Mon ange gardien

by virgules

We all know what Harry went through during his years at Hogwarts. But what happened where he wasn't looking? A love affair between his best friend and his nemesis...? Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy, from first to seventh year, gradually fall in love during the real books. Chapter every Sunday evening!

87. 87 : sang d'encre

Hey! For this chapter, you have 49 pages to devour (or savor), I wish you a good read!

notes :

- the title is in French because I couldn't find a suitable English translation, the expression "se faire du sang d'encre" in French means to be very worried about someone, and literally means "blood" and "ink", I thought it went well with today's chapter :)
- the French translation is at the end of the chapter

tw : mention of a spider at the end of the chapter for my arachnophobic friends :(

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Hermione

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When Hermione had asked Tonks why they hadn't taken the Knight's Bus instead of the Hogwarts Express the day before the start of school, she had replied with a wink that she needed a thrill. But Hermione was sure there was another reason. Perhaps they didn't want to take their eyes off Harry, or perhaps Dumbledore had asked them to accompany him, fearing he might run away.

So, on the eve of the new term, Lupin and Tonks escorted the Weasleys, Harry and Hermione to Hogwarts in the Knight's Bus. The journey was as turbulent as the first two times she'd had the misfortune to take that bus. Hermione soon gave up trying to read the books Sirius had lent her on Occlumency. About halfway through the journey, Crookshanks' cage fell to the floor and he stomped the rest of the way, outraged at being treated like this.

To keep herself occupied, Hermione knitted a new hat. It was difficult to hold the needles with the jolting of the bus and the sudden stops that knocked her out of her seat, but against all odds this was the most successful of all. Ron, who had boarded the Knight Bus with a big smile and now had a greenish complexion, looked dully at her work:

"Who's this one for?" he asked, pointing at the blue hat, before suddenly catching himself on the bar to keep from falling off.

Hermione shrugged.

"For the elves." she lied.

Ron didn't insist, concentrating instead on Stan Shunpike, whom he scanned with an unfriendly look. He obviously hadn't appreciated the fact that he'd offered Hermione a free hot chocolate because he thought she was pretty.

They arrived much quicker than if they'd taken the train. Tonks and Lupin escorted them to the large black gate flanked by two boar statues, Lupin gave them a quick embrace and exchanged a few sentences with Harry in a low voice, while Tonks hugged Ginny and Hermione tightly:

"It's been lovely spending time with you girls. Take care, we'll see you soon." she promised.

She kissed them on the forehead and climbed back into the Knight Bus. Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Harry and the twins walked along the deserted lane that led to the Castle gates in the bitter cold that made them shiver. Harry looked utterly depressed. Between Umbridge's classes and Snape's Occlumency, Hermione understood why he wasn't too keen on returning.

As she passed the bench, their bench, Hermione swept her eyes over it and blushed furiously, wondering if Draco would be there tonight. Hoping her blush would pass for cold, they returned to the Castle without a word.

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She didn't see Draco until dinner. He didn't look at her for the whole meal, which was both unusual and extremely normal. He'd always had a gift for pretending to ignore her, but she knew he was sneaking glances at her. Sometimes she could feel his gaze burning her cheek. But on this night, she couldn't be sure if his attitude was deliberate or if he was just good at being discreet.

Theo and Parkinson were deep in conversation and Draco's eyes were downcast on his plate. Seeing him like this, Hermione reflected that his face was like the one on the Square Grimmauld tapestry. Frozen, icy, haughty. A shiver ran uncomfortably down her spine as she thought of the likelihood that he could have gone back to being a Malfoy during the holidays. But he'd promised. He'd promised he'd stay her Draco. Had his father managed to break him enough to make him give in?

"Are you cold Mione?" asked Harry when he saw her shivering.

Hermione focused on her best friend rather than the blond boy three tables away.

"A little." she said.

She reflexively raised her head to the sky, where thick grey clouds cast a fine rain that stopped just above their heads. The windows of the Great Hall reflected only a vast black sky, devoid of stars. There was hardly a sound in the room as everyone was too exhausted from the journey to talk.

Ginny yawned into her hand and everyone followed.

Hermione's eyes wandered over to the teachers' table, where McGonagall was eating and chatting with Professor Sinistra. Umbridge was at the end of the table, scanning the students with her small, slitted eyes. Dumbledore was absent, as he had often been since the beginning of the year.

Hermione glanced at the Ravenclaw table and recognised a head with long, pale blonde hair. Luna. She was eating pudding with a small smile on her lips and wasn't talking to any of her classmates. Hermione suddenly remembered the conversation they'd had the day before the break. How this girl, so strange and different, had helped her at a time when no one else had.

"I forgot to tell you, Luna said hello." Hermione said suddenly. Four redheads turned to her uncomprehendingly. "Before I came to you, I was here, feeling terribly lonely, not having any news of your father, and Luna came to comfort me. And she asked me to say hello to you, so... I'll do it now."

Ginny gave her a small, tender smile and nodded. Ron, for his part, snorted.

"I think I like her." Hermione continued, though no one seemed inclined to join in the conversation. "Luna. I thought she was weird at first, but I think she's just... different."

Ron laughed nastily again.

"She's completely nuts." he blurted out, his voice unnaturally cold.

"Ron!" Ginny snapped indignantly, glaring at him.

"What? She is! She's loony, that's where her nickname comes from!"

"Don't insult one of the only people in this Castle who believes me." Harry said grimly, staring at Dumbledore's empty seat at the teachers' table.

"I'm not insulting her, I'm just making a point." Ron protested.

"You called her loony." Hermione pointed out dryly.

"You're the one who called her that in the first place!" he protested, pointing his fork in her direction to accuse her. "You couldn't stand her from the start, you said she was the most annoying girl you'd ever met in your life, and now you adore her, all of a sudden? What's with this new fad of making friends with strange people?"

Hermione felt her cheeks heat up with embarrassment:

"Who are you talking about?"

He pointed to the Slytherin table with an evasive wave of his hand:

"Him, over there! Theophilus, or whatever his name is! What's that, a new club? The Society of Hopelessly Insufferable Trolls?"

Hermione dropped her cutlery, which hit the table with a loud clatter, and was about to reply when George intervened in a loud voice:

"Hey, slow down! What are you doing here, little brother?"

"What's with the eight-year-old tantrum?" continued Fred, grinning as usual.

Ron muttered something intelligible and picked at his food without eating.

"Who's Theophilus?" asked Ginny.

"Theodore." Hermione corrected curtly.

"Theodore Nott?" said Fred, his smile slowly fading. "Are you friends with him?" he asked, addressing Hermione.

"We've studied together in the Library a few times. He's very nice to me." she said, in a low voice so that no one else could hear, but firm enough to show that she didn't want to hear anyone else insult her new friend.

"Oh. Him." George said with a grimace. "Dad's told us some terrible things about his father. He's a Death Eater."

Ginny took a deep breath and Harry glanced at the twins sitting next to them.

"Wonderful." Ron grumbled.

"Theo has nothing to do with his father." Hermione argued. "He's against dark magic."

"So what?" said Ron. "Still, you don't make friends with that kind of person."

"I do what I want, Ronald. If I want to be friends with Theodore, you have no say in the matter!"

Ron rose abruptly from the bench, face closed, fists clenched.

"I'm going to bed." he declared before turning on his heels and leaving the Great Hall.

There was a hush around the Gryffindor table as he left. Hermione was upset, but in a way she also understood Ron. With his father in hospital, Harry's visions, the O.W.L. approaching and Umbridge determined to put the Castle in a disastrous atmosphere, she could understand why he wasn't in the best of moods. He slept badly at night, and that translated into impulsive bursts of anger during the day.

"He's exhausted." Fred said, as if he could read her mind. "Don't listen to him, he'll have forgotten all about it by tomorrow."

Harry nodded in agreement.

"That's no reason to talk like that." Ginny remarked, finding it harder to accept her brother's behaviour.

"Mione, please be careful." George continued. "His son may be nice, but his father really isn't. Dad told us terrible things about him. He deserves to rot in Azkaban."

Hermione started to speak but was cut off by Fred:

"You have a tendency to want to save everyone, Mione. But you have to accept that sometimes, you can't. Some people get so tangled up that they're impossible to catch."

He glanced at the Slytherin table and Hermione knew to whom he was referring. Her tongue burned in protest:

"What does that mean? That nobody gets a second chance just because they weren't born in the right place? It's not his fault his father is a Death Eater!"

"Can we talk about something else?" offered Harry coldly.

He pointed discreetly at Neville to his left, whose lower lip was quivering slightly. In her anger, Hermione had forgotten to lower her voice. A wave of guilt hit her as she thought about what she'd just said and how Neville must have taken it. She thought again of his mother's frail body, her glassy eyes, her pallid skin, and remained silent until the end of dinner.

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Hermione was sitting on the sofa in the Common Room, facing the fire, surrounded by Harry, Neville, Ginny and the twins. Ron had gone upstairs. A forgotten cup of tea lay on the arm beside her, she was no longer reading the Spells notes on her lap, and the voices around her were obscured by her own thoughts. She stared at the flames in front of her, thinking of Draco, a habit so ingrained in her mind now that she hadn't even noticed that it had been half an hour since she'd said a word, and fidgeted aggressively with her fingers.

"I'm going to bed, I'm exhausted." Ginny said, standing up to Hermione's right. "Good night everyone."

Everyone replied except Hermione. Was Draco going to talk to her like before? She wasn't sure if she could take another change of mood. She didn't want to try to convince him again. Would he keep his promise? Would he think it best to walk away again, despite the fact that they always came back to each other, no matter the cost, just to try to protect her?

She thought of the way he'd reacted when she'd had a panic attack in Hogwarts Park. He'd been so concerned, he hadn't even got angry when she'd blamed him for a whole bunch of things she couldn't really remember. That part of the evening was a blur. She vaguely remembered punching him in the chest to keep him away because she desperately wanted him to come closer and it wasn't right. She dimly remembered the pain her sobs had caused in her compressed ribcage.

She remembered the aftermath better. When they'd lay down and he'd asked her about the stars. Her brain had taken over from the panic. He'd done a perfect job of reassuring her. He hadn't offered her a potion, he hadn't cast a spell to calm her down, he knew her well enough to know how to distract her from her fear with questions. Hermione couldn't help but wonder how Ron would have reacted. If he'd been the one to approach her, if he'd seen her panicking, would he have known what to do?

The answer flew through her head, hard and merciless.

No.

He would have panicked too, he would have called Harry or Ginny, he would have taken her to the hospital wing, he would have asked for explanations, not realising that she couldn't breathe.

Her life would have been so much easier if Ron had been like Draco. As thoughtful, as attentive, as... loving. But he wasn't, and here she was, at ten thirty in the evening, waiting in her Common Room for everyone else to go to bed so that she could go to him, despite the forbidden, despite the guilt, just to see him a little longer, just to enjoy him selfishly.

The skin on her fingernails was completely torn off when Harry gently patted her shoulder:

"Mione? You should get some sleep, big day tomorrow."

She turned her head to him and saw his bluish circles under her green eyes and her stomach tightened even more.

"Yes, I'll go." she replied pitifully.

Harry stood up and stretched. He was wearing a shirt that belonged to Ron, because Harry always inherited Ron's clothes when they grew too small for him. He looked down at Hermione and gave her a weak smile:

"See you tomorrow."

Hermione had rarely seen Harry so unhappy, and that was saying something, because Harry had been through terrible things all his life. She asked:

"Do you want me to stay here, in case you can't sleep?"

Harry pushed his glasses up his nose with a confused look on his face:

"No, I want you to sleep."

"But if you have another nightmare..."

"...I'll tell you all about it tomorrow." Harry assured. "I promise. Go to bed, Mione, and stop worrying about me."

He gave her a smile, a real one this time, and Hermione felt the weight of guilt lift a little.

"Impossible." she said, getting up from the sofa. She kissed him on the cheek. "I'll always worry about you."

"We can't both have insomnia." he said, half laughing, half seriously. "I have Ron. I'm not on my own. If anything happens, you'll know. Get some rest, Mione."

Hermione nodded, and Harry gave her one last little smile, the kind of lazy smile where he just lifts one side of his lip, and then stalked off to the dormitories.

Hermione waited exactly twenty minutes.

Twenty minutes on the lookout, she thought she heard Harry's footsteps coming down the stairs a dozen times. Once or twice she even heard the distant scream of a nightmare. But that was just her imagination. The only sources of noise in the room were the crackling of the fire in the den and the gusts of wind against the window panes.

Hermione stood up as the clock in the Common Room struck 11pm. She pointed her wand at her chest and muttered:

"Peribit ex charta."

The same white glow that Remus had cast on her during the holidays emerged from her wand and seeped between the stitches of Hermione's jumper. She watched the effects of the spell on her hand as it faded until it was whole again, and she knew that she had been erased from the Marauder's Map.

Hermione slipped on her cloak and hung her Prefect's badge on it to keep out of trouble, even though she had no rounds scheduled tonight, then walked out through the portrait of the Fat Lady and down to the first floor. The corridors were silent. She only passed the ghost of the Grey Lady, who made no comment on her presence.

As she opened the door to the park, the wind whipped violently through her hair and the collar of her cloak. Hermione hadn't thought to bring a jar of jam, so she took out her wand and cast the same spell Draco had used on the night of the broom date. Immediately, a barrier rose around her and she no longer felt the icy gusts against her skin.

The bench was empty.

She knew it was early, that it didn't mean anything, but that didn't stop her heart from racing in panic at the thought of him not coming. She sat down and thought about his expression at dinner. Maybe he hadn't been able to resist back there at the Manor, maybe he'd put up with too much, fallen back into his old ways during the break.

Hermione had always hated Lucius Malfoy, but never more than at this moment. He had succeeded. He had broken his son again, trying to force him into a mould that didn't fit him. She felt tears welling up as she thought of those last moments when he had confessed everything she'd been hoping to hear for months. How was she going to put up with Malfoy now that she knew Draco?

Suddenly, a silhouette appeared at the end of the path. Hermione recognised him in seconds; she'd memorised his height, his gait, the colour of his hair, even from this distance. He walked sullenly, hands in his pockets, head bowed. Hermione stood up, her breath caught in anticipation. It reminded her of the night he'd called her stubborn, on this very bench, and sent her away because he was afraid of his father's letter. Hermione's hands were clammy despite the cold around her. At any moment she would know if he was back to that infamous boy she didn't recognise.

She counted the number of steps he took towards her in her head, each one like a hammer blow to her skull. She waited for Draco to approach, close enough to see the colour of his eyes, but when he came face to face with her, his head was still lowered to the ground. The silence was unbearable.

"Draco?" she called in a weak voice.

He didn't answer. He still wouldn't look at her. I've lost him, she thought. I've just fallen in love with him and I've lost him.

When he looked up, his eyes were as grey as the clouds above. A cold, metallic grey, the same eyes as his parents, the ones Hermione didn't recognise. But as he looked at her, the strangest thing happened in front of her: the grey was replaced by blue, very light at first, then warmer and warmer, until it became the ocean blue she knew so well.

When the grey had completely disappeared from his irises, he smiled. And Hermione's heart dropped.

"Is it you?" she whispered, her voice full of hope.

"It's me, Hermione." Draco breathed. "It's me. Draco. I'm yours, I haven't changed."

And their exchange made no sense, at least to anyone passing by, but they didn't care, they understood each other, in a language only they could decipher, as if their minds were linked by a bond far stronger than the magic in their veins, and they threw themselves at each other in the same movement, Draco laughing, Hermione crying, holding each other for long minutes of reunion. Hermione could feel her magic tingling at the tips of her fingers as they clung to Draco's sweater, eager to burst to the rhythm of his overexcited heart. She wrapped him in her Imperturbable Charm spell, and she could smell the mint against the skin of his neck.

He kissed her frantically on the cheeks, the neck, the jaw, as if to check that she was really there, murmuring how much he had missed her, that he had been thinking of her, and Hermione felt as if she had returned to the broom dozens of metres above, so much so that she felt as if she were floating.

"I was so scared." she murmured, her fists clenched against his sweater. Draco pulled her closer. "I was so afraid you'd turned back into Malfoy."

"I promised you, Granger." he reminded her, and she could make out his smirk just by hearing his voice. "And a promise, in the Malfoy household, is sacred."

She rolled her eyes, but couldn't hide her joy. She hugged him tightly and he kissed her neck. She shivered, which he didn't miss. He did it again.

When they pulled away, they both had smiles on their faces. Draco's hands were on Hermione's hips and she could feel his touch even through three layers of clothing. Without letting go of his jumper, she studied his perfect face, which she had missed so much during these three long weeks of absence, and then her gaze was immediately drawn to something.

"What's that on your cheek?" she asked.

It was a vertical incision running from his lower lashes to his cheekbone. It was quite thin, but Hermione could see that it hadn't been healed by a spell. Draco's eyes widened slightly when he heard her ask that question, as if surprised that she could have noticed this detail when she spent half of her class days watching him, trying to memorise every feature.

"My father." he replied in an almost indifferent tone.

Hermione was crushed by a considerable weight on her shoulders. She felt the acid on her tongue, her fingers clenched, her legs weakened. She imagined Lucius's wand slicing through the air to cut his son's cheek, and the hatred she'd felt for the man a few minutes earlier, which had seemed insurmountable, grew even stronger.

"Wh-what?" she stammered, hoping with all her heart that she'd misunderstood.

"He did it to me over the holidays." Draco explained. "I didn't hear him say the spell, but I think it was Diffindo's."

To hear him tell it, it sounded like a completely mundane event. Hermione's reaction was the opposite, clinging to him to keep from falling over in a stupor.

"You told me he never did this to you." she squealed miserably. "You told me your parents would never do this to you."

Draco shrugged:

"I thought so too."

She couldn't take her eyes off the cut under his eye. It was strange to see Draco's face, so perfect and smooth, with a cut like that. It looked like a crack in a vase.

"Did he do it in anger?" asked Hermione, finding it hard to imagine the circumstances that could lead to such a violent gesture.

Draco sighed and made a move, probably to run a hand through his hair, but Hermione's grip stopped him from doing so.

"Yes. He was jealous that I was spending so much time at Blaise's. It must be said that I spent all my holidays there, escaping whenever I could. I think my absence made my mother sad, and Lucius felt obliged to intervene to get me back. He offered me... He offered to build me a Quidditch pitch in the garden."

Hermione imagined the vain and envious eleven-year-old Draco jumping for joy at the idea of having his passion at his fingertips.

"I refused." Draco continued proudly. "I said I'd rather go over there. He took it badly... He insulted Blaise's mother."

Hermione had never heard Draco talk too much about Zabini's mother. He'd told her that Theo's father was violent and that Pansy's father was the most unlikable person he'd ever met, but he'd never mentioned Blaise's parents. However, seeing Draco's face darken at the thought of his father insulting this woman, Hermione immediately deduced that he loved her far more than the other parents of her friends.

"It made me furious. he said, without explaining why, although Hermione was dying to know. "So I told him I'd rather go and spend time with Theo."

Hermione's eyes widened and Draco, against all odds, smiled.

"That made him furious." he said triumphantly. "So he threw this at me."

He pointed to his cheek and Hermione stared at his wound in awe.

"But Draco, why did you tell him that?! You knew it would make him so angry, he asked you to stay away from him!" said Hermione in a small squeaky voice of panic.

Draco's smile widened even more:

"Don't you see, Granger? That's exactly why I told him. To show him that I no longer obeyed him. Not anymore."

"What do you mean?" asked Hermione.

"The moment he cut me, the moment he raised his wand at me, it was over." he said. "I promised myself that. I'd never be afraid of Lucius Malfoy again."

Hermione didn't really know what to say. She was torn between relief that Draco was no longer under his father's thumb and fear that he would suffer the consequences. If Lucius was capable of hurting him like that, how far could he go?

He must have seen the look of concern on her face because he removed his left hand from her hip and gently took her arm:

"Calm down, Granger. It's all right, it's just a small cut. Come and sit down."

She reluctantly released her fingers and followed him to the bench. The snow had melted with the day's rain, leaving a mixture of mud and ice on the ground. The bench was covered in a thin layer of frost, but Hermione barely felt it as she sat down. She pulled out her wand to heal him, but Draco shook his head as if he'd expected it:

"Pansy tried it too, but I want to keep it. He'll regret it as soon as he sees it."

Hermione frowned at the vengeful tone in his voice.

"No way are you going to have that scar under your eye for the rest of your life." Hermione protested.

"You can hardly see it."

But that wasn't true. It was all she could see now. Even in the dim light, Hermione could see the ugly red mark on her cheek.

"I don't want to see Lucius every time I look at you." she said.

This sentence made Draco's confident smile disappear, as he had clearly not thought of this possibility. His gaze passed over Hermione's mouth and she had no idea if he was thinking about the spell he'd cast against her teeth in fourth year, or kissing her. She hoped it was the latter.

"All right." he said finally, reluctantly. "Go ahead."

She pointed her wand at him, then asked in a small, uncertain voice:

"What's the spell again?"

Draco raised an amused eyebrow.

"I beg your pardon? You mean I know a spell that you, Hermione Granger, don't?"

"Give me the incantation." grumbled Hermione, who hated being questioned about this.

"That's two spells I've taught you in less than a month, Granger." Draco continued, taking a malicious pleasure in irritating her. "The cramp one, and this one... Am I to infer that you're not very interested in healing magic?"

"Yes, very." she said with a hint of frustration that made him smile. "And if you don't shut up, I won't do anything to your cheek, and you'll look like Frankenstein for the rest of your life."

"Who?"

"No one. Give me the incantation."

"Conferrumino pellis." Draco replied.

He turned his cheek to her and Hermione thought that despite his mockery, he must have trusted her very much. She'd never used this spell before and she could easily make his condition worse. But he said nothing and left her to it, so Hermione pointed her wand and said as clearly as she could:

"Conferrumino pellis."

The wound closed, leaving only a pink line on his skin. Only a very observant person would have noticed his wound, but Hermione could still see it, and it annoyed her to know that the mark of his father's anger would be there for a long time to come.

"You should put some Essence of Dittany on it to make it disappear completely." she advised.

Draco chuckled:

"Cheeky, Granger, considering you haven't used the one I've been telling you to use for weeks."

She felt her face flush. He was right, she'd never applied anything to the wound Crabbe and Goyle had given her on her neck. Still, she didn't let it go:

"Maybe, but yours is on your cheek."

"I told you, I want him to see it." Draco said. "I want to see the regret in his eyes every time he looks at me."

"Have you told Theo why you were hurt?"

Draco shook his head:

"No. I told him I couldn't control my magic and the spell went off by itself. I don't want him to know that Lucius did this to me."

Hermione thought it was a shame that Draco was so reluctant to reveal such a precious proof of friendship. But he knew Theo far better than she did, so if he had decided not to tell him, she wasn't in a position to advise him.

"What did your mother say?" asked Hermione as she put her wand in her pocket.

She saw a shadow of anger cross his face and Hermione blamed herself for not knowing how to hold her tongue.

"You're far too curious, Granger." Draco replied, and she knew from his smile that he secretly didn't want to talk about it anymore.

So Hermione took it in her stride and asked no more questions. He brought his hand to hers on the bench and intertwined their fingers so naturally that Hermione felt as if it had always belonged there. She rested her head on his shoulder and looked up at the sky, enjoying the feeling of having Draco so close to her.

"How was your Christmas?" he asked, trying to change the subject.

"Fine, despite what happened." she replied.

"How's the Weasley father?" asked Draco, and she was sure she heard a little concern in his voice. She almost smiled.

"He's doing better. He got out of St Mungo's just in time for Christmas, so we all got to celebrate together."

"Was it a good Christmas then?"

Hermione thought of Sirius in front of the tapestry, his gaze vacant, of the fear painted on Molly's features from morning to night, of Harry's isolation. She thought of Lupin, his nostalgic air evoking memories, of Ron's smile as he opened his presents, of Ginny crying with laughter in George's arms when he had played a joke on her in Grimmauld Square.

She thought of Neville, of his frail, unrecognisable parents, of the packet of sweets he'd kept in his pocket, and shook her head:

"No, not really," she replied flatly.

She wasn't sure how to describe her Christmas, but "good" wasn't the word she would have chosen. More like sweet and bitter at the same time, happy memories tinged with pain.

"I think Ron is the one who took the most from all of us." she confessed.

It was so easy to confide in Draco because he always listened. He knew her so well now that he knew what to say and when. A skill few around Hermione possessed.

"Why?" he asked calmly.

"His father was in hospital, Harry was... sick, and I wasn't there, and his family was at its lowest ebb, and I think he suffered in silence. He didn't dare express his fears out loud because everyone shared them, so he kept them inside and didn't know what to do with them. Everyone was so focused on Harry that no one thought to ask him how he was feeling."

"You should become a Psychomage, Granger." Draco commented. "Not many people can deduce that without even talking to the person in question."

"That's because I know him." she said. When she turned to Draco, he had frowned, probably irritated by the remark. "I know him by heart. I can tell when he's not well, and I think he's not well right now."

"Nobody is well." Draco said bluntly. "It's war."

She winced and he clenched his fingers against hers. The gesture brought her a wave of comfort, despite the gravity of the words Draco had just spoken.

"Is that why he left in such a hurry, during dinner?" asked Draco.

Hermione turned her head to face him:

"How do you know that?"

"I saw him." he replied with a shrug.

"But how? You didn't look our way once during the whole meal!"

Draco smiled his unbearable smirk. When it wasn't imbued with malice and aimed directly at her, Hermione adored it, but still found it hard to admit.

"I look at you all the time, Hermione."

"No, you don't." she replied in her high-pitched voice that made him laugh. "I've looked at you and you haven't turned your head to me once."

"Speaking of which, you weren't very discreet." Draco commented. "You could have avoided drooling on the table, for example..."

She slapped his arm and he laughed again, a real laugh that Hermione was physically unable to resist.

"I was watching you to make sure you weren't manipulated during the break!" she huffed indignantly.

"And I watched you because I wanted to watch you." Draco said. "After several years of observation, I've managed to develop a few techniques for being discreet, which you haven't, Granger."

Hermione was terribly embarrassed that he could tell when she was looking at him, which was all the time, but Draco seemed pleased. He brought Hermione's hand to his mouth and kissed her palm, causing Hermione's cheeks to burn within seconds.

"So?" he asked, his hand still holding hers. "Why did Weasley leave during dinner?"

Hermione pursed her lips.

"He got angry with me..."

Hearing this, Draco's cheerful face fell completely and he compulsively clenched his fingers against Hermione's:

"Why?" he asked dryly.

"No real reason," she said with a sigh. "He's just tired, he grabbed the first thing he could get his hands on to vent his anger. I think he's been building it up for a while... I hope it's gone by tomorrow."

"Because you're not tired, perhaps?" asked Draco angrily, and Hermione had to stop herself from pointing out that he was a master at taking out his frustration on someone else. But she held back to enjoy his skin against hers a little more, the fresh scent that came from him.

She laid her head on his shoulder. Mint and green apple. He relaxed, resting his cheek against the top of her head. When he took a deep breath, she wondered if he could smell her strawberry shampoo, the one Lavender had given her in second year.

"What was he upset about?" asked Draco after a few seconds.

"Luna." Hermione replied.

"Who?" repeated Draco, genuinely confused.

"A friend of Ginny's, in Ravenclaw. A blonde girl, a year younger than us..."

"Ah yes, I've seen you with her a few times." he said. "Isn't she a bit... odd? Pansy told me that her father ran the Quibbler magazine."

"She's a bit... eccentric." Hermione admitted. "I didn't like her very much at first, but... She managed to calm me down when Harry and Ron were away, and I'm very grateful to her for that. But when I told the table that Luna had said hello to them, Ron got angry. He said I wanted to be friends with everyone, even those who didn't deserve it, just because they were different."

"Did he say that to be mean?" asked Draco.

"He asked me if I wanted to start a club to recruit "the odd ones". It wasn't a very nice name for them."

Draco didn't answer, but he kissed her forehead to comfort her.

"Who was he talking about?" he asked.

"Theo." Hermione replied.

Draco jumped and Hermione suddenly lifted her head from his shoulder.

"Theo?" repeated Draco, stunned. "Theo?! You told them?"

"Yes." Hermione replied, surprised at his reaction. "Just that we studied together from time to time."

It was hard for her to grasp the emotion that ran through him at that moment, as if he was torn between fear and hostility.

"Why?" he asked incredulously.

"Because they're my best friends." Hermione said without hesitation. "I didn't want to hide my new friendship with Theo from them."

A flash of pain crossed his blue eyes:

"You're not friends with Theo." he replied firmly.

"Yes, I am." Hermione retorted in the same tone. "We are friends."

"You got close to him to make me jealous." Draco pointed out. "That's not what I call friendship, you used him."

Hermione's blush erupted across her neck and cheeks, but this time it wasn't embarrassment, it was more like revolt.

"No! I admit I wanted to make you jealous at first, but my feelings towards him have always been friendly! I've always liked him, and he's the only one who's managed to take my mind off things when you've been ignoring me!"

Draco closed his eyes for a second and Hermione saw him clench his fist. She could almost see the anger rippling through his skin. She could feel it radiating from him, trying to possess him. When he opened his eyes again, they were grey.

"Don't say that, Granger."

"Yes, I do!" she replied fervently. "I've become friends with Theo, and that's not going to change, especially not because Ron or you forbid it. I have the right to be friends with whomever I want, and if I want to be friends with Theo, that's my choice! And if you weren't so... so stubborn, I wouldn't have had to get close to him in the first place!"

Hearing this, Draco's upper lip twitched slightly.

"Me, stubborn?" he said.

"Yes, you. You're stubborn." Hermione replied before crossing her arms over her chest.

Draco smiled a little, his eyes losing their grey glint. Occlumency was fascinating to watch. Hermione couldn't get enough of watching his irises change colour with his moods, or of seeing the cold facade fall away, just for her. He lowered his head and ran his fingers over the bench, following the lines on the wood.

"How did they react?" he asked, referring to the Gryffindors.

"Apart from Ron, no one objected."

"That's because he's jealous." Draco said matter-of-factly. "You know that, don't you?"

Hermione ignored the comment, because deep down, she knew he was right.

"Fred warned me about Theo's father, he said he was a Death Eater and had done terrible things."

"He's not wrong." Draco said without stopping tracing the lines on the wood with his index finger. "But Theo has nothing to do with his father."

"That's what I told them." Hermione said.

Draco raised an eyebrow:

"And no one believed you, because Theo is a Slytherin, and he's bound to be evil. Is that it?"

Hermione hated the fact that he was right, that his friends really thought that about Theo, just because of his House, without even trying to see beyond it, his qualities, his values.

"I told them he'd never done anything wrong and that he was being misjudged."

"What do you know about that?" asked Draco coldly. "You don't even know him."

"I know him well enough to know there's nothing wrong with him." Hermione objected.

"Weasley's right." Draco said calmly. "You're too eager to help people who haven't asked for anything."

"I don't!"

"Then how do you explain this?" he asked, pointing to the space between them.

"You've done bad things." she replied immediately. "You've been cruel and hurt me, often. Theo never did."

Draco clenched his jaw but said nothing. Hermione didn't do anything to take back the words she'd just said, because she meant them. He was trying to be better, with the effort he put in every day, but that didn't change the fact that he had been bad once. He continued to draw the wooden lines with his finger without saying a word.

Suddenly, he lifted his head to meet Hermione's. When his eyes were that blue, that deep, she felt she could see a glimpse of his soul in them.

"Are you in love with Theo?" he asked in a whisper.

He waited for her answer, almost pleading, almost fearful, completely exposed and vulnerable. It was a rare sight to see Draco so exposed.

Hermione stopped herself from rolling her eyes, it was a stupid question and he knew the answer very well. He knew that she wasn't in love with Theo. He knew her, she'd told him several times, he knew that wasn't the case. But Hermione knew Draco. She knew his every imperfection, she understood his mind, twisted as it was, and most of all, she knew how much he needed reassurance. He knew the answer, but he needed to hear it, so Hermione stopped herself from answering impulsively. She breathed in and said quietly:

"No, I'm not in love with Theo. I'm in love with you."

He let out a sigh of relief that relaxed his shoulders.

"Thank you." he replied, and she nodded, because they understood each other, and behind his thank you, there were thousands of words lurking in the shadows that she didn't need to hear to know.

He leaned back against the back of the bench and she rested her head on his shoulder. He toyed with one of her curls, wrapping it around his finger. She took his other hand and placed it on her thighs and they remained in this position for a few minutes, intertwined, reassured by each other's contact. The protective barriers Hermione had created with her Imperturbable Charm continued to absorb the wind around them.

She thought of Draco's face woven into the Black tapestry and struggled to associate the boy with the one who held her in his arms.

"I told Pansy." Draco declared softly, close to her ear. "I told her. For us."

He continued to wrap her curls around her fingers, so she didn't look up, even though she wanted to see his expression. She could tell the importance of his confession by the way he held himself, as if he'd just told her a secret.

"Didn't she already know?" she asked, remembering her warning during Potions class the year before.

Draco took a few seconds to think:

"Yes, she knew. Because... because she's Pansy, you know?"

Hermione didn't, but she let him continue:

"But now, she knows. She really knows. Because I told her."

Hermione didn't really understand the difference, but Draco seemed to think it was an important step, so she didn't ask him to explain.

"What exactly did you tell her?" she asked instead.

"I told her I was in love with you." Draco said, and no matter how many times he'd told her, she could still feel the heat spreading through her muscles as intensely as ever.

"It was the first time I'd told anyone about us. And I didn't want to tell anyone but her."

"And what does she think?"

Hermione couldn't quite imagine Parkinson's reaction to hearing such a thing.

"She's happy for me." he said. She could hear the astonishment in his voice, as if he didn't believe what he'd just said. "That as long as I was happy, she was happy."

"She's a real best friend, then." Hermione said.

Draco nodded against her hair.

"What about Blaise?" she asked. "Does he know?"

"I think so." Draco replied vaguely.

"You think?" she repeated. "He never told you?"

"Not really. We never talked about it, but Blaise is like Pansy, he knows everything. I think he guessed a long time ago."

Hermione found it very strange to be so close to someone without ever talking about how they felt, but she suppose their friendships were different from her own. Maybe Draco and Blaise didn't need to talk to know what the other was going through.

"And Theo?" she asked in a quiet voice.

She felt Draco's fingers tighten at the nickname.

"I don't think he knows." he replied. "Unless you've told him, I don't think he suspects anything."

"I didn't tell him. He's your friend, it's up to you when you're ready."

"Theo... He's not like Pansy and Blaise." Draco said. "He would be... I don't even know how he'd react. I'd rather wait before telling him officially."

Hermione nodded. She couldn't really blame him for waiting, since she wasn't going to tell Harry and Ron any time soon.

The only remaining lighted window in the Castle went out, somewhere on the fourth floor, and Hermione became aware of the lateness of the hour. Time always passed too quickly when she was with Draco, like water between her fingers, like the grains of an hourglass flowing too quickly. She would have loved to spend hours with him on that bench, talking about anything and everything, hearing his voice grow deeper and deeper as tiredness took hold of him.

"I should go." she said reluctantly. "I really need to find a suitable rhythm for the start of the new term, with the O.W.L..."

Draco kissed the top of her head and slowly sat up.

"You're right. I'm late too."

Hermione turned towards him in confusion:

"Late?"

"Yeah, I haven't done anything all holiday." Draco admitted, stretching his arms, which were probably stiff from staying in the same position. "I haven't even done the essay for Snape..."

Hermione put a hand over her mouth:

"WHAT?" she cried. "But Draco, it's due in three days! Have you at least studied Herbology? And the Transfiguration formulas? You're supposed to be able to use them next week!"

"No, nothing." Draco said in a tone that was far too calm. "And I haven't opened my History of Magic book in months."

Hermione didn't hear Draco laugh when he saw her reaction, so much blood was pounding against her eardrums in panic:

"But Draco, this is very serious!" she squealed, already making a mental list of all the work he needed to catch up on. "You have to finish the Potions essay, it's crucial for your O.W.L., especially if you want to get an Outstanding! And Professor McGonagall won't let your lateness go unpunished, you should have known the formulas for weeks, if she finds out you haven't worked..."

"Calm down, Granger." Draco said with an amused smile. "I'll catch up this week..."

"You bet you will!" Hermione retorted. "Starting tomorrow! I'll make you study Transfiguration, and you absolutely must finish that essay by Tuesday night, and if we have time after Herbology, we can maybe go over the chapter on the Third Giant War, and in Spells, where are you? Please reassure me, have you studied the temporality spells properly?"

Draco shook his head and Hermione began to recite all the homework that needed to be done and Draco let out several exasperated sighs when he saw the amount of work that lay ahead of them, but behind his false air of boredom, Hermione was sure that he was glad to see her so invested in him.

.

.

---

Draco

---

.

.

"Oh, sorry, do you want me to move maybe?" asked Pansy, full of sarcasm.

She'd just sat across from him at breakfast, blocking his perfect view of Granger. He loved looking at her in the morning, her hair still tousled from the night, sometimes tied up in a messy bun. She often chatted with Weaslette, but if it was early, she'd be reading her day's lessons, eyebrows furrowed, her attention completely consumed by the book in front of her. She was drinking black tea, because she was avoiding coffee since her overdose in third year. Draco knew it was because of the Time Turner, but she'd always denied it, claiming she'd become addicted for no particular reason. That morning, she was wearing her Gryffindor robes and reading her History of Magic textbook, which they shared in first period. There was nothing in her face or posture to suggest that she'd gone to bed after midnight. But Draco knew, because he'd been with her all evening, and he loved being the only one in the room who knew.

But Pansy was sitting opposite him, and Draco had reflexively moved his head to watch Granger turn her page, and Pansy had caught his eye.

"Shut up." he replied elegantly.

He glanced sideways at Blaise and Theo to make sure they hadn't heard Pansy's comment, but they were both too busy: Blaise was trying not to fall asleep in his coffee because the effects of the sleeping potions were too strong and he found it hard to wake up in the morning, and Theo was reading his History of Magic textbook, a perfect mirror image of the girl three tables away.

Draco turned back to Pansy, who was laughing to herself. She cut a piece of sausage and handed it to Eris, who was strategically hidden in a flap of her cloak. Draco still wasn't sure if he liked the fact that Pansy knew. She'd known since fourth year that he was in love with Granger, but now that she knew, she wasn't afraid to talk about it openly. Draco was torn between joy that someone in his inner circle was acknowledging his feelings and annoyance that she could gently mock him. He longed to know the identity of her secret crush so that he could do the same.

Draco had to use advanced strategies to observe Granger to his heart's content. Over Pansy's shoulder, as she spread honey on her bread, he could see Potter and Weasley joining her. The latter was behaving as usual, sitting down opposite Granger, nodding tiredly in greeting and helping himself. Granger didn't seem bothered by his lack of apology, she smiled at him and continued to eat her porridge while reading her textbook.

Draco knew he didn't really have much of a say in Granger's arguments. He knew that he had apologised to one person far too many times and that Granger had always forgiven him by some miracle he didn't quite understand. He knew only too well that Granger was forgiving, but that didn't stop him from feeling a pang of jealousy at the thought of her not blaming Weasley for his outburst the night before. When it was Weasley, she tended to let it go, to make excuses for him. But for him to lash out at her just to vent his frustration was a behaviour Draco hated. He thought it was unfair, and it had nothing to do with Weasley's supposed feelings for her. Nothing at all.

He was so focused on silently analysing the behaviour of the trio in front of him that he didn't notice Snape getting up from the teacher's table. He walked between the Ravenclaw and Slytherin tables and Draco didn't see him until he was halfway there. He kicked Pansy in the shin to warn her, and she covered Eris's head with her cloak just as the professor reached their level.

"Nott, Zabini, Malfoy, Parkinson, Greengrass." Snape listed, handing out papers to each of them. "Detention, tonight, with Filch. Night disturbance."

Theo dropped his History of Magic textbook into his bowl of milk and stared at the scrap of parchment in horror.

"But, Professor!" cried Draco, taking the parchment Snape held out to him. "Pansy and I are Prefects, we can't get detentions from other Prefects!"

Snape gave him a blank look.

"I'm well aware of that, Malfoy. I've decided that rule doesn't apply in this case."

Draco grumbled. He'd thought he could take advantage of Snape's favouritism towards him, but it was all for nothing. And seeing Theo's condition, he told himself it was only right to accompany him.

"Crabbe, Goyle." Snape called, throwing them the two remaining pieces of parchment. "Detention tonight, same place, for not handing in homework."

Snape spun on his heels and returned to the teachers' table, ignoring their protests.

"Oh, great!" groaned Theo, putting his head in his hands. "It's bad enough we've got detention, and now I've got to sit through it with Crabbe and Goyle?"

"We'll be there, it'll go quicker." Pansy said, pulling back her cloak to let Eris' muzzle pass. "You'll see, it's not that bad."

Draco nodded reassuringly, even though his only experience with detention had been in the Forbidden Forest and he'd faced a creature that drank unicorn blood and had nightmares about it for a whole year. He read the paper Snape had just given him:

"Draco Malfoy: Two hours detention with Mr. Filch, outside the Great Hall at 6 p.m. for night disturbance, reported by a prefect. Work to be done: scrubbing the Trophy Room."

"It's only the Trophy Room." he said, folding up the note. "With any luck it'll be done in less than an hour."

Theo nodded, but still didn't look very reassured. He picked up his drenched textbook and had to go back twice to cast the drying spell, his hand shaking.

"Astoria?" called Blaise.

Draco looked up at the same time as Astoria, who was sitting a little further away with some of her classmates. She had her blonde hair tied up in a ponytail and her eyes were the same colour as her sister's, a kind of brown with a greenish tinge.

"What?" she asked.

"I can explain to Snape if you want, so you don't have to... you know, have detention with us." Blaise said.

Astoria shrugged:

"No, never mind. I've been dying to clean out the Trophy Room for weeks, and now I'm finally going to get my wish."

If Pansy had replied that, Draco would have laughed, but since he didn't like Astoria without a real motive, he didn't show it.

"Sorry again." Blaise said in a sincere tone.

Astoria gave him a sympathetic smile:

"It's nothing, don't worry."

The two sisters were such opposites that if Pansy hadn't told him they were related, Draco would never have guessed it on his own. Sure, they looked alike physically, but Daphne's face was constantly crumpled, as if she had to bear the criticism and mockery she threw all day long. Astoria, on the other hand, had smoother, finer features, and when she smiled, her whole face lit up, from her eyes to her chin. Draco couldn't understand why Blaise hadn't gone out with her instead of Daphne, who was sulking all the time.

He returned to his contemplation of Granger as he ate his breakfast.

Theo resumed his reading, but his eyes kept returning to the Snape parchment, as if he hoped it had disappeared by now. Eris fell asleep by Pansy's side, and she and Blaise were talking in indecipherable whispers, probably about Divination.

Like every first Monday of term, Ebony brought Draco a huge parcel of sweets from his mother. He didn't enjoy it as much as in previous years, because he felt betrayed by her during the holidays, but he was still touched by the thoughtfulness. He imagined it was her way of apologising without saying so. He gave Ebony a piece of biscuit and opened the package: an explosion of colours and a sweet smell hit his nostrils. He rummaged through the pile of Chocolate Frogs and picked up a few, which he slid across the table to Theo to comfort him after the announcement of detention, but Theo paid no attention to his gift: his eyes were riveted on the cover of the Daily Prophet, which an owl had just placed in front of him, his mouth wide open in shock.

"What's the matter?" asked Pansy, who had also just noticed Theo's reaction.

The problem with Theo was that he always overreacted. He had the same degree of shock when he realised he'd forgotten to answer an exam question as when he'd been disinherited by his own father in a letter. So it didn't bother Draco to see him in such a state of panic, until a high-pitched scream interrupted the usual breakfast bustle. He recognised her without even looking at her, her scream echoing in his head and hitting him hard.

Granger.

"What? Theo?" he called more urgently. "What's going on?"

"Oh, fuck!"

It was Blaise, who'd also just received the paper. Seeing his desperate expression, Draco could feel the fear gripping his body. If Blaise was reacting so strongly, something really bad had happened.

"What?!" shouted Draco, now completely desperate.

Blaise and Theo looked up from the front page of the newspaper at the same time and looked at Draco with two expressions, one of pity and one of horror:

"I'm... sorry, Draco..." Theo muttered, paler than ever.

"Can someone give us a fucking newspaper?!" cried Pansy, trying to snatch Theo's out of his hands.

Blaise handed her his, his mouth twisted in concern, and Pansy spread it out on the table for her and Draco to read.

The front page was divided into ten square photographs, each containing a wizard more terrifying than the last.

Draco's eyes were immediately drawn to one of the moving pictures at the bottom right of the page. The frame was occupied by a witch with black hair piled wildly on top of her head, like a thick, untidy mass. She was screaming, and Draco didn't need to hear the sound of her voice to get chills just looking at her. Her hands were tied in cuffs that she was angrily slamming against the bottom of the frame, and her head was bobbing from side to side. When she looked into the camera, she smiled maniacally, revealing black, damaged teeth. Her eyelids were heavy, her cheeks hollowed out, revealing her bones beneath her pale skin.

"No!" Pansy gasped.

Draco looked up to read the Prophet's headline:

MASS BREAKOUT FROM AZKABAN

MINISTRY FEARS BLACK IS "RALLYING POINT" FOR OLD DEATH EATERS

His stomach lurched.

"Ten Death Eaters on the loose?" whispered Pansy, unable to hide the panic in her voice.

Draco scanned the pictures. They were all, without exception, devastated by their prison sentences. Their gazes were blank and numb, their expressions dark, their hair greasy and dirty. Some moved their heads menacingly, others smiled wryly. But none of the nine wizards looked as deranged as the black-haired woman, who was driven by a veritable madness. Draco didn't dare look at her again. His arms were shaking uncontrollably.

"Fuck." he yelped, unable to find anything to say to express the horror this front page was causing him.

He looked up to see that Theo, Blaise and Pansy were all looking at him, and Draco had the strange feeling that they were waiting for a more elaborate reaction from him. Even Eris, who had been awed by Pansy's movements, was looking at him with an air of pity.

"What?" he asked, glancing at his three friends in turn.

"Draco..." Pansy said quietly, as if afraid he'd suddenly lose his temper. "Did you see their names?"

Draco dropped his head to the newspaper. He'd been so engrossed in their faces that he hadn't noticed the pictures were accompanied by captions. Their names and their crimes. The first was Antonin Dolohov, convicted of the particularly brutal murders of Gideon and Fabian Prewett. The fourth was Selwyn. He was smiling wickedly. He was missing an eye.

Draco read the caption under the witch's photograph:

"Bellatrix Lestrange, convicted of torture resulting in permanent disability of Frank and Alice Longbottom."

He immediately looked up at Longbottom, who was sitting a few seats away from Granger. He looked like someone who'd just had his soul sucked out by a Dementor. For the first time in five years, Draco felt sorry for the poor boy. He had no idea that his parents had suffered such a fate.

"That's terrible." he whispered to Pansy, Blaise and Theo.

"Draco..." Theo began in the soft voice he always used when he was about to say something unpleasant. "Don't you recognise anyone in this?"

Draco frowned and analysed the photos again. Lucius wasn't one of them. He found it hard to imagine his father in that state anyway.

"No?"

"That woman there..." Blaise said, patting the square of Bellatrix Lestrange, who continued to roar in silence.

Draco was forced to look at her. Now that Blaise had pointed it out, it was true that she vaguely reminded him of someone. He tried to ignore her uncontrollable hair and sadistic smile, but he couldn't. All he could see was a terrifying woman.

"Draco." Pansy said. Her voice was the only one that could cut through the flood of thoughts in his brain at that moment. "It's Bellatrix Lestrange... née Black."

And suddenly, he realised.

He saw the ancient parchment his father had ordered him to study before he started at Hogwarts. He'd struggled to make out all the Pureblood names that intersected to form dozens of different bloodlines. He remembered that his mother's branch ran to the right, towards her maiden name, Black. Her portrait was joined by two others, one of them burnt, illegible. The sister who had fled the family, the one his mother never spoke of. And the other...

She was unrecognizable. The woman on the front page of the newspaper looked nothing like the one he had glimpsed on the family tree. Bellatrix Black had been the spitting image of her mother, with the same features carved in marble, the same aristocratic air, the same bright, dark eyes, and naturally rosy lips. Bellatrix Lestrange, however, no longer bore any trace of that beauty. Some remnants remained, visible if Draco looked closely enough, but he was far too horrified to even try.

"This... this woman... She's my mother's sister? This woman?" he stammered, barely aware that he was speaking aloud, confirming the realization taking shape in his mind.

His mother never spoke of her sisters. When she talked about family, it was always the Malfoys, Lucius's side of the family. All Draco knew about his aunts was that the youngest had been disowned, and the eldest had lost her mind. He hadn't known she had been sent to Azkaban. Whenever her name was mentioned, his mother would change the subject and take days to recover from the mere mention. Draco had always assumed she was dead.

"Yes, that's her." Pansy said, avoiding looking at the photo as well.

Draco reread the newspaper headline several times. She had escaped. That dangerous woman was now free. His eyes drifted to the caption below the photograph, and his stomach twisted so violently he nearly vomited his breakfast. He didn't dare lift his head to look at Longbottom. A strange guilt settled over him, shame at belonging to the same family that had tortured Neville's parents.

"Apparently, it's Black behind all of this." Theo said, scanning his own copy of the Daily Prophet. "Sirius Black, the serial killer. They're cousins."

At those words, one of Draco's books opened in his head. He hadn't even noticed that he had started Occluding, perhaps a biological response to the shock.

"You must promise not to tell anyone. Sirius is my friend, Draco. Please, don't say anything that could compromise him."

He looked up at Granger, who was already watching him. They exchanged a long look. Without even speaking, he guessed that she had made the connection between this mad woman and him. How, he had no idea. Maybe she had known for years. She blinked in reassurance and he thanked her with a subtle nod.

Theories about Black flew around him, but Draco said nothing, because he had promised her.

.

Draco avoided Longbottom's gaze all day. Usually, when he met him in the corridor or in class, he took great pleasure in making fun of him, only to see his face turn red. Where Potter and Weasley would retort, Longbottom would take it in stride. On this day, however, Draco was unable to look at him. It made his skin itch whenever they were in the same room.

All anyone could talk about was escaping Azkaban. As he walked past Granger, Weasley and Potter, the students pointed at Potter behind his back. In class, the students cast accusing glances at him, as if it were his fault that ten Death Eaters had escaped from prison. Draco found it hard to keep up, even if it was fake. Bellatrix Lestrange's face haunted him from morning to night, making it impossible for him to concentrate. He received a Poor in Potions for the first time in his life.

He was looking forward to meeting Granger in the Library to take his mind off things, but just as he was about to come up with a lame excuse to join her, Filch approached them and Draco suddenly remembered their scheduled detention that very evening. It had completely slipped his mind.

"So we're making noise in the dormitory after hours?" asked Filch with a mocking laugh that sounded more like a cough than anything else. "Snape told me two hours in the Cup Room would teach you to keep your mouth shut."

No one replied, so he climbed the stairs and the group followed, dragging their feet. Only Theo seemed on the verge of an anxiety attack, but when Blaise apologised to everyone in a whisper, it was he who cut him off, telling him it wasn't his fault.

They arrived at the Trophy Room, which was actually a long gallery with hundreds of gold cups lined up on dusty shelves. Looking at the length of the room, Pansy and Draco sighed in exasperation.

"This room should be immaculate in two hours." Filch announced, his malicious grin still on his face.

Astoria pulled her wand from her pocket, but Filch stopped her:

"No, no. You have to clean without magic, of course."

Astoria looked scandalised. Crabbe, who was standing in the doorway watching the room with his silly little eyes, looked at the caretaker as if he'd just announced he'd been elected Minister of Magic.

"Without magic? But how are we supposed to clean without magic?" he asked desperately.

Filch kicked a bucket with his foot and tossed them each a rag.

"What's this?" asked Goyle, turning the square of cloth in his hands.

Theo rolled his eyes.

"It's a cloth. For wiping." Filch explained. "You have to clean each trophy one by one until they shine."

"And why is there a rag in there too?" asked Goyle, pointing to the bucket of water on the floor.

"It's a mop, you idiot." Theo grumbled under his breath.

Goyle didn't hear him and continued to look worriedly at the bucket of water.

"You've got two hours. Give me your wands."

They reluctantly complied. Filch snatched them from their hands and tucked them into his coat pocket.

"See you later." he cooed happily.

"This is nonsense!" exclaimed Pansy as soon as he had closed the door. "Why take the magic away when we could clean this stuff up in less than ten minutes?"

"I'm so sorry, guys." Blaise said, bowing his head over the bucket.

"Don't be silly." Theo repeated. "It's not your fault."

He dipped his cloth in the water and wrung it out, then walked to the end of the room:

"I'll start at the bottom. Draco, stand in the middle, Pansy in front, Blaise to the left, Astoria opposite."

They took their positions and began to polish the trophies. Crabbe and Goyle stood in the doorway, arms swinging:

"What about us?" they asked in low voices.

Theo didn't answer, so Draco did:

"Stand on the shelf in the back, and don't drop anything."

They obeyed, and the room quickly fell into concentrated silence. Draco tidied up as quickly as he could to have a chance of finding Granger before the Library closed. He could hear the scrubbing of Slytherin rags all around him. Crabbe and Goyle had knocked over a dozen trophies in less than fifteen minutes.

"Don't you think it's stupid?" asked Pansy suddenly, sitting cross-legged and cleaning all the cups from the bottom shelf. "We've been having parties in the Common Room every night for five years, and the one day we get detention for disturbing the peace, we weren't even there?"

Draco laughed bitterly.

"I'm sorry." repeated Blaise, who was scrubbing the trophies on the top shelf.

Before Pansy, Theo or Draco could reassure him, Astoria did:

"Don't worry Blaise, there's nothing to be sorry about."

Blaise smiled weakly and gave her a grateful nod. Draco couldn't understand what the hell this girl was doing here and he didn't like it very much. He could hardly bear the addition of another person to his very closed circle of friends.

"Yeah, don't worry, Blaise." Goyle agreed. "We don't blame you."

"You're not here for Blaise, you morons." Theo barked, plunging the room into another silence.

After an hour, Draco's wrist hurt from scrubbing, so he went to one of the cupboards to clean the windows. The dirt was so embedded in the glass after decades that he could barely see through it, even after soaking and drying his cloth countless times. Astoria joined him at the back of the room and began cleaning the trophies next to him.

"You could thank me, you know." she said in her cheerful voice.

There was no one around them, everyone else was cleaning further away, so he realised quite late that she was talking to him. Draco slowly turned his head towards her:

"Thank you? For what?"

"For helping your friend." Astoria said.

Draco frowned.

"You didn't help him at all. I asked for a Bezoar and you brought a Strengthening Solution that got thrown against the wall."

Astoria didn't lose the knowing smile on her face that Draco wished he could rip off.

"A Bezoar would have been useless." she said. "He clearly wasn't poisoned. A Strengthening Solution allowed him to regain consciousness by waking up faster."

Draco sneered dismissively:

"Super useful. Too bad he was already awake. Thanks to me."

"I didn't think you were going to wake him." Astoria protested in a calm voice.

"Well, I did. So I don't need to thank you." Draco replied dryly.

A bit of foam landed on his cheek and he wiped it off with the sleeve of his robes. Astoria watched him, still smiling, still unbearable.

"My sister was right." she said after a while. "You really are good at Potions."

Draco arched an eyebrow in her direction:

"How could your sister know that?"

"You've been in the same class for five years."

"So what? Just because we've been in the same Common Room for five years doesn't mean I give a shit about your sister."

Astoria raised her eyebrows in a perfect reproduction of his mother's mannerisms when there were guests in high places.

"She also warned me about your politeness." she said with a smile.

"I don't like you very much." Draco said, explaining his lack of courtesy.

"Neither do I." said Astoria. "That gives us something in common."

"Why did you help Blaise?" he asked. "It's not like you two are friends. Blaise broke up with Daphne and she hates him."

For the first time in their exchange, Astoria's smile disappeared. She suddenly seemed very interested in the trophy in front of her, which she scrupulously cleaned without answering.

"She doesn't know, does she?" guessed Draco. "Daphne. She doesn't know you helped Blaise and she doesn't know you have detention tonight."

Astoria looked at him briefly:

"Of course she does. She's my sister, we tell each other everything."

"Then why did you help her?" he asked. "Nobody forced you to."

"Because I'm not some little twat who pretends she doesn't give a shit about other people just to make herself look good."

It was strange to hear a girl with such a noble accent express herself like that. If Draco were honest, he might even have found her cool.

"And that's supposed to be me?" he asked.

"Why are you so surprised that I came to Blaise's aid?" asked Astoria. "He didn't do anything to me. I wouldn't have let him suffer just out of spite."

"You didn't have to, I handled the situation." Draco said. "And your Strengthening Solution wouldn't have done anything."

Astoria didn't flinch at the remark. She concentrated on passing her cloth between the handles of the trophy. Her movements were slow and graceful, as if she were practising ballet rather than scrubbing old school cups.

Abruptly, she said:

"One of the main ingredients of the Strengthening Solution is salamander blood, which has regenerative properties, especially for the brain, when consumed at maturity. If Blaise had drunk it, he might have remembered the nightmare he'd just had. That's why I brought it to him."

Draco turned his head completely towards the blonde, who didn't give him the slightest look.

"How do you know that?" he asked, not hiding the surprise in his question. "Strengthening Solutions aren't studied until fifth year, and neither is salamander blood."

Astoria gave him a triumphant smile:

"Let's just say you're not the only Hogwarts student interested in Potions, Malfoy."

Then she moved to the centre of the room before Draco could reply. He decided then and there that this girl was unbearable. Not as unbearable as his sister, because at least she had some semblance of conversation. She had some knowledge of Potions, she could string two words together that had nothing to do with the fashion magazines she devoured as soon as an owl brought them to her. She was insufferable in a way he couldn't really explain. Arrogant. Haughty. Snobbish.

Insufferable.

"I don't know about you, but I'm tired of polishing trophies." Astoria suddenly declared as she approached the others.

Pansy nodded in agreement. Blaise, who was being hoisted onto one of the shelves to clean the medals at the top, sighed with effort, and Theo, who was using the mop to clean the parquet floor, gave a participatory "yeah!"

"Luckily I've thought of everything." Astoria said with a wink at her audience.

She lifted her uniform a few inches to reveal the top of her white sock, into which she had tucked a wand.

"What?!" gasped Pansy. "You took a wand?"

"Yes." she said with a shrug, her smile still on her lips. "I was sure Filch would forbid us to use magic, he's so complex about having to do everything by hand... So I asked a friend to lend me hers to get it done quicker."

She took the wand and pointed it at the shelf Pansy and Blaise had been cleaning for over an hour:

"Scourgify!" she shouted.

A powerful spray hit the trophies and medals. Immediately they shone with a beautiful golden glow, not a speck of dirt visible. Astoria repeated the spell everywhere, and within minutes the room was completely clean from floor to ceiling, and there was even a fresh smell of soap in the air.

Everyone exploded with joy and rushed to thank her, including Crabbe and Goyle, who were drenched in sweat. Draco, on the other hand, chose to sulk in his corner. The glass he'd been rubbing for the last twenty minutes was glowing, which irritated him even more.

"Thanks Tori!" said Pansy happily, giving her a hug.

"Now all we have to do is wait for Filch to come and get us." the blonde said. "Here, I have some sweets for the wait."

She threw packets of sweets at them all, but Draco was the only one who didn't catch his. They sat on the floor chatting, thanking Astoria all the time for her oh-so-brilliant mind, and no one noticed that Draco had stayed in his corner. Not even Crabbe and Goyle, which for some reason, annoyed Draco to no end.

After ten minutes, Astoria called out to him:

"Malfoy?"

He turned his head towards her, as if he'd only just noticed her presence.

"Biscuit?" she offered, handing him a chocolate biscuit.

Draco refused, shaking his head without even bothering to reply.

"Come on, stop sulking." Theo intervened, his mouth full of crumbs and his hands stained with chocolate. "Have one, they're delicious!"

"No, thanks." Draco replied.

"I promise, if they're poisoned, I'll bring you a Bezoar." Astoria added with a cheeky wink.

Draco didn't laugh at all. He folded his arms across his chest and rested his head on the glass of the cupboard he'd just washed in vain. That girl was such a pain.

"You could at least thank her." Theo pointed out, struggling to swallow his bite of biscuit. "Without her, we'd still be cleaning trophies."

"If you had a wand all along, why didn't you use it before?" asked Draco dryly. He was talking to Astoria, but not looking at her.

There was an awkward silence, then Pansy whispered:

"Don't mind him, he's in a bad mood today."

He felt anger rising. He hated it when Pansy did that, talked about him as if he wasn't standing right next to her. He stayed in his corner and didn't speak for the rest of the detention.

One hour later, Filch came back. He could hardly hide his surprise at seeing the Trophy Room in such a state. Stupid as he was, he hadn't thought to check if one of them was hiding a wand. Draco would have loved to see Astoria's face if the caretaker had asked her to show what was under her sock. The small group made their way back to the dungeons.

Just before they reached the stairs, Draco stopped:

"Carry on, I'm going for a walk."

Theo turned around:

"Are you mad, it's almost curfew!"

Draco rolled his eyes to show him how little he cared. He hadn't respected curfew since first year, and Theo knew that very well.

"And if you get detention again?" Theo continued.

Draco rolled his eyes a second time.

"I'm just going for a walk, I'll be right back." he said, already turning around.

"What if you run into Hermione?" insisted Theo. "She might be on her rounds!"

Pansy laughed loudly. Draco scowled at her, but she pretended not to notice:

"Don't worry, Theo." she said, laughing. "I'm sure Draco will be fine."

Draco elbowed her in the ribs, but Pansy narrowly escaped. She put her arm around Blaise's and whispered:

"Let's go, I'm exhausted."

The boys followed as soon as they heard her complaint. Astoria followed, then Crabbe and Goyle, and soon the corridor was deserted.

Draco made his way discreetly up the stairs and into the Library, taking care not to be seen by Pince, who would surely remark on the lateness of the hour. She might even deny him access just to piss him off.

Draco slipped between the shelves to find his favourite table. He hadn't been there since Halloween and he missed it so much he could feel the rush in his veins. The walk to the distant table seemed endless. When he finally arrived and saw her sitting with a cup of tea in her hand, a dozen books scattered in front of her and her bun full of flyaways, Draco couldn't help but sigh with happiness. Granger lifted her head towards him and Draco could see the joy lighting up every feature of her face, from the line of her mouth to the sparkle in her pupils, but she hid it behind a stern frown:

"It's late." she said reproachfully.

She was far too much like Pince.

"Good evening, Granger." he replied instead.

He sat down at the table and breathed in the sweet smell of cinnamon that emanated from this place, from her. For the first time since he'd rammed his fist into Potter's jaw in that bloody match against the Gryffindors, Draco came back here with peace of mind. He could breathe normally, he didn't have a single barrier of Occlumency fogging his head, he didn't feel like punching something to release some old anger buried somewhere. He was completely free, lulled by the smell of tea, hypnotised by the scrutinising chocolate eyes in front of him.

His haven of peace. The only place he could be Draco. And Granger held the keys.

Except that she was still staring at him, eyebrows furrowed.

Draco had watched this girl so much that he could tell what kind of anger she was feeling just by the look on her face. Sometimes she was Annoyed-Granger, sometimes Pouting-Granger, rarely Angry-Granger, often a Need-to-Extort-My-Anger-Granger. That evening, Draco was dealing with a redoubtable Granger, whom he'd amused himself by calling "The Teacher-Granger"

"May I ask where you've been?" she asked, her nose practically in the air.

"You're too curious, Granger." he replied with a smirk.

She rolled her eyes and pulled out a notebook, placing it so roughly on the table that her tea spilled a little.

"I've prepared a study schedule for you for the next few months." she announced coldly.

Draco grimaced as he looked at the notebook in question:

"Will it yell at me if I don't finish my homework?"

"No, not this one." she said. "You'd burn it at the slightest comment, so I... made one for you."

Draco opened it and was assaulted by Granger's round, colourful handwriting, and his heart leapt.

It was a Muggle notebook, with strange paper, it was all thin and didn't have the grain of parchment. Yet, Draco loved it immediately, not because of its unusual appearance, but because each double page was filled with handmade columns. On the first he could read "January Back to School Week", then the words "Potions" and "Essay Due". He flipped through the pages and saw that the schedule spanned months.

He felt emotion tingle in his eyes as he realised that Granger had done this for him. She had thought of him, every line had been written for him. Draco had never experienced so much attention from someone without getting anything in return. All his relationships had been deals, bargains, exchanges, but Granger had done this out of sheer generosity and he would have burst into tears if he could cry like everyone else.

"Fuck, Granger, that's..." he began, his sentence trembling slightly with emotion.

She placed a finger on the planning sheets, cutting off his thanks:

"Green is Potions." she said, showing him the different lines she'd written. Yellow is spells, brown is Herbology, purple is History of Magic..." she listed, pointing to the relevant places with her finger. Draco quickly lost the thread of her explanation, distracted by one of her curls in front of his face, which he tucked behind his ear as she spoke. His cheekbones flushed and he smiled, always pleased to see her react so strongly to the slightest touch, especially when she was angry.

"Will you remember?" she asked, and he nodded, even though he had no idea what she had just said. "If you want to move a task to another day, just tap it with your wand and move it to the day you want."

"You did all this by hand?" he asked as he flicked through the notebook, where endless calendars stretched out until the O.W.L. exams in June. "When did you do all this?"

"Tonight." she blurted, picking up her quill again to continue filling in her own schedule.

"Excuse me?" said Draco. "You mean you wrote all this in one evening?"

"Yes. I had time." Granger grumbled, avoiding his gaze.

He understood the reason for her irritation and put the notebook back on the table to stare at her. She ignored him, pretending to be absorbed in her reading.

"Hermione?" he called softly.

When she couldn't ignore his stare any longer, she raised her head with an air of profound disinterest, but Draco knew her well enough to know that was a red herring.

"Sorry I couldn't come sooner." Draco said sincerely. "I had detention."

Granger's eyes widened immediately:

"Detention?! For what?"

"Noise disturbance." he muttered.

Granger's shock turned to disapproval in an instant.

"Ah. Another one of your parties?"

Draco thought back to Blaise convulsing on the floor, his eyes rolling back in their sockets, his howls of terror.

"Yeah." he muttered. "You could say that."

"That's really unreasonable, Draco." Granger lectured, sounding more and more like Madam Pince as the conversation went on. "The O.W.L. are less than six months away if you keep staying up late doing God knows what at these parties... If you miss your exams because of this kind of... practice, you'll regret it..."

"Calm down McGonagall, that was before the break." Draco said. "I'm dead serious now. Studious and motivated. Tell me about the schedule."

Granger closed her mouth, analysed him for a few seconds in silence, as if to make sure he wasn't lying, then agreed to show him her own schedule. As soon as she got to the right page, the notebook shouted:

"Well done, you're up to date with your studies!"

"You should finish Snape's essay." Granger advised, tapping on a green line. "That's the most urgent thing. We'll see about the exams once you've caught up. Do you need any help?"

"No." Draco replied spontaneously. "I'm not ready to admit that you're beating me in my favourite subject."

Granger pursed her lips but said nothing, continuing to organise her week in such an incomprehensible way that Draco was sure Albus Dumbledore himself would not be able to decipher her notes.

He set to work. The essay was easy, it was a subject Draco knew well from the many books he'd read, but Granger was right. It was late, and all too soon Pince rose from his desk to warn the last students that the Library was closing.

"I'll finish tonight." he promised, seeing the look on Granger's face as she realised how much he still had to do. "And I'll see you tomorrow, right? Here?"

She glanced over the shelves beside them and Draco suddenly felt as if he'd fallen from the second floor of the Castle and hit the icy ground.

"Ah. You'd rather study with Theo, wouldn't you?"

The panicky fear that Theo might be allowed in this place, sitting in this chair, tasting her cinnamon tea and watching Hermione work, gripped him. He half choked and put a hand to his chest to calm his pounding heartbeat. Granger, on the other hand, remained perfectly calm:

"No, not at all. I'll have you know that it's you I've been waiting for hours."

The sentence brought him a relief he would have been ashamed of if it hadn't been for her. He took a deep breath and the worry slipped out of his head like the threads of thought Snape caught in the Pensieve. She always knew how to put him at ease, as if she could read his mind and find his fears. And worst of all, he let her. She was the only one who could get into his mental library, because it was all about her anyway. He'd filled hundreds of books just with the memories of her lips on his, of her laugh that made something inside him vibrate every time he heard it.

"Besides, Theo doesn't need me to study." Granger added with a mischievous little smile.

Draco wanted to rip it off, but not like Astoria's. He'd much rather kiss her and feel the taste of tea on her lips.

Granger started to pack her things into her bag. Somewhere in the distance, they could hear Madam Pince moving chairs that creaked on the floor.

"Granger, wait." Draco said.

She looked up, confused. Draco rummaged through his bag and pulled out a gift wrapped parcel which he placed on the table.

"Merry Christmas." he said, surprisingly a little shy.

He watched as she understood his move and looked at the package with wide eyes.

"Is it for me?" she asked, surprised.

Draco grinned:

"For the smartest witch of your generation, you're pretty good at asking probing questions, Granger." he scoffed. "Actually, it was for Madam Pince."

He pretended to take his gift back, but she patted his wrist to stop him. She took the pretty white package and analysed it, tattooing it to guess what was inside.

"What is it?"

"Again, Granger..."

"Right, I've got it!" she squealed, her cheeks already flushed.

She tore off the end with a care Draco had never shown when opening Christmas presents and pulled out a long rectangular blue velvet box.

Granger raised her eyebrows and gave him a questioning look.

"You have to open the box." he suggested ironically, though it was to hide his own stage fright.

He'd given Pansy hundreds of gifts since they were children, from the enchanted kite to the latest collection of luxury perfumes from Larmes de Lune, but he'd never gotten as much pleasure out of seeing her open his presents as Granger had. As usual, her emotions were written on her face like a book. She didn't dare look at him and bit her lip nervously. When she finally opened the box, her eyes lit up and she put her hand over her mouth, just as he'd predicted when he'd bought it.

"No, Draco, my God, I can't accept this!"

"Yes, you can." he said with a smile.

"My God, my God, Draco, it's..."

With a delicate movement, as if she was afraid it would break in two at the slightest jolt, she pulled the peacock feather out of the blue box. It was huge, practically brushing her chin, and of an enchanting blue plumage, reminiscent of the Ravenclaw colours. Granger stared at it, mouth agape, as if unable to realise she was holding it.

"I've walked past it so many times, at Scribenpenne..." she murmured. "Draco, I can't accept this, it's far too expensive..."

He rolled his eyes at the comment. He'd give her his entire Gringotts chest if she asked.

"It's beautiful." she breathed.

The joy on her face was intoxicating. He wanted to offer her a dozen of them, in every colour, just to see her rave like that again and again. His chest swelled with a feeling Draco had rarely felt, a mixture of fulfilment and the satisfaction of pleasing someone other than himself.

She looked up at him, her eyes clouded with tears of joy.

"Thank you, Draco."

He wanted to tell her he could buy the whole shop just to hear her say his name again, but changed his mind at the last moment and just nodded.

Overwhelmed with emotion, she rushed over to give him a hug. Draco loved many things about Hermione, so many that he could fill an entire scroll with them, but the spontaneity of her hugs when she was happy was definitely at the top of the list. One second she was on the other side of the table, the next she was in his arms. He could feel the rebellious strands of her bun brushing against his chin and her arms holding him as tightly as they could. In a reflex, he encircled her waist and responded with equal fervour.

"Thank you, Draco. It means a lot to me."

A shiver ran down his jaw as he felt her breath against his skin. He didn't know what to say, he hadn't realised that this purchase could please her so much, so he kissed her temple.

"The Library is closing!" Pince's shrill voice announced.

Draco cursed the librarian's ill-timed announcement, especially when Granger jerked away from him.

"God, I'll never be able to get this out in front of the others." she said, carefully tucking her new quill into its case. "They'll all wonder how I ever bought it. The camera was already suspicious..."

"Who cares, you can take it out when you get here." Draco decreed with a shrug.

She counted her notebooks (although he'd seen her do it every night, he still hadn't understood why), put them in her bag (surely in the order she'd need them the next day), piled up her twenty or so textbooks, which she lightened with a spell, and then put them away with such gentleness that you'd have thought she was cradling a newborn baby.

Draco went out first, followed a minute later by Granger. Pince extinguished the torches and they found themselves at the door, in the empty, half-dark corridor. The only portrait hanging there had left its frame, presumably to join his friend near the hospital wing.

"Shall I see you home?" he offered.

Granger shook his head:

"No, I'd rather not, I don't want you to get caught by a teacher and end up in detention again."

Draco was sure she'd rather avoid a confrontation with Weasley, but he nodded anyway.

"Good night then, Granger."

He was tempted to lean in and kiss her, but it was too dangerous here, so exposed, so he turned on his heels and headed for the stairs.

"Draco, wait!"

He turned around. Granger was clutching her bag to her chest and was positively peony red.

"I have a present too." she admitted, so quietly that he could barely hear her over the echoing stone walls.

He frowned and approached her:

"You've already given me my present." he said, pointing to his new notebook. "The schedule."

Granger danced from one foot to the other to hide her embarrassment:

"It wasn't your Christmas present, I just wanted to help you with your studies..."

Draco's heart pulsed harder and harder against his chest at the thought of getting two presents from Granger in the space of one evening. He was practically stamping his feet.
"What is it?" he asked greedily.

Granger looked around despite the darkness and shook her head:

"Let's go to the bench." she whispered.

"Our bench." he corrected without even thinking.

She nodded and walked towards the Castle Hall. He followed a few steps behind her, enough to pretend it was a coincidence but not too much so as not to lose sight of her.
The Hall was still occupied by a few students returning for curfew. Granger pretended to take the stairs but turned at the last moment to reach the door leading to the park. As soon as she opened it, a gust of wind swept the curly locks from her shoulders. Draco discreetly followed her and they walked along the path, two meters apart. When they reached the bench, they saw that it was completely covered in snow. Draco remained standing, too lazy to take out his wand and melt the snow.

"So, here..." said Granger, rummaging in her bag. "It's a little thing, don't expect anything spectacular, nothing like the luxury gift you gave me..."

"It wasn't luxury, and you've wanted one for years." objected Draco.

"...I made it over the vacations, but I'd understand if you couldn't use it, I mean, it's Muggle, your parents must buy you much better made ones..." continued Granger paying no attention to her interruption.

She rummaged around in her bag so much that he wondered if she'd cast an Extension Spell on it, and was about to point it out to her, when something in her sentence caught his attention:

"Made it?"

Before she could give him any more information, she pulled out a small, dark blue package and handed it to him. Draco took it without taking his eyes off her and shamelessly tore open the wrapping paper.

Looking down, he realised he was holding a blue knitted hat, the same blue as the quill. It was quite simple, with two small flaps at the sides to cover the ears. The knitting was successful, but Draco could tell she'd done it by hand, because there were bits of lint here and there, and the last row of stitches wasn't straight.

"You made this?" he asked in astonishment. "For... for me?"

"Yes." she replied, her wide eyes fixed on him as if gauging his reaction.

Draco watched it from every angle, admiring the progress she'd made. He imagined her knitting a hat for him in the middle of all the Weasleys and his smile widened.

"Do you know you're the only person in the world who's ever given me handmade presents?" he said, not even realising he'd just said it out loud.

Granger scowled:

"I'd understand if you didn't want to wear it, it's far from perfect..."

"Are you kidding?" he exclaimed. He slid the hat onto his head and was surprised to see that it fit perfectly, the brim stopping just above his eyebrows and the flaps protecting his ears from the cold. "It's absolutely perfect, I love it, Granger."

If that was possible, Granger blushed even more.

"No, far from perfect..." she murmured, and Draco wasn't quite sure whether he preferred the shy Granger or the feverish Granger. "What do you mean, you've never received handmade gifts?"

"I've never received a gift made by anyone other than an elf, a renowned designer or a famous broom factory." he explained. "My parents always buy me expensive presents, my mother has never knitted anything for me, she prefers to buy".

"That's sad." Granger said with a sympathetic pout.

"I didn't know how rewarding it was until now." he confessed.

She gave him a shy little smile. He walked over to her and took her hands, which were warm despite the temperature outside, and kissed her knuckles gently. "Thank you, Hermione. I'm not very good at talking about my feelings, so I won't be able to tell you how much this attention touches me where no one has ever been able to go before, except you."

He watched her face come alive at his words. He didn't let go of her hand, running his thumb over her soft skin.

"A handmade planner and a hat." he said. "I'm being spoilt this year."

She chuckled:

"If Harry and Ron had half your reaction when I gave them their planners for Christmas, I'd have considered myself pleased."

Something twisted painfully in Draco's stomach:

"Potter and Weasley got a planner too?" he asked in a low voice. "Personalised?"

"No." Granger replied. "Theirs, I bought them from Flourish and Blotts."

When Draco kissed her, he didn't try to hide the wry smile this news had caused, and Granger sighed half-heartedly against his mouth to see him so pleased. For once, Draco didn't care about being noticed by wandering students or teachers at the windows. He was so in love with her that he couldn't stop himself from kissing her, as if his body was just waiting for the next time he could do it. The problems of his life, which seemed insurmountable the rest of the time, immediately became trivial when he kissed her.

The little thank-you kiss was soon transformed, Granger's shyness gone, Draco's will forgotten, and soon they were moving closer together as if their lives depended on it. Hermione clutched Draco's uniform behind his back and Draco ran a hand through Hermione's hair, feeling the curls that had obsessed him for five years slide against his skin.

"Thank you, Hermione." he whispered into her ear and kissed her neck. She trembled in his arms. "I adore them, and I adore you."

He almost added that he loved her, the phrase almost on the tip of his tongue, but strangely, it was much easier to say "I love you" in the middle of central London, crowded with Muggles, than in a deserted park at Hogwarts. She lifted her head to look at the hat:

"It suits you." she commented.

"Why blue?" he asked.

"It's the colour of your eyes." Granger replied immediately. "Ocean blue. My favourite."

.
.

When Draco returned to the dormitory, he felt the same sense of fullness he always felt after spending several hours with Granger. He held his new hat in his hand and couldn't get enough of looking at it, weighing it, appreciating the fineness of the stitches Granger had knitted for him and him alone. It was a very strange sensation, as if someone had poured hot water into his chest, a kind of pleasant warmth that circulated from his head to his legs.

The room was pitch black. The two beds opposite him had their curtains drawn and Draco couldn't see much because of the darkness. There was no light filtering through the windows into the water of the Black Lake. Draco put on his pyjamas and brushed his teeth as quietly as possible so as not to wake Blaise and Theo, then lay down in his bed, stretching out to his full length.

He covered himself with the thick duvet with the firm intention of meditating and Occluding his memories of the evening into a book in his mental library, perhaps even flicking through the planner Granger had written for him as he drifted off to sleep. He laid his head on the cool pillow and slid his arm underneath, controlling his breathing so that it became even and he could meditate inwardly for a few minutes when he suddenly felt something against his arm, like a tickling. He frowned and pulled his arm back carefully. Something was walking along his forearm.

"Lumos." he whispered, pointing his wand randomly at the mattress.

Light flashed from his wand and illuminated his arm. He then realised that the thing climbing on him was none other than a giant black spider. Draco let out a howl of horror and shook his arm violently. The spider was thrown to the side of his bedside table, but that didn't stop Draco from continuing to scream in horror as he rubbed his arm against the blanket, hoping to make the excruciating sensation of the legs against his skin go away.

"Hahahahahaha!"

Draco turned and was shocked to see Theo sitting on his bed, curtains open, laughing.

"What the hell?!" yelled Draco.

"Revenge!" crooned Theo, looking very proud of himself. "Remember when you splashed me with ice water, we had a chase here and Pansy yelled at me because I threw a pillow in her face?"

"Yeah?" said Draco, still holding his arm as if someone had cut it off.

"This is my revenge!" announced Theo in a theatrical voice, pointing to where the spider had landed.

"Are you kidding me?" shouted Draco. "You put this on me just to get back at me for something I did almost a month ago?"

"Absolutely. La vengeance est un plat qui se mange froid, mon ami." Theo said in French.

He was gloating so much that Draco was half tempted to cast an Accio at the poor spider and throw it in his face.

"You're mad!" shouted Draco. "You could have woken Blaise!"

He pointed at Blaise's closed bed.

"He took a dose of potion before he went to sleep, no chance." Theo said. "Besides, you're the one who was screaming like a little girl a few seconds ago."

Draco muttered something, an insult, but Theo didn't lose his smile.

"What if a Prefect had come?" he tried. "Were you in the mood for another detention?"

Theo shrugged happily:

"Your face was more than worth it, believe me."

Draco pulled the blanket over him, but didn't quite dare lay his head on the pillow. Theo chuckled and pointed his wand at the floor next to Draco's bed and shouted:

"Evanesco Aranea!"

He didn't dare check if he had made him disappear. His legs were shaking and he hoped Theo couldn't see him from where he stood, on the edge of his bed, his feet in the air.

"Where have you been, anyway?" asked Theo after a few seconds. "I've been waiting for you for two hours."

"Outside." Draco replied vaguely.

"With Astoria?" asked Theo.

This time, Draco stood up all the way from his bed, as if he'd received an electric shock.

"Excuse me?"

"What?"

"How can you ask me if I was with Astoria?" asked Draco in a startled tone. "Did you cast a Confusion spell on yourself without meaning to?"

"No, no, I don't know, you two seemed..." Theo said evasively, as if that answered the question.

"To hate each other?" finished Draco. "Because I do. She's annoying and arrogant and obnoxious. I'd rather spend an extra hour with Filch than with her. How can you think..."

"Right, right, sorry!" said Theo, putting both hands up to stop him. "I didn't think you'd take it so badly. You're in a bad mood."

"Well, I wasn't two minutes ago." Draco growled, folding the blanket over him one last time. "Good night, Theo. Nox."

He closed his eyes and began to meditate. Images of his day flashed through his mind, he took a book from his library and began to write down everything he wanted to remember, when Theo's voice interrupted him, barely audible despite the silence of the room:

"Tu vas bien?"

His tone was always different when he spoke in French, as if he was lengthening his words.

"Apart from the fact that you put a giant spider under my pillow? Great, Theo." Draco replied sarcastically.

"Non." he replied in a tone that had nothing to do with the laugh he'd just had. He really sounded overwhelmed. "Est-ce que tu vas bien?"

Draco lifted his head from the pillow and saw the outline of Theo's figure, which hadn't changed position.

"Pourquoi tu me demandes ça?" asked Draco without understanding.

"Tu sais, avec ta... tante, et tout ça." Theo explained anxiously. "Je ne sais pas trop comment je réagirais si j'apprenais qu'un membre de ma famille pouvait être capable de faire une chose pareille."

"Elle n'est pas de ma famille." Draco interrupted. "Ma famille, c'est vous."

"Tu sais ce que je veux dire." Theo said. He could hear the sadness in his voice and Draco had to resist the urge to stand up and hug him.

"Je vais bien, Theo. Je ne la connais pas, et avec un peu de chance, je ne la verrai jamais. Je ne l'imagine pas vraiment prendre un thé avec ma mère pour fêter leurs retrouvailles." he reassured him, even hoping to make him laugh a little to lighten the suddenly tense atmosphere.

His sentence didn't have the desired effect. He couldn't see Theo, but he could guess that his features were drawn together in fear, his eyes averted.

"J'ai peur." Theo suddenly confessed, a heavy, abrupt sentence in the silence and darkness of the room. Perhaps by speaking in French, he hoped his confession would carry less weight.

"Je sais." Draco said in a whisper. And because Theo was one of the few people in the world he could confide in, even about feelings so deep he sometimes had trouble getting them out himself, because the room was in darkness and he couldn't see his face, because Theo was waiting for an answer, a reaction, something, he added: "Moi aussi."

.

.

---

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.

translation :

"La vengeance est un plat qui se mange froid, mon ami." : "Revenge is a dish best served cold, my friend." (french expression)

"Tu vas bien?" : "Are you all right?"

"Non. Est-ce que tu vas bien?" : "No. Are you all right?"

"Pourquoi tu me demandes ça?" : "Why are you asking me that?"

"Tu sais, avec ta... tante, et tout ça. Je ne sais pas trop comment je réagirais si j'apprenais qu'un membre de ma famille pouvait être capable de faire une chose pareille." : "You know, with your... aunt, and all that. I'm not sure how I'd react if I found out someone in my family could be capable of doing something like that."

"Elle n'est pas de ma famille. Ma famille, c'est vous." : "She's not my family. My family, it's you."

"Tu sais ce que je veux dire." : "You know what I mean."

"Je vais bien, Theo. Je ne la connais pas, et avec un peu de chance, je ne la verrai jamais. Je ne l'imagine pas vraiment prendre un thé avec ma mère pour fêter leurs retrouvailles." : "I'm fine, Theo. I don't know her, and hopefully I'll never see her. I can't really imagine her having tea with my mother to celebrate their reunion."

"J'ai peur." : "I'm scared."

"Je sais." : "I know."

"Moi aussi." : "Me too."