'd evolved when she saw the faculty with which he did so. He had changed. She had changed him. He was able to apologise, to backtrack, to regret. She hoped that these two weeks in his Manor wouldn't put the brakes on all his efforts, that he wouldn't revert to the insufferable boy she hated so much. The Malfoy boy.

They reached the corner of the Gryffindor Common Room corridor and Draco stopped to turn to her.

"I'll leave you here. Good night, Hermione."

"Good night Draco."

He smiled and kissed her for the last time that day. It was a quick kiss, just a way of saying good night, but the series of shivers that accompanied the contact of his lips set her skin on fire despite her fatigue.

He handed her the empty jam jar and she took it in her hands, watching him disappear into the darkness. The sound of his footsteps echoed up the stairs, then faded softly.

Hermione approached the painting. She was surprised to see that the Fat Lady was not asleep, as if someone had disturbed her just a few minutes before. One of her painted eyes was half open and she stirred in her frame:

"Password?" she croaked, too drowsy to realise the lateness of Hermione's entry.

"Burgundy."

The picture opened and Hermione hurried into the entrance. She had expected the Common Room to be plunged into darkness, but when she reached the circular room, she was attacked by a dozen Lumos pointing at her.

Hermione dropped the jam jar on the floor, which exploded into a thousand pieces.

Half the Gryffindors were awake, watching her with wide, scrutinising eyes. Seamus was in the front, and Lavender was just behind him, dressed in her lilac pyjamas. Her first thought was that they'd discovered her plan with Theo. That they'd found out about the Polyjuice Potion and were going to tell McGonagall. But this theory was quickly swept aside when Dean asked her in a worried voice:

"Hermione? We've been looking all over for you, where have you been?"

"Er, I was..." she stammered, pointing behind her as if that would explain her escapade. She hadn't expected anyone to ask where she'd spent her late evening, let alone half her House.

In a moment of panic, she realised that Harry had seen her name on the Marauder's Map. With Draco. Fear swelled inside her and she could barely breathe. She scanned the crowd for Harry, but couldn't find him. In fact, now that she could make out all the heads around her, Hermione realised that there were no Weasleys. Neville was there, sitting on an arm of the sofa, clearly about to faint at any moment.

"What's going on?" she asked, her voice rising as fear filled her. "Where are Harry and Ron? And Ginny?"

Seamus, who was closest to her, turned a pale, frightened face towards her.

"Don't you know?" he asked, almost whispering. "Harry and the Weasleys left with McGonagall to go to Dumbledore's office twenty minutes ago. Harry was very ill, he said he'd had a nightmare, that he'd seen..."

He looked around, waiting for someone to speak for him. Hermione felt her chest tighten. Harry, the Weasleys, Dumbledore?

"Seen what, Seamus?" she asked with rare aggression.

Seamus winced but said nothing.

It was Neville who finished his sentence in a low, choked whisper:

"He said Ron's father was attacked by a snake."

.

.

Draco

.

.

As Draco descended the Hogwarts stairs back to his Common Room, his steps were light. He grinned like an idiot in the half-light, completely unaware of the time, not even bothering to hide from Mrs Norris. A few awake portraits whispered as he passed, but Draco ignored them. He twirled his wand in his hand, almost whistling.

For the first time in weeks, he felt good. Pansy had forgiven him, Granger had accepted his date. Sure, she was still mad at him, and if he was completely honest, he understood why: he knew that what he'd done in the game against her precious Potter and her dozens of Weasleys had been a low blow.

No matter how many times he'd mocked her hair, or her Miss Know-It-All attitude, Granger had never flinched. She'd always remained dignified, untouchable. But when he messed with her friends or relatives, that was when he could get to her. That's when she'd retaliate, with a vengeance, and that's what had even made him addicted to her for a while. Watching Granger's impassive mask crack in retaliation. Draco had loved it. Getting to her, seeing what sore spot made her crack.

But after spending so many hours in her company, getting to know her, gradually piercing the walking mystery that was Hermione Granger, Draco had realised the extent of her loyalty. He'd understood that she was doing this to defend them because she loved them. So, Draco had stopped nagging her about it. Instead, he'd done everything he could to get to the other side. To the side of the people she loved and protected so fiercely. Even if it meant sharing that space with Potter and the Weasleys. He preferred that to wandering alone, without her warmth, her cinnamon teas and her high-pitched voice.

He had improved. She was improving him. Blaise had said so himself, and so had Pansy. He had grown, positively, thanks to her influence, and he wanted to enjoy it for a little while longer. He didn't know if it was the right way, his parents certainly wouldn't approve, and it went against all the principles he'd grown up with. But when he was with Granger, those were the times when he felt best. When he felt like a good person. And even though it was dangerous, Draco had given in to the temptation.

Granger had given him that bloody Gryffindor bravado. He let out a laugh when he realised this.

Draco had just reached the third floor when he suddenly heard a door slam just above his head. The sound echoed off the walls and several portraits in the corridor awoke with indignant expressions on their painted faces.

Draco remained motionless. He was in the dark, but if anyone crossed the corridor, he would be noticed. The prefects' rounds were long over, but he knew that Filch inspected the Castle at night. If Draco was caught there, in the middle of the night, he risked at least a week's detention. He pressed himself against the wall behind him and listened. Perhaps it was just a gust of wind...?

Suddenly, he heard frantic steps to his right. Draco cursed through his teeth and ducked behind a huge plant at the top of the stairs. He barely had time to hide before another set of footsteps was heard to his left.

"Professor McGonagall!" cried a shrill voice, the kind that made Draco's hair stand up from his arms to the back of his neck.

Umbridge. It was hard not to recognise her, she was so horrifying that he didn't even need to see her to know it was her, as if he could smell the sickening scent of roses she was constantly embalming, even from where he was hiding. Draco tensed even more: if McGonagall and Umbridge found him stashed there at such a late hour, he risked far more than a few hours' detention.

"Ah, Dolores." McGonagall replied in a surprisingly calm voice. "What brings you here so late?"

"Several Gryffindors aren't in their dormitories!" Umbridge replied with an urgency in her tone that was in stark contrast to that of her interlocutor.

Draco felt his heart skip a beat: had she noticed Granger's absence?

"I beg your pardon?" asked McGonagall, although Draco was sure she'd heard perfectly.

"Gryffindors, nowhere to be found, not even in their dormitories! I must see the Headmaster, this is unacceptable!"

"Well, actually, no, Dolores." McGonagall replied, calm as ever. "In fact, the first person you should speak to after noticing students missing from their dormitories is their Head of House. In this case, me."

Umbridge made a strangled sound close to indignation.

"But... That's exactly what I'm doing!"

"Not really, no, since you've stumbled upon me quite by accident."

"The Headmaster..."

"...is not available at the moment." McGonagall's increasingly dry tone cut in. "But may I perhaps give him a message from you?"

"That several students are not in their dormitories!" repeated Umbridge, her voice rising to an indignant pitch. Draco winced, tempted to plug his ears to block out the unbearable sound, but far too curious to hear the rest to do so.

"See, this is where I don't quite understand your involvement in this whole affair, Dolores." McGonagall continued, separating each syllable as if she were talking to someone very stupid. "How do you know these students aren't in their dormitories?"

"I... It's..." stammered Umbridge, suddenly at a loss for words.

"I see." McGonagall said. Draco reflected that she was speaking to Umbridge in the same way she spoke to her students, with that stern air that he was secretly a little afraid of. "Am I to conclude that you put a Trace spell on some of them?"

"No, of course not." Umbridge defended with a semblance of dignity. Draco could hear her tapping her foot impatiently. "It was Argus who told me that most of the Gryffindor students were up and that some were missing, including Potter!"

"Are you implying that I'm not doing my duty, Professor Umbridge?" asked McGonagall, her voice suddenly so cold that Draco shivered behind the plant. "That I'm supposed to be aware that my students are awake in the middle of the night, wandering the corridors as they please?"

"No, no, I'm not questioning your work, Minerva..." Umbridge replied, trying to keep the dignity in her voice, without much success.

"As Head of the Gryffindors, allow me to doubt that." McGonagall interrupted curtly. "It is clear that you blame me for my lack of authority over my students."

"Far be it from me to accuse you of anything, Minerva." said Umbridge, on the verge of impatience. "But the facts remain the same, Potter and the other students are not in their dormitories, so it's absolutely necessary to consult the Headmaster so that he..."

"Oh, but I know exactly where they are." replied McGonagall, who had regained her calm tone.

Umbridge choked on her words:

"Pardon me? You know where they are? Then why didn't you tell me before?"

"Before' being when you insulted my teaching abilities, or even before when I asked you if you'd put a Trace spell on some of my students?" asked McGonagall with a falsely curious tone.

Umbridge made a strange noise, as if she'd inhaled too quickly.

"Where are they?" she asked, losing all trace of friendliness.

"In the Headmaster's office." McGonagall announced calmly.

Draco frowned. Granger hadn't been back for five minutes, she couldn't be in Dumbledore's office. He wondered if McGonagall wasn't trying to cover for her, not understanding why.

"But you just told me he wasn't available!" stormed Umbridge, stamping her foot like a child who'd just been refused a lollipop.

"He's unavailable because he's busy with the students I just took to his office."

"And why did you take them to his office at such an hour?"

Draco felt a pain creep up his left leg from the uncomfortable position he was in, but he didn't dare stand up for fear one of the two teachers would hear him move.

"It was Professor Dumbledore who asked me to do it." McGonagall replied composedly. Draco had the distinct impression that she was taking some pleasure in leading Umbridge on like this.

"And for what reason?" asked Umbridge imperiously.

"I'm afraid I don't know. I was simply obeying the Headmaster, who asked me to bring Potter to him urgently, accompanied by several other students."

"I'll go and see him." Umbridge ordered as she climbed a few steps up the stairs.

Draco crouched further against the wall to avoid being noticed, the cramp in his leg getting worse. He could see Umbridge at the bottom of the stairs. She was wearing an ugly, fizzy pink robe and a nightcap of the same colour. Draco thought of Pansy's reaction if he told her that Umbridge wore a nightcap to sleep in and pinched his arm to stop himself from bursting out laughing.

"The Headmaster can't see you." McGonagall repeated, climbing a few steps to be on the same level as Umbridge.

Draco thought he saw a flap of his Transfiguration teacher's tartan dressing gown and sank further into his hiding place. McGonagall was a much bigger threat than Umbridge.

"As Hogwarts High Inquisitor, I feel it is..."

"... And as Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts, I repeat that the Headmaster specifically asked me not to disturb him as he had business to attend to." McGonagall cut in, lifting her nose to look down at Umbridge from her staircase.

"I want to know what..."

"Oi!" a portrait called from the corridor. Draco turned to see that it was a bald man who had lifted his sleeping mask a few inches to glare at the two women. "Could you two argue somewhere else? We're sleeping here!"

"If the Headmaster's busy, there's no point in trying to get into his office." a woman interjected from another painting on the staircase wall.

Draco heard Umbridge let out an angry hiss through clenched teeth.

"I'm going to have a word with the Headmaster, whether you like it or not!" she squealed, causing the portraits around her to protest.

"Very well, in that case, I'll go with you!" said McGonagall with dignity.

They climbed the stairs together to a concert of stomping feet and scandalised yelps. Draco waited a few minutes in the silence to make sure no one else would suddenly appear, then discreetly emerged from his hiding place and ran down the stairs. All the portraits were asleep, some even snoring loudly enough to drown out the sound of his footsteps.

Draco arrived in the Hall without meeting anyone, so he made his way to the dungeons, wondering what could be going on in Dumbledore's office at such an hour. Draco had never been in there, but he knew it was just above the Astronomy Tower. Still, they hadn't passed anyone on their way out, least of all Potter. He hoped Granger wasn't in trouble; if all the Gryffindor students were really up, they'd be wondering what she was doing out at such a late hour. He hoped she'd learnt to lie better since third year.

When Draco reached the silent dungeons, he slowed his pace and took a moment to breathe. He crossed the damp, familiar corridor, muttered the password and walked through the door that materialised in the wall.

The party was over, proof that it was far too late. Two students were arranging half-empty bottles of alcohol with lethargic gestures, and several others were sleeping on sofas scattered around the room. Some weren't even in Slytherin. No one seemed to notice his arrival, so Draco made his way to his dormitory, intending to go to bed.

As he entered, he immediately noticed Pansy's hair spread out on his pillow. It was the first time she'd slept in his bed since she'd forgiven him. She was already asleep, her face covered by Draco's thick blanket. Theo hadn't closed the curtains on his bed, as he often did, and Draco thought he saw that he'd put two quilts on top of each other to keep out the cold, and grinned. Not chilly, you bet.

The only bed that was closed was Blaise's, but Draco didn't know if he was there.

He washed quietly so as not to wake anyone, and gently lifted the covers to slip in. He felt a strange texture touch his arm.

"What the..." he whispered, tattooing his mattress. "Oh fuck no!"

It was Eris, curled up between him and Pansy, right where Draco had intended to put his arm. The dog woke up and wagged his tail frantically when he saw him.

"What is it?" asked Pansy, half asleep.

"It's your bloody dog!" he whimpered. "Pans, I don't mind you coming into my bed to sleep, but I never accepted him being here!"

Pansy snuggled down further, her back to him, completely oblivious to his protests.

"From now on, Eris has to be here when I'm here." she murmured sleepily. "And Daphne is sleeping with Owen tonight, so I had to come here."

Draco, who had no idea who Owen was, grunted in reply. He lay back down and felt the weight of the beast pressing down on his leg.

"He's bothering me." he complained.

"It's three centimetres long, Draco." Pansy replied coldly.

He grunted a second time. Eris moved closer and began to lick his face.

"Oh no! No, you bad dog!" he cried. "Pansy! He's licking my face!"

Pansy sighed and turned back to him:

"That means he loves you, you idiot." she squeaked. "Come here, baby."

She took Eris in her arms and pulled the blanket over her. Draco had just enough time to catch a glimpse of Eris's pink tongue hanging out before he was covered. Then Draco heard Pansy's breathing get deeper and deeper until she fell asleep again.

He was exhausted, he could feel the tiredness on his eyelids, but he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep. So Draco did something he hadn't done in far too long. He matched his breathing to Pansy's beside him, closed his eyes, and meditated.

He was surprised at how quickly his mind calmed down. He knew Granger had a big influence on the way he managed his thoughts, but he hadn't realised how much. He was rested, calm. In one evening, she'd managed to calm the fears that had taken root in his skull. He'd thought he'd never be able to control his mind like he used to. He'd been wrong.

Occluding after weeks without was like drinking a glass of water after a run. Draco had almost forgotten how it felt, not just in his head but in his body as well, as if his muscles were finally relaxing, one by one. He even thought he let out a sigh of relief. It was a good thing that everyone around him was asleep.

The door to his mental library came into view and Draco approached it. He had expected dozens of books to come crashing down on him as he opened the door, but he had overestimated the damage of his absence: only a few volumes had fallen from his shelves, and a few pages were flying around the room. Draco inhaled the scent of cinnamon and got to work. He put the fallen books away, remembering the moments when Dobby had knitted beside him after a particularly violent nightmare, or the evening when Granger had struggled to find the symbol of a rune for her class.

Then, once all the books had been put back where they belonged, Draco put away the memories he hadn't been able to fit in until then. The match against the Gryffindors, Pansy's song, his anger at losing, his words to Potter and the twins and their faces tense with hate. The pain in the back of his head when Potter and George Weasley had knocked him down, the blows, the insults, when he'd choked, when he'd snubbed Blaise and made Pansy cry. The confrontation with Fred Weasley in the corridors, his most intimate secret dropped in the middle of a corridor.

The argument with Granger on the stairs of the Astronomy Tower could have filled an entire book. Draco chose them carefully, locking away everything he remembered from that moment. Her flushed cheeks, her high-pitched voice, the heat she radiated, the anger in her every word. The strawberry in her hair, the cinnamon on her skin. The way she had whispered, softly, as if she was afraid he would hear, "It's true, it's true, Draco, I'm as addicted as you are."

Draco took a long time to transcribe their first kiss. He tried to remember the sensations that had run through him, the relief he'd felt, so strong that he'd had to lean against the wall to keep from falling, when Granger had responded as aggressively as he had, when he'd felt the anger, the rage, the frustration, all wrapped up in one kiss. He remembered how her hands, usually so gentle and meticulous, had pulled him violently against her, how the tension between them had finally dissolved in an explosion of magic. Draco was sure he was smiling.

He finished putting away his memories, even the most trivial ones. He didn't want to forget anything, he wanted to keep everything so that he could consult it again and again when it was all he had left.

But by the time he reached Pansy's birthday party, Draco felt himself falling asleep. He tried to fight it, but the stillness of his mind didn't help. His head sank into his pillow and he saw the door to his library close, then move further and further away, as if sliding backwards across the floor, then out of his mind... He could hear the water lapping against the windows of the room...

Draco was in this drowsy state, halfway between wakefulness and sleep, when he heard a strange sound.

It took him a good minute to realise that the noise wasn't coming from his head, from a lost memory or a dream in the making. No, the sound was there, in the dormitory. It woke him. Draco fought to open his eyes and saw that the room was still pitch black. He could feel Eris in the hollow of his neck and half grumbled without pushing him away. His arms were stiff, his head heavy, ready to sink again. He closed his eyes, but the noise began again, like a faint whimper somewhere at the back of the room.

It wasn't until he heard his first name, distorted by a voice he didn't recognise, an incomprehensible gurgle, that Draco fully awoke. He sat up on his bed and squinted to make out something in the darkness. He could see Theo's unmoving silhouette. Pansy was on his right, fast asleep. The moaning continued, louder and louder:

"No, no..."

Draco turned his head towards Blaise's bed. He wasn't sure if he'd been too asleep for the sound to reach him completely, or if Blaise had just raised his voice, but his protests now filled the entire dormitory.

"No, we have to... No, we can't... No..."

"Blaise?" cried Draco in a pasty voice. He coughed and started again: "Blaise? Is that you?"

"No, no, no, get me out of here!"

Through the emerald curtain around his bed, Draco could see Blaise's form wiggling in all directions, as if trying to escape. Yet he was alone. Draco frowned and called a little louder:

"Blaise, wake up!"

Pansy stirred in her sleep.

"No, no!" cried Blaise.

He was moving so much that Draco could hear the mattress creaking under his weight.

"What the..." Pansy's sleepy voice began, full of reproach for waking her a second time.

At that moment, Blaise let out a howl of terror and threw himself out of bed, catching part of the curtain as it ripped from its rod and falling hard to the floor with a deafening crash. The noise woke Theo and Pansy, who both sat up abruptly.

"What the hell?" demanded Theo gruffly, his eyes still closed.

Draco leapt from his bed and rushed towards Blaise. He was tangled in the curtains of his bed and struggling so hard that Draco could barely help him without getting hit.

"No, no, no!" he screamed, half choking on his words.

"Blaise, wake up, you're having a nightmare!" said Draco in a panicked voice.

It took him a full minute to free Blaise from the curtain. He was shirtless and Draco could see his stomach contracting with each violent breath he took. His eyes were closed and the veins in his neck stood out against his dark skin. But even without the cover on him, he continued to move in all directions, as if he were fighting someone invisible.

"No, no, no, no, I've got to get out of here..." he muttered.

"Blaise, wake the fuck up!" shouted Draco.

But Blaise didn't seem to hear him. His body was shaking with convulsions and the sounds coming out of his mouth were unintelligible, a kind of choked gurgle.

Draco heard Pansy running towards him and Theo frantically searching for his wand, which had rolled under his bed. Eris had begun to bark, but Blaise's cries were much louder and more terrifying for the dog to hear.

"What's the matter with him?!" asked Pansy in a piercing howl.

"I don't know, he sounds like he's having a nightmare!" replied Draco, not taking his eyes off his best friend. "Blaise, can you hear me? BLAISE?"

Draco tried to shake him out of his dream, but when he grabbed his shoulder, Draco pulled his hand back with a scream of pain. His skin was burning.

Theo threw himself on the floor to Blaise's right, his wand finally in his hand, looking as distraught as Draco:

"Fuck, fuck, Blaise, wake up!"

He pointed a Lumos at Blaise and Draco then saw that his body was covered in a particle of sweat and that large red patches flooded his torso. It was then that he realised that what he had thought were gestures of struggle were in fact spasms that ran through his body like waves of pain.

Theo grabbed Blaise's other shoulder, but yelped in pain when his hand touched it, just like Draco had a few seconds before. He turned to Pansy, his eyes wide with horror:

"He burned me!"

"Do something, anything!" yelled Draco, not even knowing who he was addressing.

He tried to grab a piece of curtain to tilt his best friend onto his side, but the moment he reached for the fabric, Blaise's eyes flew open.

Then, by sheer reflex, without even realising it, Draco jerked and fell backwards onto the stone floor. Because Blaise's eyes had lost all of their pretty caramel colour, they were black. Not an ounce of white left. It was as if someone had removed his eye sockets and all you could see were two empty cavities. Pansy let out a frightened scream and barely managed to hang on to the bedpost. Eris continued to bark like mad.

Draco felt the same horrible sensation he had when Theo had appeared in the fireplace at Blaise Manor three years earlier, covered in blood. A horrible, sickening sensation, worse than the numbing cold of the Dementors, like an icy burn that ran from his head to his feet, paralysing him completely.

Fear.

His head went blank. He watched as his best friend gesticulated as he clung to the curtains, his choked breath coming and going between his lips, as if singing "no, no, no, no..." over and over again. His dark eyes rolled, his body shook, and Draco was helpless. For a second, he didn't know what to do. Just like when Theo had fallen into the chimney, he stood petrified, unable to think of a way to wake Blaise up, to get him out of this torment. He could see the veins in his neck, so swollen they threatened to burst. He could see the spot in his chest where his heart was pounding, so loud that Draco almost thought he could hear it over the chaos.

And in a flash, he imagined it was the end. That Blaise was going to die. That maybe, at any moment, his heart would weaken and the convulsions would stop and he'd breathe his last, but then what? Would Draco be faced with the vision of Blaise's body, his best friend, his brother? Imprinted on his eyelids forever, haunting his days and nights? Would he be constantly reminded of what he should have done, what he could have done, to save him?

Draco couldn't even remember the last time he'd heard the sound of his voice. Perhaps when he'd said goodbye, when Draco had pretended to need some fresh air to get to the Astronomy Tower? Or maybe when he'd laughed at Theo for trying to Occlude in vain? Or when he'd asked him what mark he'd got in the last Potions test?

Another thought flashed through his mind. The same one he'd had the night Theo had arrived covered in blood.

What would Granger do in that situation?

But this time, he didn't stand still. The thought animated him, jolted him out of his torpor, and he blurted out the first thing that came into his head:

"Somebody get a bezoar!"

Theo and Pansy looked at him haggardly, terrified. Pansy was livid.

"NOW!" shouted Draco.

Pansy gasped and ran through the dormitory. When she left, Eris doubled his panicked barking.

Draco placed two fingers on Blaise's neck to find his pulse, and had to physically hold his fingers there because his skin was burning. It was like holding an ember in his hand. But when Draco felt the frantic pulse against the skin of his neck, he forgot the burn and was overcome with relief.

"What are we going to do, Draco?" asked Theo in a voice so terrified that Draco thought he was talking to the eleven-year-old Theo, the one who was afraid of his father and of death and slept in a ball at night.

"Blaise, wake up, fucking wake up, WAKE UP!"

He slapped his cheek, but Blaise's head rolled to the floor. His lower lip was dangling and his hands were shooting up into the air, as if he was reaching for something, or trying to hold on so he wouldn't fall, even though he was already on the floor.

"No, no, no, no..." he groaned without stopping.

Draco saw foam forming in the hollows of his lips and realised that his body was reacting to bring down the fever. Draco knew of no healing spells other than Episkey, which Blaise had taught him when he broke his ankle. So, in a desperate gesture, Draco snatched Theo's wand from his hand and pointed it at Blaise's torso:

"Aguamenti!"

A powerful jet of water escaped from Theo's wand and sprayed Blaise continuously, finally seeming to snap him out of his trance. He shielded his eyes with his arm and when he opened them, they had returned to their natural colour.

"Blaise? Blaise, can you hear us?" called Theo, leaning over him, his hair soaked from Draco's spell. "Blaise, it's us, it was a nightmare, come back Blaise!"

His voice broke into a series of sobs that he must have had to hold back for a long time.

Blaise struggled for a few more seconds, then took big gulps of air and rolled over as if he was going to throw up. He choked loudly several times and Draco put a hand on his back, foolishly trying to ease the cramps that were running through him. As he did so, he felt the heat slowly diminish until the sweat turned icy under his fingers.

"Blaise?" called Draco, though he suspected he couldn't hear him over Theo's sobs and Eris' barking that filled the small room. "Blaise?"

Blaise fell onto the curtain and rolled onto his back. He looked back and forth between Theo and Draco, and Draco had never seen him so scared. It was so rare to see him like this that it made the atmosphere even more tense.

"I was..." he murmured, his voice hoarse from screaming so much and his eyes far away, somewhere neither Theo nor Draco could see. "I was on fire. I was on fire and no one came to get us..."

"It was a nightmare." Draco said in a tone he meant to be reassuring but which came out completely shrill. "You were dreaming."

"No!" yelled Blaise as he suddenly sat up, so quickly that his leg bumped into Draco's side. "It wasn't a dream, I was there, I could feel the flames!"

Draco shook his head:

"Blaise, you didn't leave this place. You fell out of bed and we tried to wake you for five minutes, there's no fire here, it's just the dormitory. Take a deep breath, Pansy's coming back with a..."

"No, no!" cried Blaise, the sound so similar to his howls of terror that Draco feared he'd fallen back into his trance. "No, I was there, I was about to burn!"

Pansy stepped through the doorway and ran towards Blaise, half stumbling in her path:

"Blaise? Are you awake?" she asked, anguish piercing her voice.

She knelt beside him, her eyes searching frantically for something on his body, a wound, a cut, a scar. Draco realised that she was expecting to see the same marks on her body that she'd seen on Theo's.

Draco took a deep breath and sat down heavily on the floor, Theo's wand still in his hand.

"It wasn't a dream, Pans, I was there, I was on fire!" cried Blaise.

Only then did Draco notice the presence of another girl, just behind Pansy. She'd obviously just been rudely awakened, she had the mark of the pillow on her cheek and her hair was all tangled. She zigzagged between Draco, Pansy and Theo and leaned over to Blaise to hand him a bottle:

"Here, take this. I don't have a bezoar, but it should do you good."

She handed him a small turquoise potion. Draco finally realised who the intruder was: Daphne's sister, who was a bit younger than them. Astoria, if memory served. Why Pansy had brought this girl back into the middle of this mess, Draco had no idea.

"What is it?" he asked, his voice a little drier than he'd intended.

Astoria barely looked at him, her arm still outstretched towards Blaise.

"A strengthening solution."

"That's not what he needs." Draco scowled. "He needs a Bezoar, he's clearly been poisoned."

Astoria looked at him over her shoulder, looking passably annoyed:

"He hasn't been poisoned, otherwise he'd be unconscious. The poison attacks the nerve cells first. He wouldn't even be able to speak, let alone scream."

Draco was about to reply, because without knowing why, he found this girl deeply irritating, but Blaise stopped him. He slapped Astoria's hand, sending the potion crashing against the foot of Theo's bed. The contents spilled into the grooves of the stone with a loud crackling sound.

"Blaise!" Pansy protested in a small voice.

He rose to his feet, towering over everyone else. The light from the corridor barely illuminated him, but enough to see his sweat-soaked forehead and Draco's Aguamenti. He pulled on a T-shirt that was lying around, clinging to his sticky skin, and crossed the dormitory in two long strides before disappearing without another word.

"Blaise!" called Theo, scandalised. "Blaise, Merlin, where are you going?"

"Leave him alone." said Astoria, in a voice far too calm after what had just happened.

Strangely, no one dared contradict her, even though she had never spoken to them and had no right to know what Blaise wanted or didn't want. Theo wiped the tears from his cheeks and Pansy took Eris in her arms to calm him down.

"What's going on in here?!" one of the seventh year prefects who had just appeared on the doorstep shouted. "It's five in the morning, you idiots, you've woken everyone up! Detention, everyone!"

Pansy and Draco shrugged in unison, but Theo lost what little colour he had left. This was the first time he'd ever had detention. Astoria began to walk angrily towards the prefect to protest the punishment, and Draco suddenly realised he was in pain. He cursed and looked down at his aching hand.

His palm was covered in a scarlet blister.