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!

89. 89 : the otters at Regent's Park Zoo

Good evening everyone! Happy New Year! May your year 2025 be filled with happiness, success and good health, surrounded by your loved ones! I hope you had a great vacation, that you rested, I did, I had a lot of time to write as I wanted! But I'm going back to work tomorrow... :( I wish I'd had another week or two!

In three days, Mon Ange Gardien will be two years old! Omggg! Actually, I officially started it on September 1, 2022, but it will have two years of publications on :) I know I say it all the time but it just doesn't feel like two years has gone by, it feels so close, I published it when I was an au pair in London and it seems crazy that it could be so long ago. Anyway, I hope you're still enjoying the fic as much as you did at the beginning, if not more, there's still a long way to go so we'll surely reach the three-year anniversary together... we'll see!

I could have called this chapter "men are trash", except Theo of course 3

Happy reading everyone!

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Hermione

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Hermione came face to face with the person she least expected to be spending her last night of January with.

Anthony Goldstein.

He stood there, facing her, and they examined each other without saying a word, staring at one another, waiting for the first to speak without actually doing so.

Hermione examined him from top to bottom, from his copper hair to his dark blue eyes to his square jaw. Usually, his face was stretched in a smile, but tonight, he seemed to be in deep thought.

Only the boy in front of Hermione wasn't Anthony Goldstein.

Not really.

"Well?" asked Theo's voice. "How do I look?"

"Like Anthony Goldstein." Hermione replied.

He gave her a blasé look that was so similar to Theo's expression that she recognised him by features that weren't his own.

"Are you sure?" he asked, inspecting the Ravenclaw waistcoat he'd just put on.

"Stand up a little straighter." Hermione advised. "And smile. Anthony always smiles."

Theo, Anthony, arched an eyebrow but obeyed. He seemed to have some difficulty smiling for no reason, but it made him much more recognisable. Hermione nodded in satisfaction and the two made their way to the Room of Requirement for the D.A. meeting scheduled for a few minutes later.

"So?" whispered Theo. "Anything else you'd like to tell me about Anthony Goldstein before I play him for an hour?"

"Well... He's in Ravenclaw, he's a prefect. He's friends with Terry Boots and Michael Corner, Ginny's boyfriend... He grew up in Yorkshire and his father is a Muggle, so he's a Half-Blood... Ah, and he's very sociable and outgoing."

Theo winced:

"Outgoing? I don't think I'm capable of being outgoing, Hermione."

"You'll be fine!" she disagreed. "Anyway, Michael spends his sessions with Ginny, and Terry Boots is the quietest boy I know."

"And where is our dear, true Anthony Goldstein tonight?" asked Theo as he trotted along the seventh floor corridor beside Hermione.

"Deep in bed after food poisoning." Hermione said. "Padma told me he'd eaten too many Honeydukes sweets. We're safe."

Theo, Anthony, nodded thoughtfully.

"Well, he's not very tall." he said, lowering his head towards her. "It makes me feel too weird to see you this close."

Hermione rolled her eyes:

"That's because you Slytherins are way too tall." she muttered.

"If you're talking about Blaise, you should know he's an exception." he countered. "I'm half convinced he's been taking a few drops of Growth Potion every day since he was born."

Hermione laughed a little, keeping to herself that she hadn't been thinking of Blaise when she had said that sentence. She had been thinking of Draco, who towered over her by at least a head, so that she could see his Adam's apple rise when he was uncomfortable, and that she was forced to tilt her head back when he kissed her.

Her head was still full of mental images of Draco when the door to the Room of Requirement appeared before her eyes. Theo, Anthony, looked at his watch:

"Only fifty-three minutes of Polyjuice Potion left." he informed her. "Ready?"

"Ready."

He pushed the door open. The room was set up as usual, with cushions on one side, mannequins on the other, small bookshelves filled with defence books of all kinds and a huge fireplace in the centre of the room. A few people were already gathered around Harry. Hermione approached him, reflexively standing to his left and Ron to his right.

"Good evening everyone!" Harry announced, scanning the crowd around him. "It's going to be a study session tonight, as we've got quite a few absentees. The Ravenclaw Quidditch team couldn't move their practice tonight, so the majority of the House isn't here..."

Hermione and Anthony exchanged a small knowing look.

"... And Fred and George Weasley couldn't make it because of detention with Umbridge."

"For what reason this time?" asked Dean.

"They sent her a Valentine's card which exploded in her face during dinner." Ron explained.

Everyone burst out laughing, including Hermione and Theo.

"Right." Harry continued. "Your choice, which defensive technique would you like to review tonight?"

"How about Patronus?" suggested the floating voice of Luna, who stood in the centre of the room looking at Harry with a small smile on her lips.

Her suggestion was approved by all the students and they quickly took their positions. Hermione positioned herself strategically at Anthony's side, without being too close either, and Ron stood next to her without commenting on her choice of placement.

"Think of a happy memory." Harry reminded as he walked through the rows of students. "The happiest memory of your life. Let it rise inside you, inhabit you completely, until nothing else exists but that memory. It must be powerful, you must feel it in the palms of your hands, and when you're ready, cast loudly, clearly, Spero Patronum!"

Some students tried several times, but no Patronus appeared. Hermione closed her eyes to concentrate, trying to find a sufficiently intense memory. The last time she had focused on memories of her childhood. She tried several times to cast a Patronus, thinking of her parents, of Danny, of McGonagall telling her she was a witch, but she had to face the facts: those moments were far too blurred in her mind. She didn't feel the energy Harry had described.

Hermione wondered when she'd been happiest, and the answer came to her as if her brain was just waiting to show her. She saw Draco laughing on the bench, his hair covered in snowflakes, she saw Draco in the Library with a grin on his face, she felt Draco's hands on her cheeks, his lips on hers, she heard his voice whispering in her ear, mint and green apple on her tongue, and the combined memories made her wand vibrate in her hand. She didn't even have to choose one, she just let the whirlwind of emotions carry her away and said:

"Expecto Patronum!"

No sooner had Hermione finished her incantation than her heart leapt in her chest, so hard that she almost dropped her wand. She could feel the veins in her right wrist quiver as magic escaped from the tip of her wand in the form of shapeless silver filaments. At first they floated in the air, but soon they intertwined and formed a round shape, no bigger than an infant.

"Hermione!" exclaimed Ron as he watched her Patronus take shape. "Merlin, you've done it!"

His shout drew the attention of everyone around them, including Anthony, who watched the spell with admiration. But Hermione didn't see him, her gaze completely taken up by the Patronus in front of her. It was as if she was seeing her own magic for the first time, that kind of simmering warmth she'd known all her life. Since Hogwarts, she'd seen it erupt in many different forms, but it had never been as beautiful as it was that evening.

When all the filaments had blended together, they became opaque and Hermione recognized, in amazement, the otters she used to see with her parents at Regent Park Zoo when she was a child. She put a hand to her mouth, her eyes glued to the animal as it floated gently towards her, its legs curled up against its belly and its head tilted slightly to one side. They stared at each other for long seconds.

"Hello there." she murmured to the Patronus.

The otter nodded in greeting. It glowed so brightly that Hermione had to squint to look at it any longer. It was as if it was swimming on its back on the surface of the water, flashing a smile.

As quickly as it had appeared, the Patronus vanished and Hermione felt a strange sense of loss.

"Well done, Hermione!" congratulated Harry.

Ron burst into applause and everyone followed. She was the first person to successfully do a corporeal Patronus at a DA session, and Hermione felt her cheeks flush with joy and pride. Neville and Ginny came over to hug her, Luna announced that it was the most beautiful Patronus she'd ever seen in her life (although she'd only ever seen Harry's), and Harry and Ron awkwardly patted her on the back to congratulate her.

And when Anthony Goldstein approached her to shake her hand, no one saw the subtle wink he gave her, a remnant of years of fierce competition.

By the end of the session, a few people had managed to create shapeless silver threads. Harry repeated several times how difficult the magic was and that it would take time to fully master, but Hermione could still feel Zacharias Smith's venomous glare from across the room. As he left the Room of Requirement, she could even hear him whispering to Terry and Anthony that she'd surely been cheating by practising with Harry in secret.

Hermione pretended to have a book to return before the Library closed and joined Theo in the bathroom. He was putting his Slytherin robes back on when she entered, his face back to normal.

"Reassure me, I'm not the only one who finds this Smith absolutely loathsome?" he asked between clenched teeth as soon as she entered.

"Oh no, you're not the only one." Hermione said with a smile. "Harry, Ron, Fred, George and Ginny all hate him. I regret inviting him, he's always making fun of Harry."

"And you." Theo pointed angrily. "He just told me you cheated. I was dying to remind him that it wasn't technically possible to "cheat" by casting a Patronus and that he was just jealous of you. Please don't ever take one of his hairs for me."

"Noted." Hermione said.

Theo put the vial of Polyjuice Potion back in his pocket and Hermione made the glass he'd used to drink the potion Vanish.

"Well done on your Patronus, by the way!" cried Theo with a big smile. "I never thought yours would take the form of an otter."

"Really? What did you have in mind?" she asked curiously.

"I'm not sure, to tell you the truth..." he said thoughtfully. "Maybe a majestic animal, like a tiger, or very intelligent, like an elephant, or... a Kneazle."

"My cat is half Kneazle." Hermione realised, not having thought of that possibility. Now that he'd said it, it seemed more logical. "But when my parents took me to the zoo as a child, I always went to see the otters. I found them fascinating. I suppose there's a bit of affection in the Patronus form."

"At the zoo?" repeated Theo, a twinkle of interest in his blue eyes. "I read about them, they're the big parks where you can see animals from all over the world?"

"Yes, exactly." Hermione said. "My parents used to take me to the one in Regent Park in London."

"Muggles are really fascinating." Theo said enthusiastically. "Can you imagine, a wizarding zoo? It would be incredible to get all the magical creatures together in one place..."

Theo went off on his own thoughts, and Hermione didn't have the heart to tell him that zoos weren't as idyllic as he thought, with animals locked in cages too small for them.

"What do you think your Patronus will be?" she asked.

Theo put on a bored expression:

"We asked what Animagus we'd be with Blaise, Draco and Pansy, and I said a wolf. It's a loner, but it lives in a pack, like me."

Hermione grinned as she imagined Draco's reaction to the idea.

"But the others disagreed." Theo continued sulkily. "They said I would be an owl."

She stopped herself from pointing out that it was an excellent choice that suited him perfectly.

"Anyway, the question doesn't arise at the moment." he added. "I'll never be an Animagus, and I can't make a single Patronus."

"You heard Harry, it's very complex magic." Hermione said to reassure him. "It takes hours of practice to get it right."

"Easy for you to say." Theo said with a mocking sneer. "You're the only one who's managed to make one!"

Hermione grinned. Theo slung his bag over his shoulder, and Hermione hoped with all her heart that this sensitive, gentle boy possessed enough happy memories to produce one one day.

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When she returned to the Common Room, Hermione immediately noticed that the atmosphere had changed. In the Room of Requirement, everyone had been drilled by practice, but there, around the half-extinguished fire, the Gryffindors' faces were glum. Fred and George were dipping their hands in Murtlap Essence, and Hermione could see the blood particles floating to the surface. She stifled a shiver and sat down on the sofa next to Harry, who was rubbing his scar without taking part in the conversation around him.

"Good session today." she commented.

Harry replied with a grunt and a shrug.

"Everyone seemed happy to continue with the Patronus." she continued to make conversation. "Did you see Luna's? It almost took shape at the end! I can't wait to find out what it is."

Harry nodded distractedly without answering. Hermione picked up her knitting needles, which she had left on the table, and continued with her little brown hat, the one she wanted to hide before going to sleep. She took up a few stitches again, trying to listen to what Ginny was saying to Neville, but her attention kept returning to Harry, who kept touching his scar as if it were burning him.

"Harry?" she called softly. "Are you all right?"

Harry pulled his hand away from his forehead with a sigh:

"Everything's fine, Hermione."

He'd said that sentence so many times since the beginning of the year that it sounded bland. Hermione was sure he was in pain, but he didn't want to tell her. Ron, who was on her right, looked at his best friend with the same concern.

The room emptied until only the twins and a few students finishing their homework in the distance remained. Hermione had almost finished her knitting and kept looking up at Harry, who was still wearing the same sombre expression. She hoped it was because of Cho's absence from the meeting, but deep down, she knew he was scowling about something far more serious.

As the twins discussed their upcoming revenge on Umbridge, Hermione subtly leaned over to her best friend:

"Harry? Are you sure you're all right?"

"Fine." Harry repeated without looking at her.

"Stop lying, mate." Ron said, his eyebrows furrowed. "We can see you're in pain. You saw something again, didn't you?"

"No, I didn't see anything." Harry muttered. "I...felt something."

"What's that?" asked Hermione.

"I felt what he was feeling." he said with a grimace. "I felt... that he was happy about something, but I don't know what."

"Like when he managed to get his Death Eaters out of Azkaban?" asked Ron. "You said he'd rarely been so happy, that night."

Ron had told Hermione on the morning of the new term that Harry had fallen to the floor after a particularly violent nightmare. When Ron had managed to wake him from his trance, he'd told her that something very good had happened to Voldemort, something he'd hoped for a very long time. A few minutes later, they had discovered the front page of the newspaper, announcing the escape of ten Death Eaters from Azkaban.

"No, it's not exactly the same." Harry said, unconsciously massaging his scar. He closed his eyes for a few seconds, as if trying to recapture the feeling he'd had earlier. "It's more like... relief. Maybe he's found someone else who's willing to ally with him, I don't know."

Harry tore his hand from his forehead and laid it on his lap:

"I feel like this Occlumency is just opening up my head even more for Voldemort to get into." he blurted out, ignoring Ron's flinch at the cursed name. "Like I'm a radio tuned directly into his whims."

"Maybe it's like a disease." Hermione said. "Like a fever. It has to get worse before it gets better."

"Occlumency is making it worse." Harry said sharply. "I'm tired of my scar hurting and I'm tired of walking down that corridor every night! I wish that door would finally open, I can't stand standing in front of it stupidly..."

"Dumbledore doesn't want you to have that corridor dream anymore, or he wouldn't have asked Snape to teach you Occlumency. All you have to do is work a little harder at your lessons..."

"I'm working!" Harry protested angrily. "You try it one day, facing Snape trying to get inside your head, it's not a bundle of laughs, you know!"

He glared at her. Hermione thought back to Draco limping after his sessions and fell silent.

"Maybe it's not Harry's fault that he can't close his mind." Ron said, looking serious.

"What do you mean?" asked Hermione.

"Well, maybe Snape isn't really trying to help Harry..." He lowered his voice and continued hesitantly. "Maybe he's trying to open Harry's mind a little more... to make it easier for You-Know-Who..."

Hermione cut him off:

"Nonsense, Ron. How many times have you suspected Snape without ever having reason to? Dumbledore trusts him and he works for the Order, that should be enough for you."

"He was a Death Eater." Ron stubbornly insisted. "And we've never had any proof that he's actually switched sides."

"Dumbledore trusts him." she repeated. "And if we can't trust Dumbledore, then we can't trust anyone."

"How can I trust him when he won't even let me talk to him?" growled Harry. "He's been avoiding me ever since this summer, like I have some contagious disease, he won't even look me in the eye! All he does is drag me from one place to another without asking my opinion, he gives me orders without even explaining them, he leaves me in the shadows all the time!"

"Harry..." Hermione began, bringing her hand up to rest on his arm, but he jumped to his feet:

"No!" he shouted. "STOP asking me if I'm all right, Hermione!"

Hermione's sentence died on her tongue and she watched her best friend with wide eyes, pinned to the spot.

"Stop looking at me with that pitying look all the time, it's even worse than Dumbledore's ignorance!" Harry continued, his voice vibrating with hostility. "If you ask me if I'm all right one more time, I'll go mad! NO, I'm not all right, Hermione! Snape is forcing his way into my head, Umbridge is provoking me by talking about Cedric in every class, Dumbledore is ignoring me, and if that's not enough, Lord Voldemort himself is parasitising my skull, and I'm not even allowed to play Quidditch to think about anything else!" he shouted. "So, no, I'm not well, and there's no need to tell me to go and complain to Dumbledore and McGonagall!"

"Harry!" shouted Ron, getting up to stand between them. "Calm down mate, Hermione hasn't done anything wrong, we're just trying to help you..."

"Then find another way to do it, because this isn't working at all!" snapped Harry, taking three steps back.

"Hey there!" called Fred and George in unison. They stood on either side of Ron, in front of the sofa where Hermione was still sitting. "We understand you're on edge, Harry, but that's really no reason to talk to Hermione like that!" said Fred firmly.

George crossed his arms over his chest and for the first time in her life, Hermione found them both threatening. Harry was furious. He looked at Fred, Ron, George and Hermione in turn and then walked briskly towards the dormitories:

"Never mind, I'm going to bed."

He didn't say good night and disappeared down the stairs. Somewhere above their heads a door slammed, and the shoulders of the three boys across from Hermione slumped with a sigh.

"Are you all right, Mione?" asked George gently, seeing that she was still tense.

"Yes, yes..." she said in a white voice, shocked at Harry's attitude.

"You know how he is." Ron said, sitting down beside her again. "That's Harry, he can't stand anyone trying to calm him down."

He took her hand affectionately, squeezing it against his before letting go. Hermione nodded, but didn't agree. Harry was prudish, but he'd always needed reassurance, and Hermione, Ron and Hagrid were the first and only people he'd turned to for it. Hermione couldn't count the number of times she'd told him everything was going to be all right and they'd fallen asleep next to each other so he'd be reassured by her presence, or Ron had distracted him with Quidditch training and trips to Hogsmeade. She didn't recognise this Harry, who reacted at the drop of a hat and took everything the wrong way. It was as if his pure soul had been tainted by Voldemort's intrusions.

"Go away, there's nothing to see here!" barked Fred and George at the second years, who were looking in their direction with wide eyes. "And none of you are to tell anyone, is that clear?"

They nodded, intimidated, grabbed their textbooks and feathers in a hurry and were off to their dormitory in seconds.

"I'll go up and see if everything's all right." Ron decided. "Don't take it out on yourself, all right?" he added for Hermione's benefit.

Hermione nodded and wished him good night. Ron went upstairs.

Only the twins remained in the Common Room.

"Are you sure you're all right, Mione?" George asked cautiously.

"I'm fine." she lied.

"He had no right to talk to you like that." Fred snapped.

"He's just exhausted." Hermione said with a shrug. "He's going through things that aren't easy, it's normal to explode from time to time."

"What's not normal is to take it all out on you." George disagreed. "His suffering doesn't give him the right to treat you like that."

"It's all right, really." Hermione insisted. "I'm used to it."

The twins didn't seem convinced. They stayed close to her and accepted a cup of tea, which they drank in silence in front of the embers. Hermione couldn't express how comforting their company was, even when they weren't talking. Her heart was already lighter when they announced they were going to bed.

When only she was left in the room, she took her wand from her pocket and pointed it at her chest:

"Peribit ex charta."

She felt the spell curl into the fabric of her jumper and the hand holding her wand faded for a few seconds. Hermione knew she shouldn't leave this tower, that Harry was always much more vulnerable when he fell asleep worried. She knew it was dangerous to leave him there, but strangely, she found it difficult to grasp the gravity of the situation tonight. Harry's words were still echoing in her mind, and she needed a distraction, anything, to keep her mind off it.

And what better distraction than Draco Malfoy on a bench?

Hermione was rather pleased to find that she was able to cast a fairly convincing Disillusionment Spell. There was no one in the corridors, curfew had passed and Hermione knew that Parkinson would be patrolling tonight, so she preferred to cover her tracks. She descended the stairs until she reached the darkened Hall, then took the door leading to the Hogwarts courtyard and stepped into the darkness.

She broke the spell only a few feet from the bench. She thought she saw someone sitting there, but the winter mist and the few lights in the Castle windows prevented her from seeing properly. She didn't recognise Draco until the last minute and wondered, for the hundredth time since last year, if he spent all his free time here or if he guessed she would come every time.

"Good evening, Granger." he said, obviously surprised to see her.

"Hey." she said, taking a seat to his left.

"What happened?"

Hermione turned to him, stunned:

"How do you know something happened?"

Draco's hair was tousled by the wind and tiny snowflakes clung to his eyelashes. Hermione lost herself in the study of his face, analysing the way his eyebrows arched as he counted on his fingers:

"Firstly, you haven't said "hey" once since we've known each other. Second, you look sad, and third, it's almost ten o'clock and you're here."

Hermione huddled against the back of the bench to warm herself, trying to ignore the pleasant feeling that Draco knew her well enough to guess what she was going through.

"I come here all the time, and long after curfew." she pointed out.

Draco grinned:

"That's true." Then he added in a low voice: "My little criminal."

Hermione rolled her eyes to hide the fact that she was blushing.

"Seriously Hermione, what happened?"

She turned to him and his piercing blue eyes looked at her with the same look of concern that Ron had given Harry a few minutes earlier. She sighed:

"It's Harry." she admitted.

She saw Draco tense beside her, but was surprised to hear no sharp comment from him. He took a deep breath and asked after a few seconds:

"What did Potter do?"

"Remember when I said that Vol... You-Know-Who could get into his head?" she asked, remembering at the last second how scared he'd been when she'd dared to utter his name.

"Hard to forget." Draco grumbled.

"I thought it happened today because he looked like he was in pain. I asked him if he was all right, but he took it... badly and rejected me."

"How?" asked Draco.

Hermione shrugged, not looking at him so he wouldn't see how much Harry had hurt her.

"In front of the whole Common Room." she muttered. "It wasn't pretty."

The seconds dragged on and Draco said nothing. He seemed to be doing everything he could to keep from making a spiteful remark, which Hermione appreciated. She didn't know how she would react if he started to lash out.

"So what happened next?" he finally asked.

"Ron came between us." Hermione explained. "And Fred and George. Harry went to bed and Ron followed him to check... to see if everything was all right. Fred and George had tea with me, and then I came here."

She sniffed and rubbed her eyelids as she felt involuntary tears well up. She listened to the sound of the wind against the magical barriers Draco had placed around the bench to distract herself.

"You know... and don't tell anyone I told you this, ever." Draco warned, turning to her with a threatening finger. "But... I think Potter and I... we're alike. Sometimes. Often, even."

Hermione was so shocked by this confession that she forgot her momentary sadness. She looked at him with wide eyes and he hurried on, probably so she couldn't ask him the hundred questions she was already preparing in her head:

"I think we both find it hard to admit when we need help. He must see it as weakness, as fragility. And if you ask him if he's all right, he'll brace himself because he must hate the fact that you can read him so well."

Draco looked at Hermione with a half-smile on his lips:

"Just like I do."

"But it's normal." Hermione argued. "He's my best friend, I know him like the back of my hand."

"He knows." Draco replied. "He knows it too well, that's what worries him. When you notice he's not well, it means it's visible, but he doesn't want to show it. He wants to keep that vulnerability inside him so that no one can understand how he really feels".

"But I can see it!" Hermione said. "Just like with you."

Draco brushed away one of the curls of her hair that had fallen in front of her eyes. "Yes. And that's probably what makes me most crazy about you."

Hermione smiled against Draco's cold palm pressed against her cheek.

"I thought you'd be angry when you heard what Harry did." Hermione confessed.

"Oh, believe me, I want to throw him up against a wall for making you cry." Draco said in a soft tone, in complete contrast to his words. "But I guess I can't really be mad, considering I've made you cry a lot more than Potter has."

He grunted more than he said his name, and Hermione understood that he was back to his normal self.

"He's exhausted." she said as an apology. "He's under constant threat, it's normal for him to react like this from time to time."

"You're exhausted too, Hermione." Draco replied, shaking his head. "I told you, Potter can't use that lame excuse to take it out on you, it's selfish. You're under constant threat too, and yet I never hear you say you've insulted Potter in front of everyone in the Common Room. Not that I'd mind, I'd love to hear it, believe me. Maybe even in the Great Hall while we're at it." he added with a mischievous grin.

"I'd never do that." said Hermione automatically.

"Exactly." said Draco. "See, that's the difference between you and Potter, and the rest of us: you're too empathetic."

"You can't be too empathetic." she corrected. "You're just not empathetic enough."

"Maybe." Draco said.

"Do you also get upset when Pansy, Theo and Blaise point out that you're not well?" asked Hermione.

Draco sighed as he rested his neck against the back of the bench, his head tilted towards the sky.

"Every time." he breathed. "I usually tell them to piss off, but they're so used to it they don't even notice. They know I need some time to take it in or get my bad mood out, so they let me isolate myself. On the other hand, they're always there when I need them afterwards.

Hermione noted this advice in the back of her mind, because it seemed to her that this was exactly what Harry needed: time to isolate himself.

They remained silent for a few seconds, allowing Hermione to sort out her thoughts. Suddenly Draco asked:

"When you say the Dark Lord gets into his head... Do you think that's Occlumency?"

She turned her head slightly to look at him: he was still staring stubbornly at the Castle's facade, his face completely closed, as if the question hadn't upset him, even though Hermione knew it had.

"No." she said immediately. "No, it's not Occlumency. It's at a distance, whereas Occlumency must necessarily involve eye contact, and it can only get into his head when he's about to fall asleep or in a deep sleep."

Draco took this in without reply. Hermione had read so much about Occumancy over the holidays that she now understood all of its magical mechanisms, although she was still as incapable of meditating properly and taming her brain as Draco was. She'd dismissed the possibility of Voldemort getting into Harry's head that way for weeks.

"And do you think it could be..." began Draco hesitantly, as if he was afraid she would laugh at his theory. "I don't know, Divination or something?"

Hermione scanned him to make sure he wasn't serious, but it definitely wasn't a joke.

"What do you mean?"

"Like a Third Eye, or... visions. You know, like Seers." he said.

Hermione raised her eyebrows:

"Er... no. I don't think so, I don't believe in that stuff."

He didn't believe in it either, did he? In all the time they'd spent together, he'd never defended the subject of Divination one way or the other; she'd always assumed he was as sceptical about this dubious "science" as she was.

"Why are you asking me this?" asked Hermione, unable to hide the incredulity in her question.

He shrugged vaguely:

"Just a theory."

"Is it Pansy's stuff that's gone to your head?" joked Hermione.

Draco grinned:

"Yeah, probably."

As always when there was a silence between them, Hermione wanted to fill it with questions, the first being why he'd come here. How did he know she was coming? Had he come by chance? Or did he come often, alone, perhaps to meditate?

"Guess what I managed to do today." she said impulsively, the first thing that came to mind.

Draco sat up and looked at her with a teasing expression on his face:

"Save the wizarding world? Kill Umbridge by poisoning her overly sweet tea?"

"Same thing." she replied with a smile.

"You're right." Draco said with a chuckle. "So, what did you do today?"

"I made my first Patronus."

Draco's laughter suddenly faded and his blue eyes widened considerably:

"What?!"

"My first real Patronus." Hermione said triumphantly.

"But Granger, it's, it's... It's one of the most difficult magics for a wizard!" he exclaimed in shock. "Who taught you how to do it?"

Hermione almost replied that it was the D.A., before remembering that he didn't know about her weekly meetings and correcting herself at the last second:

"Harry."

If that was possible, Draco's eyes widened even wider and he practically leaned over her in surprise:

"I beg your pardon? Potter is able to produce a Patronus?"

"Since third year."

Hermione unmistakably saw a flash of admiration cross Draco's face, but it vanished immediately.

"Oh... wow. That's... a Patronus, really?"

"Really." Hermione said, realising that Draco's amazement was even more gratifying than an entire room of applause.

"Well, congratulations, Granger, that's... incredible." he said, clearly struggling to find his words. "You're definitely overly talented, I didn't think you could impress me any more."

"I impress you?" she asked.

Hermione would be lying if she said she hated compliments. In fact, she loved them, especially when they came from the boy who had made her question her abilities so many times in the past. She still remembered his words from one of his letters, etched in her mind: "You radiate magic."

"Every day." he admitted. He ran a hand through his hair. "Damn, a Patronus... What shape is it?"

"It's an otter." she replied.

Draco gave a small laugh, but stopped short when he realised she was telling the truth.

"An... an otter?" he repeated. "The... the kind that splashes around in the water and snuggles up to each other?"

"Yes, exactly." Hermione said firmly. "And don't you dare make fun of my Patronus!"

"No, no, I wouldn't dare..." he said, clearly about to burst out laughing. "Hey, maybe Longbottom's is an otter too, so you can hold hands in the swamps?"

He laughed and Hermione frowned at his mockery.

"Firstly, otters are freshwater animals, not swamp animals." she corrected in a stern voice that Draco called "McGonagall's voice". "And secondly, I wouldn't laugh too hard if I were you. I'd remind you that your Patronus can take the form of a terrified ferret."

Draco closed his mouth abruptly and looked at her in disbelief.

"Nonsense." he said, not entirely convinced.

"So what do you think your Patronus will be?" asked Hermione.

"A dragon." he replied immediately, as if it were obvious. He almost rolled his eyes as he said it.

Hermione pictured Draco's Patronus as the kind of dragon Harry had faced the year before, the menacing dragons with black, burning scales. She could see the symbolism, but she found it hard to reconcile this image of a ferocious creature with the boy next to her, who could sometimes be the sweetest person she'd ever met. He was proud, but he was also meticulous, intelligent, kind...

"What were you thinking about?" asked Draco, piercing her bubble of mental musings.

"Hmm?"

"When you made your Patronus." he clarified.

Hermione felt a blush rise to her cheekbones just thinking about it.

"Oh, er... nothing important."

"I doubt it." Draco said. "You have to think of your most treasured memory to produce this kind of magic."

"I was thinking... of my parents." Hermione made up. "My eighth birthday party they threw."

Draco's lips curved into a broad smile and he suddenly moved closer to her, so close that she could feel his breath on her neck. Immediately, she got goosebumps and the instinctive urge to make the space between their mouths disappear.

"You still haven't learned to lie, Granger." he remarked lightly.

Hermione didn't even know what they were talking about; her eyes were now lost in Draco's and she couldn't feel the wood of the bench against her fingers.

"What were you thinking?" he repeated.

She was transfixed by his smirk.

"You already know." she accused in a small voice.

"Yes." he admitted. "But I'd rather hear you say it."

Hermione tried to roll her eyes, but the result was rather unsuccessful: she was blushing far too much to pretend to be annoyed by his words. The colour of his eyes was the same as the frozen surface of the Black Lake.

"I was thinking of you." she admitted.

She barely had time to be embarrassed when he leaned in to kiss her, as if she'd unlocked a password by uttering that phrase. She responded to his kiss with an automatism that was almost frightening because it was so natural: she placed her hand at the nape of his neck, at the roots of his hair, and opened her mouth to welcome him. Draco smelled of mint, on his clothes, in his hair, on his skin and on his tongue, and Hermione wanted to bottle the scent and savour it to her heart's content, because she was completely addicted to it.

Draco made a small sound of satisfaction against her lips, like a moan, and the sound spread through every one of Hermione's cells like wildfire. She tugged lightly at his hair as he ran his hand down her cheek to hold her even closer, his other hand lost in her curls. Sometimes he'd pull away for a few seconds and Hermione found it hard to hold back the whimper that escaped her lips when she felt him pull away, but he'd always stop her by kissing her again, harder. The only sound in Hogwarts Park was the sound of their lips colliding.

Hermione was soon out of breath, but she didn't stop the kiss, determined to savour every second, every touch. She knew she'd think about it again, during a boring class or at night before bed, so she tried to remember exactly the sounds Draco made, the shape of his lips, the minty taste on his tongue, and when he pulled away to kiss her neck, Hermione tried to remember the shiver that ran down her shoulder blade when he got close, the texture of his hair as her hand plunged into it, but it was impossible. When he kissed her, it was as if her head had been short-circuited and for the first time in her life, she couldn't think. Her body replaced her brain and sensations overtook her thoughts.

It was just the two of them, on that bench, huddled together in the middle of the snow.

When they stopped kissing after what seemed like hours, Draco's lips were swollen and pinker than usual, and the back of his hair was tousled from the onslaught of Hermione's fingers. Not that she could fault his appearance: she was panting, her own hair was in a disastrous state and she was probably peony red.

"Show me." he breathed, his eyes shining.

She understood what he meant and pulled out her wand. She didn't have to think long to find a happy memory: she just thought back to what had just happened and said the spell in a low voice. Her wand vibrated against her palm and silver filaments shot out, intertwined and, in a few seconds, formed a small otter that floated on its back in the air between them.

Hermione chose to watch Draco. He was subjugated by the spell, his mouth slightly open. Hermione could see the silver reflection of the Patronus in his blue eyes, like a mirage, and she was even more fascinated by this vision than by her own magic.

"Wow." he murmured. "That's... Fuck, that's beautiful."

Her otter looked at Draco and Hermione one by one with its big black eyes. His paws were curled up against its belly and its whiskers were trembling, like Crookshanks when he was sniffing the grass of the Burrow.

And Hermione knew what Draco meant. It wasn't just an otter. It was a spell that had drawn its power from her memories, it was the product of her love for him, and it was surely the most beautiful magic she had ever seen in her life.

.

.
.

"I think I've found something."

Hermione looked up from "Magical Connections" to see Theo approaching the Library table she was sitting at and placing a thick volume in front of her. She read the title, "Secrets of the Heart", but didn't have time to ask why on earth Theo was giving her a romance book in the middle of a Thursday evening before he blurted out:

"I borrowed this book yesterday and I found a paragraph that might interest you, it's about heart rate, I think we can find a way to link your wand to Potter's heart."

He opened the book and quickly turned to page 814, then pointed to the paragraph in question:

"In 1111, Cordelia Animus invented the first spell capable of instantly deciphering a wizard's heartbeat, Pulsatio Reprehendo. It was also the first medical diagnostic spell, which proved very useful and has been perfected over the years: Healers are still very grateful for it."

Below it was a moving photograph of a woman, a witch with short, grey hair sticking out of her purple hat, smiling at the camera. She reminded her a little of Professor Sprout. Hermione let out a small exclamation as she realised where she'd seen this woman before:

"I know her! There's her portrait on the staircase at St Mungo's!"

"Probably, she's one of the first healers in the wizarding world." Theo agreed. He hastily sat down in the nearest chair and pulled the book towards him to read the passage again. "If we're able to cast this spell, we could replace it on your wand so that it picks it up all the time, with some sort of system so that you can feel it at the slightest change."

"Like a Pacemaker?" asked Hermione.

Theo frowned from under his curly hair:

"A what?"

"It's a Muggle device that replaces the heart when it stops working." she explained roughly.

"Merlin, these Muggles are ingenious." he breathed, impressed. "Well, yes, I imagine it would be the same principle."

"Then all you have to do is try the spell on me." Hermione offered. "That way, if you succeed, we can try to transfer it to my wand?"

Theo narrowed his eyes and shook his head automatically:

"No, no way."

"What?" Hermione huffed, surprised at the firmness of his answer. "Why not?"

"You're a girl." he explained, more serious than ever. "And it's extremely rude to cast a spell on a girl, especially a spell you don't know."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. She thought back to Ron, who had just cast a Tickle spell on his sister that morning because she'd pointed out that he had a chocolate moustache above his lip. Maybe it was a Slytherin rule, Draco had told her that Blaise always behaved like a gentleman around girls.

"You cast it on me." Theo said, pretending to open his cloak to give her access to his torso. "Let's stop pretending that you're no better at Charms than I am."

"That's not true, I'm still unable to cast the Dome Charm, and you managed to do it before the DA's meetings..."

"Yeah, yeah." he cut in, rolling his eyes. "Come on, diagnose me."

Hermione almost retorted again, but when she saw Theo's determined look, she realised she couldn't make him give in. So she picked up her wand and took a deep breath. She aimed it at Theo's chest, afraid she wouldn't succeed, or worse, hurt him.

"Pulsatio Reprehendo." she said as clearly as she could.

She expected to see a diagnostic chart like the ones Madam Pomfrey often analysed, but nothing appeared. Theo and Hermione exchanged looks of disappointment.

And suddenly, Hermione felt it.

"What's going on?" asked Theo, seeing her shock.

"My wand!" she exclaimed, forgetting for a moment where they were. "It's... twitching! I can feel your heart against my hand!"

Theo immediately leaned forward and took the tip of her wand between his fingers. Every second it pulsed gently, as if Theo's heart was inside it.

"Oh, Merlin." he said, his eyes glued to the wand. "That's an amazing spell..."

Hermione nodded, too spellbound to speak. The pulsations grew fainter and fainter, then stopped altogether. Theo didn't let go of his wand, though, and looked her straight in the eye. Hermione could almost see his thoughts flashing through his eyes:

"We'd have to find a way to make it permanent." he announced. "And weaken it, so that you only feel it when Potter has a high heart rate."

"But there's no such thing." Hermione pointed out in a low voice. "I've searched every book in the Library, diagnostic spells never last and only work in the vicinity of the person they're intended for."

"Exactly." said Theo, whose news didn't seem to discourage him in the least. "That's why we should create it."

"Hermione?"

She jumped. Ron was standing by the table in his soaked Quidditch outfit, his spare bag slung over his shoulder. He'd called her name, but he wasn't looking at her: his eyes were on Theo, across from her, and Hermione was stunned to see so much hatred there. Theo immediately let go of Hermione's wand and sat back in his chair: in their euphoria, they hadn't noticed that they'd approached each other, practically flat on their stomachs on the table.

"Ron? What are you doing here?" she stammered, surprised.

Ron shifted his gaze from Theo to her. Hermione had never seen him so angry.

"What do you think?" he grumbled. "I came to find you."

Hermione stopped herself from pointing out that he hadn't looked for her in the Library for over a year.

"Good evening Weasley." Theo tossed almost cheerfully.

Ron ignored him.

"Come on." he growled at Hermione. "Let's go."

His tone made the hairs on Hermione's arms stand up in anger. Who did he think he was? He never spoke to her like that. Theo, unperturbed, rose from his chair and held out his hand to Ron:

"I'm Theo." he introduced himself. "Sorry, it's my fault for holding her back, Hermione's probably too polite to tell me to shut up."

He gave a small laugh, but Ron didn't share it. He looked down at Theo's outstretched hand and his mouth twisted in bitterness.

"I know who you are." he spat. "And I certainly don't want to shake hands with a Death Eater. Come on, Mione, let's go."

Hermione hiccupped in surprise. Theo winced.

"Calm down, Weasley." he said without losing his friendly tone. "I can assure you, I'm nobody's Death Eater."

"Oh yeah?" Ron's eyes flashed as he looked at Theo as if he were a common piece of rubbish in his path. "Well, your beloved daddy is one, and he tried to kill my best friend in June, so allow me to doubt that."

"Ron!" cried Hermione.

She jumped to her feet. Theo's hand fell limply to his side. All the blood had drained from his face at once and he was pale with horror. Hermione, for her part, felt the red rise to her cheeks in protest.

"How dare you?" she whispered, stunned to hear her best friend, the sweetest, most honest boy she knew, speak like that.

Ron gave her a fierce look she'd never seen before.

"Am I wrong? Harry told us the same thing, didn't he?"

"I've told you before, Theo is nothing like his father." Hermione asserted. "He's my friend."

If that was possible, Ron's face darkened further. He slung his bag back over his shoulder and looked her up and down:

"I see you've chosen your side."

"There is no side!" she cried. She risked a glance at Theo, who hadn't moved since Ron's tirade. "Theo is not his father, you don't know anything about him!"

"I know enough." Ron said. "Now, come on. We're leaving."

Hermione saw red at his request. She crossed her arms over her chest and felt her magic heating up in her veins, ready to burst with rage:

"I'm not going anywhere with you, Ronald Weasley." she declared curtly.

Ron laughed harshly:

"Are you joking? Are you seriously telling me you're going to stay with that... that... that guy? You don't even know him!"

"Mr Weasley!" came Madam Pince's shrill voice from behind her desk. She was staring at Ron over the top of her glasses with an annoyed expression on her face. "I remind you that you are in a Library, and it is forbidden to raise your voice here!"

Ron didn't look at her, too focused on Hermione. Was it his imagination, or did she catch a glimpse of disgust? Before she could analyse it, he turned on his heels and left the Library.

Theo had lost all colour and was staring at the spot where Ron had stood a few seconds earlier. She reached out to touch his arm gently; he flinched at the contact, but didn't stop her.

"Theo, I'm... I'm so sorry." she murmured, unable to think of anything to say that would lift his spirits.

He nodded distractedly. His lips were white and he seemed to be struggling to stay on his feet. Hermione was sure that if her wand had still picked up his heartbeat, he would have missed a beat or two.

"He... he doesn't know what he's saying. He wanted to hurt me, and he used you to do it because he knows we're friends and he won't accept that. I'm sorry he used your... your family to denigrate you."

"Well... I guess he doesn't like me very much." Theo said quietly.

His attempt at a joke might have worked if his voice hadn't been shaking.

"Sit down, Theo." Hermione said, guiding him carefully.

He let go and practically fell back into his chair. His gaze was off, it was very disconcerting.

"I'm fine, I'm fine." he whispered with a faint smile. "Just a bit shaken up."

"I'm sorry." Hermione repeated. "Ron's not mean, at least never that mean, he just has... a crucial lack of tact and empathy, and he must be exhausted, which is far from an excuse, of course, this... it wasn't meant against you."

"Why?" He lifted his head to stare at her. "He's right. My father is a Death Eater, that's a fact."

Hermione felt a shiver run down her spine at that sentence. Somehow, hearing it from Theo himself was even more chilling.

"Yes, he is." she said in a small voice. "But you're not. I know that, Theo, you're not like that, Dra... you told me, and you showed me." she caught herself awkwardly. "Ron is just too blinded by hate to see it. He doesn't know you, he... he believes prejudices about Slytherins that aren't true."

Theo nodded again, and even though Hermione kept rubbing his arm, trying to pull him together, she had the impression that the boy in front of her had gone far, far away from her, into painful memories he would surely have preferred to forget. She hated Ron for that moment, for wiping the smile from this boy's face when he didn't deserve it.

After a few seconds, he seemed to remember Hermione's presence beside him. He sat up and coughed:

"Sorry, Hermione, I didn't realise my presence here was a problem..."

"Your presence was never a problem." she said promptly. "You've done nothing wrong and I'm certainly not going to deprive myself of your friendship just to please Ron."

Theo seemed both surprised and relieved by this answer. Madam Pince rose to close the windows and extinguish the candles on the still-lit tables.

"Shall we meet tomorrow?" asked Hermione, not even bothering to hide the hope in her voice.

Theo nodded immediately:

"Yes, of course, I'll be there."

Hermione picked up the book Theo had brought and put it in her bag, then went to return the others to the various shelves of the Library. She felt an uncomfortable sensation in her stomach, which got worse when she saw how broken Theo looked. They left the Library together and walked in silence to the stairs, Theo going down and Hermione going up.

"I'm sorry." she repeated for the third time. "He had no right to hurt you like that..."

Theo waved his hand in the air to cut her off:

"Don't be too hard on him. He needed to lash out, and I suppose attacking me seemed the wisest thing to do. And... I don't think he was too happy to see you in my company. Slytherin or not."

Hermione was tempted to correct him, but he was right, so she said nothing and watched him walk away.

"See you tomorrow, Hermione." he threw over his shoulder.

Several students passing through the Hall watched the exchange in disbelief, but Hermione ignored them and headed up the stairs.

She burst into the Common Room more than she entered it.

"Ronald Weasley!" she called.

He was warming himself by the fire, looking as withdrawn as ever. He was still wearing his Quidditch gear and looked a little less scowling than before. Hermione, on the other hand, felt anger boiling inside her. Luckily, neither Harry, Ginny nor the twins were there to witness the scene that was about to unfold.

"What were you thinking, talking to him like that?" she exploded, taking a few steps towards him. "He didn't do anything to you!"

"He hasn't, but his father has!" Ron protested, as if he'd been waiting impatiently for the moment she'd come back to start shouting again. "He was there, Hermione, in the graveyard! He cheered for You-Know-Who when he came back, he smiled when he killed Cedric, he laughed with the others when Harry was writhing in pain!"

Hermione shuddered as she heard this, but instead of easing her anger, it only increased:

"I know who his father is!" she cried. "And I can tell you that his son is the opposite of him! He's kind and sensitive and caring, and he's done absolutely nothing to deserve this! How can you say that to him when you know nothing about him?"

She knew Ron well enough to know he'd run out of arguments. He looked worriedly at the wand she held in her right hand, surely afraid she'd cast a spell on him, and frankly, he wasn't far from the truth: Hermione could almost feel her magic begging her to break free, to let out the anger she felt at that moment.

"He's a Slytherin." he breathed without looking at her.

"You should know better than to judge someone by their family." Hermione said. Ron's ears turned bright red. "Look at Sirius. Or Lupin. Everything points to them being monsters, but that's just prejudice! And you fall for it just because he's in the opposite House!"

"Exactly, if it's opposite, it's for a reason!" shouted Ron. Several Gryffindors moved away from the fireplace when they heard him lose his temper. "You want to fraternize with everyone without realising what they really are!"

"My God, Ron, you said the same thing about Viktor!" cried Hermione.

"No, that was different!" he replied vehemently.

"Why?!"

"YOU KNOW WHY!"

Ron lowered his eyes to avoid looking at her and Hermione didn't know what to say. She knew, yes, she knew exactly why, but she wasn't ready to hear him say those words, because her heart belonged to someone else and if Ron found out, he would never speak to her again and she couldn't imagine such a scenario. Maybe that was why she was so revolted by Ron's treatment of Theo. Because if he was so hateful towards a boy who had done nothing wrong, how would he react when he found out that she had fallen in love with the boy who had done everything wrong?

"Theo is my friend." Hermione assured him, dropping a few octaves. "He's my friend, and he'll stay my friend for as long as I want him to be, because that's what I've decided. I know it's hard for you to accept, but you don't have a say in who I hang out with, especially when you've never spoken to them. And he was perfectly polite to you tonight, it was you who behaved like a boor!"

Ron rolled his eyes.

"It's a trick." he said. "He's messing with your head, Mione."

Hermione would have liked to describe Theo in his entirety, to make Ron understand how fundamentally good he was, perhaps even too good for this dark world that did him no favours, but she held herself back so as not to inadvertently cast a spell as the anger continued to burn beneath her skin.

"Let me be the judge of that." she snapped fiercely. "And stop spitting such nonsense in his face. Take two seconds to get to know him and you'll see he's nothing like the monster his father is."

"What's going on, you two?" asked Ginny from behind them.

Hermione hadn't seen her come in. She was also wearing her Quidditch uniform, but she must have cast a drying spell on herself, because it was spotless.

"Nothing." Ron blurted nastily. "I'm going to bed."

He climbed the dormitory stairs with heavy steps, and slammed the door behind him.

.

Later, when Hermione went to the bench, Draco was already sitting there. His ragged breaths made little vapours in the icy air and his gaze was petrifyingly grey. She sat down beside him without a word, her legs already trembling with cold.

They gazed at the Castle's facade in perfect silence.

"You know Theo told me what happened to Weasley, and that I'm going to kill him with my own hands, don't you?" he asked in a steady voice.

The hundred or so evenings she had spent in his company helped her to recognise the anger in his sentence, in his eyes, in his clenched jaw.

"I know." she sighed.

He wasn't surprised that she didn't argue or beg him not to. He had to know she was as angry as he was.

"Weasley is a moron." he stated bluntly. "He's attacking the wrong person."

"I know." Hermione said in a soft voice.

"You know why he's upset, don't you?" asked Draco. "It's because he's jealous. He can't stand the thought of you being with another boy, you know that. He loves you."

"I know." Hermione repeated sadly.

Draco made no comment, for which she was grateful. When she turned her head to the right, he was already looking at her. She could almost see the moon in his eyes.

"So, is it true?" he asked in a small, choked voice. "Was he there that night? Theo's father?"

Hermione was still stunned by his sudden change of attitude. One second he was the threatening, possessive boy, and the next he was terrified. It was rare for him to be so vulnerable, as if he didn't want her to know his weakness when she simply found him more human.

"Yes, it's true." Hermione admitted. "Harry told me."

Draco took a breath that sounded painful and sat up straight against the bench.

"Fuck." he muttered. "And... my father?"

He waited for the answer, even though he already knew it: she had already told him in her letters that his father had been at the graveyard.

Hermione braced herself to answer him as kindly as she could:

"He was there too, yes."

Draco ran a hand through his hair and looked up at the sky.

"Fuck." he repeated.

For once, she didn't scold him for his language, and enjoyed the silence of the bench.

.

.
.

Draco didn't carry out his threat, thank goodness. He didn't mention Ron again for the whole of the following week and Hermione was careful not to mention him in the slightest for fear of making him angry again. Nor did she talk to Theo about what Ron had said that night, partly to avoid embarrassing him and partly because she had no idea what to say. If Draco had been so upset by Ron's comment, it meant that Theo had been hurt, and the prospect of that made her heart ache.

So she spent every evening in the Library with Draco, except for Thursday night when she used his Occlumency class to go to a last-minute D.A. meeting. Theo came too, this time disguised as Parvati. Hermione was less and less bothered by the idea of secretly integrating him into the group, and so was Theo, because he was perfecting his defensive spells by the looks of it.

On Saturday, Draco had Quidditch practice, so Hermione spent the afternoon with Theo trying to work out a spell to link her wand to Harry's heartbeat. In theory, the spell was simple: it simply involved transferring a continuous heartbeat to an inanimate object, and they both knew the formula from their progress through the Transfiguration and Charms programme.

In practice, however, inventing a spell was far more complicated than they'd imagined.

"Fuck!" shouted Theo as his wand threw a spray of sparks at the Library table instead of the spell he had hoped for.

Madam Pince, who had the misfortune to be passing by, twitched her nose in anger and pushed her little glasses up her nose:

"Mr Nott!" she screeched. Theo jumped as he heard the librarian's shrill voice behind his back. "Twenty points off for Slytherin!"

"Sorry, Madam Pince." Theo apologised flatly.

She walked away and Theo put his wand down on the table with a sigh.

"Why can't I do it?" he lamented. "I followed everything to the letter!"

Hermione looked at the stick they'd taken from the park to practice transferring a heartbeat onto, which, apart from a few bumps and burns, was as inert as ever.

"Maybe we're doing it the wrong way." she said, rubbing her swollen eyelids. "We need to create the incantation first, then cast it."

"Hmm." muttered Theo, who was leafing through "Spell Creations of All Kinds", possibly the biggest book Hermione had ever seen in her life. "It says here that in order to transfer the essence of a spell into an object, you must first cut out its substrate and apply the Transfiguration formulas necessary to change its function."

"What does that mean?" asked Hermione, feeling a headache coming on.

"No idea." Theo said.

Hermione sighed and put her elbows on the table to support her too-heavy head:

"Let's think." she offered. "Cut out its substrate, that is, cut out the intentions of the spell. Riddikulus, for example, is a mixture of Rictusempra and Concrete Transfiguration from one abstract form to another, right?"

"Yes, that's right." Theo says with a frown.

"So if I cut out the heartbeat formula and add the Transfiguration formulas I need to transfer it to my wand, it could work, couldn't it?"

Hermione felt the familiar shivers of excitement that ran through her fingers when she was on the brink of a solution. Theo's eyes widened with a smile and she knew he felt the same way.

"Yes!" he exclaimed excitedly. "Merlin, Hermione, you're right!"

"But... I don't know how to do this." she admitted.

Theo's smile fell abruptly.

"Neither do I." he said. "Shit."

He closed the book and thought to himself.

"Maybe I can ask McGonagall."

"You think?" Theo gasped. "Won't she wonder about you using a spell like that?"

"No." Hermione replied, shaking her head. "She likes me, she trusts me."

"Ask her on Monday after class. I'll be around to hear her answer." Theo said, looking forward to the moment.

"Thank you again for helping me, Theo." Hermione said sincerely. "I wouldn't have been able to understand half of this book without you."

"Gladly." he replied, smiling. "It feels good to get away from studying for the O.W.L. and do something useful. I feel like I'm finally using all that useless knowledge I've been accumulating all these years."

"Like Latin?" asked Hermione, staring at the cover of one of the books beside him, "Formulae mathematicae faciendis magicae".

"Remarkably, yes." he said. "I never thought my Latin lessons could be of any use to me."

At that moment, a figure appeared in the entrance to the Library, and Hermione didn't have to turn her head to figure out who it was. Draco stood in the doorway, freshly showered after his training, his course bag in his hands. His gaze fell on Hermione and Theo across from her, leafing through the Latin book, and his eyes turned grey in a matter of seconds. He crossed the Library with a determined stride and disappeared behind the tall bookshelves.

Hermione went back to the manual she'd been reading a few seconds earlier on cutting spell frequencies, but the knowledge that Draco was only a few feet away from her, sitting at their remote table, prevented her from concentrating for more than thirty seconds. So, she was particularly relieved when Theo yawned and stretched:

"I've got to get going, Pansy's planning one of her parties tonight and I promised her I'd help her organise it."

He got up and gathered his things.

"Have fun." Hermione said with a smile.

"Oh, I won't be staying." Theo assured her immediately, as if to justify himself. "I hate that sort of thing."

"Oh, very well." she replied, taken aback. "So... prepare well, then."

He stuffed all his notebooks into his satchel and slung it over his shoulder, then walked backwards as he replied to her:

"Thanks! And don't forget McGonagall! And if I don't see you before then, have a nice Sunday!"

He walked out of the Library and Hermione hurriedly put the books back where she'd picked them up, so that Madam Pince wouldn't wonder why she'd borrowed them, grabbed her things and her cup of cold tea and hurried back to the shelves.

Draco had already put his History of Magic stuff down and was studying. He didn't look up when she approached, though she was sure he'd heard her.

"Good evening." she said sheepishly. "Sorry, I was with..."

"With Theo." he interrupted dryly. "Yeah, saw that."

"Are you upset?" she asked, taking a seat across from him.

His jaw was set, his eyes a perfect mix of grey and blue. He put down his textbook, pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a small sigh.

"No." he said finally. He looked at her and even managed a smile. "No, I'm not upset. Did you have a good day?"

"Yes." Hermione yelped, as usual confused by his abrupt change of attitude.

"Tell me about it." he demanded.

She realised he needed a distraction, so Hermione gave him a detailed summary of her morning with Neville, her lunch with Ginny where they'd spent an hour analysing the way Cho Chang tended to scrutinise them in the corridors, then her afternoon, vaguely, without going into too much detail about her study session with Theo. Draco, calmer, then told her about his Quidditch practice, where he'd almost broken his broomstick speed record (Hermione felt nauseous), and how Crabbe had mistaken the Golden Snitch for an owl, which he'd chased around the Castle before Hooch had taken away House points.

Afterwards, they both studied in silence. Hermione was particularly fond of these moments, because studying with Draco was always different from studying on her own. For one thing, she had plenty of time to look up and watch the way his jaw tensed according to his level of concentration, the only feature of his face that came to life when he was reading. She felt as if she were looking at the marble statues in the museums her parents had taken her to as a child. Secondly, he was the only person who made her accept silence. She even welcomed it, in that cinnamon bubble of concentration they'd both created.

"What is it again, the dates of the war between Ursula the Valiant and Grimon the Grumpy?" asked Draco after a long half hour of work, without looking up from his notes.

Hermione, buried in her Charms study sheets, had to take several seconds to concentrate on his question.

"From 1411 to 1567." she replied.

"That long?" he grumbled. He scribbled the dates on a piece of parchment. "Merlin, it's not human to be at war for that long..."

"Precisely because they're not human." she pointed out. "They're Giants."

"I know Granger." Draco replied. "I'm just saying it's not right to keep a conflict going for so long. And when the hell are we going to change the programme? I can't stand the Giant Wars anymore!"

"Yes, it's boring." Hermione agreed.

Draco suddenly lifted his head:

"What?"

Hermione looked at him uncomprehendingly.

"What did I say?"

"It's the first time I've heard you criticise anything in the programme." he said. He wasn't mocking like Ron might have been, he was genuinely surprised. "It feels... strange."

Hermione rolled her eyes:

"I don't like the whole programme. There are some things I find less interesting than others."

"And what would you like to study in History of Magic that would be more exciting than Giant Wars?" asked Draco with the shadow of a smile. "Let me guess... fairies?"

Hermione felt her cheeks tingle.

"Well, why not." she replied distractedly, because she couldn't really tell him that this was exactly what she was hoping for.

Draco returned to his studies with an amused grin. A few minutes later he asked her:

"So where's this Ursula from again? Romania, right?"

"Estonia." Hermione corrected. "Binns said that at least ten times."

"Hmm. And what's the name of the truce between them?"

Hermione looked at Draco's crossed out parchment and frowned:

"Ursumon's peace treaty. And his ally was not Gertrude of the Gironde, but Annabeth the Fair. Didn't you take notes or something?"

Draco gave her an irritated look.

"No." he replied. "I... I fell asleep."

Hermione had to bite her tongue to keep from pointing out that this was typical Ron behaviour, and pulled out her History of Magic notes instead.

"That's so wrong..." she muttered, rummaging through her bag. "Falling asleep in class... Why didn't you ask Theo to give you his notes?"

"Because it's so much more pleasant when it's you." Draco said with a big sarcastic grin.

Hermione rolled her eyes and opened her notebook. She was immediately overwhelmed by a mountain of numbered parchments.

"Let's see... Ursula the Valiant... Ursula the Valiant... 1411..." she recited in a low voice, trying to find the right page.

Suddenly, between two pages, a much more recent parchment slipped through her fingers. She hastily turned the pages to hide it, hoping with all her heart that Draco hadn't noticed.

"What was that?" he asked.

Damn Draco and his ability to read backwards.

"Hm? Nothing." Hermione replied as casually as possible.

But it was no use. She could already feel the heat spreading to her face and her leg twitching in anguish.

"No, it wasn't nothing." Draco said dryly. "What was it?"

"Draco, it was nothing to..."

"Granger." he called, stopping her in her tracks. "Why did I just see the name "Viktor" written in your handwriting on a fucking letter?"

Hermione's heart seemed to fall violently out of her chest and into her stomach.

"That... This isn't..."

"Isn't what?" he repeated, his voice rising higher and higher. "It's not what I think it is? Don't tell me you have a correspondence with him?"

His eyes were blue as ice.

She nodded slowly and he took a deep breath, clenching his fists.

"How long?"

"Since June." she replied in a small voice.

Draco's chest rose and fell with the frantic rhythm of his breathing. He ran his hands over his face and rubbed his eyes as if hoping to wake up from a bad dream. Hermione swallowed hard.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" he asked, his tone as cold as his pupils. "Why didn't you ever tell me?"

"I don't know, it... it wasn't important."

"Not important?" asked Draco, his voice roaring almost dangerously. "You've been talking to a guy in letters since June and you didn't think to tell me?"

Suddenly a realisation struck him and his quill fell onto his parchment, spraying hundreds of tiny drops of black ink onto the paper.

"Don't tell me you were talking to him in letters when we were talking in letters this summer?" he asked, frightened and angry at the same time.

"It has nothing to do with that, Draco..." Hermione said in a voice that was meant to be reassuring and calming, but sounded more like a desperate squeak. "Viktor is my friend, and you're..."

"Your friend?" he interrupted with an unpleasant laugh. "Viktor Krum is not your friend, Granger! He's a world-famous Quidditch player who's FIVE YEARS older than you and just wanted to FUCK you..."

"Draco, stop it!" she cried in horror.

She grabbed her wand and cast a Silence Spell around them: she was sure the whole Library had just heard his screams. He was unstoppable now; she could almost see the veins pulsing against the skin of his neck. Anger was rising in him, and his focused face, which she had watched for long minutes, had turned into the terrified scowl she dreaded most of all.

"How can you do this? Do this to me?" he shouted, his questions punctuated by short breaths that sounded almost like sobs.

"Draco, listen to me, it's not like that, I've never talked to him the way I talked to you..." Hermione tried, but Draco was too angry to understand half her words.

"I don't care!" he shouted. "Damn it, Granger! I go out of my way for you, for us, I put all my fears aside so that we can be together, and you do this to me? Behind my back?"

"I haven't done anything behind your back!"

"Of course you didn't! And that letter, when were you going to show it to me?" he spat. "Hidden in your course notes? I'm sure there's a whole stack of them waiting for you in your room!"

"Not at all!" she replied.

Draco stood up so quickly that he knocked his chair backwards and it crashed to the floor with a defenestrating noise.

"FUCK!" shouted Draco to cover her words. "I didn't say anything about your fucking Danny, I'm not saying anything about Weasley because he's your friend, and I know how close you are to him, and I could never ask you to cut him off, even though he's obviously been in love with you for years and you've been playing the poor man all this time, but Krum, no fucking way!"

Hermione was crying now, hot tears running down her cheeks.

"Stop it Draco, calm down, please..."

"NO! I won't fucking calm down! Don't tell me to calm down, not now!"

He ran his hands obsessively through his hair, tugging hard. He seemed to be holding back tears.

"Come, Draco, let's go and talk on our bench..." she whispered, as calmly as she could.

She stood and cautiously moved her hand towards him, but just as she touched his arm, he abruptly pulled away, just as Harry had done a few days before. The gesture stopped her cold. When he looked at her, his gaze was icy grey, his face completely closed. He was Occluding.

"Did you kiss him?" he asked.

Hermione felt the redness spread across her skin to her hairline. Not now, not now, not now...

"Draco..."

"Answer the question." he ordered.

"It has nothing to do with this, our correspondence has no..."

"ANSWER THE QUESTION, GRANGER."

Hermione fell silent, her eyes pleading with him. She couldn't answer, she couldn't. He couldn't force her to reveal it now, when he was looking at her with such resentment.

"Draco..."

"Yes or no, Granger?" he hissed. "Did you kiss Viktor Krum?"

Unable to formulate the answer aloud, she opted for a nod, her eyes glued to the floor so as not to face the wrath this confession would bring.

A violent spasm ran through Draco's body and he had to lean back against the table.

"I can't... I can't stay here."

He took a few steps away.

"Draco, wait!" she pleaded.

Her whole body was protesting his departure, she wanted him to stay and watch his eyes lose their metallic grey, she wanted to tell him how worthless Krum was compared to him, but she was tetanised.

"No, I can't, Granger." he repeated. He'd closed his eyes and was massaging his temples as if to stop himself from shouting again. "If I stay, I'll throw a lot of nasty things at you to get back at you, and you'll hate me, again. Let me go, please, before I lose it."

Hermione bit her lip to hold back the tears, unsuccessfully.

"Draco..."

"No, Granger." he said firmly. "You're the one who blew it this time, not me."

And he fled the Library without a backward glance, leaving a shocked Hermione standing by the table.

.

.

---

Draco

---

.

.

When he entered the Slytherin Common Room, he was greeted by the rancid smell of strong alcohol, thunderous music and the sight of dozens of dancers crowded together.

Just what he needed at the moment.

He sat down on the sofa next to Blaise. He looked at him, and Draco felt as if he could count the beats of his heart.

"Bad day?" he asked, managing to make himself heard over the volume of the music.

"Yeah." Draco replied.

That was a fucking understatement. Draco was going through so many emotions he couldn't even identify them. He felt the burning urge to smash into the granite table in front of him and feel his phalanges shatter from the impact. He desperately wanted to take a hot shower and feel Krum's warm blood between his fingers and Occlude so he wouldn't have to think about it anymore.

"Want to try my new mead?" Blaise offered, handing him a golden bottle. "Honey lemon flavour. I had it imported from Russia this morning..."

"Don't you have anything stronger?" cut in Draco.

He wanted to drink to forget the image of Krum kissing Granger. His Granger.

Blaise made no comment and poured him a glass of Firewhisky. Draco tilted his head back and drank the whole shot. He couldn't remember the last time he had a drink and felt the burn in his throat. Blaise, on the other hand, remained unmoved.

"By the way, do you know anything more about Pansy's secret crush?" asked Blaise, who was watching Pansy giggling and dancing between her friends.

"No." growled Draco, who found it hard to think about Pansy when his mind was filled with images of Krum, his body pressed against Hermione's...

He poured himself another glass, spilling half of it on the table as his hands shook.

"I wonder who that is." Blaise said, his eyebrows furrowed.

Draco glanced around the room and realised that he hadn't got the memo about the evening's dress code, for everyone was in their uniforms, more or less cut to reveal cleavage and long legs. Blaise, on the other hand, had left his shirt open, his torso barely concealed by the tie hanging from his shoulders.

He caught his eye and explained:

"Protest party against Umbridge's uniform restrictions. Pansy's invention."

Draco wanted to laugh, but the sound was trapped somewhere in his tight throat. Blaise took his glass of mead and leaned back in his chair, watching the crowd around him. The music changed and Draco waited a full minute before he managed to catch his breath.

"Say..." he began, unsure of how to phrase his question. "Have we heard from Krum?"

At the mention of his name, Blaise's caramel eyes lit up.

"Krum? No, not really. He's had a few friendly matches in Bulgaria, but nothing too interesting. Why?"

"He hasn't... returned to England since the Tournament?"

If he was going to ask about Krum, he was sure Blaise knew best. He had a dozen subscriptions to Quidditch magazines and followed his news even more closely than Pansy with Rita Skeeter.

"No." he replied automatically. "Nothing official anyway. I think he's pretty traumatised by Diggory's death, so he won't be back anytime soon."

Draco nodded and took another sip of his whisky. Blaise got up, probably to go dancing or to give the pretty girls in the Common Room a taste of the new mead.

"Hey, where's Theo?" asked Draco, only then noticing that the study table he usually occupied during parties was empty.

"He left for dinner after helping Pansy get everything ready. He shouldn't be long." Blaise said.

He disappeared into the crowd and Draco challenged himself to finish the bottle of whisky before he returned. Much more effective than meditation.

He downed glass after glass to the beat of the music. Soon, his mental images became so blurred that he could barely make out the two silhouettes. Draco continued to drink at a steady pace, the crushing sensation against his temples a delightful distraction. When he'd finished the whisky, he opened another bottle, a brown spirit that stung his nose.

"What's wrong with you?"

Draco seemed to take a long time to turn his head. Someone was sitting next to him on the sofa, but he couldn't focus his vision to recognise her. The room was spinning around him.

"Huh?" he murmured.

"I said, what's the matter with you?" the voice repeated, and Draco recognised Pansy's timbre and inky hair.

"Krum." he replied, spitting out his name exaggeratedly.

Her features were distorted by the alcohol, but he recognised her trademark raised eyebrow.

"Krum? You're a year late, aren't you?" asked Pansy sarcastically.

Draco let out a half laugh, half snort.

"Not really, no." he grumbled.

Pansy glanced down at his half-finished glass and he was sure she was going to chide him for his drunkenness, but instead, she declared:

"I'll go with you!"

She poured herself a large glass of the alcohol Draco was unfamiliar with.

"Pans..." stammered Draco in that drawl Granger hated. "I don't think that's a good idea..."

"Oh, give me a break!" she exclaimed. She tilted her head back, drank half the glass in one gulp, straightened up and wiped her mouth with the sleeve of her torn uniform, and Draco wondered how her father would react if he saw her doing that. "You're not the only one allowed to have fun, I'll let you know."

She winked at him and toasted him. He had no choice but to drink again, despite the foul taste.

.

"Draco, we've been waiting for you."

A long, dark corridor with extinguished torches lay before him. Draco felt the cold sweat trickle down his neck, his fingers trembling on his wand. He walked slowly, as if every step caused excruciating pain in his legs. It seemed an hour before he reached the end of the corridor. He stood in front of two large, closed black doors.

"Draco!"

His father's voice startled him; there he was, right next to his ear. Out of sheer reflex, he braced himself, hating the feeling of fear his own father was giving him, even now.

"Draco, come on, He's waiting for you!"

"Who?" he asked, but Lucius hadn't heard him, he'd already left.

He didn't need an answer anyway. He knew exactly who was waiting for him behind that door. He turned the handle and stepped inside.

The Dark Lord stood in the centre of the dark room, his hands folded wisely in front of him, his face covered by a black hood that hid the upper part of his face. His mouth was open in a narrow smile, which made Draco twitch uncontrollably.

"Draco. At last, we meet." the Dark Lord whispered, like a hiss pierced his head with an Occlumency needle.

"Master." Draco greeted.

"You look just like your father."

Draco pretended not to be disgusted by this.

"Thank you, Master." he replied.

The Dark Lord approached him and Draco did his best not to show his disgust at feeling him so close. He inspected him without saying a word, then said quietly:

"I can see inside your head, Draco Malfoy."

Draco's eyes widened inadvertently. He wasn't Occluding. Only then did he notice an excruciating pain in his head, as if his skull had been split in two. He screamed as he felt the Dark Lord's intrusion into his mind. Images of Granger flashed before his eyes at full speed, and no matter how hard he tried to ward him off, to protect her, he was powerless. Draco's attempts at expulsion were no match for the Dark Lord's Occlumency; he was far stronger than he was.

"How dare you?" the Dark Lord hissed, his question full of disgust. "How will your family react when they hear of this? A Malfoy in love with a Mudblood? Your poor mother... Crucio!"

Draco fell to the ground with a howl of pain.

He awoke in the dark, taking a good five minutes to realise where he was: in his four-poster bed, in the middle of the dormitory. He couldn't even remember how he'd got from the Common Room to his bed. He put a hand to his head and enjoyed the coldness of his palm on his burning forehead. His mouth was dry and his stomach was already protesting against all the whisky he'd had tonight. When he sat up, he felt as if he'd been hit in the temples with a hammer.

Pansy wasn't next to him, which surprised him. She usually slept next to him when she was drunk. He fumbled for his wand on his bedside table, but couldn't find it. He looked under the covers, in his pockets, on the floor, but it was nowhere to be found. With a swear, he struggled out of bed and returned to the Common Room to look for it.

No one was there, and the party seemed to be long over. A few cups were scattered on the stone floor and the fire was out.

Draco was startled to see someone sitting in the armchair with their back to him. He almost turned to avoid an awkward conversation with a Slytherin until he recognised Blaise. Wisps of cigarette smoke curled in the air above his chair and he stood perfectly still.

"Blaise?" croaked Draco.

Blaise turned and scanned him over the backrest.

"You're a mess."

Draco nodded and sat down on the usual sofa next to was a chill in the room that immediately gave him goosebumps. Blaise handed him his half finished cigarette and Draco refused, mainly because the smell made him sick. He rummaged through the sofa cushions, hoping to find his wand.

"What happened to you?" asked Blaise suddenly.

Draco frowned.

"What are you talking about?"

Where the hell was his wand?

"Tonight." Blaise clarified. "I haven't seen you drinking like this for a long time."

"I don't know." he replied.

Blaise raised an eyebrow, but didn't insist. Draco finally found his wand, which had rolled under the sofa, and as soon as he had it in his hand, a feeling of safety overcame him.

"Was it you who moved me to the dormitory?" asked Draco as he sat back down.

"Yeah. You were passed out on the couch."

"Ah. Thanks."

Blaise took a long drag on his cigarette, spitting it out elegantly as he tilted his head towards the ceiling. There were several goblets lying around on the coffee table, but Draco couldn't remember which one was his, so he picked one up at random, cleaned it, then tossed an Aguamenti into it. The cool water did him good.

"What time is it?" asked Draco.

"Almost 5:30." Blaise replied.

"Why aren't you asleep?"

Blaise shrugged nonchalantly. Suddenly Draco was gripped by fear:

"Fuck, you've had another one, haven't you?"

How could he have missed this? Had Theo done it on his own? How had he not thought of Blaise's visions while he was drinking like a madman?

"No." Blaise replied and Draco let out a sigh of relief. "Not... exactly."

"Meaning?"

Blaise finished his cigarette and crushed it against Pansy's ashtray, which was covered in bits of burnt butt.

"I feel the effects of the potions wearing off." he explained in a low voice. "I think my mother is right, I'm getting too used to them. I can feel them coming back."

He shivered and Draco pretended not to notice. It was he who had prepared Blaise's last doses and he was sure he'd done it perfectly. He knew the use of sleeping potions could become a habit, but he wished it had taken longer.

It was then that he noticed a steaming cup of tea on a small coffee table next to Blaise. It was untouched. Lavender, as his mother had advised.

"How can I do this?" asked Blaise in a whisper, his eyes lost in the fireplace. "How can I go to sleep knowing I'm going to be burned alive?"

Draco wanted to give him a reassuring word, as Granger would have done in a second, based on "I'll always be there to save you" or a long, tearful speech about the bonds of friendship that transcend all suffering, but he had the empathy of a teapot and he was drunk as hell, so he kept quiet.

Blaise took another cigarette and Draco was convinced he was smoking so he wouldn't have to drink the tea next to him, and he couldn't blame him. He knew it would be like giving in to his mother, to that strange, indefinable power that terrified him inside.

"And you, how come you can't sleep?"

Draco took several seconds to answer. For anyone else he would have made something up, but for Blaise, he opted for the truth:

"I had a nightmare."

Blaise didn't express any concern, much to Draco's relief, who wouldn't have put up with a hint of pity from him.

"About what?" asked Blaise.

"About Him."

The mere utterance of the pronoun gave him another spasm. He avoided Blaise's gaze as he continued to smoke quietly, as if they were talking about the winter weather and not the darkest wizard of all time.

"We're screwed, aren't we?" asked Blaise rhetorically after a few seconds of silence.

Draco could only agree. Screwed, damaged, broken, destroyed.

"Don't be too hard on yourself." his best friend advised. "Don't set the bar too high. Enjoy what makes you happy while you can."

He thought of the one thing that really made him happy in his life, Granger, and was immediately seized by the image of Krum kissing her in her blue Christmas Ball dress.

"What if it pleases me as much as it hurts?" he wondered aloud.

Blaise frowned slightly as he considered his question.

"It means she's worth it." he replied half-heartedly.

It was far too deep and philosophical a conversation for Draco to understand in its entirety. He still had a headache and the smell of alcohol in the room made him want to throw up. Blaise finished his cigarette and before he could take another from Pansy's packet, Draco asked him:

"Can I have some of your tea?"

Blaise looked at the cup on his left, as if he'd just remembered it was there.

"Why?" he asked suspiciously.

"Well, if your mother's right, this stuff is supposed to calm the visions." Draco said. "Maybe it can make my nightmares go away too."

Blaise watched him for a few seconds, as if trying to guess his intentions, and silently prepared a second cup. When he handed it to him, the scent of lavender managed to calm Draco's nausea instantly, but instead of bringing it to his mouth, he held the cup out to Blaise for a toast, just as their whiskies had done a few hours earlier. Blaise reluctantly did so and was forced to imitate Draco as he took a sip.

"Disgusting." he commented, wrinkling his nose.

"Yeah." Draco said, although he thought it was one of the best teas he'd ever had.

Draco drank every last drop and was surprised to find the same calmness as after meditating. Blaise stared at the bottom of the cup as if it might give him some answers to his strange visions, and maybe it did, if you listened to the nonsense that Trelawney impostor spouted all day.

"Look at us." Blaise said with a smile. "Two assholes, at five in the morning, drinking lavender tea."

Draco laughed with him. Yet he was sure he saw gratitude in Blaise's caramel-coloured eyes.

.

.

---

Hermione

---

.

.

Hermione was contemplating the snow falling gently on the park grass from the Library window, her course notes abandoned on the table. If she tilted her head back enough, she could see the bench, their bench, and immediately Draco's voice thundered in the corner of her head: "You're the one who blew it this time, not me."

Hermione had experienced many disappointments with Draco Malfoy. She'd been disappointed in her first year when she'd realised that one of the first people to be friendly with her thought her blood was inferior to his. She'd been disappointed when he'd called her a Mudblood, the first time and the ten times after that. She'd been disappointed when he'd condemned poor Buckbeak to certain death, disappointed when he'd deformed her teeth, and disappointed when he'd rejected her after receiving a letter from his father.

She'd been terribly disappointed when she'd realised that the boy she'd become more and more attached to wasn't capable of keeping her in his life. That he could be cruel, to her as well as to the people she loved.

Hermione knew disappointment; it was an unpleasant, bitter feeling. But for the first time since she had spent time with Draco, she had seen it in his eyes, and she wondered, sitting at the table in the middle of the Library surrounded by fifth years studying their O.W.L., if it wasn't worse.

Hermione knew that Draco hadn't been disappointed by her correspondence with Viktor, but rather because she had kept it from him, and she hated to admit it, but she understood him somehow. That was what hurt. Knowing that you'd deliberately hurt the other person and seeing the damage done to his face when he had understood. So was this what he felt every time they argued? Did he feel the guilt that weighed on his stomach? Did he have her pain-slumped features printed against his eyelids, too?

"Hey."

She blinked a few times and turned her head. Theo was standing next to the table, a small, shy smile on his lips. He was clutching books to his chest.

"Is everything all right?" he asked, and Hermione was surprised to find concern in his question.

"Why are you asking me that?"

"You've been staring at that window for an hour." he explained. "I've been sitting over there, but I didn't dare disturb you."

"Oh." Hermione said with a grimace. "Sorry, I was... in my thoughts."

He looked down at his textbooks, clutching them close to him. He looked extremely hesitant.

"Look, Hermione... I know we study together a lot and all that, and we've helped each other with a lot of things, but..."

Hermione suddenly felt her heart sink at the prospect of Theo walking away from her too. She didn't know if she could survive the loss of the two boys she cared for most right now. Theo continued his tirade:

"I'm going to ask you something, and I know we have this competition between us, you know that, don't deny it, so I'm really going to take it upon myself to ask you this, but... willyoupleaseexplainArithmancylessontome?"

His cheekbones and nose were pink and he avoided looking at her. Hermione could barely keep from smiling at such a request; she knew how hard it must be to dare to admit one's weaknesses, especially coming from a Slytherin.

"Of course." she replied. "If you explain the Transfiguration formulas to me."

Theo nodded, obviously relieved, and sat down opposite her. He placed the Arithmancy textbooks between them and opened them to the page for last week's lesson.

"What didn't you understand?" asked Hermione.

"Everything." Theo confessed. "I got lost in the diagrams, predicted there would be a heatwave tomorrow and that a pelican would bring me my mail."

Hermione looked out the window at the six inches of powdery snow on the ground and pursed her lips:

"It does seem unlikely."

She pulled the manual towards her to read the diagram in question again. She could feel Theo's eyes still on her as she read.

"Seriously Hermione, are you all right?" repeated Theo. "You really don't look well. I can come back if you want..."

"No, no." Hermione said with a slight smile. "On the contrary, I welcome a distraction."

Since Theo had sat down, the lump of guilt in her stomach had miraculously subsided.

"In any case, you should know that you can talk to me about it." Theo said with touching sincerity. "If you need to. I won't repeat anything, I promise."

Hermione was surprised at how much she trusted this boy she'd only known for a short time. There was no trace of malice in his blue eyes, which had the same hues as Draco's when he wasn't Occluding. She felt she could tell him everything without the slightest fear that he would betray her in return.

Hermione leaned back against the back of her chair and bit her lip as she tried to think of a way to explain what was bothering her.

"I... I've hurt someone I care about." she admitted quietly.

Unlike what Harry and Ron would have done, he didn't ask her who she was talking about. Theo analysed her sentence with that pragmatic air he often wore in History of Magic class.

"Hurt how?" he asked.

"I hid something from him."

"Something important?" asked Theo.

Hermione considered the question. It wasn't very important to her, this correspondence with Viktor was just a detail in her busy life. It was purely amical. She'd kissed him, but she hadn't felt a third of the sensations she'd felt when kissing Draco.

But it was important to him. Lying, betrayal, that was his worst nightmare and that was exactly what she'd done.

She nodded and Theo didn't give her the reproachful look she would have expected from such an admission.

"Have you apologised?" he asked.

"I tried, but I didn't have time, he... he left."

"Left?"

"Yes. He told me he needed to go away to calm down."

Theo remained silent for a few seconds and Hermione chose to look at the frosted branch through the window rather than at him. The lump of guilt had risen in her throat.

Yes or no, Granger. Did you kiss Viktor Krum?

"I think you need to let him calm down, and he'll come back to you when he's ready to forgive you." Theo offered.

"You think so?" asked Hermione with a hint of hope in her voice.

He nodded, sure of himself.

"You made a mistake." he said. "And you know it. Give him some space and you can apologise to him when you get back. It's a great act of love to forgive, but it's an even greater act of love to apologise. It's the purest form of vulnerability. If you do it sincerely, there's no reason why he shouldn't accept it. And if he doesn't forgive you, he's a big jerk."

Hermione smiled slightly.

"Words worthy of Dumbledore."

Theo's face twisted into a disgusted grimace at the mention of the Headmaster:

"Yuck! No, thank you."

"Thank you, Theo." Hermione said, her heart suddenly lighter. "You don't know how much your words reassure me."

He gave a proud little smile:

"My pleasure. Now help me decipher this fucking diagram."

Hermione did so and was soon engrossed in the work. She was surprised to find that Theo was quite at ease with the subject, and even wondered several times if he wasn't just pretending not to understand to distract her. If so, she liked him even more.

When they'd finished the extra exercises Professor Vector had suggested, Theo put his textbooks back in his bag and repeated that she'd just saved him several evenings of intense Arithmancy study.

"You're welcome." she said.

Hermione took a sip of cinnamon tea and Theo wrinkled his nose as he watched her:

"I have always envied you that. The teas. How can Madam Pince let you drink that in her precious Library?"

"The advantage of being her favourite pupil. I think she's rather worried about my health, I spend so many hours here she must wonder if I'm getting enough to eat. Would you like some?"

She handed him her cup and Theo watched the contents with a doubtful look.

"I'm more of a warm milk person, no offence. What kind of tea is this?"

"Cinnamon." Hermione replied. "My favourite."

Something caught Theo's eye for a brief second, and the next, he widened his eyes and jerked his chair back sharply against the wooden floor. Hermione gasped, almost spilling her tea.

Theo stared at her in horror, as if she had just uttered the biggest insult he'd ever heard in his life.

"Oh. My God." he gasped.

"Theo?" called Hermione, shocked at his sudden change in behaviour.

"Oh. My. God." repeated Theo. "I have to... Hermione, I have to go."

And before she could even ask him what he meant, he was running out of the Library, much to Madam Pince's disapproval.