Of Love And War

Chapter Four: Mended

Dedication: The HPCJ! Boom, Baby!

“The greatest thing you will ever learn is just to love
and to be loved in return.”
~~~Ewan McGregor, Moulin Rouge

***

Ginny cringed as the clunk of the book she just dropped on the flagged stone floor reverberated through the corridor. She was hoping to get some peace and quiet, as Fred and George were still awake planning Quidditch tryouts with Harry and Katie, the remaining members of the Gryffindor team. The stress of the upcoming tryouts was starting to affect Ron, so he had gone to bed early. Hermione was studying, of course, claiming that even though it was the first day of school, she still had tons of work to do. What Ginny didn’t understand was the fact that while she claimed that she was working on homework, she was reading Decryption For The Confuddled Witch, a book that had absolutely nothing to do with any of her subjects.

But Ginny had learned a long time ago not to question anything her brother and his friends were up to. That usually meant that they were solving some sort of plot against Wizard-kind and would most likely involve a frightful amount of danger. Quite frankly, she didn’t consider herself in their league as far as magical skills went, and didn’t feel like getting in over her head. If Hermione was trying to decode something, it was most likely not very pleasant and therefore none of Ginny’s business.

Still, she was getting lonely. The dreams were getting more and more persistent, and she didn’t feel close enough to anyone, not even Lady Jane Grey, to tell about them. It was getting a bit creepy. Dreading sleep, she had grabbed her Runic Textbook, hoping to get a jump-start on the term and headed out into the night.

It was stupid, really, worrying about recurrent dreams like this. After all, it wasn’t as if any of them had come true. Strange men running about, wands out blasting everything in sight had yet to take over the castle, but even in her dreams the terror felt so very real. She watched as they advanced, blasting apart the walls with their red beams of light, powerless to stop them. The feeling was akin to sickness, to be so defenseless against something happening right before her. Then, she’d see a tall woman, whose face she could not make out, fall to the ground. That was when she would wake up, screaming. Somehow, that woman’s collapse seemed the most ominous of all, even though Ginny never saw her get hit with a curse.

Her footsteps slowed as she heard a faint indistinct melody as she approached a hallway she had never been down before. Ginny recognized it as the sound of a piano, or rather, someone playing one. Divided by the fear of discovering a musical Filch and her overwhelming curiosity, she crept into the chamber, looking over at the solitary musician at the instrument.

Somehow, she wasn’t surprised to see him. His silvery hair seemed to capture the candlelight that surrounded him, and made the moment even more surreal than it already was. He was wearing a cloak, even though the room was not cold, and his back was to her. What in the world was he doing here?

So intent was she on deciding what to do, she hadn’t noticed that he had turned towards her. Draco Malfoy tilted his head every so slightly and regarded her.

“Up late as well, Virginia?”

***

Being unsure of a situation was something that Arabella Figg had guarded herself against for her entire life. She hated feeling out of place or uncertain of what to do, and it seemed like these days she was more and more just that. Looking at Sirius Black, the man she still loved but was so unsure of, she knew that she had to do something, but what to do was completely eluding her.

“What’s the matter? Come to borrow a cup of sugar?” Her voice sounded like a squeaky shoe on a hardwood floor, but she knew she had to get him off his guard. Unfortunately, all that came to mind were stupid insults. “Don’t you Death Eaters stock your pantries properly?”

A smirk crossed his features, almost as if he had just been right about something. “No, Voldemort always keeps artificial sweetener on hand, but his supply of crisps is surprisingly low.” He shook his head, and looked at her. “What are you going on about, Bella?”

Bella. The nickname Sirius had given her on the first train-ride from Platform Nine-And-Three-Quarters all those years ago. The simple use of a nickname sent her over the edge. She fell to the ground, sobbing. It just didn’t seem important to hold it all in anymore. She let her sorrow show.

“Arabella?” Sirius asked, completely stunned. For all his life experience, he still had no idea how to deal with a crying woman. It didn’t seem right, the strong woman he loved so much was now a weeping heap on the floor before him. He was pretty sure that this was all somehow his fault. He knelt next to her and uneasily attempted to comfort her. He pulled her into his arms and instinctively she clung to him.

For a few brief moments, he took in the scent of her hair, the feel of having his arms around her, knowing that things just might fall into place now. He murmured indistinct words of comfort, hoping that she would understand. He didn’t want to admit it, but he didn’t think he could handle losing her again.

“You!” She didn’t let go of him, but that somehow didn’t stop her from punching him in the arm. “You should have… you didn’t… why didn’t you…?” Overpowered by the sob-like breaths she was forced to take, she couldn’t form even one of the many questions that were swirling around jumbled in her mind. She let her breathing go back to normal, then lifted her head to look into his eyes.

“So, tall, dark and skinny, where have you been?” she asked weakly, trying to inject some humor in a conversation that was doomed to be uncomfortable. Sirius smiled.

“Oh, you know,” he said gently, kissing the top of her head. “Here, there… everywhere. Please don’t tell me that you actually thought I was guilty?” She violently shook her head no, and he relaxed considerably. “I suppose you want to know why I didn’t come to you when I got out?”

Arabella snorted. “Come now, I’m not a total fool. I know I was being tailed, and that it probably was about as safe to come to me as it would be to go up to the Dementors singing ‘Kiss me, I’m Scottish.’ But two years, Sirius? You could have sent word through Remus, or Dumbledore, or…”

He silenced her with a single finger on her lips. “I know, and I probably should have. But you have to understand something.” He sighed, seeming to know that no explanation would be enough. “The whole time I was in there, I would try and focus on you. Try to remember your face, your touch, anything.” He held her close, smelling the lilac shampoo she still used after all these years. “And do you know all I could remember?”

She knew. Somehow, she knew. She just didn’t trust her voice enough to speak.

“The fights. The argument when you wanted to join the Aurors. The quarrel we had about which flat we should rent. Remember when we were in Fourth year and you and I stopped speaking for a week because I said that the Pride of Portee had a better field than the Appleby Arrows. The words just kept ringing over and over again in my head when you said you never wanted to see me again. Something stupid like that. And then, when you Disapparated I thought…”

“No!” She said vehemently. “I knew you didn’t do it! Somehow I knew, but I also knew that they were going to take you.” Her voice choked. “And I knew I didn’t want to see it. I didn’t want you to see me cry.”

“Glad to see that isn’t stopping you now,” he laughed, wiping away her tears with his thumb while he held her face.

“Oh, sod off,” she said, her voice free of malice. “I’ve had a rough couple days.”

“Mm. Me too,” he said, content to just have her in his arms for the rest of the night. “I should have come, I know. I just… was afraid.”

“Sirius,” she said, her voice grave. She took his face in her hands, looking him straight in the eyes. “I said I love you. That means forever.”

Lifting her off the ground, Sirius let his arms travel around her waist, drawing her still closer to him. Their eyes never parted. Slowly, she tilted her head up to him as he lowered his to hers. They kissed, and the world faded away.

“You know that this isn’t going to solve everything,” he said softly into her hair when the finally pulled away. “I’m still a wanted criminal. It isn’t a fairy tale ending yet.” Arabella smiled.

“Mm… it’s a start.”

***

Ginny vaguely tried to remember when someone had called her Virginia. Her mother perhaps, but not in recent memory. She was amazed that Lucius Malfoy’s son even knew that was her given name. He slid over on the smooth bench, motioning for her to sit beside him.

“Do you play?” The question was innocent, but the undertones were what Ginny seemed to hear decibels louder than the words.

“A little.”

They began a short duet, one neither one knew by heart, yet sounded all right just the same. After they finished, she turned to him, mind bursting with questions.

“Draco, what is this room?”

Mundane, yes, she thought to herself, but safe.

“Haven’t a clue, really.” His gray eyes briefly traveled around the room before settling once again on her brown once. “Found it a few nights ago.”

“One for midnight strolls as well, I see,” a smile crept on her face as she replied. There was something electrifying about the encounter, laced with the taste of forbidden fruit.

“I have to admit, I am more than a little surprised to see you traipsing around the castle so late after dark.” His eyes still held her gaze, almost as if by a spell.

“Draco,” she said, her nerves getting the better of her. “You aren’t going to rat me out, are you? I mean, can’t we lay aside that whole Gryffindor hating Slytherin and visa versa for the night?”

A smile, as close to a genuine smile she had ever seen on his face lit up his features. It wasn’t forced, but it wasn’t natural either.

“Well, despite that said rivalry being as close to my lifeblood as anything, I suppose that can be arraigned. I would have to ‘rat on myself’ as well, remember that. McGonagall has gotten me on that one before, the old hag.” He added the last part as an afterthought, but Ginny still had to fight back a laugh.

“I wouldn’t call her a hag. She far better looking than a hag,” Ginny said, trying to defend one of her favorite teachers.

“Didn’t know you swung that way, Weasley,” Draco said, obviously joking as he turned his attentions back the piano. “Pity.”

“Oh, I see how it is,” Ginny said, bumping her shoulder against his. “You think that I’m a lesbian so now it’s back to Weasley, eh?”

“At least I said it was a pity,” he said plainly.

“Oh. Well, it’s not a pity!” Ginny said shrilly, getting irritated with the vein of conversation they seemed to be headed down.

“Not a pity that I don’t have a chance?” He continued to play a soft tune while Ginny sat stunned. What did he mean that he didn’t have a chance?

“Excuse me?” she tried.

“Well, are you a lesbian?”

“No!”

“Then I have a chance.” Ginny blew a stray strand of hair out of her eyes in aggravation, knowing she wouldn’t get a straight answer out of him. Uncrossing her arms, she decided to that she might as well go for broke.

“Draco, have you been having odd dreams? I mean, is that why you aren’t asleep?” He stopped playing, and turned to her.

“No, I’m simply nocturnal.” He held her in a steely gaze for a moment, and then said, “But you have. Am I right?”

Her eyes grew big for a moment, then she looked down. “Yes.”

Draco took her face in his hand, and lifted it up gently so she looked at him once again.

“Tell me about them.”

For one moment, she was ready to do just that. She was ready to pour her heart out to the Death Eater’s son, the boy who’s family hated hers with a passion. One instant stood out of the insanity of the situation, and in that instant she could confide in him anything assured that he wouldn’t tell another soul. But soon the moment vanished.

Standing up abruptly, she startled Draco into letting her go.

“I must be mad,” she muttered to herself and headed towards the door before a hand circled her wrist.

“I’m not.” His eyes, the fathomless eyes bored into her own. Was he putting a spell on her? Was that why she felt powerless to leave?

“Malfoy,” she started, noting he did not flinch at how harshly she said his name. “What is going on here? Since when do you go around concerned about my nightmares keeping me up at all hours?”

“So they’re nightmares,” he said, sounding more and more like an analyst.

“And since when did you become a bloody shrink?” Ginny said, exasperated. She pulled her hand out of his grasp, but headed towards the back of the room, near the fireplace.

“Look, I know what you want to do,” she said sighing, looking out the window. “You want to find out what I’ve been dreaming so you and your little cronies can have a good laugh. ‘Oh look at the little Gryffindor, scared of her own damned shadow.’ Well guess what?” she said rounding on him. “This is one Gryffindor you don’t get to make fun of! Now get out!”

She was a little out of breath when she finished her tirade, but he didn’t budge, nor look like he had any inclination to do so. “Well?” she asked, pointing to the door. He moved, but not to leave. Instead, he plopped down into one of the large soft blue chairs by the fire.

“I found this room, so therefore I stay. You want to leave, be my guest.”

Ginny made a muffled scream before sitting on another chair not facing him. Knowing that once again she had let her temper go off and make an ass of herself, she sank farther and farther into the chair, mortified when the tears began making tracks down her face. She began searching her robes for a tissue when a hand holding a handkerchief monogrammed ‘DM’ was before her.

“Thank you,” she whispered miserably. He sat beside her in the large chair while she cried, telling him about the dreams that had taken over her nights.

“I’m sorry,” she finally said, feeling very relieved. “I shouldn’t have…”

“Judged me by my actions? Please, I wouldn’t trust me.” He seemed very sad, almost regretful, or as regretful as a Malfoy could sound, anyway.

“Well, I do.”

“Do what?” he asked, looking down at her. She took his hand in hers. Friendly, but almost carrying a promise of something more.

“Trust you.”

***

Arabella woke to a completely full moon illuminating her room. There he was, the love of her life, in her arms, in her bed. Snoring.

When did he start snoring?

She curled up beside him, not caring about the noise in the slightest. Any noise meant he was alive, here, with her. Only now, after the stymied passion had been released did she notice how thin he had gotten. His once-muscular physique was now on the lanky side, much more like Remus, or James. His dark hair, once nearly black was showing signs of gray. It wasn’t the outside changes that penetrated her heart, though. It was the pain and anguish that she saw in his eyes. The tears once again crept into her eyes without her noticing.

“Cor, I’m like a damned waterworks,” she muttered, the small vibration against his chest waking Sirius out of his slumber.

“Hey, watch it. You’re getting my chest all wet,” he mumbled into her hair, not wanting too much to move.

“Oh, stuff it.” She let her fingers roam his back, glad to feel the tactile sensations of love once more. “You snore now. Did you know that?”

“Remus said I snore when I’m a dog. I dispute the point. Dogs can’t snore.”

“Yes they can!” she said indignantly. “The only dog mum ever had snored worse than my father!”

“Your mum had a dog?” Sirius asked, amusement traced on his face. “Boy, I have been away for a long time.”

Arabella laughed, knowing the reputation her mother had. “I know. She got it right after…” She stopped in mid-sentence.

“After I was arrested?” Sirius traced the line of Arabella’s face, noting the way her eyes got over-bright. “Bella, please don’t cry anymore.”

Irritated, she slapped his arm, albeit lighter than usual. “Oh, like I can stop them. It’s not like I don’t have a good reason to or anything.”

“No!” Sirius said, gathering her up in his arms, blankets and all and leading her over to the window. “You have no reason to be upset! You’re here, I’m with you, Remus is most likely in his room looking for fleas and we’ve been rolling about starkers for a few hours! I happen to think life is grand!”

The second slap was quite harder than the first.

***

Albus Dumbledore returned to his office later than he had intended to, hoping that Sirius hadn’t waited for too long. Most of the faculty knew of his being in the area, but the Head Boy, Head Girl and some of the prefects knew his password as well, and he could only hope that if one of them paid a visit Sirius would have the presence of mind to hit them square with a memory charm.

Surprisingly, when he entered his office he found it empty, save a shattered tea set on the ground near his door. Concerned, he noted a new piece of paper sitting prominently on his desk. Curiously he picked it up.

Albus,

Sorry I missed you.

Some unfinished business to attend to.

Sirius

Puzzled, he set the note back down, repaired the tea set and went to feed Fawkes before he headed to bed. A knock sounded at the door, signaling the arrival of Minerva.

“Good evening, Albus,” she said, sounding a great deal more tense than she looked. “Isn’t Arabella in here? I saw her heading this way almost an hour ago.”

The pieces in Dumbledore’s mind fit together almost instantly, causing him to laugh so hard that McGonagall began to fear he had finally lost it.

“Gracious, Albus,” she said, casting a judicious eye on him. “What in the world is wrong with you?”

“Minerva McGonagall, you owe me ten galleons!” he managed to choke out between guffawing.

“Ten galleons? Whatever for?”

Gaining a semblance of control, he summoned the tea set and tapped the kettle with his wand.

“Tea, Minerva?” he asked, a definite sparkle in his eye. “This may take awhile.”

***

The clock in the Common Room chimed one, startling Hermione out of her book. Fred, George and Katie had left, but Ron and Harry were still playing Gobstones for Knuts.

“Honestly, you two,” Hermione said in her usual exasperated tone. “You would think you were still first years or something.” They were the only three left in the Common Room.

“Come on, Mio,” Harry said, wiping his face with a handkerchief after losing the last point. “We’re just having fun.”

“And for us, that doesn’t include homework,” Ron added, pleased at his winning streak.

“What class is that for, anyway,” Harry asked, pointing at the book in her lap.

“Well… actually,” Hermione said, her cheeks rather pink and her voice equally squeaky. “It’s for…”

“Runes, right?” Ron added almost too hastily. “My sister has the same one.” Harry was too busy looking at Ron to notice the thankful expression Hermione was throwing the redhead’s way.

“Speaking of which,” Hermione said, stashing the book into her bag and standing, “Where is she?”

“Who?” Ron asked.

“Your sister, stupid,” Harry said, still amazed after all these years by his best friend’s short attention span.

“I dunno,” Ron said, looking concerned nonetheless. “Suppose she went up to bed. It is rather late, isn’t it?”

“Yes, that it is,” Hermione said, tossing her bag over her shoulder. “I’m turning in. See you tomorrow!”

Harry and Ron turned to each other.

“I don’t know what it is,” Harry began, closely examining Ron’s reaction, “But I get the feeling Hermione is trying to hide something.”

Ron’s ears turned a bit pink. “Why, whatever are you yammering on about?”

Harry knew this discussion was pointless. He didn’t think that Ron was actually hiding anything; Ron was too transparent for secrets. Most likely he was simply trying to avoid taking sides against his two best friends.

The two then began to bicker about whose turn it was to pick up the Gobstones, thoughts of Hermione’s mysterious book and Ginny’s nocturnal wanderings far from their minds.

***

Her eyes red-rimmed from crying, Ginny relaxed against Draco’s firm shoulder, comforted intangibly by his presence. She told him about the dreams, the continuing visions of hooded strangers entering the castle and blasting everything in sight. He sat there and listened to every word, only occasionally using his thumb to wipe away a stray tear.

It had been surprisingly therapeutic; unloading her problems on someone she had held in a certain level of contempt all her life, almost eerily so. But he had listened, and that somehow changed everything. The Draco Malfoy she was sharing the chair with was very different than the Draco Malfoy her brothers, Harry and Hermione had hexed the beejebas out of last year.

Sniffling, she finally let go of his hand. “Thank you,” she said, clearly embarrassed as she used the handkerchief he had given her to blow her nose.

He shrugged indifferently. “You needed to get that off your chest.” An evil smirk spread across his face. “Anything else you feel the need to get off your chest, you just… ow!”

Ginny had smacked him in his arm, grinning nonetheless. The thought of having Draco assisting her with removing any ‘items’ that may have been on her chest wasn’t as foreign as it probably should have been.

“You still haven’t told me what you’re doing roving around the castle tonight,” Draco said, which as Ginny reflected was correct. “I mean, why leave that cozy tower of yours to go traipsing around and risk running into Filtch? Unless that was your plan all along… I suppose I’m just a replacement as you couldn’t find him?” The smirk was broader than ever.

“Oh yes, tall, dark and ugly. My type exactly.” The grin still hadn’t left her face. “Good lord, Draco, here I am, pouring my heart out to you, and you’re make jokes about Filtch.”

“Sometimes it’s not smart to dwell on your problems for too long.” He had slumped back into the chair, and he seemed to be withdrawing from more than just the conversation.

“I probably should get back.” Ginny couldn’t put her finger on it, but something in the room had changed, and it was no longer safe for them to stay. She stood, but not before a hand circled her wrist.

“Will you meet me again? Here, tomorrow night?” There was almost no inflection in his voice, but his eyes were almost begging her to say yes.

Leaning down, she gave him a chaste peck on his cheek. “Of course.” She almost scurried out of the room, her ears bright pink. He watched her go, noting the way she moved. She was utterly graceful, but at the same time utterly unaware of it.

“It’s just hormones, Malfoy,” he thought out loud. “Get over it.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and left the room as well, walking slowing into the night.

***

Minerva left Dumbledore’s office a good deal tipsier than she had entered, as not only were they pleased by the apparent reconciliation of two of her favorite students, but they also had received an Owl from Hagrid and Madame Maxime that was most promising indeed. Those combined were as good a reason as any, Dumbledore thought, for a bit of celebration with help from Ogden’s Old Firewhisky.

Groggily, she made her way back to her office, smiling into the silence. Her students would never believe that strict Headmistress McGonagall was out, running about the school half-drunk in the dead of the night.

Dead. She shook her head, almost as if she could shake out the word itself. Death would be more prevalent these days, for the young as well as the old. It was not a pleasant thought. Is that why she and Severus had entered into this foolish affair? The logical part of her brain told her to end it all, and save herself and him a lot of unnecessary heartache. Unfortunately the logical part had been beaten into submission by the illogical part, leaving her as she was now; drunk, tired and worried about him desperately.

Her heightened senses, one of the bonuses of being an Animagus, suddenly were assaulted; knowing instinctively there was an animal in the hallway. Sobering as quickly as she could, she flung her wand in its direction and nearly shouted “Lumos!”

Out came a gray wolf, and even in her drunken state she knew it was laughing at her.

“Very funny, Professor Lupin. What are you doing out of Arabella’s room?” The animal almost shrugged, or as near as a wolf could come to shrugging and then pawed on a door nearby.

“Locked out?” McGonagall said, the snicker evident in her voice. The wolf looked disgruntled, so she shrugged and scratched behind his ears.

“Very well, you can sleep in my office, but just for tonight!” The wolf yipped, happily, following her down the hallway. McGonagall turned around abruptly at her doorway.

“But no sleeping on the couch!”

***

Draco Malfoy sulked his way into the Slytherin Common Room slightly after two. He wasn’t surprised to see a few third and fourth years milling about, as it was their night for Astronomy and were most likely just now getting back, but one unwelcome Slytherin made her presence known in her usual none-too-subtle way.

“And just where have you been, Draco,” Pansy said, glaring at him from her place by the fire. He tried to ignore her, but she stepped right into his path.

“Don’t act like you don’t see me, Draco,” she said, and in one horrifying instant he realized she was not only drunk but also using what she thought was a wonderfully seductive voice. This wouldn’t end well. “I know what you’re up to.”

“I can absolutely guarantee you, Pansy,” Draco said, with malice lacing his voice, “I am not up to anything right now.” He smirked at his own double-entrie.

“Oh, no,” she said, placing her hand on his shoulder and giving it a light squeeze. “I see right through you. This whole ‘hard to get’ attitude is quite transparent.”

“So is your shirt,” he threw back at her, doing his best to not look down at the aforementioned article of clothing. “Now if you’ll excuse me…” He began walking up the stairs to the room he had been given as a Prefect, but not before Pansy made one last remark.

“Mark my words, Draco. I will find out what’s going on here.” He made a careless gesture behind his head, then closed the door with a slam.

Sinking to the ground with his back against the door, he wondered just what the hell had gotten into him. Pansy may have the personality of a water rat, but she was no fool. Making her irate had never been high on his ‘to do’ list, and certainly made things more complicated. If she found out that he was meeting Ginny, then Ginny might be in some serious trouble. He wouldn’t put it past Pansy to hex anyone who she considered a rival.

So why bother? The little sixth year was intriguing, yes, but there was more to it than that or he wouldn’t bother risking it. Ginny Weasley was an enigma, and the dreams she had told him about were merely the tip of the iceberg.

He lay on top of the lush green comforter, fully dressed and staring up at the ceiling for a good while before finally falling into a fitful sleep himself, punctuated by dreams with nondescript flashes of red.

***

Hermione sat, still trying to process the increasingly difficult book in her hands. She had come back down to read once she heard Harry and Ron head up to the dormitory. She knew that she was probably safer trying to read in her own room if she didn’t want to be disturbed, but her new room didn’t have a fireplace, and she counted among the simple pleasures of life curling up by the fire with a good book.

Being a Prefect certainly did have its advantages. Her new room had a very large bookcase, filled to the gills with books even she had never read, and a comfortably overstuffed chair near the bay window. It was too much to hope that she would go uninterrupted all night, as she knew at least one of the Gryffindor couples had left earlier for a bit of ‘additional Astronomy study’ and would most likely come in making a dreadful racket at some point. She really didn’t want to have to deal with Pavarti and Dean at this point.

She knew that everyone was counting on her to figure it out, but this code…

Harry came down the stairs, blinking the sleep out of his eyes. “Hermione?”

She tried to hide the book, but the additional movement simply drew more attention. Harry plopped down next to her and took the book out of her hands.

“Still studying for runes?” he asked, rubbing his glasses out of the way of his eyes. “Isn’t it awfully late to be studying something you have no homework in?” He gave her a crooked grin, and Hermione came the closest she had yet to telling him.

“No, I just got really into the book, that’s all,” she said, praying that her reputation as a bookworm would come through yet again. She had made a promise that she wouldn’t tell him, not just yet, and she never broke her word. “What are you doing down here?”

“Oh, Ron and Seamus are still awake. They’ve been whispering all night long and it kept waking me up. I envy Neville. He just keeps snoring away.” Hermione sat straight up.

“Did you overhear what they were talking about?” She knew her voice was approaching the shrill end of the octave, but if those two were up there, blathering on with Harry right there…

“No, I was too busy trying to sleep,” Harry said, standing as well and looking at her with concern in his eyes. “Hermione, are you feeling ok? You look a little…”

He took in the frazzled nature of her hair, worse than usual, and that was saying something, the strain in her features and the way her hands were balled into little fists.

“…Stressed. I think I’m going to go to the kitchens.” He motioned with the Invisibility Cloak in his hands. She hadn’t noticed it until now. “Would you like me to get you some warm tea or something?”

Hermione took the book out of his hands and walked over to the staircase. “I think I’m just tired, Harry. I think it’s time I turned in. Good night.” Harry watched her walk up the stairs, but turn in the opposite direction of her room and towards the Fifth Year Boy’s Dormitory. Hermione? Sneaking into the Boy’s room? For an instant, he thought he should follow her, but he wasn’t sure why. One question just kept plaguing him. What were Ron and Hermione hiding?