The return to Hogwarts in the new year was cold – in more ways than one. Snow lay heavy upon the grounds, swallowing the landscape in ghostly white, while an unforgiving wind shrieked through the stone corridors, rattling the castle's ancient windows in their frames. The air inside felt just as icy. Hermione pulled her robes tighter around her frame, her breath curling before her in cold, silver plumes as she hurried through the hallways, each footstep echoing against the frost-bitten silence.
Upon reaching her dormitory, she murmured the new password, pressing through the door into the warmth beyond. The fire crackled low, casting flickering golden light across the room's rich furnishings. Malfoy was already there, lounging in the chaise near the fire, a book open in his hands. A pair of silver-rimmed glasses perched on the bridge of his nose as his eyes skimmed the pages and for a fleeing moment, Hermione found herself struck by how normal he looked.
"You're back," he observed, his tone unreadable as he glanced up at her. Almost instinctively, he removed his glasses, tucking them away as though they were some kind of vulnerability she was not allowed to see. Then, with only half-hearted interest, he returned to his book.
"Happy New Year to you too," Hermione replied dryly, setting her bag down beside the door to her bedroom. Malfoy hummed in acknowledgment but didn't look up. "Where's Theo?" she asked, casting a glance around the room. Not only was the brunette Slytherin missing but his makeshift bed was too.
"Balcony," Malfoy said simply, tilting his head toward the hallway.
"In this weather?" Hermione questioned incredulously. Malfoy shrugged. Rolling her eyes, she turned on her heel and made her way toward the door, stepping into the dimly lit hallway, towards the balcony. The moment she cracked open the door, the sharp scent of cigarette smoke curled into her nostrils, making her cough. She waved the smoke away and stepped outside, where the night air struck her skin like shards of ice. The cold bit at her cheeks, staining them pink and she shivered beneath her robes. "What in Merlin's name are you doing out here?" she demanded.
Theo stood with his back to her, perched against the railing, a cigarette dangling between his fingers. His usually warm, mischievous gaze was dull now, unfocused as he stared out over the snow-covered grounds. "Needed a smoke," he muttered, his usual carefree tone noticeable absent.
"Well, it's freezing out here," Hermione countered. "Come inside."
"No thanks," Theo replied, lifting the cigarette to his lips and taking a long drag. He had the decency to blow the smoke away from Hermione's face but it still tinged the air with an unpleasant ash that made Hermione's throat tickle. Her brow furrowed as she observed him. His eyes were dull, unfocused and distant.
"Theo," she said carefully, stepping closer. "Are you okay?"
"Fine." The word was clipped, unconvincing.
"You didn't find it, did you?" Hermione guessed, assuming his vacant stare and solemn disposition had something to do with the dagger. "I didn't have any luck either… It's okay. We'll just have to start over. I'll talk to Professor Brindlemore again, maybe she'll have another idea that could help us."
Theo watched her ramble with an unreadable expression. And then, he reached into his robe pocked and retrieved a black leather box, handing it to Hermione haphazardly.
She accepted the box sceptically, running her fingers over the front clasp carefully. She opened it slowly and her breath hitched upon seeing what it contained. Laying carefully in the red velvet lining was the dagger. Bellatrix's dagger. It's pristine mirrored finish reflecting her look of surprise. Almost immediately, her arm began to seer – as though it could feel the presence of the blade. Taken aback, she dropped the box and flinched as the dagger fell from its resting pace and clattered to the ground.
Theo exhaled slowly and extinguished his cigarette before leaning over to retrieve it. He placed the dagger back in the box and snapped in shut, rising to his feet.
"You found it," Hermione breathed, hand clutched protectively around her pulsating forearm.
Theo tucked the box back into the pocket of his Slytherin robes. "Yep."
"Where was it?" Hermione questioned. "When did you find it?"
"I didn't," Theo responded, ignoring the other questions. "Draco did."
"What?" Hermione frowned. "You told him we were looking for it?"
Theo shook his head, taking out another cigarette and lighting it with the tip of his wand. "Didn't have to," he said dismissively. "He figured it out on his own."
"Okay…" Hermione said slowly. The early January cold nipped painfully at her nose and she lifted her scarf around her face in an attempt to sooth it. The pain in her arm, while still present, had not increased too terribly since Theo put the dagger away. "Care to elaborate?" she asked, her voice muffled by the scarf.
"I had a hard time searching Malfoy Manor without getting caught," he started, his tone still dull. "But I eventually managed to check most rooms… with no luck." Theo exhaled a long breath, watching the smoke drift into the cold night air. "I knew I'd have to check Narcissa's room. So, on New Year's Eve, I made some stupid excuse about not feeling well and I snuck into her room."
Theo moved with measured precision, each step light, each breath controlled. The very idea of being caught rifling through Narcissa Malfoy's private quarters sent an uneasy chill down his spine. But he didn't have the luxury of hesitation. The room was larger than he'd expected, filled with ornate furniture and shadowed corners. A gilded armoire loomed against one wall, a faint glimmer of silver trimmings catching the dim light. Silk drapes cascaded from the four-poster bed like waterfalls of moonlight, obscuring more potential hiding places.
His pulse hammered against his ribs as he scanned the space, searching for anything out of place, any clue. But luck was not on his side.
Moving swiftly, he crossed to the vanity near the bed, its polished surface gleaming under the soft glow of candlelight. The delicate perfume of lavender and rose lingered in the air, mixing with the scent of aged wood and parchment. He grasped the edge of the top drawer, easing it open with careful fingers.
"Looking for this?" Draco's voice interrupted his search. "Or do you just feel suddenly compelled to look through my mother's personal belongings?"
Theo snapped around to face him. He exhaled slowly, guilt flushing his cheeks. Though it quickly turned to interest as he noticed what Draco was holding. The black leather box was clutched carefully between his thumb and first finger. He walked over to his friend and snatched the box from his hands, opening it quickly. "Thank fuck," he muttered to himself as he came face to face with the ornate silver dagger. "Where did you find it?"
"In my bedroom," Draco told him, his voice low and expression unreadable. He turned, already moving down the hallway. Theo snapped the box shut and followed, his mind racing. "There," Draco said simply, pointing to the space above the fireplace once they reached his room. "It wasn't in the box when I found it. I put it in there."
"How long has it been here?" Theo asked, his voice quieter now.
Draco shrugged. "I only noticed in a few days ago. But it could have been there for longer."
Theo's grip on the box tightened. His next words came slower, more careful. "Can I take it?"
"Why?"
"I told him what you told me about needing to analyse it," Theo clarified. Hermione's breathing quickened at the thought of Malfoy knowing nearly as much as Theo did. It unsettled her. "He said I could take it but he told me that he wants to help."
"What?" Hermione asked. "Why?"
"Fuck if I know," Theo shrugged, taking another drag of his almost extinguished cigarette.
Hermione rolled her eyes, frustrated by Theo's sudden lack of interest in the topic. "Come back to our dormitory," she demanded. "We need to talk and your hands are turning blue, it's so cold out here."
Theo huffed. "That's not my dorm anymore."
"What are you talking about?" Hermione asked frustratedly.
"I'm going back to the Slytherin dorms," Theo explained. "Draco's fine. You don't need me anymore."
"You seem quite sure of that," Hermione responded, somewhat hurt by his sudden dismissal of her.
Theo shrugged and pulled the door open, letting it close behind him before Hermione had the chance to follow. Taken aback, she hesitated for a moment before following. "Theo!" she called to him as he walked in the opposite direction to the Head's dormitory.
"Here," Theo said, holding the box out in her direction. "Take it. I'm sure Draco will have some idea of what to do with it."
And with that, he walked away, leaving Hermione standing alone in the hallway, clutching the black leather box – confused and hurt.
When Hermione returned to the common space, Malfoy was still sitting on the chaise. "What in Merlin's name is wrong with him?" she questioned frustratedly.
"Oh good, I thought it was just me," Malfoy responded. "I was starting to think I was rubbing off on him." Hermione frowned, placing the leather box on the coffee table in front of Malfoy. She caught his gaze on her forearm which was currently covered by the sleeve of her robe. Thankfully, she hadn't needed to keep it bandaged for a while. "How is it?" he questioned, changing the subject. "Your arm."
Hermione sighed and crashed frustratedly down in the empty armchair adjacent to him. "Fine," she answered. "It hasn't caused me too much pain since…" Her sentence trailed off as she remembered that the two of them hadn't exactly addresses the kiss at the Christmas party.
There was a moment of extended silence. Hermione was sure her cheeks were flushed and Malfoy seemed unwilling to make eye contact with her. Eventually, he leaned forward and exhaled. "I want to help."
Hermione furrowed her brow. "Why?" she questioned sceptically.
"That's a stupid question," Malfoy responded, an air of condescension in his voice.
"Is it?" she said, raising an eyebrow.
Malfoy sighed, audibly frustrated. "Look," he started. "I don't know what's going on with you anymore than you do. But it clearly has something to do with me. So, just let me help."
Hermione pressed her lips together, wanting nothing more than to reject him. To tell him to forget he learned about her wound. To forget about the kiss. To forget about everything.
But she couldn't.
She knew she needed him.
"Fine," she said sharply. "But I want to talk to Theo first. Let me do that. Then we can talk."
"Fine by me," Malfoy accepted, sitting back into his chair. "But keep that thing in your room until then," he added, indicating the box. "It unsettles me."
Finding a moment to talk to Theo proved harder than expected. Three days had passed since school had resumed and Hermione had seen him twice. Once in Herbology, where he partnered with a very sceptical Neville and once in potions where he kept to himself. Each time, she tried to follow him out of class but he sped off ahead of her, disappearing into the crowd of students.
Hermione wondered if the pressure of helping her had finally gotten to him. Maybe he realised that she was causing him nothing but stress and he wanted nothing to do with her anymore. Though, she hoped that if that was the case, he would at least have the decency to tell her.
By Friday night, Hermione was sufficiently fatigued. She resigned to sleeping the weekend away and speaking with Theo on Monday – no matter what it took. But despite her utter exhaustion, sleep was difficult to come by. She tossed and turned in bed for several hours, struggling to get comfortable, her mind racing with thoughts of blood and burns. At some point she must have drifted off because she awoke abruptly in the early hours of the morning. Her heart racing from the effects of a nightmare she couldn't remember. In an attempt to calm her breathing, she sat up in bed only to find a familiar wet sensation seeping through her pyjamas. "Shit," she cursed, reaching for her wand. A quick mumbling of lumos confirmed her suspicions. Her sleeve was completely soaked in blood. She peeled the soiled fabric away from her skin to reveal the angry wound which had split at the seams. Tears pricked the corner of her eyes as she slammed her arm down in frustration.
She could feel the panic rising in her chest. Her lungs felt heavy and she couldn't complete a breath without it hitching in her throat. Frantic and unsure what to do, she tossed her blankets aside and slid out of bed. With her hand clutched hopelessly around her forearm in an attempt to stop the bleeding, she crossed the common space. Small droplets of blood trailed behind her before pooling at her feet as she stopped.
In front of Malfoy's door.
She hesitated for only a moment before knocking – three times, quickly. By the time the door was open, she could feel tears falling freely down her cheeks. A groggy looking Malfoy appeared at the door and she quickly wiped them away.
"Granger?" he asked, his voice thick with sleep.
"Fix it," she said, her voice shaking. "Please."
Hermione held her arm out in front of her, allowing even more blood to spread across the floor. Now sufficiently awake, Malfoy glared at the wound, his eyes wide. "Fuck…" he breathed. And without hesitation, he took her arm in his hand, clutching it firmly but gently.
Almost immediately, the wound responded. A cool, calming sensation replaced the dull ache as the words sealed and the bleeding stopped. Hermione's eyes found his and locked on them as he continued to clutch her arm. Her heart pounded so intensely; she could almost hear it. And without a second thought, she leaned closer. Her lips gently grazing his before capturing them in a desperate kiss.
Malfoy stumbled backwards, releasing his grip as his hands moved to her upper arms for stability. For a split second, Hermione thought he might push her away. His hands on her arms were firm, but not forceful. But unexpectedly, he pulled her closer and his grip tightened, fingers curling into the fabric of her bloodstained sleeve as his lips moved against hers with an urgency that sent shivers down her spine.
The heat between them rose so quickly, it was dizzying. Malfoy backed into his room, pulling her along without breaking this kiss. His hands slid down her arms and around her waist, fingers splaying over her back, pressing her flush against him. Hermione gasped at the sensation of his body against hers and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue sweeping against hers in a way that sent a bolt of heat straight to her core.
Her hands found his hair, sliding through the soft strands and she pressed herself even closer. He let out a low groan and the sound sent a thrill through her body, igniting something reckless deep inside her. She tugged at his shirt, her fingers brushing the warm skin beneath. His breath hitched and suddenly, they were stumbling toward the bed, lips never parting, bodies desperate to eliminate the remaining distance between them.
They landed on the end of the mattress in a tangle of limbs, Hermione straddling his lap as his hands explored the curve of her waist, the dip of her spine. His touch burned through the fabric of her clothes, sending waves of pleasant heat through her skin. His lips trailed from her mouth to her jaw, down the column of her throat, his breath hot and uneven. She gasped as his teeth grazed the sensitive skin of her collarbone, her nails digging into his shoulders in response. The intensity of it all was overwhelming – his touch, his scent, the way he was looking at her like she was something he both craved and feared.
"Granger," he rasped, his voice rough, barely controlled. His hands gripped her waist, his thumbs tracing gentle circles against her skin. She felt the length of him press into her thigh as she leaned down, capturing his lips again, rocking against him in a way that made them both gasp. Malfoy groaned, his fingers tightening on her hips as if he was losing control.
And then–
He froze.
She felt it before she saw it. The hesitation. The way his hands, which had been roaming her body with desperate need, suddenly stilled. His breath was ragged, his chest rising and falling beneath her but something had shifted.
He pressed his forehead against hers, his hands now gripping her waist – not to pull her closer but to still her.
"Granger," he breathed, her name a plea, a warning.
She blinked, trying to shake off the haze of desire clouding her thoughts. "What?" she murmured, her lips brushing against his.
He swallowed hard, his grip tightening just slightly before he exhaled. "We need to stop."
Hermione's chest heaved as she tried to catch her breath, her body still thrumming with unfulfilled need. "Why?"
Malfoy close his eyes briefly, his jaw clenching. "Because if we don't… I won't."
Her breath hitched. The weight of his words between them, thick and heavy. She realised he was barely holding himself together. And if she pushed just a little more, if she kissed him again, he would break. He would give in completely.
Hermione swallowed hard, forcing her breathing to steady. After a long moment, she nodded, shifting off him slowly, her heart pounding in her chest. Malfoy let out a shuddering breath, his gaze dropping to the floor as though he was taking in the full reality of what had just happened.
Hermione lingered for just a second before her arousal turned to embarrassment. She lifted herself off the bed and stood; her legs unsteady at first. Without another word, she turned and slipped out of his room, the heat of his touch still burning against her skin.