Leaving with her friends, Hermione kept glancing back at the statue of the one-eyed witch. Stop it, he's fine. Draco was quite capable of getting out of the tunnel even without a wand—he had his pocket watch to light his way.
She had to quickly invent a story about a Ministry of Magic Health Department inspection of Honeydukes to lead the Gryffindors away from the statue. Honestly, there must be some truth to it—Hermione liked the sweet shop, but their cellar was indeed in a nightmare state.
Draco's dot appeared in his bedroom an hour later, but he didn't come to dinner. Hermione lingered in the Great Hall for an extra hour, then went to the Common Room and pretended to read a new library book on magical sociology. In reality, she was going through ways to sneak into the Slytherin dungeons. Maybe if she cast a Disillusionment Charm on herself... No. She wouldn't impose. Draco said he was glad the spell was broken. Maybe he needed a break.
Still, by ten she was lying in bed with the curtains drawn. What if Ollivander was wrong? Crookshanks had run off somewhere, and Hermione could hear Romilda and Parvati giggling over a quiz in Witch Weekly.
— Ooh, a winter wedding suits me best! — Parvati squeaked. — Pines!
— Shhh! — Romilda hissed. — Hermione's asleep!
Hermione didn't mind, though. The quiz discussion reminded her of Draco's answers to a quiz in that magazine: "Winter... I like dead trees... I'm smart, tolerant, not picky..."
She smiled and lifted her wrist to check her watch: 9:58, 9:59, 10:00. 10:01. 10:02.
Nothing happened.
By 10:15, Hermione extinguished her wand light and pulled up the covers. The spell really was broken. That's good. That's right. She's glad.
Staring at the dark canopy, she wondered. Was that it? Only the spell connected them? Was their thing just a fleeting infatuation?
No. People don't throw themselves in front of wolves for fleeting infatuations.
Hermione sat up abruptly, struck by a thought. Merlin, did Draco decide to be noble? To step back so as not to pressure her? It was so like him, despite all his barbs about the dark wood wand. But how to check? He'd never admit it.
She needed to find a way to find out. Maybe Harry could get her some Veritaserum?
Perhaps she could ambush Draco and use Legilimency—Ginny had already caught him off guard. Or stage a scene of mortal danger so he'd rush to the rescue...
Hermione lay back down. Or she could just talk to him. Either he's happily making plans to lure new witches into his bed, or he misses her too. Maybe he really misses me. Maybe he's lying in that sinful bed right now, his long elegant body burning with arousal. Maybe he's touching himself...
Hermione's hand involuntarily slid down. Maybe he's checking his pocket watch against my schedule, imagining touching me, filling me with a spell, leaning down to taste me, letting me taste him...
— Ow! — she jerked her hand back—those damn nails! Hermione felt for her wand, intending to remove Leanne's spell, but stopped.
No, she'd keep the manicure. She needed to stay optimistic. She and Draco would calmly and rationally discuss everything—like adults—even if she had to drag him into an empty classroom and cast a Full Body-Bind Curse on him.
On Wednesday after classes, Hermione trudged gloomily to the library. Draco hadn't appeared in classes or the Great Hall all day, and Crookshanks was missing too. Her cat sometimes went on outings, returning a day or two later with half-healed scratches and a smug look. But Hermione wished he had chosen a different week for adventures.
The Map showed Draco locked in his room, and Hermione had no choice but to go to the Transfiguration study group meeting. McGonagall still taught NEWT-level students and had scheduled a serious test for Friday, which she called "comprehensive"—a word capable of striking terror into any of her students. Tomorrow's day off from classes was opportune—more time to prepare.
Most students had already scattered to their own affairs, but Theodore Nott was holed up in the Transfiguration section of the library. The Slytherin had joined their group at the beginning of the year and behaved decently, though not without arrogance. Hermione lingered by the table, noting his disheveled appearance: tie askew, books piled in disorder.
— Nott, — she said, sitting opposite him.
The Slytherin's expression was tense and grim, and he didn't answer.
Hermione got straight to the point.
— I think today we could review multi-layered materialization.
Nott's eyebrows shot up.
— I'd be happy to help you, Granger, — he said as if doing her a great favor. — The topic might seem complex for an average mind, but I seem to have mastered it quite well.
Hermione narrowed her eyes.
— Really? Then name the 101 principles of Artificial Animation Quasidominance. — She tapped her watch. — You have two minutes. Go.
— Granger...
— One minute fifty-eight seconds.
Nott shot her a murderous look, but immediately started rattling off:
— Conservation of magical energy, measurable increase in entropy in an isolated magical system, magical boundaries of materialization increase with...
He managed to blurt out 88 principles before Hermione announced that time was up. Which was impressive, but she wasn't going to tell him that. Instead, she smiled smugly.
— Seems some of us have work to do.
— And you, I suppose, can list the 67 exceptions to the Law of Proportional Magic in a minute? — Nott snapped.
— In fifty seconds, actually, — Hermione replied. — Timed it last night.
That was true; she had to occupy herself with something while she couldn't sleep because she wasn't transported to Malfoy's bed anymore, and the astronomical clock was finally restored... well, and the nails...
Nott smirked.
— Always trying to prove something to someone, Granger.
— I have nothing to prove, — she retorted coldly, — unlike some.
The Slytherin tensed.
— How are things with Greengrass? — Hermione inquired.
— Fine.
— Great.
Hermione opened her Transfiguration textbook and began studying famous cases of transfiguration in history (in 1672, medieval wizard Thaddeus Thurkell turned his seven Squib children into hedgehogs). Several minutes passed in silence until Nott raised his wand and cast a Muffliato charm on their corner of the library.
— I showed Daphne a tea leaf pattern this morning, — he admitted.
Hermione put down the book.
— Did they form a heart?
The Slytherin nodded.
— And what did she do?
— Threw the cup at me. — He looked shocked. — Wedgwood porcelain!
Hermione studied the Slytherin closely.
— Where was the heart? At the top of the cup? On the side?
— At the bottom, where else?
Hermione clicked her tongue and shook her head.
— A heart at the bottom means heartache and infidelity. Were there letters nearby? Like D? Was the handle pointing at her?
— I don't know, — Nott said through gritted teeth.
— You didn't even study the basics, did you? — Hermione asked. — Didn't bother to put in minimum effort.
— I spent my entire break making that heart!
Hermione looked at him sternly.
— No, Nott, you didn't take it seriously, and now she thinks you don't take her seriously. No wonder she threw the cup at you.
Nott's face turned into an impassive mask, but she knew that inside he was pouting. Slytherins.
— You just need to try something else, — Hermione said. She picked up the textbook again and started reading about a Quidditch player who turned a Chaser into a ferret.
— Subject closed, — Nott stated coldly.
— Fine. — Hermione turned the page. Silence reigned as she took notes on Mrs. Amanda Clapp, a Sussex witch who turned her husband into a coat rack for refusing to clean up after himself. Wise woman.
— Did you review the Dark Transfiguration section? — Nott asked after a while.
Hermione put down the textbook and bit her lip. McGonagall had indeed added this section, claiming wizards should know about the dark aspects of all magical disciplines, but these classes were scheduled only for spring. Actually, it was all Draco's fault—if not for him, she would have delved into the topic long ago, rather than limiting herself to a cursory overview.
— Unlikely to be on the test, — she said.
— McGonagall said "comprehensive", — Nott countered. — Afraid to dive into darkness with a Slytherin?
— As if.
— No, of course you're not afraid. — Nott smirked. — Darkness suits you, doesn't it?
Hermione felt her cheeks burning, but not because of his hints. You left him in the darkness. Now he won't come back.
— Many consider Malfoy a disgrace to our house, — Nott continued as if discussing the choice of quills. — The last echo of the evil that happened in the war.
— If that were true, he'd be in Azkaban.
— He might still end up there.
— He won't, — Hermione hissed.
Nott's eyebrows flew up.
— Malfoy is too cunning, — she continued more calmly. — What your house is really good at is self-preservation.
— But he has neither discipline, nor prudence, nor common sense. — Nott waved a chubby hand adorned with a massive emerald ring. — A hopeless case.
— Draco Malfoy is not hopeless! — Hermione blurted out. — He is brave and... — She stopped abruptly.
Nott twisted his mouth into a smirk.
— Maybe he's not hopeless, but you should stay away, Granger. I'm doing everything possible for him, but you could ruin everything.
Hermione rolled her eyes so hard they almost fell out.
— Oh, everything possible, is it? — she asked sarcastically. — Well, then your maximum is pathetic, dismal attempts. Both regarding Malfoy and regarding Greengrass.
— How dare you! — Nott jumped to his feet, and Hermione stood up too.
— Oh, I dare! — she shouted. — I try! I take risks! I sacrifice my comfort! And tolerate whiners like you because I want to help!
Nott smirked.
— And you think Draco would do the same? Risk himself for you?
— He already did, you fool. He proved it not only to me but to McGonagall. — Hermione braced her hands on the table and leaned forward, not taking her eyes off Nott. — What about you, huh? — she asked. — What have you risked, Theodore Nott? To whom and what have you proved?
The Slytherin looked at her, his face paling. A wave of his wand—books jumped into his bag themselves—and he ran out of the library section.
Hermione watched him go, breathing heavily. Draco had proven himself. Proved he was brave, strong, worthy. So why is he hiding from her now?
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