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!

93. 93 : pink quill

Hello everybody! Sorry I'm late, I've been completely swamped the last few days and haven't had time to put this chapter online... the good thing is that you'll normally have two chapters closer together!

I've got some bad news: I'm in a writing slump... I wrote one chapter (1) during the two-week break because I write three lines a night and I hate it! I'm going to get back to it this week but with school, I'm afraid I won't have enough chapters to give you...

Otherwise, I hope you like tonight's, which is exceptionally long and which I really enjoyed writing before falling into the non-inspiration hole! The French translations are at the end of the chapter (and there are a lot of them).

Another thing I wanted to tell you tonight, I've put up my personal Instagram several times before but I'm obliged to stay private for professional reasons and I can't put up stories in English otherwise my followers won't understand a thing, so I decided to create one for us! I'll post stories about the progress of the chapters, if I'm behind or what, and we'll be able to talk to each other more easily! virgulesonao3/
Feel free to follow me on it, I'll reply to all your messages of course!

Thank you for the comments and the too cute attentions you give to this fic, I see all the little mentions on tiktok, twitter or reddit and it makes me so happy every time! I love you guys so much!

And I'm taking advantage of this long note to reply to a comment by the name of Guest to whom I can't reply privately because the person doesn't have an account, thank you so much for your comment which meant so much to me! It makes me so happy to see that you love my Dramione so much and that I've managed to make you love this ship! I do post in French and English, as French is my mother tongue :) This fic is taking me a lot of time and energy to write (but I love doing it), I plan to come back on several moments to correct/rewrite once I'm officially done, especially the end of the third year which I find a bit too hasty! And I do post on another platform, ao3, where I'm a bit more active than here. Unfortunately I can't publish this fic though, because it's too close to the HP universe and I couldn't steal the rights from that b*** of JK Rowling haha!

Anyway, thank you very much, I hope you enjoy the rest of my story!

tw : blood, injury

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Hermione

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The room was filled with plates of various shades of pink, each with a kitten meowing loudly. Some were playing with balls of wool, others were staring at the desk with their big yellow eyes. Hermione thought they were stuck in their frames, trapped in Umbridge's plates for eternity.

The entire office was painted pink. It was so different to Lupin's that Hermione wondered if it was the same room. In the centre was a huge solid wood desk, covered with a lace tablecloth and vases of dried flowers. The room reeked of Umbridge's overpowering, dizzying rose scent.

Umbridge finally let go of Hermione's wrist and moved to a chair opposite the desk. Hermione didn't miss the moment when she wiped her hand on the tablecloth after touching her.

"Sit down, Miss Granger." she ordered, her honeyed tone suddenly gone.

Hermione obeyed. She didn't have the strength to stand for another minute anyway. It was as if the quivering energy she'd always felt was no longer pulsing through her veins, and her body couldn't cope without it.

Her magic. Her magic was drained from her. She understood Draco's condition better after his Occlumency lessons. Her head was spinning so much that she had to hold on to Umbridge's desk to keep herself from dizziness.

The Professor sat down in the large chair without taking her eyes off her. There was a spark of greed in her eyes, as if Hermione were a rare object she could finally possess, but Hermione was mostly disturbed by her disgust. Her whole face exuded pure disgust, from her wrinkled nose to her upturned lips. No one had ever looked at her like that before, not even Lucius Malfoy.

She'd never been more aware of her Muggle-born status than at that moment.

"Please, Professor... don't hurt me." Hermione pleaded in a small voice.

"That is entirely up to you, Miss Granger." Umbridge murmured, a malicious smile slowly spreading across her lips. "Where were you tonight?"

Hermione closed her eyes and breathed in. She was about to pass out. She could feel her muscles relaxing one by one.

"I was going to the kitchens." she lied, but she was far from convincing: her voice was shaking with fear and exhaustion.

"You're a liar, Miss. Granger." Umbridge said in a low voice.

The truth was that Hermione was terrified of this woman. They were alone, in the middle of the night, there was nothing to stop her from hurting her. No one would know, and if they did, what would happen to Umbridge? She was taking Hogwarts by storm, bit by bit. The teachers were helpless. Even Dumbledore was failing in his role as Headmaster day by day. Umbridge had every right.

She could only hope that Draco would be there to help her afterwards.

"You were with your friend Mr Potter, was that right?" asked Umbridge suddenly.

It took Hermione several seconds to comprehend her question. She was too exhausted to make the connection. It wasn't about the curfew, it had never been about the curfew. She'd taken her into her office to ask about Harry.

"No." she replied.

"You're lying, Miss Granger." Umbridge continued, moving closer and closer to her, so close that Hermione could see every stripe on her puffy face. "You're a liar, and I hate liars. You were with Mr Potter, in your illegal little club, weren't you?"

Hermione's heart gave a jolt that made her cough.

"I don't know what you're talking about." she muttered weakly.

She clung desperately to the arm of the chair as Umbridge moved closer, her wand pointed dangerously under Hermione's chin.

"Tell me the truth, Miss Granger, and I'll spare you two hours of suffering. Tell me what Potter is planning behind my back and you'll be free. I promise."

Her body was limp. She was cold, her thighs trembled, her eyes closed on themselves. Every cell in her body begged her to end this torture, every beat of her heart ached, but never, never would she turn Harry in like this. Strangely, the prospect of saving him by resisting was actually invigorating. She was no longer afraid. If she had to suffer for him, she'd do it willingly. That was the best possible reason.

So Hermione, summoning what little vitality she had left, shook her head firmly, her eyes fixed on this woman. This woman who could so easily hurt her, cast an Unforgivable Spell on her, and watch as her inert body was rocked by waves of pain. Hermione couldn't even defend herself, she was too weak tonight. Perhaps Umbridge could even get inside her head and discover all her secrets, laid bare for all to see because, despite her best efforts, she was unable to close her mind.

But she refused.

Because it was Harry, and Hermione would never betray him. Umbridge's proposal didn't even reach her. She refused, firmly, without the slightest hesitation.

A flash of frustration passed through the High Inquisitor's dark eyes and she sat down heavily in her chair with a loud thud. She picked up her wand and twirled it between her fingers.

"You're a foolish girl, Miss Granger." Umbridge said, every syllable coiled in that unbearably cajoling tone. "You're an insolent, narrow-minded little girl who thinks she knows everything about a world she doesn't even belong to. You're a disgrace to the wizarding world, just like Potter, and your little band of incompetents who tell lies all day long. But reality will soon catch up with you, Miss Granger. You're far from invincible. You think knowing how to cast a few complicated spells will help you, you think being friends with the famous Harry Potter will keep you out of trouble once you're out of this Castle? You'd be wrong. Your impure blood won't protect you. And I hope I'm in the front row when reality catches up with you and puts you in your rightful place."

She had delivered this tirade in a single breath and it had petrified Hermione, far more than she would have liked to admit. She had thought she was immune to this twisted woman's words, but they hit her hard. She had just put her finger on one of her greatest fears. Hermione almost wished she had cast a spell, it would have hurt less.

"Get up." Umbridge ordered.

Hermione stood up like a puppet. She leaned on the table because her legs couldn't take anymore. When would her body finally let go? Umbridge would surely take her to the Hospital Wing if she fell in front of her, she wouldn't be cruel enough to torture her... would she?

Hermione looked for a way out, any way, but she was doomed, like the kittens on the plates watching her, meowing.

Umbridge led her to a small table in the corner of the room. There was a sheet of parchment on it, but no inkwell. Hermione had treated Harry, Fred and George's hands enough to understand why she didn't need ink.

"I suppose your friend Potter has told you about my special quills, has he?" cooed Umbridge, who seemed to take some pleasure in Hermione's whimpering. "You know what you're in for, don't you?"

Hermione didn't answer. She lowered her eyes to the parchment to avoid meeting Umbridge's gaze.

"I'm going to give you one more chance, Miss Granger. Tell me what Potter is up to with Dumbledore, and you can leave this office immediately."

She was so exhausted that she didn't even bother to answer. She just waited a few seconds of tense silence, then Umbridge sighed theatrically:

"As you wish. But don't forget that I showed you mercy, and it was you who refused to take it."

She clicked her tongue harshly as she returned to her desk, ignoring Hermione, who let out a small, choked laugh at hearing this. The sound quickly faded as Umbridge returned, a long pink quill between her fingers.

"You will write, "I must not lie to the High Inquisitor about my activities.""

Hermione forced herself not to show any signs of distress on her face. Her sentence was long, longer than Harry's. She took the quill from her trembling fingers and placed it on the blank parchment, under Umbridge's sharp gaze.

She started to write "I must not" and immediately felt an itch on the back of her left hand. Hermione knew that if she started to look or react, Umbridge would only be more pleased, so she kept her head resolutely bent over her paper, ignoring her increasingly itchy hand.

"lie to the High Inquisitor..."

Her skin cracked as the quill slid across the paper. Hermione remained unmoved.

"about my activities."

As she made the last stroke, she felt a drop of blood trickle down her skin. She clenched her teeth. Her head throbbed almost as much as her hand. Her legs stopped trembling, or perhaps they were already paralysed.

Hermione had enough strength to lift her head and look defiantly at Umbridge.

"Again." she ordered. Then she walked back to her desk.

Hermione began her sentence again, giving the wound barely enough time to heal before opening it again. She concentrated only on Umbridge's frustrated little sighs in front of her. She hadn't gotten what she wanted. She'd tried to make her give in, but Hermione's will was far stronger than her muscles. She'd let her hands be chopped off all day to protect Harry.

Just two more hours. Just two more hours, and she'd be free.

"I must not lie to the High Inquisitor about my activities, I must not lie to the..."

Hermione wrote, tirelessly. She tried to remain perfectly expressionless for as long as possible, but after the thirtieth sentence, she couldn't stop small moans of pain from escaping her lips. Each time, Umbridge's smile widened and her sunken little eyes took on a sadistic gleam that was chilling.

Hermione spent the first hour thinking that the next minute she would finally pass out. She was both impatient and reluctant to give Umbridge the satisfaction. Hermione understood a little better Harry's stubbornness in pretending that everything was normal every time, his refusal to talk to another adult about it. Every complaint he made was a gift to the woman. She proved him right.

So she tried as hard as she could not to moan in pain, and wrote over and over the phrase that was branded on her skin.

Realising that her body was determined to hold out, Hermione tried to think of something else. She recited her History of Magic lesson in her head to try and block out the pain and, to her surprise, it worked. She could still feel the burning sensation as she slid the quill across the parchment, but her hand was almost ankylosed, like the rest of her body. When she finished the chapter on the Giant War, she moved on to Herbology, mentally reciting every magical plant property she'd learned since her first year. Then she moved on to Spells and Runes.

When she ran out of alphabets to memorise, Hermione subtly turned her head towards Umbridge's large marble fireplace. It was covered with dozens of pink frames in which other cats were spinning in circles. A small fire was crackling inside. Hermione had a perfect view of the bucket of Floo Powder between two frames.

For a long moment, she imagined a plan. She imagined jumping out of her chair, throwing herself on the bucket, throwing a handful down the chimney and running out of here. Perhaps her parents' fireplace was still connected to the network? Would she have time to propel herself into the fire before Umbridge cast a spell behind her back? Hermione had to be quick. Her fingers trembled with fear and she dropped Umbridge's quill several times.

But the waves of pain in her legs made it clear that she couldn't carry out her plan, so Hermione returned to her mental studies with a bitterness at her own body for betraying her.

From time to time she glanced in the direction of Umbridge, who had taken to writing on powder-pink envelopes on her desk. There was a half-turned picture frame facing her, in which Hermione could see Cornelius Fudge, his trademark smile spinning in a loop. It was pitch dark outside. Hermione didn't even dare imagine what time it must be, but she almost preferred it to be night. She didn't dare imagine having to justify her two-hour detention to the Gryffindors at breakfast the next morning. She preferred to keep her mouth shut and this moment a secret.

As Hermione recited the Transfiguration formulae on the animated objects, her hand too numb to feel the cut, Umbridge ordered:

"Stand up."

Hermione put the quill down and looked at her hand for the first time since the punishment began. The wound was deep and blood trickled down each of the letters written on her skin. The sentence was so long that it spilled over onto her palm. She stifled a shudder of horror and stood up, but she hadn't leaned on her legs for so long that she half collapsed on the desk.

"Quickly!" shouted Umbridge impatiently.

She did, dragging her feet. She couldn't understand how she was still holding on. How many hours had passed since she'd tried her Legilimency on Draco? How long had it been since the meowing of the cats on the plates had faded into the background? How long had she gotten used to the headaches that pierced her temples with every beat of her exhausted heart?

"Your hand."

Hermione held it up for Umbridge to inspect. She didn't take it and curled her lips at the sight of her blood, though it was undoubtedly the same colour as her own. Then she raised her head, and Hermione was stunned by her piercing gaze. Not an ounce of pity.

"I'm going to find out what you're up to with your precious Potter, Miss Granger. That's a promise." she murmured, every word heavy and threatening in her mouth. "You may go."

Hermione shivered from head to toe. She didn't answer, not sure if her tongue still worked. Her limbs were stiff, her brain off. She felt as if she were floating like a ghost to the door. The lock unlocked with a "click!" and Hermione opened it without a backward glance. She breathed in the fresh smell of the corridor with a sigh of relief.

Draco was waiting for her outside the office.

When she saw him, Hermione felt a wave of intense relief, as if his mere presence behind the door had made the punishment easier to bear. As if he had given her strength without her knowing it.

He was kneeling on the floor. It was as if he hadn't dared to sit down, lest he should have to rush at any moment. His head was resting on the stone wall behind him and his features were set in fear. He held his wand in his clenched fist, so tightly that the wood seemed to bend against his fingers. When he heard the door, he straightened up, looking haggard.

The door to Umbridge's study closed behind Hermione and she barely had time to take a step before he rushed to her and took her in his arms:

"Fuck, Hermione, finally!" he cried in a choked voice. "What did she do to you in there? Hermione, are you all right? I could hear you screaming, what did she do to you?"

She wanted to answer, but her throat was too dry. She preferred to bury her face in his neck and breathe in the minty scent that emanated from him, much fresher than the rose scent that permeated Umbridge's office. She felt her headache ease as she breathed in Draco's scent. Her eyelids quivered and she closed them shut.

"Hermione?" he urged, not caring if Umbridge could hear him. Hermione was far too tired to point it out to him. "You've been in there for over three hours, what happened? Did she hurt you?"

He held her close and Hermione let out a small cry of pain when he squeezed her mangled hand. Draco looked down, saw the bloody words on her pale skin.

His whole body froze, hard as stone against her cheek.

"I will kill her." he said simply.

Hermione knew it wasn't just words and that if he hadn't held her in his arms at that moment, he would have entered the study and made good on his threat. She didn't even have room in her head to hold a grudge. She wanted to kill her too.

But before she could reason with him, her vision went black, and Hermione welcomed the release she'd been waiting for so long. She relaxed her muscles, collapsed into Draco's arms as he held her tightly, and finally passed out.

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Draco

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Draco had tried everything.

He'd tried to open the fucking door with every unlocking spell he knew, including the Greek phrase Theo had used to open Snape's Restricted Section, which Draco only half remembered. He'd ended up kicking it, hoping to knock it off its hinges, but to no avail. The door was surely protected by a powerful Imperturbable Charm. He was sure neither Umbridge nor Hermione could hear anything outside the office.

He tried to break the window from the outside, but it must have been sealed by the same spell, because the glass did not crack when he threw stones at it. There was no working chimney in the entire Castle that would have allowed him to get into the room.

When Draco pressed his ear to the door, he could hear Hermione moaning in pain. Sometimes a scream could even be heard through the thickness of the wood. Each time, Draco felt the power of a rage he hadn't felt in months, mixed with worry and most of all, helplessness.

That was the worst.

Helplessness.

All he could do was wait, watch the scene unfold before his eyes and do nothing to stop it. Draco was transported back to the year before, when he'd had to wait outside the Black Lake for an entire hour, hoping Granger would come out. Every minute, every heartbeat, had felt like a punch in the gut. He was reliving the same situation, and it was almost worse because this time, it was his fault.

When he'd exhausted all his ideas for getting Granger out, Draco had to face the facts. There was no solution. He would have to wait until Umbridge was ready to let her out. His only consolation was that he could no longer hear any protests through the door. He hoped that meant she wasn't in pain anymore, and not that she had been cursed with a Silencio, or that she didn't have the strength to scream.

He paced back and forth in front of her office, again and again, until he felt dizzy. Every once in a while, he'd stomp his foot on the door, but apart from echoing through the corridor and bruising his shin, it didn't make much difference. It was an excruciating sensation, shot through with pure adrenaline, throbbing with impatience and suppressed anger, but he had nothing to let it go. He couldn't let his mind wander elsewhere, all his thoughts were focused on the inside of this office, on what could possibly be going on. Why had he heard Hermione crying? Was she being tortured in there? Had Hogwarts become so unsafe that a Professor could hurt a student without fear of consequences?

Draco eventually sat down on the floor. He rested his head on the cold stone, trying to cool it, unsuccessfully. His hands shook and once or twice he involuntarily cast a spell against the wall in front of him. His breathing was ragged, as if he'd just run a marathon when he'd just been waiting outside that stupid door for over three hours.

His ears were ringing so much that it took him a while to hear the door when it finally opened.

He turned his head and as soon as he saw Granger cross the threshold he leapt to his feet, ignoring the blood rushing a little too quickly to his brain. She was in even worse shape than when she'd left, horribly pale and her legs wobbling under her weight. For a second, Draco was breathless, and the next he lunged at her, both to make sure she was there and to catch her if she fell. She clung to him like an anchor in a storm.

"Fuck, Hermione, finally!" he cried. He didn't care if Umbridge heard him. On the contrary, he longed for her to appear behind Hermione so he could cast the spells that had been running through his mind for the last three hours. "What did she do to you in there?

Hermione, are you all right? I could hear you screaming, what did she do to you?"

She laid her head on his neck without answering and he tightened his embrace around her with force. He would never let her go again. He would never put her through this again. Ever again.

"Hermione?" he called, softer. Her silence was even more painful than her tears, he had no idea what she'd been through in there and his mind was having fun inventing theories to torture him even more. "You've been in there for over three hours, what happened? Did she hurt you?"

He wanted the answer to his question as much as he feared it. He tried to raise his arm to remove the strands of hair from her face, but the gesture made her whimper in pain and he immediately looked down to see where he'd hurt her.

Her hand.

Her hand.

Her hand was covered in blood, dripping down her wrist and disappearing under the sleeve of her cloak. He didn't know how he'd missed it, surely too busy analysing her face for any hint of what Umbridge had done to inspect the rest of her body.

Through the blood, he could see her skin open, as if someone had traced letters with a knife. He read the words "lie" and "Inquisitor" and all his fear suddenly turned to hatred, cold and sinuous, running like ice water through every one of his veins. He froze, his eyes riveted on Hermione's pale skin, her blood, the words this woman had carved into her.

"I will kill her." he said.

And he meant it.

He was not afraid of the consequences of such an act at that moment. He wasn't afraid of Azkaban. Nothing held him back. He could already see himself entering the study, pointing his wand at Umbridge and muttering the words that rolled under his skin and echoed in his skull as he stared at Granger's hand. Deep down, he knew the spell would work. To cast an effective Avada Kedavra you had to really want it, and Draco wanted nothing more than to see Umbridge collapse on her desk at that moment.

But Hermione's body softened in his arms, and her head sank into his shoulder. Immediately, his desire for vengeance subsided and his heart began to beat at a rapid pace.

"Hermione?" he called, shaking her gently. "Hermione, can you hear me?"

She was inert against him. She had fainted. Draco swallowed the howls of rage and panic he was struggling to hold back. He slid his right arm under her knees, the other against her shoulder blade, and lifted her up to carry her. She was completely unconscious and Draco couldn't understand how she had lasted so long. After the mental strain and torture, she hadn't wavered. He prayed to all the gods that existed in this world that she hadn't waited too long.

"Hermione? Hermione?" he called again and again, but there was no answer.

Draco's movements became automatic. He was no longer in control, his feet walking on their own, finding their own way to the hospital wing. He had never walked so fast in this Castle, to the alarming rhythm of his heart, his head bowed to the girl who made it beat.

"Hermione, stay with me." He didn't know if it was an order or a plea.

Her cheek was pressed against his chest. She looked almost relaxed, were it not for the fact that her eyelids were quivering slightly and her hand, covered in blood, was resting on her stomach. Draco felt violently nauseous whenever he looked at it, but strangely, he couldn't tear himself away. It was torture. This woman had tortured her.

Draco tried at all costs to push the thought as far away from his mind as possible, even at the risk of being swallowed up by his own anger. He had to help Granger first; he'd take his revenge later.

He reached the middle of the corridor and stopped abruptly. Hermione's head tilted towards him and he could see her veins pulsing through the pale skin of her neck.

Draco hesitated for a second.

He could see the double doors leading to Pomfrey's office, but he couldn't take another step.

He couldn't take her there. The nurse would never allow him to stay with her. She'd force him back to his dormitory, and Draco was simply incapable of walking away from her a second time. He couldn't take his eyes off her. And how could Merlin justify to the nurse that he was holding an unconscious Hermione, his supposed nemesis, weakened by Legilimency attacks and wounded by a Hogwarts Professor? She'd have every reason to believe he'd done it to her, and Draco wasn't strong enough to hear such an accusation.

Shaking his head, he turned back. He couldn't take Granger to be healed by Pomfrey, but he knew someone who could heal her just as effectively.

Someone who knew scars better than anyone.

He walked down the stairs, whispering:

"Hold on Hermione, please, please..."

He could feel the tears rolling down his cheeks, but he didn't care. He had only one goal in mind: the dungeons. He focused on the stairs, on the saturated breaths of the girl in his arms, on everything but the rage that simmered beneath his skin and threatened to explode at any moment.

The dungeons were plunged into darkness. Careful not to press Hermione's bloodied hand, Draco used his wand in his right hand to cover them with a Disillusionment Charm, and given the circumstances, the spell proved far more successful than he'd imagined. They weren't completely invisible, but they were disguised enough to blend in with the party behind the door.

Draco gave the password and entered the room before the door had fully opened.

It was the end of the party. Draco could tell by the way everyone was sitting around the Common Room, more or less drunk. Pansy was smoking a cigarette with Daphne on one of the sofas in front of the fireplace and Blaise was slumped in one of the armchairs.

Draco didn't linger and made his way to the study tables along the left wall of the room. He avoided any body that might collide with Hermione. When a fourth year Slytherin bumped into him, he pushed the boy's shoulder with all his might to get him out of the way, not even bothering to turn around to see the boy fall backwards onto a table of liquor bottles.

Hermione was whiter than ever in his arms. Draco tried not to look at the blood dripping from her hand. Finally, he reached the other side of the Common Room.

He'd never been happier to see Theo. He was studying a large Runes textbook, far enough away from the party not to interfere, but close enough to keep an eye on Pansy.

"Theo!" huffed Draco as he reached his level.

The boy gasped and looked around in disbelief.

"Draco?" he called out, his eyebrows furrowed.

"Here, I've got a Disillusionment Charm!" he shouted, his voice drowned out by the music coming from the gramophone.

"What the... What the hell are you doing?" asked Theo, confused, staring around trying to find him in the crowd.

"Come with me, it's urgent, you must come with me!" urged Draco.

It seemed to him that every time he looked down there was more blood on Hermione's uniform, but he hoped with all his heart that he was imagining it.

"All right, all right, Merlin..." Theo said, getting to his feet. "What's wrong with you, Draco?"

He didn't answer and ran down the dormitory stairs at full speed. It took Theo a long time to catch up. He arrived at the end of the corridor yawning, his arms full of the ton of books he'd picked up from the table. Draco wanted to yell at him to hurry up, but he was afraid of startling Hermione, who was still unconscious against him.

"Seriously Draco, what the hell?" asked Theo as he arrived outside their room. "You don't want Pansy to see you, do you?"

He opened the door and Draco walked in first:

"I need your help." he said.

"I understand that, but why?" asked Theo wearily. He stood in the doorway of the dormitory with a deeply bored expression on his face. "I'm warning you, if this is another one of your fucked up pranks gone wrong, I'll be back studying in a second..."

"Finite Incantatem." Draco threw before Theo could finish.

He felt his own spell evaporate and Theo's eyes widened in horror as he saw the scene before him: Draco, in tears, holding an unconscious, bloodied Hermione in his arms. All traces of weariness suddenly vanished from his features. He dropped all his books on the floor and approached them, shouting:

"NO! HERMIONE?!"

She had no reaction. Draco gently laid her down on the bed, making sure her head was supported by a pillow and that her hand was still on her stomach. Then he dropped to his knees on the floor beside the bed and began to stroke her forehead, as if to check that she was still there in front of him.

"What happened to her?" asked Theo, shock softening his tone.

"Look at her hand." Draco pleaded, not bothering to hide the tremor in his voice.

When he did, Theo's face turned the same shade as Hermione's, so much so that Draco wondered if he wasn't going to faint as well. Theo immediately tilted his head to the side as if he couldn't bear the sight, closed his eyes, took a small breath and when he opened them again, he had put on an almost disturbing mask of concentration.

"Stay there." he ordered Draco, his words clear and sharp. "Don't wake her until she's healed. I'll be back in two minutes."

Draco nodded, though he didn't even know if Theo was still in the room.

"I'm here, Hermione, I'm here, we're going to fix you..." he murmured in a ragged breath.

His hand gently brushed a few curls of sweat-soaked hair from her forehead. She was warm, but her face was cold and lifeless. It reminded him of her petrification in second year, and the image sent shivers of horror down his spine. He was reliving his worst nightmare.

"What has she done to you?" he asked, his question interrupted by uncontrollable sobs. "I'm going to make her regret ever laying a hand on you, Hermione, I promise. I'm going to kill her. She'll never hurt you again, do you hear me?"

True to his promise, Theo returned to the dormitory two minutes later. He knelt down beside Draco and put a hand on his shoulder:

"Let me take care of her." he said, in a tone that was both compassionate and harsh.

Draco reluctantly obeyed. He stood up, struggling to support his own weight on his legs after the impressive dose of adrenaline had made him run too fast. He took a few steps back and watched as Theo worked over Hermione's lifeless body. He grabbed a handful of his hair and choked on his own sobs. He felt nauseous, but his throat was clogged with tears.

Theo leaned over Hermione, who was now extremely pale, and Draco wondered if this vision would ever leave his mind, or if it would haunt him forever.

Theo placed several vials of potions on Draco's sheets:

"Hermione, I'm going to put a few drops of Essence of Dittany on your hand." he warned her impassively, even though she was still unconscious. "I'm sorry if it stings."

He uncorked the bottle and poured three drops onto the back of her hand. Immediately the wound closed, the blood stopped flowing and Draco felt as if he could breathe again. The dormitory now smelled the same as Blaise's living room two years ago, the tangy scent of Dittany.

"Scourgify." Theo cast to clean up the blood. "Conferrumino pellis. Ne cicatrices ostenderem. Who did this to her?"

He didn't look at him as he asked the question, still busy nursing Hermione's hand, but Draco knew he was addressing him. The word that came out of his mouth in response was barely above a whisper, but it contained all the anger he felt at that moment:

"Umbridge."

Theo's back twitched, but he didn't stop working. He uncorked another potion, poured it onto a cotton pad and gently patted Hermione's hand, then opened a small jar that Draco recognised as Murtlap Essence. Theo took Hermione's wrist and gently dipped her hand into the jar. Draco noticed that Hermione's features relaxed slightly in relief.

Theo muttered an insult between his teeth to describe Umbridge, which, though more vulgar than any insult Hermione had ever uttered in her life, wasn't even a quarter of what Draco thought of the woman. The thought of her immediately rekindled the violent spasms along his arms. Anger boiled inside him, threatening to overcome the fear of seeing Hermione hurt.

"I'm going to kill her." Draco declared coldly. His wand, still in his right hand, trembled between his fingers.

"I know." said Theo, who still had his back to him. "So do I."

He now applied a thick layer of cream, covering Umbridge's words: "I must not lie to..." Then a wave of anger swept over Draco and his wand reacted without his consent, scratching the stone floor of the dormitory with a purple spell like a bolt of lightning.

"No, Theo." Draco growled in a tone that was almost frightening to his own ears. "I'm going to kill her. Right now."

His arms were shaking so hard they were beating into his sides. Theo looked over his shoulder to gauge Draco behind him, going from his face to his hand that held his wand to the ground, then turning his attention back to Hermione.

"Drop your wand, Draco." he advised quietly.

"I'm going to kill her." he repeated, even louder than the first time. "I'm going to kill her."

"Draco, you're having a panic attack." Theo explained calmly, in complete contrast to Draco's attitude. "I know you're angry, but I need you to drop your wand."

He made no reply, his fingers pressed against the wood of the wand. He could feel the anger rolling beneath his skin like a flame, igniting every nerve in its path. All he could think of was Umbridge's distorted face, his thirst for vengeance finally satisfied when he stabbed her in the palm.

"Draco." Theo called, his familiar voice cutting painfully through the flood of violent thoughts parasitising his mind. "We'll get revenge on Umbridge, I promise you, but right now Hermione needs you. Occlude."

His teeth clashed violently when Draco clenched his jaw. The sentence Theo had just said was like an electric shock: Hermione needs you. He Occluded, trying to channel the fiery rage he felt. He took a deep breath and imagined his mental library, the smell of cinnamon in the air. He wasn't completely impervious, but at least his emotions were filtered.

Draco slipped his wand between his fingers and it fell to the stone floor. His arms immediately stopped shaking.

"Take a deep breath." Theo advised.

Draco did so without taking his eyes off Hermione. She regained her colour. Theo removed her hand from the Murtlap Essence and inspected the letters carved into her skin. He looked like an Healer.

"You can get Blaise to come if you need his help..."

"I'm not leaving this room." Draco snapped.

Theo didn't answer, probably sensing that he wouldn't be persuaded. Several long seconds passed as Theo continued muttering spells and unscrewing potion caps that Draco didn't recognise.

"Why won't she wake up?" he asked pleadingly.

He returned to sit on Theo's left, not close enough to bother him, but close enough to touch her. He ran his fingers over her cheeks, her neck, her forehead, hoping more than anything that she could feel his touch.

"Her body has gone through a shock." Theo explained. "It's recovering, which is normal. If she hasn't opened her eyes in five minutes, I'll cast a Reviving Spell on her."

Just like the one Blaise's mother had cast at him after his vision. Draco wanted Hermione to open her eyes more than anything, but he found it hard to imagine her body going through such a forced shock.

"Hermione, please wake up, come back to me..." Draco whispered, close to her ear.

His eyes juggled between her face and her hand. Theo was applying a bandage, as slowly as possible so as not to hurt her. He was so meticulous that he barely grazed where Umbridge had marked it, but Draco still winced every time he came close, as if he could feel the pain emanating from his own hand. He could see the white lines flickering in the torchlight.

"Will the words stay?" he asked, praying that this disastrous evening would not scar her for life.

Theo shook his head:

"Perhaps a few marks where the quill pierced it, but nothing too visible."

"The quill?" repeated Draco, tilting his head towards Theo for the first time all evening.

His best friend's blue eyes darkened.

"It's obvious, isn't it?" he grumbled. "That vile woman forced her to cut lines on her skin. "I must not lie to the High Inquisitor about my activities"? Each time she rewrote, her skin opened more and more."

Draco winced. He muttered an insult and when he looked back at Hermione's face, he met her chocolate gaze. A flood of relief ran through his body like a bucket of water over a fire and he rested his head on the pillow with a sigh. She was awake.

"Draco?" she called in a husky voice.

"I'm here, baby, I'm here." he hurried to say.

The nickname came out on its own, but he did nothing to correct himself. Theo pretended to throw up, but Draco was far too relieved to be offended.

Hermione's eyes focused long enough to land on him and her lips curved gently in the beginnings of a smile. Draco leaned forward to kiss her forehead, inwardly thanking Merlin, God and whoever else for bringing his angel back to him.

"Yuck. I'll never get used to this." Theo muttered, though there was a glimmer of comfort in his eyelids. "Welcome back, Hermione. You should get some sleep, get your strength back."

He checked one last time that the bandage covered her entire hand, then stood up.

"Thank you, Theo." Draco whispered. "I am eternally grateful."

It was probably the most sincere thing he'd ever said in his life.

Theo half-smiled:

"I would have helped anyone with a cut like that, but especially Hermione." Theo assured him. Then, in a much more serious tone: "Umbridge better pay for this."

Draco nodded:

"She will."

Theo picked up his textbooks from the floor and left the room, closing the door behind him. Draco slowly massaged Hermione's cheekbones. Her eyes fluttered under the weight of fatigue, but she managed to summon what little strength she had left to whisper to him:

"Draco... Don't kill her, please."

Draco gently took her good hand in his and kissed each of her knuckles.

"I won't do anything tonight. I promise." he said to reassure her.

She turned her head towards him and rested her pretty eyes on his face.

"Have you been crying?" she asked with a hint of surprise.

Draco used the sleeve of his cloak to wipe his cheeks, refusing to let go of Hermione's hand.

"I was scared." he admitted.

"I'm fine." Hermione said. To prove it, she tightened her grip on his fingers and although the movement was weak, it made him smile. Only she could reassure him after being hurt like that.

"You need to sleep," he said.

"Hmm..." She was already closing her eyelids, sinking deeper and deeper into the abyss of slumber.

"You've been very brave." he murmured. "Get some rest. You'll be safe here."

Hermione let her head fall back onto the pillow.

She had fallen asleep.

Draco stood there for a long time, watching her even though his knees were throbbing in protest at staying on the floor for so long. When he was sure she wouldn't wake, he got up silently and removed Hermione's shoes and her uniform, which was full of dried blood. He threw his own jumper on the floor, quickly removed his shoes and then slipped behind her, under the covers. He tucked her in carefully, making sure her injured hand was protected.

Then, with a flick of his wand, he closed the three curtains surrounding his bed, cutting them off from the outside world, both from the light and the sounds of the party that continued to drum against the walls. Draco cast a Silence Spell around his bed and tucked his wand under his pillow.

He then wrapped his arm around Hermione's waist and pulled her slightly towards him. He could hear her pulse against his lips as he kissed her temples. He held her close, soothed by the strawberry scent of her hair against his cheek and her deep breaths against his forearm.

For the first time in months, Draco didn't need to meditate to fall asleep.

.

.

.

.

"Oh, my God."

Draco awoke with difficulty, only thanks to that familiar intonation that jolted him out of sleep. As soon as he was conscious, his body vibrated pleasantly, as if he could sense that she was near without even opening his eyes to check. This way of reacting to her closeness must have been magical, like a sixth sense. Every nerve in his body was singing to feel her so close.

"Draco, don't tell me we're where I think we are."

The corners of his lips curved slightly as he heard the urgency in her voice. He kept his eyes closed when he answered:

"Well, if you think we're in the dungeons of Hogwarts, in my dormitory and in my bed, then I can't tell you."

"Oh my God." Hermione repeated. "Draco, wake up."

"Go back to sleep." he corrected, rolling onto his side. He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her against him, pressing his face into the hollow of her neck. Strawberry and cinnamon.

"I can't go back to sleep." Granger pointed out in her high-pitched voice, which was strangely sharper in the morning. "My God, Draco, I didn't sleep in my bed!"

The shock of realisation made him smile against her neck. He kissed the spot under her ear that she loved so much, and Hermione's body stiffened against him.

"Hello to you too." he crooned into the hollow of her throat.

"I mean it, Draco!" chirped Hermione. But she did not move from his embrace, quite the opposite. "How will Harry and Ron react when they find out I didn't sleep in the Gryffindor tower?"

Draco growled:

"Please Granger, don't talk to me about Weasley, I haven't even had my breakfast yet..."

"And the Slytherins, Parkinson, Zabini, what are they going to say when they see me coming out of your room?" she yelped in a panicked tone, ignoring his comment.

"I don't think Theo and Blaise will say anything, considering they've probably heard you bawling for a good five minutes."

Hermione seemed to suddenly remember where they were and grabbed the blanket to hide underneath, her eyes wide with horror:

"Oh no." she breathed. "They can hear me, they're right over there, aren't they?"

"Relax Granger." Draco whispered amusedly. "I've cast a spell of Silence around us. No one but me will hear your lovely voice in my ears in the morning."

She slapped his arm gently and he laughed, tightening his embrace around her to pull her closer. He wrapped his legs around hers and sighed with satisfaction. If he could wake up like this every morning for the rest of his life, he was sure he'd never have another nightmare.

"What am I doing here?" asked Hermione breathlessly after several seconds of silence. "Why did you bring me here?"

Draco finally opened his eyes, greeted by the vision of coffee-coloured locks spread across his pillow.

"Hermione..." he asked, concern slowly replacing his mocking tone. "Do you remember what happened last night?"

She frowned and looked down at her left arm, struck by the memory.

"Oh." she whispered, her eyes wandering over the improvised bandage Theo had put on her hand. "Umbridge."

The mention of her name awakened in Draco the thirst for vengeance that hadn't subsided during the night. He could feel the waves of rage and magic beneath his skin. He Occluded so as not to be overwhelmed and replied with an indecipherable mumble.

Hermione turned her head towards him, her features tense with concentration and her pupils blurred:

"You were there." she said, putting together the pieces of a puzzle Draco couldn't see. "You were waiting for me outside her office."

"Obviously." he replied, indignant that she could think otherwise.

"You caught me when I fainted." Hermione continued. "You were... worried."

"Worried?" Draco repeated with a bitter laugh. "I was fucking terrified, Hermione. I thought you were going to lose your hand, or that you would never wake up after all the shocks you took yesterday."

A crease marked the space between Hermione's eyebrows:

"You said you were going to kill her." she remembered.

"And I will." Draco promised.

Hermione's eyes slit in his direction:

"No, you won't. She's a teacher."

"She's a torturer." he corrected, his anger threatening to shatter the walls of his Occlumency. "She tortured you yesterday, and I'm certainly not going to stand by and do nothing while she slashes your hand again and again! I could have taken revenge yesterday if Theo hadn't..."

"Theo?" Hermione cut in. "He saw me?"

Draco sighed and wrapped a lock of Hermione's hair around his finger, trying to calm himself.

"He was the first person I thought of to look after you." he explained sadly. "He knows about scars, as you know. Your hand would be in much worse shape without him."

Hermione inspected his bandage and carefully removed it, revealing her still reddened hand. Draco could not look away from the white lines on her skin, the same as on Theo's torso.

"You can hardly see anything." she remarked. She glanced at Draco who was still playing with her hair. "It's a good thing Theo knew about both of us, it would have been a bit hard to explain to him yesterday."

"I would have taken you anyway." Draco said firmly. "And I'm sure he wouldn't have even questioned my request. He would have healed you without a doubt."

The friendship he'd had with Theo since his first year at Hogwarts had always been intense, but Draco could have sworn it had grown even stronger last night. He owed him a debt he would probably never be able to repay.

"Why didn't you take me to the Hospital Wing?" asked Hermione, bringing him back to reality.

"Because I was afraid to let you out of my sight for even a second." Draco confessed.

Hermione tore her eyes from her wound to look fully at him. The mattress sank slightly as she faced him. She shyly placed her right hand on his cheek and traced the outline of his mouth with her fingers, barely grazing him and yet soothing him far more than any potion.

"You were scared." she breathed, repeating his words from the night before. "You told me you cried yesterday because you were scared."

"I held you close and the next thing I knew, I'd lost you." Draco whispered, the knot in his throat tightening with each breath. "I saw you leave with that monster and there was nothing I could do to help you."

"There was nothing you could do." she argued. "You would have exposed us if you'd tried to stop her."

"I didn't give a fuck about exposing us, believe me." Draco replied earnestly. "If Umbridge wasn't so sadistic, she might have guessed that yesterday. I spent the three hours you were in that room trying to find a way to get you out, and believe me, exposing myself to Umbridge was the least of my worries."

Hermione's fingers brushed over his mouth in a slow, pleasant gesture.

"That's exactly why I tried to resist my feelings for you, Hermione." Draco continued, a whispered confession. "I cannot control myself when you are in danger, not even with the best defences of Occlumency at my disposal. I couldn't do it when the Death Eaters were after you during the World Cup, and I can't do it any more when you're locked in Umbridge's office a few feet from me.

"I think I knew you were there." Hermione said with the shadow of a smile on her lips. "That's what kept me going."

"What did she do to you in there?" asked Draco, his heart threatening to explode as he asked the question that had been haunting him since the day before.

Hermione's eyebrows furrowed as she recalled the memory, but she did not take her eyes off him as she answered:

"She asked me about Harry. When she saw I wouldn't tell her anything about him, she made me write a line, over and over, without stopping. The ink was my blood and the sentence sank into my skin each time I wrote it."

He felt his body tense as he heard this. It was indeed the method Theo had suspected, but his heart still leapt when he heard Hermione's explanation. He let go of her lock of hair and grabbed Hermione's hip under the covers, forcing himself to stay in bed rather than find Umbridge and subject her to the same fate.

"Did you know this was waiting for you?" asked Draco, trying at all costs to control the anger in his words so as not to frighten her. "When she gave you detention, you struggled and begged her not to take you there. Did you know she was going to put you through that?"

Hermione nodded slowly against the pillow, her mouth tight, her fingers still caressing Draco's mouth.

"She's done it to Harry, several times." she admitted.

Draco inhaled sharply. It was a good thing Hermione kept touching his face so peacefully; it was the only thing that kept him just about calm.

"I'm sorry." he whispered.

"So am I." said Hermione.

"It's all my fault."

Hermione's fingers stopped somewhere between his jaw and chin and she frowned:

"What? This is in no way your fault, Draco."

"Yes, it is. If I hadn't mentally exhausted you with Legilimency, you would have been able to defend yourself, you wouldn't have fainted... Merlin, I don't even know how you managed to hold out for so long, I weakened you and sent you to the stake without you being able to fight back, without even managing to get you out of there..."

She cut him off by pressing her index finger to his lips, hard enough to silence his stream of desperate words.

"It wasn't your fault, Draco." Hermione argued. "It was me who overestimated my own ability to get inside your head. I should have listened to myself, stopped when I felt I had no strength left, but I stupidly insisted. And even if I hadn't exhausted myself, Umbridge's punishment would still have been unbearable, and I'd still have the same marks on my skin. We've been breaking the curfew every night since last year, one of us was bound to get caught."

Draco wasn't convinced, but Hermione's assurance was infallible and he much preferred that to the state she'd been in yesterday.

"And as for saving me, I much prefer what happened." she continued. "If you'd managed to get into that room, what would you have done? Hurt Umbridge, kill her? You'd have been sent to Azkaban in a minute, and then what? What would have happened? What would have happened to me? To us? I'd never have seen you again?"

Her tirade left her a little breathless and she continued to trace the haphazard path across his face with her fingers.

"You will never do Legilimency again." Draco said, sounding more like an order than anything else.

"Yes, I will." Hermione retorted. "How many times have you overindulged during your sessions with Snape?"

"That has nothing to do with it." Draco objected immediately, although he wasn't really sure why.

His accusation vanished when she kissed him.

They were so close that all she had to do was tilt her head slightly towards him and as soon as she did, they shared the same sigh of pleasure. He could feel the request through her kiss, her desire for distraction, and nothing could have stopped Draco from responding with the same fervour to make her forget this difficult moment. Sliding his palm against her neck to draw her even closer, he deepened the kiss.

Normally, he'd have to lean his head forward to kiss her because of their height difference, but here, lying in bed and at the same height, Draco had to incline Hermione's head back to find the perfect angle. When he found it, he wrapped his tongue around hers and was amazed at how synchronised they were. He anticipated her every move and she did the same, creating the total symbiosis to which he had become addicted.

Each kiss was different, unleashing a flood of emotions in Draco that made him forget the outside world. They weren't at Hogwarts anymore, he didn't even know what colour the curtains around his bed were, nothing existed but them, Hermione, her skin against his and the little sounds she made against his mouth. Her lips burned, as they always did, and Draco devoured them with an appetite he only had for her.

Hermione wrapped her thighs tightly around his waist, pulling him against her. Draco ran his hand under the hem of her shirt, gently pulling it up under his fingers, slowly enough that she could stop him if she wanted to. She didn't, too busy kissing him and absentmindedly tugging at his hair, so Draco explored every inch of her warm skin under her shirt. It was soft and feverish under his fingers, just like her mouth.

"Hermione..." he sighed, not even realising he'd said it out loud.

He broke the kiss to dive into her neck, searching for that spot she loved so much between her jaw and ear, and when he found it, Hermione's legs strained against him and a moan escaped her lips. She tugged at his hair and he groaned, grateful that he had thought to put a Silence Spell around his bed. He couldn't imagine the conversation he would have had with Theo and Blaise at breakfast if he hadn't.

The temperature seemed to rise several degrees when Hermione slipped both hands under his shirt, tracing his abs with her fingertips as she had done with his mouth. Draco had the impression that every time she touched him, she was transmitting the fever that had always inhabited her and that Draco dreamed of capturing every moment of his days. She could turn his anger into desire in seconds, even faster than Occlumency. Hermione clenched her thighs around him and he nibbled at the skin of her neck.

Guided only by her frenzy and her burning fingers on his torso, Draco grabbed Hermione's hips and rolled her over him in one motion, kicking the quilt free with his leg. She didn't release the grip of her thighs around his waist and found herself on top of him, a cascade of brown hair falling around them. Their bodies seemed to melt together, becoming one. He could feel her everywhere. He resumed the assault of her lips and kissed her even harder. With his right hand, he took hold of Hermione's neck and with his left he resumed his exploration under her t-shirt, roaming over the warm skin of her stomach and her ribs, which were struggling to fully expand from her small, jerky breaths.

It was the first time Hermione had kissed him like this, unreservedly, the flame reflecting his own, and Draco was in such a state of bliss that he thought he was in a dream. How often had he imagined this moment? Hermione Granger, sitting on top of him, kissing him with the same intensity? Hundreds of times, probably.

As he touched her bra strap, Draco realised what they were doing and suddenly pulled away. He wanted to see if Hermione was as carried away by the kiss as he was. Her eyes were wide on him, her mouth swollen and her cheeks flushed.

"Draco." she said, his first name sending an electric shock through him, as it did every time she said it, no matter how many times she'd said it this year.

"We... we've never gone this far before." Draco breathed, pointing out the obvious.

"No, we haven't." she replied. She ran her fingers over her lips. "I can't believe I did that."

Draco felt his heart rise sharply in his throat:

"I'm so sorry, Hermione, I..."

"I'm the one who kissed you." she replied, a worried wrinkle between her eyebrows. "I didn't even ask if it was okay."

Hermione's cheeks flushed even more and she unconsciously bit her lip in embarrassment, while Draco had never been so euphoric in his life. She made a move to pull away, but he held her tightly against him:

"Hermione, listen to me. I'll always be okay for this, even if we fight, even if I'm angry with you, even if we ignore each other. I'll always kiss you back, and I'll never make you feel guilty about it. All right?"

Hermione nodded shyly, her eyes dropping dangerously to his lips, clearly wanting to do it again.

"We shouldn't." she whispered, but he wasn't sure if she was addressing him or herself.

"No, we shouldn't."

"We have class." Hermione said in an almost convincing tone.

"I have class." Draco corrected matter-of-factly. "You, you're going to rest."

"What time is it?" she asked, as if she had suddenly remembered that she wasn't supposed to be there.

Draco moved to the left, not letting go of Hermione, who followed him in the movement, and half-opened his curtain enough to catch a glimpse of something in the dormitory.

"Theo's in the shower." he informed her as he replaced the curtain panel to hide them. "And Blaise is still asleep, which means it must be six in the morning, maybe half past six. We've only slept four hours."

"I have to go." Hermione murmured, as if the Silence Spell had evaporated in seconds. "If I go back to my dormitory, Harry and Ron won't notice that I didn't spend the night there."

"What about your dorm mates?" asked Draco.

Hermione shrugged:

"If they ask, I'll say I slept with Ginny."

Hermione cast several consecutive spells on her clothes to remove the blood from them, then hurriedly put them back on. Draco checked that Theo was in the shower and that Blaise was still fast asleep, then escorted Hermione back to the dungeons. They crossed the Common Room, and Draco saw Hermione's eyes darting around, fascinated by the obvious traces of the previous night's party, but most of all outraged at the sight of the many bottles of alcohol and sleeping bodies on the floor.

They had no trouble slipping out of sight. When they found themselves in the deserted corridor, Draco saw Hermione's shoulders slump in relief. It was less surprising that someone would find them together in the common parts of the Castle than in his bed, which would have been far more difficult to justify.

"Thanks for your help, Draco." she said as they reached the end of the corridor.

He turned his head in her direction:

"I didn't do anything."

Draco felt the abrasive effect of the anger coursing through the veins in his arms and he Occluded forcefully. Hermione was watching him and he felt as if she could read his every emotion, despite the grey wall that barricaded his mind. It was as unsettling as it was invigorating to be watched like that by her big chocolate eyes.

"You were there when I needed you and you took care of me." she countered gently. "I don't call that nothing."

He rolled his eyes:

"I let that madman take you away, and I didn't even heal you myself, I asked my friend to do it."

Hermione rolled her eyes too, as if imitating him. She had the good sense not to insist.

"Promise me you won't do anything stupid." she asked instead.

Draco frowned, pretending not to understand what she was implying.

"For my whole life? That's an ambitious promise, Granger."

"With Umbridge." Hermione clarified, her eyes meeting his as if to test his sincerity. "Promise me you won't rush headlong into revenge."

"Aren't you trying to convince me not to do anything?" asked Draco in surprise.

"No, because I know it wouldn't work. You won't calm down until you've managed to get rid of your resentment, and to do that you need revenge." Hermione explained, perfectly describing his impulsive reactions. "Just promise me that you'll think about it and that you won't get into trouble for it."

Draco couldn't help the wry smile that this request inspired.

"I will, if you promise not to go to Arithmancy this morning." he said.

Hermione flinched slightly.

"All right, if you promise to take notes so I can catch up." she added.

" Who do you think I am?" asked Draco, falsely indignant. "I'll even make little notes in the margins so you can add notes to notes, just the way you like it."

Her cheeks pinked. Draco held out his hand and, to his surprise, Hermione shook it. He had expected to have to force her to rest; she must have been in a very advanced state of exhaustion to give in so easily.

Hermione made her way to the Gryffindor tower and Draco went back to bed, hoping to get a few precious minutes of sleep. But he'd forgotten about Theo, who after ten minutes threatened to throw his pillow in his face if he didn't get up.

Blaise was still asleep. The effects of his mother's tea were so strong that he and Theo had to pull him out of bed at arm's length to get him moving. By the time the three of them arrived for breakfast, the Great Hall was already full of students getting ready for their day. Hermione sat in the middle of the Gryffindor table as usual, as if everything was normal. She gave no indication of where she had spent the night.

Draco tried to adopt the same impassive posture, but could not. He was torn between the urge to rush over to Umbridge, who was eating at the teachers' table, and the desire to smile with all his teeth as he remembered how Hermione had fallen asleep in his arms the night before without succumbing to drowsiness.

Pouring himself his usual black coffee to face the day, he drank it while absentmindedly watching Pansy across from him. She had placed a bowl of milk on her lap for Eris, who was curled up in a ball against his mistress's belly, to lap up from time to time. Draco was about to point out to Pansy, for the hundredth time since she had received Eris for her birthday, that he looked more like a cat than a dog, but he was suddenly struck by his best friend's appearance and forgot what he had meant to say. Her charcoal hair was straightened to perfection and her black lipstick was applied with such care that she had to eat from the tip of her lips to avoid damaging it. Nothing gave away her presence at the party the night before. Still, she was rarely this prepared so early in the morning. Draco wondered if she hadn't made herself pretty for her infamous secret crush.

Just as he wondered, Pansy lifted her head to meet his gaze:

"What? Why are you looking at me like that?" she asked with a touch of aggression typical of the early hour.

"Nothing." he growled in reply.

She narrowed her eyes at him and Draco took a sip of his coffee.

"Blaise, how are you feeling?" asked Pansy, turning to the man in question.

Draco didn't comment on the fact that she was much friendlier to Blaise than him.

"Like the Hogwarts Express ran over me in the night." he replied, his voice hoarser than usual. Then he added, a little less loudly, "But I didn't have a vision, so I guess I can't really complain."

Pansy looked up and down at him, scrutinising him, and Blaise looked down at his plate.

"You haven't forgotten we're supposed to talk to Trelawney today?" she asked.

All three boys groaned at the same time and Pansy frowned:

"Hey, I'll have you know that Trelawney is an excellent resource, she's helped me with so many things in my life. I'm sure she'll be helpful and know exactly how to go about closing your Third Eye, Blaise."

"That's the first eye she'll close when she starts talking." Blaise replied sarcastically. "The woman has a way of putting me to sleep as soon as she opens her mouth."

"Maybe we should put her by your bed to make sure you really do sleep at night." Draco said.

"Or better yet, in your bed..."

Theo's sentence was cut short by Pansy throwing a spoon in his direction. Draco was so distracted by the look on Pansy's face that he didn't even notice the owls entering the Great Hall. Blaise buried himself in his daily reading of the Prophet, and Pansy was thrilled to receive the March issue of her Crystal Ball magazine.

Draco then noticed an unusual commotion in the Great Hall: all the students were whispering to each other and pointing at the Gryffindor table. It didn't take Draco long to work out what all the fuss was about. There, in front of Potter, was a mountain of piled up letters and parchments, deposited by dozens of owls hovering over the table, waiting to be paid.

"What's going on?" asked Theo, who was watching the scene with a frown.

Draco saw Hermione get up and open the letters at full speed, beaming. He broke into an unintentional smile.

"Potter's got mail." he said simply.

The Gryffindors around him were now rushing to open the letters and read out the readers' reactions. Potter was holding Lovegood's magazine in his hand, seemingly unsettled by the commotion it had caused.

Pansy handed Eris to Blaise to go and hunt for information from the Slytherins, returning about twenty seconds later:

"Potter gave an interview in which he told what happened the night Diggory died." she said urgently. "Apparently, he mentioned the names of the Death Eaters who were present."

She risked a glance at Draco, who didn't answer, then at Theo, who shrugged:

"What? It's not very surprising that my father is in there, he's a Death Eater, isn't he?"

Pansy pursed her lips and nodded, but she was as worried as ever. As she picked up her dog, Blaise asked:

"What's the matter with you? Your father's not in there, is he?"

"No, no, he's not..." Pansy murmured. "It's just that... it was Rita Skeeter who published the article."

This realisation seemed to affect her far more than the content of the article itself. Draco's heart sank at her disappointment. The four of them went back to watching the Gryffindor scene, as did three quarters of the Great Hall: Umbridge had risen from her chair and was heading straight for them. When she reached them, Draco had no trouble seeing the hateful look one of the Weasley twins gave her, despite the distance between them.

The Slytherins were too far away to hear the exchange between Umbridge and Potter, but Draco didn't need sound to understand that she was angry. Good. Seeing her so distraught helped to quell the anger that still burned under his skin, but seeing her so close to Hermione was just as frightening: what if she revealed to everyone where she'd spent part of her night?

Potter, with all his impertinence, threw the copy of the magazine at Umbridge, who caught it on the fly. She stared at the cover, the muscles at the back of her neck twitching furiously. She raised her head, and almost immediately there was an impressive crash of rubies into the House Points hourglasses.

Then Umbridge stormed off and Draco saw Hermione's proud smile on the other side of the Hall.

Oddly enough, he and Theo had the same one.

.

By the time Theo and Draco arrived at their first Arithmancy lesson of the day, the students were already talking about Potter's article. Draco had never seen so many Quibblers in the Castle; it was as if every student had managed to get hold of a copy in the space of an hour. During class, some Hufflepuff students were reading it under their desks in secret, muttering quotes, despite Vector's warnings.

Draco realised that Arithmancy was a lot less interesting when he couldn't watch Granger. In fact, for the first time since he'd taken the option, he realised that it was actually quite boring. He spent the hour taking the most accurate notes possible for Hermione, amusing himself by adding notes in the margins to make her laugh and pass the time. When the bell rang, he was already exhausted, dreaming only of his bed waiting for him for a well-deserved nap.

The four of them had a quick lunch and then Pansy took them to Divination class. Draco had never been to this part of the Castle, not even on his rounds, and it looked far more obscure and uninhabited. To get to the class, they had to climb the longest staircase Draco had ever seen (and he lived in a five-story Manor). Every time Draco thought they'd finally arrived, the stairs went on and on, in an endless circle.

Pansy caught up with him and nudged him on the shoulder:

"Are you all right?" she asked in a whisper. "You've seemed out of it since this morning."

Draco sighed. He wasn't surprised that Pansy had noticed his mood, knowing him as well as she did, she had the ability to see when things weren't right. He checked that Theo and Blaise were still far enough behind them not to hear them, and that no surrounding frames were occupied, before muttering:

"It's... Granger."

Pansy looked at him blankly, waiting for the rest.

"She took a detention from Umbridge last night." Draco explained. "Her punishment was to cut her hand with her quill every time she wrote the same line. She was in there for three hours, I thought I was going mad."

Just by telling her, he felt his skin heat up and ran a hand through his hair to make the sensation go away.

"What a horrible woman." Pansy commented.

Draco's eyebrows rose:

"Do you really think so?"

"Of course I do." replied Pansy. "I don't particularly like Granger, but that doesn't mean I enjoy seeing her suffer, especially in such a horrible way."

Draco nodded, relieved at her answer.

"Besides, you're my best friend." Pansy continued, struggling to keep up with Draco on the stairs. "I hate to see you suffer even more."

"She'll pay for this." he promised.

"I have no doubt she will. Don't hesitate to ask me if you need any help."

Draco nodded his thanks. They finally reached the top floor and passed no other students in the corridors. Draco, Theo and Blaise followed Pansy, who was in the lead and who led them not past a door but past a ladder that led to a hole in the ceiling.

"Is this a joke?" asked Theo, who was out of breath from the stairs. "Do we really have to climb this?"

He pointed to the ladder and Pansy began to climb. Blaise and Theo heaved the same sigh and climbed in turn, the latter with a little more difficulty than the former. Draco followed.

They found themselves in a very strange room, with damaged armchairs scattered about and facing what Draco assumed was the Professor's seat when she was teaching. The curtains were drawn, plunging the small classroom into permanent semi-darkness, and the fire gave off a strong perfume smell that made Draco gag. He understood better why Blaise had skipped all classes since third year and why Granger had dropped out: he couldn't imagine either of them in such a strange place.

Theo must have thought the same as he scanned his surroundings with a small grimace of disgust. He was about to say something, probably a mocking comment, but he gasped when a throaty voice asked from the back of the classroom:

"Who's there?"

"It's me, Professor Trelawney. Pansy."

Trelawney stepped from the shadows. She was tall, with a tuft of frizzy hair framing her emaciated face. She wore large round glasses that magnified her eyes and gave her an owlish look, and an astronomical amount of vests and shawls on her frail shoulders. She looked terrified, but when her huge eyes landed on Pansy, she suddenly relaxed.

"Ah, Pansy!" she cried in a theatrical voice. "To what do I owe this pleasure? Would you like to talk a little about your feelings of late? Any heartache?"

Trelawney rounded the many armchairs to approach. It was as if Theo, Draco and Blaise were invisible; she focused only on Pansy.

"No, nothing like that," she replied with a polite smile. "We need your advice, but for once it's not for me."

"Oh? Who then?"

Trelawney was now close enough for Draco to smell the overpowering scent of her perfume, the same one that wafted through the classroom air. The Professor wore a dozen necklaces of all kinds around her neck, jingling whenever she moved, and so many rings on her fingers that her hands felt heavy.

"Actually, it's for my friend Blaise." Pansy said, turning to the boy in question. "Blaise Zabini. He's attended several Divination classes..."

Trelawney slowly turned her head and when her eyes fell on Blaise, she let out a frightened scream. She fell backwards against one of the small tables, ignoring the teacup that shattered on the floor from her sudden movement.

"By Apollo!" she cried. "My dear young man... your Third Eye is open!"

Blaise tensed, and Draco was grateful that the class was so isolated.

"Exactly!" said Pansy, who didn't seem bothered by Trelawney's sudden outburst. "That's exactly why we wanted to see you, Professor."

Her eyes were still on Blaise, scrutinising him without embarrassment, as if she could see through him, read his soul.

"You have visions, don't you?" asked Trelawney.

Theo's eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Yes." Blaise replied in a vacant voice.

"I sense... a power." muttered Trelawney. "Yes, a great power, but not only drawn from the soul, the spirit, no... a power... that comes from nature itself, from the earth, the air, the water... I see... I see fire..."

Blaise swayed from one foot to the other, clearly embarrassed.

"And you're wondering how to stop it, is that it?" the Professor continued. "You don't want this power... you reject your gift... yet it warns you... but you're afraid, aren't you?"

Draco's legs went weak at such a question. How could that woman have guessed? Maybe she wasn't such a big fraud after all. Maybe Pansy had been telling the truth all along. Theo didn't seem to think so: he looked at Trelawney with suspicious eyes.

"But... I feel... interferences." Trelawney said, not even waiting for Blaise to answer. She closed her eyes and touched her temples with her fingertips, her face tense as if in pain. Suddenly she opened her eyes and turned her head sharply towards Theo, pointing at him: "You! You don't believe this, do you?"

Theo's eyes widened without answering. Pansy drew a small smile behind him.

"Your mind is too narrow to understand the science, the art of Divination!" cried Trelawney, accusingly. "You're trying to help your friend, but you can't get past this blockade..."

Theo's cheekbones grew redder and redder under Trelawney's insistent gaze. Blaise pulled him out of his misery:

"To be honest, I don't believe it myself sometimes."

Trelawney's big, shaggy head waltzed from Theo to Blaise, inspecting him carefully again.

"You're lying, young man." she whispered. "You didn't believe it for years, even though you studied Divination in this very class, but since the visions began... you believe it. And you're afraid. Because you know, deep down, what these warnings symbolise."

Blaise's features hardened visibly and he watched Trelawney with the same intensity as she did, in a kind of mixture of repulsion and curiosity. For several seconds neither spoke. It was as if they were communicating in thought. Draco was extremely uncomfortable with the exchange.

"What?" he asked. What do these warnings mean?" asked Theo. "Blaise? What's she talking about?"

"You know." Trelawney whispered to Blaise, ignoring Theo's question. "You just have to hear me say it. But I can't give you the key that nature keeps trying to give you. There is no way out. You'll be forced to face it, sooner or later. Listen to the visions."

She whirled abruptly around, whipping Theo with her shawl as she went, and disappeared back into the darkness at the back of the classroom without another word.

Draco was transfixed, stunned by what he'd just heard, but his shock was minimal compared to Blaise's. He was still staring at the spot where Trelawney had stood seconds before, his mouth agape, his eyes blank.

"Blaise?" called Theo a second time. "What did she mean by "you know"?"

No one answered him. Pansy timidly approached Blaise to stroke his arm, and the gesture snapped him out of his trance as if she'd slapped him. He gasped and looked at his three friends in turn, only now remembering their presence.

"I need some air." he yelped.

And he made for the ladder to get out.

"What?" cried Theo. "No! Explain, Blaise!"

Blaise ignored him and disappeared down the ladder. Draco understood him; he too was desperate to get away from the oppressive heat that was preventing him from thinking properly. He felt as if his head had been numbed by quicksand.

"Leave him alone." Pansy advised.

"But we've got class!" Theo protested.

"He won't miss anything, do you remember what class we have this afternoon?" she asked disgustedly. "Come on then. We're going back down."

They took the ladder in the opposite direction and found themselves in the corridor, which looked even darker than when they'd arrived. Blaise was gone, no doubt already back down the endless stairs.

"I feel like we're leaving with more questions than answers." Theo grumbled. "That old owl taught us nothing."

"What do you think she meant?" asked Draco, taking a deep breath of fresh air to get rid of the disturbing smell of Divination class.

"It's obvious, isn't it?" asked Pansy seriously. "Blaise's doubts are confirmed."

"What doubts?" asked Theo, annoyed at the lack of a clear answer.

Pansy took a deep breath as if the words she was about to say were painful.

"That he's really going to burn alive."

None of the three spoke after that.

.

Draco was tempted to do as Blaise did and skip Defence Against the Dark Arts, because spending two consecutive hours in the same room with Umbridge was really not a good idea, but the prospect of her being that close to Hermione without him was even more unbearable, so he took it upon himself.

The classroom was, as it had been since the beginning of the year, divided in two: the left side was occupied by the Gryffindors and the right by the Slytherins. Draco sat next to Theo, watching Granger from an angle: she'd regained her colour since the morning itself, and the marks on her hand were practically invisible. Theo's potions had worked. Only Draco could have noticed the fine lines that snaked across her skin.

Umbridge had made them read Chapter 83 of her crappy Ministry textbook. None of the Slytherins did, taking advantage of Umbridge's terrible favouritism towards them: Draco could have set fire to his desk and she'd have congratulated him. She was much more focused on the left side of her class, where the Gryffindors were doing their best to pretend they were reading so as not to be punished.

As soon as his eyes fell on the Professor, who was walking between the rows with her unbearable little smile, Draco clenched his fist. When his quill broke in two, he realised that he'd been a little too forceful.

"Stop taking it out on the quills, they haven't done anything to you." Theo whispered grumpily, wiping the table with his sleeve to remove the feathers.

"Sorry." he choked out. "I'm just... so angry. I feel like I'll explode if I don't do something."

"Like what?" asked Theo.

Draco looked at Umbridge, who had stopped at the table where Finnigan and Thomas were sitting to ask them about the chapter. Her flabby cheeks, thin mouth, coarse curls that barely covered her ears...

"Do you really want me to describe what I'm thinking?" he murmured. "I'm on my seventh mental assassination attempt right now."

Theo let out a sigh, almost a sneer. He hadn't opened his textbook either, as he hadn't done since the first class in this subject.

"Not for lack of warning." he murmured. "I always told you Umbridge was evil. None of you listened."

He gestured to Pansy, who was chatting with Daphne on the desk in front of them. It was true, of course. Theo had warned them from day one that Umbridge was dangerous, but no one had taken his threats seriously.

"She... she called her vermin." Draco said, his eyes fixed on her and her powder pink velvet dress. "She took it from me and said "I'll take care of the vermin", with a smile, as if... as if I thought the same, as if I was on her side."

Theo shuddered beside him and Draco clenched his fist again, trying to calm the waves of anger that were rushing through him and making his heart race.

"She's horrible." Theo said.

"I can't stand that." Draco said in a whisper, shaking his head. "Not when it comes to her. I can't go on living a normal life and let her go unpunished after what she's done. It'll drive me crazy."

"La vengeance est un plat qui se mange froid." Theo said in French, an expression he'd used in the past. "You will find a way to satisfy your grudge, but to do so, you must resist and not give in to impulsiveness."

Draco rolled his eyes, it was the second time he'd been told that today. Obviously neither Theo nor Hermione had forgotten his botched attempt to disguise himself as a Dementor two years ago.

"Tu l'aimes." Theo continued in perfect French.

It wasn't a question, it was a fact. Draco finally took his eyes off Umbridge and looked at him in disbelief.

"Je te l'ai déjà dit."

"Je n'avais pas réalisé à quel point tu l'aimais." Theo pointed out. "C'est hier que j'ai compris. J'ai réalisé l'ampleur de tes sentiments pour elle quand tu la tenais dans tes bras et que tu pleurais, parce que je t'ai jamais vu avoir peur comme ça."

Draco clenched his jaw without answering. He'd been scared like that twice before: when Theo had come through the chimney to Blaise, and when Blaise had had his first vision. Part of him knew that what Granger had had the day before wasn't that bad, that it was just cuts on her hand and that her life hadn't been in danger, but all his reason vanished when it came to her.

"Elle n'a pas besoin de toi pour se venger, tu sais." Theo said, pointing at Hermione and tilting his chin in her direction. "Elle a fait chanter la journaliste la plus renommée du pays pour lui faire écrire un article sur le garçon le plus détesté de la communauté sorcière simplement pour lui remonter le moral. Ombrage aura beau lui faire du mal, elle ne pourra jamais vraiment l'atteindre".

"Je sais, ça. Ce serait stupide de remettre en cause les capacités de cette fille." Draco whispered, careful not to say her first name in case someone tried to translate them. He looked at Hermione, who was pretending to be absorbed in Umbridge's book, her cheek resting against the palm of her hand. "Mais tu sais aussi bien que moi qu'elle est trop gentille pour oser lui faire subir le même sort. Elle voit le bon chez tout le monde, même ceux qui ne le mérite pas."

Me first, Draco thought, but he didn't say it, still daring to hope that he was better than Umbridge.

"So what do you suggest?" asked Theo with a certain greed in his tone. "If you want revenge, you've got to do it right."

Draco glanced over the row of Gryffindors, especially Weasley, who was trying very hard not to fall asleep on the pages of his textbook.

"I don't know how to do it yet, but I know exactly who to ask." Draco announced firmly.

.

.

---

Hermione

---

.

.

When Hermione returned to the Common Room after the day's lessons, she had planned to go to bed to finally make up for the lack of sleep of the previous night.

But that was not counting Fred and George, who had used the excuse of Harry's article in the Quibbler to throw a huge party at the Gryffindors.

The Common Room had been rearranged by the twins while everyone was at dinner: they'd pushed out the armchairs and sofas to free up part of the room for the Gryffindors to dance to their hearts' content. Amplified music echoed off the walls, and dozens of red cups were lined up on the study tables.

As soon as they entered, Hermione exclaimed:

"My God!"

And Ron yelled:

"Merlin!"

But they didn't have the same look on their faces when they said it: Hermione's was disapproving, while Ron had stars in his eyes.

"Ron!" snapped Hermione. "I remind you, for the hundredth time, that you're a prefect!"

"So what?" he asked, picking up a red goblet. "Is it in the rules that having fun is forbidden?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes:

"Article seven of the Hogwarts House Rules." she recited. "The consumption of alcohol in the Castle is formally forbi..."

"Who said it was?" asked Ron with a false air of innocence. He waved his cup in her face: "It's pumpkin juice, I promise."

And he was off into the crowd before she could reply. Hermione let out an exasperated sigh and turned to Harry:

"You agree with me, I hope?"

But Harry's attention was on Fred and George, or rather the wall behind them. The twins had cast an Engorgement Charm on the cover of the Quibbler and hung it up so that Harry's giant head swivelled to look at the dancers. Every now and then he'd shout out phrases at the top of his lungs, like "CORNELIUS FUDGE IS A NUMBSKULL!" at a volume even louder than the music, making the Gryffindors laugh. Harry was horrified.

"I'll tell them to take it off." Hermione decided as she took a step towards Fred and George.

"No!" Harry shouted, grabbing her arm to stop her. "No, you don't have to. It's a good idea, with Umbridge and everything going on at the moment, a party wouldn't hurt. It's a chance to boost morale, isn't it?"

Hermione didn't know what to say. It was true that the Gryffindors looked like they were having a great time, especially Ginny, who was dancing in the middle of the room. She had taken Neville with her, who was trying to follow in her footsteps, redder than ever.

"Come on, Mione. Have some fun." Harry advised.

He took a goblet in his turn and took a sip, and Hermione knew him well enough to know that he hid his grimace so as not to show that he'd just drunk alcohol. He left to join Dean a little further on, leaving Hermione standing in front of the Fat Lady's passage, her arms crossed over her chest.

"Oh, Mione!" cried George as he approached her. "Come on, have a drink, relax!"

He handed her a cup, but Hermione shook her head and refused. Harry from the Quibbler poster shouted, "UMBRIDGE IS THE QUEEN OF TOADS!" and the crowd roared their approval.

"Which article should I start with?" she asked George cynically. "The one about regulating the volume of music in the Common Rooms? Or the one banning festive gatherings after curfew? Or what about the section on wizards drinking under the age of..."

George stopped her with a loud laugh:

"Relax, Mione! Why don't you put aside your role as Miss Perfect Prefect and enjoy yourself for a while?"

He handed her the cup again, which Hermione refused a second time. Lavender walked past them with a funny little howl, dragging Seamus behind her.

"Come dance with me." George offered.

"Do you really see me dancing in there?" asked Hermione, pointing to the crowd gathered in the centre of the room.

"No, not really." he admitted. He leaned towards her so she could hear him over the defenestrating music: "But you've got to have fun too. Ron told me about what you did with Skeeter. You're the reason the article saw the light of day, and we're acting like it's only Harry who deserves to be celebrated!"

Hermione glanced at her best friend, who was laughing with Ron in the corner of the room, watching Neville and Ginny dance. It was the first time she'd seen him laugh in weeks. The sight made her smile in spite of herself.

"Celebrate Harry, it suits me just fine." she said. "He needs it far more than I do, I assure you." She turned to the twin: "I won't say anything about the party as long as you don't make the first and second years drink."

"Deal." said George. Despite the people crowding around them and the stuffy atmosphere of the room, Hermione could still smell the vanilla scent emanating from him.

She had to stand on tiptoe to reach his ear:

"I'm going to bed, before McGonagall bursts in and hands out detentions like Bertie Bott's beans."

George laughed out loud again, completely unfazed by the possibility:

"Minnie adores us, she won't say a word," he assured confidently. "In fact, with any luck, she'll start insulting Umbridge and do some Scottish dancing for us."

"Of course." Hermione said, rolling her eyes.

"Sleep well!" shouted George as she walked away, pretending to make a toast in his direction.

She made her way through the dancers, wished Ron and Harry a good night and went to seek refuge in the silence of her dormitory. As she lay down in bed, she wasn't sure if she could hear the bass of the music a few floors below through her pillow, or if it was her own blood drumming against her eardrums from exhaustion.

Hermione was asleep in less than five minutes, her body eagerly welcoming the sweetness of sleep against her aching muscles.

.

She woke with a start.

It took her a long minute to realise that it wasn't time to get up at all: it was pitch dark outside and she could hear Lavender and Parvati breathing deeply in the neighbouring beds. No noise had disturbed her sleep, and she hadn't had a nightmare.

Hermione reflexively tapped her bedside table for her wand, to have something in hand to defend herself if necessary, but there was nothing. Panicked, she quickly searched her bed for it, but when she finally found it and wrapped her fingers around it, an even more visceral fear immediately strangled her.

Her wand hummed against her palm.

Her brain made the connection in less than a second.

Harry.

She sprang to her feet, pulled on her robes and hurried out the door. By the time she reached the stairs, her wand had stopped vibrating and she hoped to God that meant Harry had woken up. She didn't know how long her wand had been buzzing like that, but it felt like several minutes. She hurried down the stairs of the girls' dormitory and found herself in the Common Room.

The Quibbler poster was still on the wall, but there was no sound from Harry's motionless head, as if the spell had faded with the hours. No one had cleaned up, not even the elves, leaving the room in a pitiful state, but Hermione had no time to linger. She climbed the stairs to the boys' dormitory, trying to make as little noise as possible. She opened the door and was surprised to find herself in the dark: she had expected Harry to be surrounded by Neville and Ron around his bed.

She took a few steps into the half-light, lit only by the faint beam of moonlight through the window. Harry was asleep, on his side. His forehead was glistening with sweat and his hair was flattened to one side. Hermione thought his scar was more vivid than usual.

"Mione?"

She turned around. Ron was halfway back against his pillows, struggling to keep his eyes open long enough to see anything in the darkness of the dormitory.

"It's me." she whispered.

"What are you doing here?" Ron asked. He sighed and answered before she could: "It's your spell that's linked to his heart, isn't it? Did you realise he'd had a vision?"

Hermione approached Ron's bed with quiet steps and nodded. Ron, Harry and Theo were the only people who knew about the spell she'd invented; she hadn't even told Ginny.

"Did he really have one?" she asked, her voice strained with fear.

Ron nodded gravely.

"He just went back to sleep. She was violent, that one."

"I couldn't get there in time..." whispered Hermione regretfully.

"It's all right, I was there." Ron said to reassure her.

"What did he see?"

Ron stiffened against his pillows:

"I didn't understand all of it... he talked about Avery, one of the Death Eaters, that he had given false information to You-Know-Who, who wanted to punish him... he also talked about Bode, who had taken an Imperium spell from Malfoy to try and get something out of the Department of Mysteries, but that he would never have succeeded, according to Rockwood's claims..."

Hermione frowned as she tried to make sense of what Ron was saying. Her head was still too foggy from sleep to put all the information together.

"Get what out?"

"Harry thinks it's the weapon Sirius was talking about this summer." Ron said in a hurried whisper. "But... that's not what worried me the most..."

He shivered and pulled his duvet closer to him in a vain attempt to comfort himself.

"What? What worried you?" asked Hermione in a panicked whisper.

Ron had turned his eyes to Harry, who continued to sleep, his body still shaking.

"I asked him if he'd just seen You-Know-Who and he said..." Ron took a shaky breath. "He told me he was You-Know-Who."

Hermione's eyes widened and she was grateful that Ron couldn't see her reaction because of the lack of light.

"I guess we'll know more tomorrow." Ron continued. "I told him to go and tell someone, but of course he refused... he says it wouldn't have happened if he could practise Occlumency properly."

"We'll try and convince him again tomorrow." Hermione said. "Maybe he'll agree to write to Sirius, at least..."

Ron nodded, although they both knew very well that wasn't going to happen. If they insisted on asking for help, Harry would shut up again and tell them nothing more.

"You should go back to sleep." Ron suggested. "Don't worry, I'll keep an eye on him."

For the first time since she'd entered the room, Hermione understood why Ron was leaning against his pillows.

"Do you often stay awake like that?" she asked incredulously. "After Harry had a vision?"

Ron smiled a pale smile:

"Every time."

Hermione's heart sank for the boy in front of her, the best friend there could be, able to do things like that without telling anyone. He was thoughtful and never bragged about it.

Ron must have seen the tenderness in Hermione's expression because he added:

"It's no big deal, to be honest, it's more for me than for him. See if he's all right, get him back to sleeping normally, that sort of thing."

Hermione shook her head, her throat too tight with emotion to answer.

"Good night, Mione. See you tomorrow."

"Good night," she said, taking a few steps back.

"And, Mione?"

"Yes?"

"Don't tell Harry you came here tonight." Ron advised. "He'd be terribly upset if he'd woken you for this."

She nodded and left the dormitory.

When she returned to the Common Room, Hermione was wide awake. The adrenaline rush hadn't worn off and she suspected she wouldn't be able to sleep again. She surveyed the wreckage of the Room and decided to help the elves. She picked up all the cups on the floor, threw some Scourgify on the tables and cleaned the stains from the carpets. She was about to remove Harry's poster, which was obviously held in place by a powerful Permanent Sticking Charm, when a noise behind her startled her.

"Fred?" she called out indignantly. "What on earth are you doing here?"

The fire had died down overnight, so Hermione hadn't noticed Fred lying on one of the sofas, his long legs propped up against the arm. Someone had pulled a blanket over him, which he removed with a tired gesture.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, his voice hoarse with sleep. "Do you really think it's time for this?"

"And do you really think this is a proper place to sleep?" she asked indignantly.

Fred straightened up completely against the back of the sofa and let out an interminable yawn. His hair was full of spikes going in all directions.

"Stop it, like you've never fallen asleep there after deciphering too many runes." he said mockingly.

Hermione couldn't argue, because it was true, so she stopped trying to remove the bloody poster and sat down next to him.

"Tea?" she offered.

"Gladly." Fred said, stretching. "Merlin, my back is a mess."

"So how was the party?" asked Hermione, handing him a cup of hot water.

"Lousy without you." Fred replied quietly. "It's always less fun when there's no one around to remind us what rules we're breaking."

"I've listed them for George, I've done my bit." Hermione said, hiding her smile.

She put a bag of mint tea into Fred's cup, who thanked her. Without really consulting each other, they lay down on their sides on the same sofa, facing each other, Hermione's legs wedged to the left of him and Fred's hanging halfway down. He covered them both with the blanket and laid his head back against the armrest.

For a minute, neither of them spoke, the only sound breaking the silence being Poster Harry's weak, increasingly incomprehensible statements.

Hermione quietly savoured her tea, hoping the effects would calm her enough to fall back asleep.

"So?" said Fred. "Still messing with the Death Eater's son?"

Hermione swallowed her drink wrong and choked. Fred looked at her calmly, an amused smile on his lips.

"Yes." Hermione yelped after several seconds of struggling to catch her breath. "Yes, still."

"And Ron and Harry..."

"... still don't know?" Hermione finished. "No. It's hard to keep it a secret, but I know they wouldn't accept it if I told them the truth."

"Can't really blame them, can we?" asked Fred rhetorically.

Hermione took the comment in stride and took a sip of tea to soothe her bitterness. Yet Fred looked at her without the slightest resentment.

"Have you told George?" she asked.

He lifted his head from the armrest to look at her fully, his auburn eyebrows slightly furrowed, his freckled nose wrinkled.

"No. I told you I wouldn't." he replied.

"I know, but after what happened during the match against the Slytherins..." Hermione said in a whisper, as if it would be less painful to say it in a low voice. "Let's just say I wouldn't blame you if you ended up ratting us out."

"I told you I wouldn't, and I'm a man of my word." Fred swore, as if outraged that she might have doubted him. "The actions of that little Malfoy prick will not taint my promise. No offence, of course." he added with a mischievous grin.

"It must feel strange, doesn't it? Keeping a secret from your twin."

Hermione took another sip of tea, enjoying the taste of mint on her tongue for a reason she could never have revealed aloud.

Fred shrugged and leaned his head back against the arm of the sofa:

"Not really." he said. "George is much more than a brother to me, he's my other half, my soul mate. He knows me on a level that no one can ever reach, including me. Everyone knows us as the same person, but..." Fred took a small breath and a smile brightened his features, "It feels good, sometimes, to have your other half all to yourself. Your secrets, your thoughts, your preferences."

Hermione nodded: she understood exactly what he meant. Fred frowned slightly, lost in thought:

"You know you're the only one who can tell us apart?" he asked dreamily.

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are." Fred remarked. "You're the only one who can tell us apart, and you've known since your second year. Do you remember? On the train to Hogwarts? You were looking for Harry and Ron and you called me by my first name."

"Yes, I remember." Hermione said with a wistful smile. "You were shocked that I knew who you were. You told me not even your mother could."

"And I wasn't lying." Fred said sincerely. "You knew how to recognise us when we barely knew each other. That's why I keep your secret, Hermione."

It was rare that he called her Hermione, she was so used to him using her nickname that she raised her eyebrows in surprise.

"Because I recognise you?" she asked, full of sarcasm.

"Among other things." Fred replied, dead serious. "And also because you deserve to be happy, Mione. You're always there for everyone, you save the whole world, you deserve to be happy. Of course, that doesn't mean I approve of your tastes... Draco Malfoy..."

He made a disgusted grimace and Hermione giggled into her teacup.

"In any case, I support you in whatever decisions you make." Fred finished. "I hope you know how much George and I think of you as our sister."

"I know." Hermione assured, a little touched. "I think of you as my brothers too."

Fred's face took on an air of seriousness so different from his usual expression that Hermione's hands clenched involuntarily against her cup.

"You know... next year, when we're no longer here..." he began, almost hesitantly. "I don't want you to think we can't have this anymore." He pointed to the space between them, their legs practically intertwined. "You can always reach me, no matter where I am, you know that, right? A letter, a Chimney call, whatever. I'll always be here for you, Mione."

Hermione nodded:

"I'll miss you." she admitted quietly.

He gave her a small smile.

"I know you will. My absence will be very hard to bear. I feel sorry for you."

She rolled her eyes. The moment of emotional bonding was over. Fred drank his tea and they changed the subject: he told her about the next invention they wanted to create with George, still in prototype form for the moment, and Hermione helped him find a formula to make it work. Fred thanked her several times, excited at the prospect of unveiling it to George the next day.

It was after four in the morning when Fred put his cup down on the coffee table and stretched out:

"I'm going to bed. Will you save me a muffin for breakfast? I'm going to skip Herbology..."

Hermione nudged his legs with her pillow:

"Hey!" he huffed indignantly.

"Frederick Weasley, you have your N.E.W.T. at the end of the year." Hermione reminded him in an authoritative tone.

He rolled off the sofa and stood up.

"Yes, Miss Prefect..." he said, pretending to bow to her as low as his hunched back would allow. "I'll be there at seven sharp. Good night, Mione."

He walked towards the stairs that led down to the boys' dormitories.

"Fred?" Hermione called in a small, squeaky voice.

He looked over his shoulder at her, one eyebrow raised in question:

"Mione?"

"Would you still love me if I didn't actually become your sister?" she asked.

Hermione realised that she was holding on to his answer much tighter than she had thought. Her question was hidden and they both knew it: she was asking him if he wouldn't mind her breaking his brother's heart. Fred's shoulders slumped slightly as he sighed. He spun around to reach her, leaned in and kissed her forehead, just below her hairline:

"You will always be my sister, Mione." he promised.

.
.

---

French translations:

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

"Tu l'aimes." : "You love her."

"Je te l'ai déjà dit." : "I already told you that."

"Je n'avais pas réalisé à quel point tu l'aimais. C'est hier que j'ai compris. J'ai réalisé l'ampleur de tes sentiments pour elle quand tu la tenais dans tes bras et que tu pleurais, parce que je t'ai jamais vu avoir peur comme ça." : "I didn't realize how much you love her. I understood it yesterday. I realized the extent of your feelings for her when you held her in your arms and cried, because I've never seen you scared like that."

"Elle n'a pas besoin de toi pour se venger, tu sais. Elle a fait chanter la journaliste la plus renommée du pays pour lui faire écrire un article sur le garçon le plus détesté de la communauté sorcière simplement pour lui remonter le moral. Ombrage aura beau lui faire du mal, elle ne pourra jamais vraiment l'atteindre." : "She doesn't need you to get revenge, you know. She blackmailed the country's most renowned journalist into writing an article about the most hated boy in the wizarding community simply to cheer him up. No matter how much Umbridge hurts her, she can never really get through to her."

"Je sais, ça. Ce serait stupide de remettre en cause les capacités de cette fille. Mais tu sais aussi bien que moi qu'elle est trop gentille pour oser lui faire subir le même sort. Elle voit le bon chez tout le monde, même ceux qui ne le mérite pas." : "I know that. It would be stupid to question this girl's abilities. But you know as well as I do that she's too kind to dare do the same to her. She sees the good in everyone, even those who don't deserve it."

I have to put Fred on because if I don't do it every three chapters, I die :/ (It's my Fremione heart that speaks from time to time)