Draco
.
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Draco had rarely experienced such a hangover in his life. Even Pansy's "miraculous" spell proved completely ineffective against his headache. He spent Sunday in the dormitory, brooding and splashing cool water on his face every half hour, to no avail.
So that's where Draco was, lying on his bed, trying and failing to do his homework, when Theo made his grand entrance: flinging the door open, practically knocking it off its hinges, and charging at Draco, shouting:
"ARE YOU IN LOVE WITH HERMIONE GRANGER?!"
Draco had two simultaneous reactions to this accusation: the first was to flinch as Theo's scream reached his sensitive eardrums, the second was to almost faint as he realised what he'd just said.
"Wh-what?!" he stammered in horror.
Theo slammed the door behind him and approached the bed where Draco lay:
"ARE YOU IN LOVE WITH HERMIONE GRANGER?"
"Merlin, keep it down, people will hear you!" yelled Draco, looking around as if someone other than himself was in the dormitory.
Theo's eyes were so exhorted that Draco wondered if they would fall out at any moment. He took his curly hair in his hands and stood mute for a few seconds, the shock of realisation etched into every feature of his face:
"Are you fucking kidding me?!" shouted Theo in a choked voice. "You?! In love with Hermione Granger?!"
"Shut up!" said Draco. "Keep your voice down, Nott!"
"How the hell am I supposed to keep my voice down?!" he replied, as loud as ever. The fact that he hadn't corrected his name showed how shocked he was. "I've just found out you're in love with Hermione Granger and I'm supposed to stay calm?!"
"How the hell could you know that?" asked Draco. Then more quietly, "Did she tell you?"
His stomach churned at the thought of Granger confiding such a secret to his best friend. But she had made it clear that she would never do it for him, that he would do it when he was ready to tell him...
Theo didn't hear his question, or chose to ignore it.
"So it's true? You're in love with her?"
Draco rose from his bed so as not to have to face Theo's indignant stare for another second, and began pacing the dormitory, mostly to suppress the nausea that was painfully rising inside him.
"Yes, it's true." he said in a low voice, the weight of the revelation on his shoulders.
He raised his head violently, as if to challenge Theo to make the slightest comment, but Theo was still open-mouthed, his arms hanging at his sides in astonishment.
"Holy shit." he let out a breath. "I didn't fucking expect that."
He sat down heavily on Draco's bed and stared at the door without seeing it. He'd been sitting on the Potions textbooks Draco had strewn across the bed, but hadn't noticed.
"How did you know if she didn't tell you?" asked Draco.
His heart was beating so hard against his chest that he almost didn't hear Theo's answer:
"Her cinnamon tea."
"She made you drink it?!" cried Draco, unable to contain the pang of jealousy he felt as he imagined the scene.
"No." Theo replied, unperturbed. "She offered me some, and I refused, and I asked her what flavour it was, and she said... cinnamon, her favourite... and I remembered..."
"My Amortentia." Draco finished, suddenly understanding.
He ran a hand through his hair. He couldn't have this conversation now, not in this state.
"Cinnamon tea... Library books..." Theo listed in a whisper. "Fuck. You're in love with Hermione Granger." He let a few seconds of silence pass, then whispered, "That makes so much... sense."
Draco frowned:
"What do you mean?"
"How could I not have seen it before?" asked Theo, sounding more like he was talking to himself than to Draco. "You've been obsessed with her for years... I thought it was hatred, but I couldn't believe that you, the Draco I know, could feel so much resentment towards this girl who had done nothing to you... but it's so clear, now! You're madly in love with her!"
Theo turned his head towards him, his blue eyes wide with emotion:
"Since when?"
A few months ago, Draco would have denied it outright, but today he was incapable of doing so. He sighed and lowered his eyes to the stone floor:
"Since..."
He thought of the table in the Library, of his fear when he'd seen the Death Eaters invade the field at the Quidditch World Cup, of his all-consuming desire to beat them in every subject, of his obsession with her Time-Turner, of his mania for constantly watching Potter's best friend, of that strange girl on the train who'd asked him if he'd seen a toad, and sighed:
"Since always, I suppose."
He expected Theo to laugh in derision, but nodded thoughtfully.
"And she knows, I suppose?" he asked.
Draco paced again to stand with his back to him.
"Yes, she knows." he replied vaguely. "We... we..." He had no idea what to call their relationship: a couple? Was it really a couple if they only saw each other in secret? "We... hang out."
He winced as he used those words, which had nothing to do with the bond he shared with Granger. His fingers trembled furiously, and he was pretty sure he was blushing.
"Where?" asked Theo incredulously.
"In the Library." Draco admitted reluctantly, unwilling to share such a secret so openly.
Theo made a dismissive little sound:
"My Library?"
Draco turned and glared at him:
"This isn't your Library, it's the Hogwarts Library." he corrected through clenched teeth.
"Fuck." Theo blurted out. "I can't get over it, in love with Hermione Granger... Is that why you stopped sleeping with Pansy?"
Draco let out the longest sigh of his life. He desperately needed a glass of water, or his wand to rip his brains out. Where should he put his hands? He'd never realised that his hands were in the way when he walked. In his pockets? He sat down next to Theo and rubbed his face with his palms.
"Sort of." he said without looking at him. "She realised I didn't love her because... I loved her."
"Oh..." Theo breathed, seemingly remembering that time and filling in the missing blanks. "What about Blaise? Does he know?"
"Yes and no." Draco said evasively. "He's never told me explicitly, but... I think he's guessed for quite some time, yes."
Theo's features suddenly dropped in disappointment:
"Don't tell me I'm the last one to know a secret, AGAIN?" he groaned.
Draco rolled his eyes:
"It's not a competition!"
"Isn't it? How would you react if you found out something about me that Pansy and Blaise have known for a long time?"
"That has nothing to do with it, it's not like I wrote them a letter to tell them!" replied Draco. "They guessed, that's all! It's your own fault for not being a good observer!"
Theo opened his mouth wide in protest:
"I could never have guessed such a thing!" he retorted in a strangely ouchy voice. "How could I have guessed that you were in love with her? There were no clues!"
Draco didn't really agree. He'd been sneaking away for long hours every night since the previous year, and he'd been looking at her sideways ever since he'd entered Hogwarts, but he preferred not to point that out to Theo, who seemed sad to be relegated.
"It's not a secret we've all been keeping behind your back, Theo." he reassured him. "Pansy and Blaise never talk to me about it because they know how scared I am of loving her, it's still very hard for me to talk about it like this."
Draco wiped his sweaty hands on his pyjamas and dared to turn his head towards him. Theo looked at him uncomprehendingly:
"Why?"
Draco chuckled bitterly:
"Because my father is a Death Eater and an ally of the greatest black wizard of all time, who wants the death of all Muggle-borns?"
Theo blinked, as if the prospect had just occurred to him.
"Oh." he said simply.
They stood in silence for a few seconds, Theo lost in thought and Draco anxiously awaiting his next question. Suddenly Theo exclaimed:
"Oh my God, is that why you asked me if I was in love with her?!"
His jaw clenched tight.
"Why, are you?" he asked dryly.
Theo was visibly torn between offence and the urge to burst out laughing.
"No, I'm not! You're fucking jealous! Is that why you hate it when I spend time with her? I thought you didn't want me to be friends with her because you hated her, because of her relationship with Potter..."
"I'm not a big fan of that idea, yeah." he grumbled.
Theo looked at him through his long chestnut curls, as if he were solving a mystery that had haunted him for years.
"You really are a prat, Draco." he said. "If you'd told me before, I'd have put your mind at rest, but you chose to keep it all to yourself, as usual. I'm not in love with Hermione, I'll leave her to you." he added with a snort.
Draco rolled his eyes to hide the fact that his last sentence had just soothed his headache. He certainly didn't need Theo's blessing, Granger had been his for months, but it was always good to hear.
"And you two had a fight, didn't you?" Theo guessed.
"How do you know?" asked Draco in surprise.
"She told me." Theo replied with a shrug. "I was studying with her in the Library just now. She didn't tell me it was with you, of course, but she hinted that she was sad because she had hurt someone she loved."
Draco's heart tripled in his chest.
"Really?" he asked in a small voice. "Did she really say that?"
"Yes." Theo said, his eyes clouding with sympathy. "I think she feels really bad. What did you do?"
Draco straightened up, his ego stung:
"I didn't do anything! She's the one who messed up!"
Theo raised an eyebrow:
"Really? What has she done?"
"She's been carrying on a hidden correspondence with Viktor Krum since last year." Draco spat vehemently.
"Aouch." said Theo. "That's harsh."
He patted him on the back in support. Then he added:
"But you're still a prat."
Draco got up from the bed to size Theo up:
"Excuse me?!"
Theo wasn't intimidated; he stood up too, arms crossed over his chest:
"You're a prat." he repeated. "You let poor Hermione feel sorry for herself all alone in the Library, and you stay here, hangover?"
"Did you hear what I said?" Draco snapped. "She's carrying on a secret correspondence with Viktor Krum!"
"So what?" Theo retorted in the same tone. "You're with her in this Castle all year round, while he's off in his distant corner of Hungary!"
"Bulgaria." Draco corrected.
"Whatever!" Theo grumbled. "Go and be with her! You said it yourself, your father's a Death Eater, there's going to be a war soon, and you're wasting your precious time with her on crap like this?"
Draco opened his mouth to argue, but closed it quickly when he realised he had no argument. He didn't answer. He and Theo stared at each other for long seconds and then, unexpectedly, Theo reached out to hug him. Draco remained motionless because he wasn't used to being hugged with so much emotion, but Theo wasn't surprised by his lack of reaction. He gave him a friendly squeeze on the shoulder and moved away as quickly as he had reached him:
"I'm happy for you." he said.
"Yeah, thanks." Draco replied, his throat suddenly tightening with an emotion that had nothing to do with his hangover.
"But I'm still pretty pissed off to be the last to know." Theo continued.
"And I'm pretty pissed off that she offered you her cinnamon tea." Draco confessed grumpily.
Theo looked at him with a blasé expression:
"You really are a prat."
.
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Hermione
.
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Harry and Ron were finishing their mountain of homework at one of the study tables in the Common Room when Ginny approached Hermione, who was knitting on the couch.
"What's wrong?" she whispered so as not to be overheard by the boys nearby.
Hermione gave her a funny look over her needles.
"How could you possibly know..."
"Oh, stop it." Ginny cut in, rolling her eyes. "Let's stop pretending that I'm not the most observant person you know and tell me."
Hermione was so taken aback that it took her several seconds to find her words.
"We... we had a fight." she said quickly.
"Again?" cried Ginny, far too loud compared to the silence of the Common Room.
Several students looked in her direction, but Harry and Ron were too focused on their Transfiguration essay to pay her any attention.
"Yes, but this time it's... different." Hermione explained in a quiet voice.
"Different in what way?" asked Ginny.
"It's my fault."
The redhead arched an eyebrow as if doubting the truth of her words.
"Your fault? Impossible."
"I didn't tell him I was corresponding with Viktor." Hermione said sheepishly.
Ginny pursed her lips and remained pensive for a few seconds. Hermione continued knitting, trying to make something with her hands, even if it didn't look like anything. She slaughtered the stitches more than she put them together.
"Is he angry because you're still writing to him, or because you're keeping it from him?" asked Ginny.
"Both." Hermione replied. "But mostly because I kept it from him, I think. I don't think he would have taken it well if I'd told him we'd stayed friends, but discovering it was even more painful. He's terribly angry with me. He's asked me to leave him alone while he digests everything."
Ginny rolled her eyes, as if it was a particularly childish request.
"He's got a nerve." she remarked. "He gave you a run for your money and at your first "mistake", he gives you the cold shoulder. Isn't all this back and forth exhausting?"
Hermione nodded because it was true. She felt as if the bond between them was hanging by a thread and one of them would always fall in the end.
"What do you think I should do?" asked Hermione in a small voice.
"Well, I don't think sitting here knitting and moping is a good idea." Ginny said. "I think you should go and find him, apologise, make amends, show him that you don't give a damn about Krum. You're in love with him, aren't you?"
Hermione glanced at Ron and Harry to make sure they weren't listening and nodded shyly.
"Go on then." Ginny continued, pointing to the Fat Lady passage with a wave of her hand. "It's too silly to argue about this, you two really need to learn to communicate."
"But he specifically asked me to leave him..."
"And since when do we listen to Draco Malfoy's requests?" interrupted Ginny in a whisper, her eyes burning. "He took a blow to his ego, no big deal. You're allowed to correspond with a friend. You tell him you didn't mean to keep it from him, and if he's as clever as you claim, he'll know you're telling the truth and you'll forgive each other in a heartbeat, instead of brooding and avoiding each other for days."
Hermione felt the anvil of guilt tighten in her stomach as she imagined this perspective.
"Go on then!" urged Ginny, taking the needles she still held between her fingers.
"What, now?" cried Hermione. "But Harry and Ron..."
Ginny brushed the comment aside with a wave of her hand:
"Who cares, they've been horrible to you for a week, you told me so yourself. I'll tell them you've gone to bed when they wonder where you've been. Go and find him. It's a shame to get so worked up over such trifles."
Hermione was silent for a few seconds, then took Ginny in her arms:
"Thank you." she said. "You're fantastic."
"I know." Ginny replied with a chuckle. "Come on, hurry up. I'm sure he's waiting for you."
Hermione smiled, pulled on the jumper she'd left on the sofa and discreetly left the Common Room before asking herself any more questions.
It was almost curfew. Hermione raced down the stairs, thinking about what she was going to say to him, trying to imagine every reaction from this unpredictable boy. By the end of her descent, she had a tirade ready to unleash. She practically ran to the bench, ignoring the icy gusts of wind against her face, but when she arrived, she was surprised to find it empty.
She had expected to see him so much that she froze for a few seconds.
He always waited for her on the bench.
But he hadn't come.
In an automatic gesture, she took her wand from her pocket and pointed it in the direction of the bench:
"Calefacere."
Immediately, the snow on the wood melted and Hermione sat down, not really knowing why. If he wasn't there, there was no point in staying here and freezing. She was much better off in the Common Room, with the fire in the fireplace. She'd better get back upstairs. Talk to Ginny, have tea with Harry, play cards with Neville. Not stay here, in the cold, a few minutes before curfew.
But she didn't want to talk to Ginny. She didn't want to go back to the Common Room. She wanted to talk to him, explain, make the pain in his eyes go away. She wanted to burn Krum's letters and promise never to speak to him again, if that was what he wanted. It was a poor compensation for the lack she felt.
Hermione was about to get up and return empty-handed when she thought she heard the sound of a door opening. She stood on the lookout for long seconds, watching the darkness around her, her senses alert. She must have mistaken the sound of the wind...
Suddenly, Draco emerged from the shadows. He came towards her at full speed, his skin the same colour as the snowflakes that fell between them, his hair almost white. He was moving so fast that Hermione barely had time to get up from the bench before he was less than ten feet from her.
"Draco, I'm so..." she began, her voice shaking.
But before she could explain, he moved closer and pressed his lips to hers with full force. Their bodies collided violently and she would have fallen backwards if he hadn't held her back, one hand around her waist and the other on her jaw. Hermione reacted instantly, sighing happily and wrapping her arms around his neck to pull him closer. The ball of guilt dissipated the moment she tangled her fingers in his hair.
He kissed her as if he hadn't for years. His lips had none of the softness of moonlight kisses; it was possessive, intense, his hands everywhere: in her hair, around her waist, against her neck. He gave her no respite, no second to catch her breath. As with every kiss, a flood of emotion passed between them, like a coded message, and Hermione could feel it, the jealousy in him, in the way he bit her lower lip and grabbed her hips to press her against him. And if anyone asked, she'd say she thought it was unhealthy, that it wasn't normal, but in reality, she was shuddering with delight at the thought of being able to provoke such strong feelings in someone else. She felt the same.
By the time he broke contact, Hermione was too breathless to speak. He buried his head in her neck and kissed the square of thin skin he adored between her ear and jaw.
"Has Viktor Krum ever kissed you like this?" he murmured.
"No." Hermione hiccupped. "No, never."
"Good." he replied, and she could feel his smirk against her skin.
"Draco..." she started, realising that she'd completely forgotten her prepared speech. It didn't help that he kept dropping little kisses on her neck. "I'm sorry." she finally whimpered.
When he looked at her, his mouth was swollen, his cheeks red and his eyes so deep blue they were almost black, like watered-down ink. He'd never looked more beautiful.
"Sorry for what?" he asked.
"For Krum." Hermione said in a pleading tone. "I'm so sorry, I feel terrible, I'll never write to him again, I promise..."
Draco immediately put his finger to her lips to silence her and she stopped, looking at him with wide eyes.
"I'm furious." he admitted. "But I'm more angry that you didn't tell me than that you're sending him letters."
"I know." Hermione said quietly.
"I already told you, Hermione." Draco said, and the sound of her first name in his mouth gave her goosebumps. "I don't give a damn if you're friends with Potter, Longbottom, or even Danny. I know you care about them and I'd never interfere. Weasley... you know how I feel about that. But Krum, no way. And I'm not saying that because you two dated, I'm saying it because it's weird. He's four years older than you, and he goes to the creepiest school in the world!"
"He's just a friend." she defended.
Draco raised his beautiful blue eyes to the sky.
"If you say so." he said, his voice a little too strained to be entirely sincere. "Anyway, I was shocked that you wrote him letters, but... I guess I've got nothing to say about it. I've been so mean to you, and you've always forgiven me, so I won't make it hard for you. I have no right to forbid you to write to him. I trust you."
Hermione was appalled at the effect those words had on her, like a wave of comfort crashing against her.
"On the other hand, I want you to tell me things." he insisted. "I don't want to learn them like this, not anymore."
Hermione nodded. He pointed a finger at her:
"I mean it, Hermione. No more secrets."
She thought of the D.A. sessions and was practically on the verge of confessing everything to him, but remembered at the last moment that it wasn't her secret. It was Harry's. And Hermione trusted Theo, but she still wasn't sure how Draco would react, so she preferred to keep quiet.
"No more secrets." she whispered.
He seemed satisfied and placed one last kiss on her lips, just for a second, but long enough for her whole body to suddenly warm at his contact.
If they'd been paying attention, they would have noticed that their combined magic had sparked during their kiss: the icy leaves around them had scattered to the ground, and the violent gust of wind they'd unknowingly created had blown a few branches apart, but they were too lost in each other's eyes to notice. They sat down on the bench.
"Theo knows everything." Draco suddenly stated.
Hermione tilted her head towards him:
"What?!" she cried. "How?"
"He guessed it." he said, with no expression in his voice.
"I didn't tell him." Hermione defended herself immediately.
"I know." he said. "He guessed it all by himself."
"How?"
She tried to remember the last few moments they'd spent together. Had she blurted out his first name without realising it? Any hint that they were meeting in secret?
Draco smiled, almost shyly.
"Are you familiar with Amortentia, Granger?" he asked.
Hermione searched her memory, but nothing came to mind.
"No." she admitted, somewhat irritated by this realisation.
"Merlin, I love it when I know something you don't." Draco gloated. "So I'm definitely better than you at Potions. How wonderful."
He closed his eyes and pretended to inhale deeply. Hermione slapped his arm and he burst out laughing.
"Stop it! Explain to me what this is."
"No." Draco said, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "You'll have to see for yourself, Granger."
Her curiosity piqued, she made a mental note to look up everything she could about Amortentia's potion. If she didn't already know about it, it must be rare and not studied until sixth year, and Hermione liked to expand her circle of knowledge beyond the school curriculum.
"He knows, then." Hermione resumed. "I imagine it must have been a difficult conversation."
Draco frowned:
"Actually, no. It wasn't at all. I was afraid he'd be angry with me, but... he hugged me, and told me he was happy for me."
Hermione smiled slightly. She'd been sure he'd react like that.
"I'm glad he knows." Draco said, as if realizing it only as he said it. "I think it weighed heavily on me that he didn't know."
"He's one of your best friends, it's only natural you'd be relieved."
She ran her thumb along the back of Draco's hand. When she lifted her head, he was looking at her sadly.
"Does it weigh on you that your friends don't know?" he asked.
Hermione lowered her eyes. She could feel the lump of guilt creeping up her throat, as it did every time she thought of Harry and Ron.
"Yes." she answered sadly. "Yes, very much."
"Do you realize that my friends, the children of blood-status supremacists, know about this, but not yours, who are supposed to be the heroes, the defenders of your rights, the future victors of the war?" asked Draco.
Hermione nodded, noting the irony.
"I can't tell them." she said. "They would hold it against me too much and I can't risk losing them at such a crucial time."
Draco said nothing, preferring to linger over Hermione's hand. His finger absentmindedly followed the lines of her palm.
"But I do get a bit jealous sometimes." Hermione confessed in a whisper barely audible over the wind.
Draco looked at her, puzzled.
"I envy them for being able to flaunt their relationships in public. There's nothing wrong with theirs, they're fine. Ginny has every right to hold hands with her boyfriend as they walk around the Hogwarts grounds. Harry is perfectly entitled to invite Cho to..."
"What? Potter and Cho?" Draco interrupted in surprise.
"Yes, he's taking her to Hogsmeade on Valentine's Day to make their relationship official." Hermione revealed. "And he's not afraid of reprisals for doing something like that, there's no reason for people to spit in his face or be outraged to see them together."
Hermione sighed and watched the crescent moon gleam against the darkness of the sky.
"And you're sad that you can't?" asked Draco in a strangely distant voice.
"Yes, in a way." she said. "I'm jealous that he can. We're forced to hide, and I can't show the person who makes me happiest out in the open. It's a shame, isn't it?"
Draco lifted her hand to his mouth to kiss her knuckles, and Hermione smiled weakly.
"Very unfortunate, yes." Draco confirmed.
They remained silent for long minutes, their hands still intertwined. Hermione thought about Harry and Cho. They didn't realise how lucky they were to be able to expose themselves the way they did. Even Ginny, who found Michael increasingly annoying, could walk beside him in the corridors without fear of the slightest consequence. Hermione secretly envied them.
"Anyway, let's stop focusing on the bad things and enjoy the good ones." Hermione went on with a hint of wisdom. "I've just made you a confession, now it's your turn to tell me one."
Draco pondered as he gazed at the facade, a habit he'd picked up during his solitary moments on the bench. There were only a few windows left lit along the Castle, including Dumbledore's office in the highest tower.
"Do you want to know why I'm so jealous of Krum?" he asked in a low voice.
Hermione nodded, eager to hear what he had to say.
"It's not because he's a famous Quidditch player, it's not because he's been able to take you places just the two of you, it's not even because he's kissed you." Draco listed. Yet his hand twitched as he spoke his last words and Hermione instinctively wrapped her fingers around his. "It's because you were his fucking Ball date."
Hermione raised her eyebrows, so surprised that she forgot to reprimand him for his crude language.
"He flaunted you in front of everyone and I couldn't do anything but watch." he continued, his voice vibrating with resentment. "He had the right to teach you to dance and waltz with you, and I could never do that, because I was born into the wrong family. I'll never be allowed to show you off like that."
Hermione laid her cheek on his shoulder without saying anything. He didn't need words of comfort, she knew the feeling all too well, and she knew they were stuck. No way out. Destined to remain secret, hidden from the eyes of others who wouldn't understand.
"It wasn't Viktor who taught me to dance." she corrected. "It was Fred and George."
"Really?" said Draco, clearly relieved. "Good. The idea that he might have taught you waltz steps has haunted me for months.
"Why?" asked Hermione.
She couldn't see his face, but she was sure he'd just raised an eyebrow.
"You and Krum in a cramped room, his hands on your waist to guide you?" he hissed. "Just imagining it makes me sick."
"It was nothing like that." she promised. "I would never have asked him to teach me. It was Fred and George who did it, under Ginny's orders. It was actually one of the best nights of my life. We danced like crazy to wizarding rock until dawn."
"Wizarding rock?" repeated Draco in disbelief. "I can't imagine you dancing to rock music, wizard or muggle."
Hermione gave him a mischievous smile:
"A new thing to discover about me, then."
"I can't wait to see it." he said. His smile faded and he went back to looking at the facade sullenly. "I'm still jealous that Krum was able to give you your first waltz. In the wizarding community, the first dance is a symbolic moment. The person you officially dance with is supposed to mark you for life. According to the old traditions, you're bound to them in a way that no one can ever change".
"Who was your first?" asked Hermione.
"Pansy." Draco replied in a heartbeat. "My only dance partner so far."
Hermione bit her lip and suddenly jumped to her feet. Draco looked at her strangely.
"What are you doing?" he asked, still sitting on the bench.
"Get up. We're going to dance." she decided with a broad smile.
"I beg your pardon?"
"Show me how to dance." Hermione said, holding out her hand to him.
"What, here?" asked Draco in a panicked voice. "But... what if someone sees us?"
Hermione couldn't help herself: she burst out laughing.
"Whether we're dancing or talking on this bench, if someone sees us, it's the same!"
"There's not even music!" argued Draco.
Hermione took out her wand and twirled it between her fingers:
"Well, Ginny taught me this spell... I didn't think it would ever come in handy, and I may have lost the touch, but I can always try. Musica Lorem!"
With that, sizzling music emerged from the tip of her wand and spread through the air like a not-so-well-tuned radio. The sound that came out was much slower than a waltz, but they'd have to make do, because she hadn't remembered how to change the rhythm. Hermione put her wand down on the bench and held out her hand to Draco again. He seemed to think of a way to escape, but found none, and was forced to take her hand to be guided.
He stood facing her. Hermione hadn't realised how much he towered over her; she had to lift her head to look at him. He gave her a quick curtsy and Hermione giggled foolishly.
"We look ridiculous." he remarked, looking around.
"Who cares?" replied Hermione. "It's just the two of us here. Teach me to dance, Draco."
Hearing her request, his grumpy air vanished and his lips curved into an impulsive smile.
"Very well then... Will you grant me this dance?" he asked.
Hermione was taken aback by this formal request. He was asking her permission when it was she who had asked him. Traces of his traditional upbringing, surely.
"With pleasure." she said, far less sophisticated than he.
He stepped closer and placed his hand on her left hip. Though it was a completely innocent gesture, she felt the imprint of his fingers burning against her skin despite the layers of clothing. He took her hand and raised his right arm, ready to lead the way.
Hermione placed her palm on his shoulder but Draco shook his head:
"No, no, not like that. The Weasleys taught you the traditional waltz, but I have learned to dance the Hexenwalzer, the witches' waltz."
He let go of her hand to help her position herself:
"Your fingers must barely brush my shoulder, as if you're afraid to touch me." He guided her wrist so that her fingertips touched his shoulder. "Our upper bodies are far apart, your neck must remain straight and you must never lose eye contact with your partner. If you look at your feet, you'll be considered a beginner and your reputation will suffer. The waltz is a symbol of nobility; the only contact between the two partners is in the hands and eyes".
Hermione obeyed and met his gaze. As always, she was captured by their colour and suddenly forgot everything around her, as if she were no longer held by gravity, but by his eyes.
"I'm leading from the outside, but you're really leading the waltz." Draco said in the manner of a dance teacher. "You have to be rigid and malleable at the same time, you have to let yourself go while anticipating my steps. When I turn, you have to turn too."
Hermione frowned:
"That's a tad sexist. How am I supposed to know all your moves without you telling me?"
Draco grinned:
"That is the beauty of dancing, Granger. They say the choice of partner affects the whole dance. You have to have a connection, an understanding, otherwise it doesn't work. And you can't know until you've done it."
Hermione bit her lip, apprehensive at the thought of stepping on his foot on the first step and having to face his disappointment at having fallen in love with a klutz.
"You'll just have to follow me at first." he said, noticing her concern. "And you'll get used to it after a few turns."
She nodded, though she doubted it. She hadn't thought that dancing could be such a complex subject; she'd never been interested in it before. Her parents danced at parties, but it didn't really resemble the noble dance Draco knew: just poorly controlled swirls. The only person Hermione had danced with before Hogwarts was her father, when she was little, and he used to playfully put her on his feet and dance around the kitchen. Perhaps it was a more ingrained tradition for wizards.
"Ready?" asked Draco, interrupting her memories. "We're going left. One, two, three."
As he counted, he put his foot to the left and turned them in the same motion. Hermione's foot followed on its own, without her controlling anything. Then he moved his right foot forward and Hermione moved hers back at the same time, and they turned a second time in perfect synchronisation.
"I - did you cast a spell on me?" she asked. There was no way she could be so in control of a dance she'd never practised.
Draco burst out laughing, his minty breath caressing her mouth.
"With my magic, no." he said, still waltzing as if it didn't take the slightest effort. "With my charm, I hope so."
He finished his sentence by twirling her around, and she followed the movement as if it were an automatism inscribed somewhere in her head. He caught her without the slightest hitch and began the loop again.
"In the eyes, Granger." he reminded her as she stared at their feet, stunned.
She raised her head and his gaze was so unsettling that she expected to stumble, but no, the waltz continued without her even having to look down.
Hermione was pretty sure that magic was involved, because it was impossible to guess the other's gestures with such precision. She didn't miss a single step, even though she'd never studied them, and she didn't feel an ounce of anxiety. Draco's hands were firm enough to ease her into them.
At the end of the fifth loop, instead of spinning her around, he flipped her over and she found herself lying horizontally in his arms. She let out a small cry of surprise, but he kissed her before she could reproach him for his lack of warning. She was sure that she was not supposed to hold her head back for so long, but she didn't complain and responded to his kiss, suddenly aware that she was being held by him and no longer by her own equilibrium. He pulled her to her feet and smiled at her.
"I thought dancing was "a symbol of nobility and the only contact between the two partners is through the hands and eyes"?" quoted Hermione mockingly.
"It is." he said, amused. "I think my mother just fainted somewhere in my Manor."
Hermione laughed a little and they continued to dance, linked by their gaze. Draco looked her up and down, she could see him lingering on parts of her face that no one else was looking at: the freckle under her right eye, the curve of her lips, the curls of her messy bun that fell in front of her eyes as he twirled her around.
When the music from her wand stopped, neither of them were out of breath. But Hermione remembered the crushing exhaustion she'd felt the two times she'd danced for so long: with Fred and George, and with Viktor on the night of the Ball. This time, however, she felt no pain in her legs. It was so natural that she didn't feel she'd made the slightest effort.
"There, now you know how to dance the Hexenwalzer." Draco finished as he came to a complete stop. He let his left hand rest on her hip.
"Thank you for teaching me." she said.
"And thank you for asking me." Draco replied. "If Pansy found out it was you who invited me to dance, she'd be offended."
"We're masters at breaking tradition, aren't we?" quipped Hermione playfully. "Now there's nothing I've done with Viktor that I haven't done with you."
Draco's eyes were as bright as ever as he replied:
"Not quite. Stay there."
And he walked away, taking his warmth and the intoxicating scent of apple cologne with him. Hermione couldn't see much because of the darkness, so she lost sight of him in seconds. She picked up her wand, still lying on the bench:
"Lumos. Draco?"
No answer. She looked around but didn't recognise his silhouette. She realised that without him, the Hogwarts grounds were much scarier at night. Every tree branch stood out against the black sky, casting a moving shadow on the snow, and the whistling of the wind between the trunks sounded like a faint scream. It reminded her of the night she'd seen Lupin transform, and she wrapped her arms around herself, trying to keep warm.
"Draco?" she called a second time, her voice a little more shrill.
"I'm here." he whispered behind her.
She turned around. Draco was holding a green cloth wristband with little pink flowers woven into it.
"Where did you get that?" asked Hermione, admiring his gift.
"The flowers along the front of the Castle, and I Conjured the bracelet." he said proudly. "Would you do me the honour of presenting your wrist, mademoiselle?"
She did so immediately and watched as he wrapped the improvised bracelet around her wrist.
"It's beautiful." she breathed. "Thank you, Draco."
He brought her hand to his lips and brushed her knuckles, sending a shiver down her arms.
"You're the best dance partner I've ever had." he admitted with a small smile.
Hermione was touched by these words, knowing how much he treasured his childhood memories with Pansy.
"You too." she said sincerely. "By far."
"Really?" he asked hopefully.
"Yes." Then, feeling brave tonight, she added, "I love you."
The amount of emotion that washed over his face when he heard those words was the most pleasant thing for Hermione to see. His eyes literally lit up, going from inky blue to crystal blue.
He didn't have to answer, because she could see that he loved her in every expression, every gesture, every word, but he answered her anyway, softly:
"I love you too, Hermione."
.
.
.
The beginning of the week flew by. Homework piled up so fast that Hermione was forced to spend her lunch breaks in the Library to catch up on her studies. Harry and Ron were overwhelmed and spent their evenings in the Common Room trying to keep up, their eyelids drooping with exhaustion.
On Thursday, while Draco was in the middle of an Occlumency session with Snape, Hermione studied her Transfiguration lesson in the middle of the Library. She suspected Theo would join her, as he'd made it a habit of doing so over the past few weeks, but for the first time, she was a little apprehensive at the thought of seeing him again. She still hadn't spoken to him since he'd discovered the truth about her and Draco, and she had no idea how to broach the subject without causing discomfort between them. Maybe he'd just avoid talking about it and pretend he didn't know.
So she was surprised, to say the least, when Theo burst into the Library and said to her as he sat down:
"So, when were you going to tell me that you were secretly dating Draco Malfoy?"
In reply, Hermione smacked him hard on the arm with her study planner, turning peony red. Theo burst out laughing:
"What, isn't it true?"
"You don't have to tell the whole Library!" she replied in a whisper.
He looked around, still laughing:
"There isn't a single person within two miles of us, Hermione. I think we're safe."
She dared to look at him sideways and was surprised to see that he was actually laughing. His nose was red, as if he'd just come in from the outside, and snow flecked his curly hair. It fell in front of his eyes, so much so that she often wondered how he could read his notes. There was no trace of resentment, disgust, contempt or any other negative emotion on his features. Hermione found herself comparing Harry and Ron's reactions if they heard such news. She imagined their faces contorting into expressions of horror and anger and quickly pushed the image out of her mind before dwelling on it any longer.
"What... what do you think?" she asked anxiously.
She avoided looking at him and pretended to read her lesson with a casualness she didn't have at all. Theo's voice was soft as he answered:
"I think it's a very good thing, for both of you."
Hermione felt a considerable weight lift from somewhere in her heart, as if she could suddenly breathe easier. It was the first time anyone had said anything positive about this relationship. The two people she'd confided in, Ginny and Fred, had immediately warned her of the dangers he posed.
"I know Draco by heart." Theo continued. "Now that I know what's going on between you two, I can see how much you've changed him. He's almost nothing like the obnoxious boy he was in first year."
Hermione nodded with a small smile.
"And I know you less, of course..." Theo continued. "But I know he's good for you too. You complement each other well. I don't know how I didn't see it before, it's so obvious now."
"Really?" asked Hermione.
"Yes, it makes so much sense." Theo says, sure of himself. "Draco... He doesn't show it, but he's very worried about his family and the nonsense they're saying." He took on a sombre expression, as if painful memories had just resurfaced. "He always had this idea that he was destined to have to change his life radically from one day to the next, that his existence would end prematurely without him having any say in it. He grew up with this idea so much that he believed it when he first came to Hogwarts. Then we became friends, and he loved the school, the classes, the teachers, and he realised that he was going to have a much harder time letting go of Hogwarts than he thought he would."
Hermione hadn't realised that her hands were gripping the edge of the table too tightly as she listened to this dramatic description of the boy she loved.
"And lately, I've noticed he's been projecting himself into the future." Theo said thoughtfully. "More so than before. The other day he said to me, "when I become an alchemist...", just like that, without thinking about it. Blaise and I didn't say anything, but we were shocked. It was the first time Draco hadn't included his father's beliefs in his destiny, as if... as if he saw another way."
Theo nodded slowly in Hermione's direction.
"I understand better now. It's you." he whispered. "You made him see another field of possibilities he hadn't imagined before. And you... you've always been brilliant, that's been obvious since the first day you set foot in this Castle. But since your relationship began, you've come into your own. I don't tell you enough, but you're phenomenal, Hermione. You're the most magically gifted person I've ever met in my life, and I spent my childhood surrounded by the most extraordinary so-called wizards on the planet."
Hermione felt her cheeks burn at the compliment.
"And I think Draco is just the person to lift you up. It's not against Weasley or Potter, I know you value their friendship and I respect it, but I tend to think they don't value you enough. You deserve to be elevated to the top, and I think Draco is doing a good job at it. You're getting more confident every day. Look, you've even produce a Patronus!"
Hermione didn't know what to say, because he was right about everything. He had managed to analyse their dynamic perfectly. It was unsettling to be read so accurately by a boy she'd only known for a short time.
They exchanged small smiles and Hermione, who had already suspected that he would react this way, was surprised at the relief she felt at hearing his blessing. She understood better why Draco felt better after telling him.
"I spoke to Pansy about it." Theo suddenly explained and Hermione had to stop herself from yelping in surprise. "She told me that although the idea that he might be in love with you was very difficult for her to accept at first, she now sees how well suited you are to him."
"Pansy Parkinson said that?" exclaimed Hermione.
"Yes, but she'll never tell you, because she's the most spiteful girl the world has ever known." Theo commented tenderly despite the reproach in his words. "I think she's getting used to the idea."
Hermione took a deep breath to take it all in.
"Well... thank you. For accepting us. Not everyone would be able to." she said, thinking of a certain redhead.
"I don't believe in prejudice." Theo stated. "If Draco is happy, then I'm happy. And I'm even happier that he's happy with you, because I like you a lot."
Hermione smiled at him and was about to lower her head back to her lesson when Theo drew a breath:
"There's just... something that's been bothering me a bit..."
"What's that?" she asked.
"I can't stop thinking about the look on your face in third year." Theo said.
Hermione frowned:
"My look?"
Theo's almond-shaped eyes were riveted on her, as if scrutinising her reaction:
"When Hagrid lost his case against the hippogriff that attacked Draco, two years ago." he explained. "You'd heard he'd been sentenced to death and you'd stormed in on us, screaming at him when he called Hagrid an alcoholic, and the look on your face... Merlin, I remember it, it's etched in my memory. I've rarely seen such anger in anyone's eyes, you looked at him as if you wanted to kill him with your own hands. It seems inconceivable to me that someone who feels so much hatred for someone could fall in love with them afterwards."
Hermione remembered the moment perfectly. She'd bumped into them in the corridor after receiving Hagrid's fateful letter announcing that he'd lost his case and Buckbeak had been sentenced to death. The hatred she had felt for Draco Malfoy at that moment had been destructive. Where she'd found the strength not to reach for her wand to hurt him, she had no idea.
"I was angry." she admitted. "But... I don't think I ever really hated him."
"Why?" asked Theo, very interested.
"I was incapable of it." Hermione confessed. "Because deep down, I always knew it wasn't really him. He was indoctrinated, he didn't really believe the horrors he repeated all day. Of course, there were many times when he hurt me when I didn't even know it was possible to be hurt, but I never blamed him like I should have. I guess I could see the good in him even when he didn't show it. Whereas with Crabbe and Goyle, I could never see past that."
Theo winced at the mention of their names:
"Crabbe and Goyle are irredeemable." he spat with a rare vehemence for him. "I don't know how Draco can still spend time with them."
It was strange to hear disgust in his soft voice. Draco's accent made his sentences heavy, every letter pronounced clearly, but Theo's softened everything. That was probably why it shocked Hermione even more when he uttered vulgar words.
"Anyway, I don't think we ever hated each other." she concluded. "We had a hard time finding each other, but now that we have, I feel like nothing can keep us apart."
She didn't say it, but all the tension of the war that was going on behind the walls of this Castle seemed to hang over them at that moment. Theo gave her a pale, encouraging smile:
"I hope so." he said. "And I'm happy for you. Sincerely."
"Thanks, Theo, that means a lot." Hermione said.
They looked at each other for a few seconds, then Theo bent down to open his bag.
"Well, anyway... While you were making out..."
Hermione picked up her study planner to slap his forearm again, but he laughed so hard he barely noticed.
"...I've discovered something about the heartbeat spell." he finished with a mischievous little smile.
"What's that?" asked Hermione.
"I've been thinking about what McGonagall said on Monday when you asked her if it was possible to add Transfiguration formulas to an already cut spell." Theo said, suddenly very serious. "She said that if we cut out the base of the spell, we could..."
"...wait a minute, how could you have heard that?" Hermione cut in. "You weren't even in the room when I asked her!"
If Theo had worn glasses, he'd probably have glared at her through them.
"Because I'm Slytherin." he replied, as if that explained everything. "I'm sneaky. Anyway, I've done some research."
To prove his point, he placed a stack of four huge red books on the table. The first was entitled "The Transfigurations of Animated and Uninstalled Objects, Using the Two Strict Physics Related to It, the Body and the Psyche, for the Benefit of the Essence of Mathematical Magic Itself." The title took up the entire cover, and even Hermione, who had built up a solid reputation as the best student at Hogwarts, didn't understand half of it.
Theo opened it to page 811 and ran his finger over the different paragraphs. The print was so small that he had to squint to read anything.
"Here it is!" he exclaimed. "Here, read this."
He showed her the book and Hermione turned her attention to the text in question:
Substrate cutting for a spell in contact with a human or animal component.
Cutting for a spell in contact with a body, human or animal, must be done from the arithmantic trunk of which it is composed. To do this, it is necessary to rewrite its equation and modify its components.
"From the arithmetic trunk?" read Hermione out loud. "What does that mean?"
"I have no idea." replied Theo, who hadn't lost his smile. "But I know who we can ask."
.
.
.
.
The next day, Hermione took a long time to put her Arithmancy notes away. Theo hung around Professor Vector's desk, waiting for the students to leave the classroom.
"Professor Vector?"
"Yes, Nott?" she replied without looking at him, too busy tidying her desk.
Theo showed the usual strain when he heard his own surname and cautiously approached Vector's desk:
"I wanted to ask you a question... about Arithmancy." he announced awkwardly.
"Go ahead, ask, ask..." the professor replied.
"Well, here it is... I wanted to know how to find the arithmetic trunk of a heartbeat diagnostic spell."
Vector raised her head abruptly and stared at Theo, mouth agape.
"I... I beg your pardon?"
Hermione saw a few blushes appear on Theo's cheekbones. His hands clenched on his quill.
"Er... I wanted to know if..."
"I heard you correctly." Vector interrupted. "But... how could Merlin possibly know about such a practice?"
"Um, I've... I've read it."
Hermione was about to intervene, sure that Theo was about to be set on fire, but a wide smile suddenly broke out on Vector's stern face.
"Oh, Merlin! What an excellent question! 30 points for Slytherin!"
Hermione's eyes widened and Theo stammered a shy "thank you".
"Arithmetic trunks aren't seen until seventh year, Nott..." the professor continued in a hurried tone. "Nonsense, in my humble opinion, as I find it perfectly accessible to brilliant minds like yours, despite your young age." she added proudly. Theo blushed even more. "However, an arithmetic trunk is the mathematical formula of a spell, that is, the sequence of magical fragments implanted in the essence of the spell."
She pulled out a parchment from nowhere, a large grey quill, and began to write frantically:
"Say, for example, your heartbeat spell... Pulsatio Reprehendo, I suppose? All you have to do is line up each of the magical elements involved in performing this spell. The first is Diagnosis, Laguz, the second is Heartbeat Capture, Wunjo..."
Hermione spotted a few runes written here and there on the scribbled parchment. A few minutes later, when she couldn't pretend to put her textbook in her bag again, she left the classroom. Theo joined her shortly afterwards.
"I did it!" he exclaimed. "I did it, she didn't even ask me why I needed a spell like that!"
"Well done!" replied Hermione. "Did you understand everything she said?"
"Yes, everything! It's the first time I've ever understood an Arithmancy lesson on the first try, I might add." Theo said with a slight frown. "Anyway, she was delighted that I asked. She thinks I'm the smartest student at Hogwarts now."
Hermione tried as hard as she could to suppress the jealousy that crept up on her when she heard this.
"But she asked me to keep the answer to myself." he continued. "And definitely not to tell Umbridge, because she might get into trouble."
He chuckled at the thought.
"Of course." Hermione said ironically. "Can you imagine if she found out a teacher was teaching one of her students something useful?"
"Anyway, I've got the formula." Theo said, waving the parchment in front of her. "How about a session tomorrow night?"
Hermione nodded immediately. She loved solving a mystery, especially when it was based on knowledge, logic and magic. Theo seemed to feel the same way, Hermione could see the anticipation dancing in his pupils.
"See you tomorrow then!" he tossed cheerfully before disappearing into one of the adjoining corridors.
.
That evening in the Library, Hermione learnt her runes and Draco studied his spell lessons. He said it wasn't a subject worth studying because it was "so easy a baby Bowtruckle could get all his O.W.L.", but Hermione could see he was struggling. Sometimes, she could hear him mumbling formulas without meaning to, which made her smile.
She got back to the Common Room quite early. Ron was playing a game of Wizarding Chess with Dean, a game Hermione had vowed never to play with him again, and Harry was reading a Quidditch magazine Ginny had lent him the day before, by the fire. She walked over to him and sat down in the other armchair.
"Long session?" asked Harry as he saw her rubbing her eyelids.
"No, I'm fine, just a bit tired." she said with a small smile. "And you?"
"Any day we don't have Umbridge is a good day for me." Harry said.
Hermione nodded, but she could tell he was lying. His dark circles were more pronounced than usual, reminding her of his condition before the Triwizard Tournament tasks. As he turned a page in his magazine, Hermione saw the whitish scars on his hand, I must not tell lies, and her stomach tightened painfully.
He looked up at her.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing." Hermione lied.
"Yes, there is." Harry insisted. "Tell me."
"If I tell you, you'll get upset." she murmured.
Harry's gaze softened and Hermione suddenly found her best friend's youthful face, the one not hollowed out by trauma.
"No, I won't get upset, I promise."
Hermione thought back to his empty stare during Care of Magical Creatures, a class he nevertheless particularly liked, and awkwardly blurted out:
"You didn't look well today. Is something bothering you?"
Harry gave a mirthless laugh and looked at her blankly. He didn't have to speak for her to understand what he was thinking. Everything was bothering him. But instead of pointing it out to her, he gestured with his chin to the coffee table in front of them.
Hermione hadn't noticed that there was a copy of the Daily Prophet on the table. The paper was folded in half and she could make out a photo of Harry from last year, wearing his first Task T-shirt, burnt in places. The letters of the title gleamed in the glow of the fire in the fireplace:
DUMBLEDORE'S PUPPET.
Hermione was tempted to pick up the newspaper, but she didn't move.
"Aren't you going to read it?" asked Harry.
She shook her head:
"No."
"Don't you want to know what implausible new story Dumbledore would have filled my head with?"
"It's a load of crap and you know it." Hermione snapped.
Harry's eyebrows jumped up behind his glasses to hear her use such language. Hermione never spoke vulgarly, it was clearly a habit she'd picked up from Draco without realising it. She cleared her throat and pointed at the Prophet with a wave of her hand:
"They're making up nonsense about you to discredit you and distract wizards from Voldemort's return. Fudge is in denial, preferring to use you rather than face his responsibilities. You know that, don't you?"
"Yes." Harry said with an exhausted sigh. "But it's still difficult. Seeing a picture of yourself in the paper and reading an article that's completely false. No one believes me, Hermione."
"I believe you." she contradicted immediately.
Harry smiled weakly at her.
"I think you're the only one." he said.
"That's not true. The Weasleys believe you. Neville believes you, Luna believes you, the whole of Dumbledore's Army believes you, except that idiot Smith, and..." Hermione lowered her voice and checked that Ron was still concentrating on his chess game before adding, "... Theodore Nott believes you, too."
Harry gave her a confused look:
"The Slytherin?" he asked, stunned. "Malfoy's mate?"
Hermione gritted her teeth at hearing such a description of a boy far deeper and more interesting than that, and almost pointed out that Draco was ironically one of the few people in this Castle who believed him too, but she restrained herself and replied instead:
"Yes, himself. He knows his father was there that night, but he doesn't deny it like the others."
Harry nodded. His eyes wandered to the front page of the newspaper and he rested the magazine on his lap.
"I'd like to do something." he breathed after several seconds of silence.
"What?" asked Hermione.
Harry stood up and walked to the window by the fireplace. He watched the falling snowflakes sullenly.
"Anything, Hermione." he said. "I feel like I'm doing nothing and it's driving me mad. I let them talk a load of crap, as you say, and I do nothing to stop them."
"Dumbledore told you..."
"Dumbledore doesn't tell me anything." Harry argued, his eyes still on the outside. "He does nothing for me and I'm alone, Mione."
Hermione took his last sentence like a punch to the gut. She wanted to respond, but didn't know what to say, so she watched Harry rest his forehead against the glass. He looked out over the Hogwarts valley and Hermione watched him from her chair. Long seconds passed. Harry's breathing made small circles of mist against the window. His shoulders were slumped with stress and fatigue. Hermione searched for something to say to him, anything to make him smile, but nothing came.
"Harry!"
Harry and Hermione turned to Ron at the same time.
"I won!" he announced happily, pointing to the chessboard. Dean grunted something between his teeth and sat down next to Hermione. "Shall we have a game?"
Harry agreed, and Hermione was sure it was because he wanted to take his mind off things, and Ron put the game back, and Hermione was sure he'd offered to take his mind off things. Sometimes, there wasn't much to say. All you had to do was suggest a game of chess.
Hermione silently thought of a way to help Harry.
Dean threw the Prophet into the fire.
.
An hour later, she had an idea. Harry and Ron had already gone upstairs and Ginny was chatting with Dean in a corner of the Common Room. Neville had fallen asleep on one of the study tables. Fred and George were showing off their latest invention to some first years.
Hermione picked up a piece of parchment and wrote a few lines.
Deep down, she knew this was a good idea. It was for Harry, it might help him. But her heart had been divided since the previous year. Divided into two parts of herself. Love and reason. Slytherin and Gryffindor. Draco and Harry. She knew it was the right choice, the one that matched her values, the one she would have made without hesitation two years ago. But as she wrote her letter, she felt as if someone was whispering in her ear, "What will he think?"
She didn't know the answer to that question, and in truth, she didn't even know which 'he' she was referring to anymore.
Hermione put on her winter cloak and went out through the portrait, making sure no Gryffindor noticed her. She passed a few students, but no one stopped her, not even in the hall as she left through the main doors of the Castle.
There was a blizzard outside. Hermione found it hard to walk between the violent wind and the rain that hit her head despite her hood. The ground was covered in a blanket of frost, concealed by an impressive layer of snow. By the time she reached the foot of the Owlery, her legs were soaked and she was shivering from head to toe. She cast a Drying spell on the underside of her cloak and a Warming one on her body and climbed the hundreds of steps to the oval room.
She was about to choose the owl that would face the storm when she heard footsteps on the stairs behind her. She had no time to hide the letter before Draco entered the room.
"Hermione?" he called. "What are you doing here?"
"Posting a letter." she replied, pointing at the obvious. "How did you know I was here?"
Draco's eyes swept her up and down, lingering for a few seconds on the envelope she held between her fingers. He was wearing the hat she'd given him for Christmas and his sticking out strands of hair were wet. As usual, he was definitely not covered enough for the weather outside.
"I saw you." he replied evasively. "Who are you sending this to?"
She saw the panic in his eyes and finally understood. She took a few steps towards him:
"It's not for Viktor." she reassured him.
He let out a sigh through his teeth and leaned against the door to catch his breath. Clearly, his ascent of the stairs had been a little too hasty. She took his hand and squeezed it gently.
"To whom then? You never send letters this late."
Hermione bit her lower lip:
"This one is rather urgent." she said softly.
Draco analysed her in silence:
"Oh no." he grumbled. "I know that look. It's your Gryffindor look. What have you been up to?"
Instead of answering, she handed him the still open envelope. Draco took it without understanding.
"Read it." Hermione said.
Draco looked surprised that she had taken him into her confidence. And yet they had promised each other no more secrets. Draco took the letter out of the envelope, opened it, read the first sentence, and exclaimed:
"Rita Skeeter?! Are you kidding?"
"Keep reading." Hermione hinted, growing increasingly nervous.
Draco's blue eyes scanned the lines Hermione had written. At the end of his reading, he suddenly lifted his head:
"What the hell?" he asked. "Why are you asking Rita Skeeter out on a date?"
"A what?!"
"A meeting on the 14th of February?" read Draco out loud. "On Valentine's Day? To "chat"? Is there something you want to confess to me, Granger?"
He was grinning broadly. Hermione rolled her eyes and snatched the letter from his hands, embarrassed beyond belief:
"I suggested this day because it's the next scheduled trip to Hogsmeade!"
"And why would you want to see Rita Skeeter in Hogsmeade?" asked Draco, both laughing and worried.
"To help Harry." she admitted in a low voice as she slipped the letter into the envelope.
Draco's eyebrows furrowed and he subtly leaned towards her:
"What are you up to, Granger?"
Hermione took a deep breath and explained, staring down at the dirty floor of the Owlery:
"I want... I want her to publish an article in which Harry explains what happened the night You-Know-Who returned. A real article, not the rags the Prophet has been publishing since the beginning of term, where Harry can recount the events without being ridiculed or seen as a fool. And I wanted to warn you before I did it, I promise you, I didn't mean to do it behind your back, but I think it could help Harry a lot, and it might make people realise that he's not the liar Fudge wants people to believe..."
When she dared to raise her head to look at Draco, his expression was hard, his eyes cold.
"You can't do this, Granger." he said.
Hermione mentally prepared herself for the argument that would follow: Draco would protect his family's honour, Hermione would defend Harry. A list of arguments was already running through her mind. She began with a confident voice:
"I don't..."
"You locked that woman in a jar for a whole month." Draco interrupted. "You threatened to report her to the Ministry if she wrote again. She's angry at you, and I know she's pathetic, but she's also a grown-up, experienced witch, capable of hurting you to get back at you."
Hermione was so unprepared for the answer that when she opened her mouth, no sound came out.
"And there's no way she's going to hurt you." Draco said firmly, his voice threatening.
Hermione hadn't even thought about that possibility. She had been so busy trying to find a way to comfort Harry that she hadn't realised what she was doing: blackmailing. To the most famous journalist in the country.
"She won't hurt me, Draco." Hermione said in the most convincing tone possible. "Besides, Harry will be there!"
"That's not a very reassuring prospect." he grumbled.
"Trust me, I'm not afraid of Rita Skeeter." she said, squeezing his hand to calm him down. "In fact, to be perfectly honest, the thing I'm most afraid of in this whole thing... is you."
"Me?" Draco repeated, aghast. "Why?"
"Well, if Rita and Harry agree to do the interview, and Harry tells the whole truth about that night... what happened, who was there... he's bound to talk about your... Lucius."
A muscle twitched in Draco's clenched jaw. His gaze suddenly darkened and his hand tightened against hers.
"I suppose so, yes." he said gravely.
"I thought... I thought you'd stop me from doing this." Hermione yelped.
Her fingers and ears prickled with concern. Draco's eyes were turning grey, which was never a good omen. But, to her surprise, he lifted Hermione's hand and planted a kiss on her wrist.
"I trust you, Hermione." he murmured.
"You won't hold this against me?" she asked.
"I won't hold it against you." Draco confirmed. "It won't be any fun seeing my father's name on an article like this, but I'll take it on myself. I talked to Skeeter about Potter behind your back last year, so let's call it even. Agreed?"
Hermione agreed and wrapped her arms around his neck to hug him. She felt his muscles relax as she moved closer. He ran his hands under her cloak to hold her waist, hard, and kissed her forehead gently.
"Thanks for trusting me." she said.
"Thank you for warning me." Draco replied. "We're getting good at communicating, aren't we?"
Hermione laughed a little and buried her face in Draco's cloak. He smelled of green apple cologne. He rested his chin against the top of her head and they stayed in that position for a long time, pressed tightly together. The owls watched them curiously.
"Hermione..." Draco whispered. "You know you have to tell another person if you do this interview."
She knew immediately who he meant and sighed against the fabric of his cloak.
"Yes, I know. I'll talk to him about it, depending on Skeeter's answer."
Draco nodded against her hair as his hand played with the bottom of her jumper under her cloak. He was right, they were getting better at communicating, especially him. When he'd walked into the Owlery, Hermione had been sure they'd be shouting at each other until one of them took off running.
Draco withdrew his hand and took the envelope Hermione was still holding, closed it and approached a large creamy white owl. He tied the letter to its leg and led it to the window:
"Send this to Rita Skeeter. Good luck." he said to the bird before it flew off into the night.
He returned to Hermione and tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear:
"Have you thought about where you're going to publish the article?" he asked. "The Prophet will never publish it, Fudge would never want to compromise himself."
"I'm not sure, actually." she said. "Perhaps a column that we could get owls to distribute to every household in England?"
"It'll be expensive, and easily traceable." Draco said thoughtfully.
Hermione tried to think of a way to spread Harry's interview far and wide. If Skeeter was going to agree to the meeting, she had to have a solid plan. Icy winds blew through the circular room from all sides, making her shiver. Without saying a word, Draco took off his cloak and placed it on her shoulders to keep her warm.
"Why don't you ask your friend, Lovegood?" Draco offered. "Isn't it her father who runs the Quibbler?"
Hermione's eyes widened:
"Yes, you're right!" she exclaimed. "What a great idea! Everyone will be able to read it that way! Draco, it's a brilliant idea!"
Draco smiled at her excitement. He kissed her forehead again, just below her hairline, and took her hand to lead her up the stairs to the Owlery:
"Well, my pleasure, Granger."