Sympathy for the Slytherin

Sympathy for the Slytherin By Heysweet

Chapter 5: Scars

Author’s Notes: Reviews are always so very welcome! I hope you like this chapter. It’s sizeable and jam packed. Woohoo! Have fun. Enjoy. Yaaay. .

Chapter 5: Scars

Hermione ambled back to Gryffindor Tower alongside Harry in a daze. Harry had managed to calm down after she had reminded him in angry whispers, that should they get caught so soon after their last transgression they might be expelled, or worse, get detention with Snape. His behavior worried her nearly as much as Draco’s stunt. Harry was always so level headed in a crisis, she couldn’t help but wonder why a fancy, albeit death defying quidditch move had managed to distract him from the fact that Malfoy had nearly killed himself. Interestingly, his euphoria had waned as the purple glow in his scar dimmed. Hermione didn’t know what to think of that. They nodded goodnights to each other in the common room and Hermione headed back to bed. She couldn’t get over how topsy turvy everything had become. Ron the Bullheaded was now reading minds and becoming ridiculously mature about things. She’d talked to Ginny at lunch about potions and Hermione couldn’t help but marvel at her obvious brilliance on the subject. Harry was a human black light, Draco was suicidal and as for herself, the irony of her prophetic dreaming had not escaped her. She remembered well the day in third year when she left Trelawney’s class in a huff. But she couldn’t now ignore the power of her dreaming. If she’d passed her last dream off as a nightmare or a coincidence, she realized, Draco might well be dead by now. Hermione shivered at the thought and stepped into her private bedroom.

“You’re one stubborn tutor, you know.”

Hermione gasped a little and stopped short to see Draco sitting in her window seat, staring out at the night. She took a deep breath and walked to the window, standing near him.

“You scared the magic out of me, Malfoy,” Hermione said.

He knew very well that she meant his little leap of faith had scared her. She gazed down at him as he stared unblinkingly out at the stars. The half moon was bright through the window and cast shadows on his face so that she couldn’t quite see his eyes.

“I told you to call me Draco,” he reminded her.

She pursed her lips and sat down on the edge of her bed. “And I told you to call me Hermione,” she said, “not ‘mudblood’.”’

“Fair enough,” he muttered.

Hermione sighed and looked away. She didn’t notice Draco turn his star gazing upon her and didn’t know that he was closely watching the way the moonlight reflected on her long hair and played off her neck when she moved.

Hermione, who usually knew everything, did not have an answer for this situation. Draco was up and down, back and forth and she didn’t know what he expected of her.

For that matter, Draco wasn’t quite sure what she expected from him.

“Why are you doing this?” he finally asked, looking straight at her.

“Doing what?” she asked, rubbing her eyes.

“Tutoring me, grabbing me out of windows... Why are you dreaming about me?” he asked, his eyes penetrating her.

“I don’t know exactly why I’m dreaming about you,” she admitted.

“Plenty of girls dream about me, of course,” he pointed out, suddenly slipping into Snarky Draco Mode. “I’m just wondering if there’s anything outside of the usual reasons?”

“Prat. They aren’t those kind of dreams,” she said, though her lips turned up in a wry smile.

“Feign to deny it, Hermione,” he said. “I can understand that it may have so affected you that-”

“Draco!” she growled. But she was laughing just the same. He was smiling after all, and she considered that a good thing. They chuckled a bit and then became awkwardly silent.

“So why then?” he asked again. “You didn’t have to tutor me.”

Hermione stood up and looked around her room, as if for inspiration. “Because,” she said, grasping for something profound. “Because... Because people can change,” she said finally. “Because I trust Dumbledore’s judgment and McGonagall asked me too. And because...”

“Because what?” he said.

“That’s all really,” she said, a bit embarrassed. But it wasn’t all. There was also that strong feeling that had simply compelled her to say yes to McGonagall in the first place. There were the dreams themselves and a startling notion that she was just meant to.

Draco nodded, seeming to accept this. He stood up and put his hands in the pockets of his black trousers and slunk against the wall.

“You should sleep,” he said resignedly.

“Can I ask you a question?” she said.

“You just did,” he quipped.

She ignored the cheap joke and went ahead though she knew she was asking for trouble. “Were you really going to jump?” she asked. “And I mean, without the broom.”

“I think you know when I’ll tell you that, Hermione.”

It still sounded odd when he said her name. It was the way he drew it out. He said it slower then anyone else she knew.

“Right, “ she said. “When you’re drunk and I’m dead?”

“Or the other way around,” he said casually. “I’m sure we can work something out.”

“Well, we’ve already seen you drunk,” she said with a twinkle in her eye. “And we certainly don’t need to see it again.”

Draco preferred not to think about what he had done and more properly, what had been done to him when he was intoxicated. The memories had returned to him while in the middle of Charms and Draco had silently sunk his head in his hands as a vision of himself with ram horns and green hair danced through his mind. Worse was what he’d done with Hermione. He clearly recollected the phrase “sexy little mudblood.” The thought made him cringe. Of course, he’d called her that in the tower and over the last two days. But he justified to himself that he didn’t mean it anymore, he was just trying to get her out of his face.
Draco had been, in a sense, scared straight by all that had happened to him a few months ago. He’d been on the verge of rebelling against his father for the past year. And on his periphery had been Hermione, a muggle-born witch.

“You should sleep,” he said again.

Hermione rolled here eyes. “Me? Are you sleeping?”

Draco stared at the ceiling, avoiding her gaze.

“I thought so,” she said. “You slept for a few hours in the common room the other night. I just need to get you in a laying down position.” Hermione colored even as the words slipped out of her mouth.

Draco’s perturbed expression quickly split into a grin, the likes of which Hermione was sure she’d never seen on his face.

“Hermione!” he said rather joyfully.

“That’s not what I meant!”

Hermione collapsed backwards in her bed and shut her eyes, frustrated by her unconscious innuendoes. Why did Draco seem to find the lurid in simply everything?

Then again, she thought, he probably wasn’t thinking on sexual terms regarding me back when he thought of me as scum.

So, a logical voice in her mind started to say, do you imagine he’s thinking of you on sexual terms now?

That’s not what I meant!

Perfect, she thought, now his voice is in my head.

Hermione felt a pressure on her knees and opened her eyes to see Draco, very nonchalantly resting his arms on her folded legs and grinning like the cat who ate the canary.

“If it’s not what you meant then why, may I ask, are you lying down on a bed? Alone in a room with a strange boy in the middle of the night?”

Draco had to admit to himself that this entertaining banter with his pretty faced tutor was putting him in very good spirits. Her slips of the tongue were heartily distracting him from everything else that seemed irreparably damaged. And as a red blooded teenage boy, he couldn’t help but derive a great amount of pleasure from dancing around these subjects with the girl who had such soft looking lips.

Hermione took a deep breath and tried to sit up, but Draco was insistent on having his arms crossed on her knees and was looking down at her in satisfaction.

“But you aren’t a strange boy,” she argued.

“A strange man then?” he asked. “I can hardly disagree. I am a rather impressive specimen if I do-”

“Insufferable git!” she cried. “Just stuff it! I believe I asked you a question and that question was, are you sleeping?”

Draco’s grin fell a bit.

“That’s what I thought. Well, as I was saying, you slept alright in the library when I was talking to you...”

“Yes,” he agreed. “Those family holiday stories put me to sleep instantly.”

Hermione responded by kicking him in the ribs with her socked foot to which Draco protested, “Hey, that tickles!”

Oh good Merlin, she thought, now I’ve tickled his tummy.

She also filed away the surprising information that Draco Malfoy, of all people, was actually ticklish. She would’ve thought he’d be immune.

“I was going to say,” she said, pretending to be heavily annoyed, “that it’s probably a psychological reaction and that you probably just need a little human contact...”

Draco waggled his eyebrows, “What kind of contact are you suggesting, Hermione?”

“Nothing like that!” she said quickly. “Good Lord! I just meant you probably can’t sleep when you’re alone. You could sleep with me if you want-”

Oh, bloody... Hermione thought weakly.

Hermione grabbed the nearest pillow and held it over her face, groaning silently into goose down. Meanwhile Draco, who was truly having fun for the first time in perhaps half a year and maybe more fun then he’d ever had in his life was laughing hysterically to the point of choking to death.

Please, he thought coughing, let me live so I can remind her of that sentence for the rest of our natural lives.

Hermione felt Draco plop onto her bed and reluctantly took the pillow off of her beet red face. Draco was mere inches away, lying on his side, his head propped on his hand.

“Well, of course I’m flattered-”

“Draco-

“And I certainly understand your feelings-”

“I meant sleep-”

“But as you are my tutor, I don’t see how it would at all be appropriate-”

“Oh!”

Draco was finally stopped by a barrage of pillow punching by a rather aggravated Hermione. Draco defended himself and the two tussled and suddenly Draco was very, very grateful for Dumbledore’s excellent taste in tutors. Finally Hermione gave up and lay back, exhausted on the bed. Draco didn’t realize he was biting his lip. It was just the way she lay there all good naturedly annoyed with him, her hair now mussed and splayed out in all directions.

“Skrewt,” she said, pouting a little.

Draco lay back next to her. “Did you just call me a skrewt?”

“Highly blast ended.”

Draco’s lips twitched in amusement. His habit was to spit out the despised “mudblood” but he could hardly do that anymore. The only thing he could think of at the moment was...

“Prefect.”

She giggled,”Is that an insult?” Hermione smacked him on the shoulder. “Ferret.”

They were quiet for a bit until Draco broke the silence.

“That hurt you know,” he said thoughtfully.

“What?” she asked. “Calling you a ferret? I’m sure it-”

“No,” he interrupted. “I mean when Moody turned me into a ferret. Er, not Moody,” he said, correcting himself. “Barty junior. Not so much the transfiguring but the bouncing part.”

“I know,” she said. “Of course, he shouldn’t have done that. Then again, he wasn’t really a teacher.”

“You know why he did that to me of all people, right?” he asked.

“Well,” she said, “you were about to hex Harry, weren’t you?”

“Yes, “ Draco said, “but he was trying to get on Potter’s good side. And he knew he could do that to me without consequences.”

Hermione brain clicked and she realized his point. “Oh, because your father and he...”

“Both death eaters,” he finished. “Of course, if Lupin or some regular person had pulled that, my father would have had a fit but... Barty junior probably even cleared it with him first.”

Hermione felt a pang of sympathy. Draco was busy brooding now. The thought of Barty junior had awakened all his fears and confused emotions.

“I never wished you harm really,” she said. “You were mostly just a big brat about things. A nasty bully, but not evil.”

Hermione was remembering the Hipogriff incident.

As if reading her mind, Draco said suddenly, “Of course, the Buckbeak episode hurt much worse.”

Hermione snorted a little, “You did insult him.”

“I didn’t think he could really understand me,” he protested. “And he was ugly.”

“That was scary,” Hermione admitted. “There was a lot of blood. Not that you didn’t milk it for all it was worth.”

Draco was chuckling, “Be fair, Hermione. I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to have Potter and Weasley doing my work for me. And as for Hagrid, you must admit he makes some unwise decisions about his little sessions. I don’t need to jump out of a window, I’ll probably get killed in one of Hagrid’s classes soon enough.”

“Don’t be a prick, Draco,” she said happily.

Draco’s eyebrow rose in surprise. “Right then, prefect. What time is it anyway?”

Hermione looked up at the clock which told both muggle and magical time. The clock said “what on earth are you doing up” and 4:30 am.

“Merlin, it’s nearly five,” she breathed.

Draco shrugged. “Yeah, but tomorrow’s Saturday.”

“We should study tomorrow,” she said. “We’ve got that potents table...”

“That’s not due to til Friday!”

“Exactly,” she said. “We’ve got detention with Hagrid tomorrow night too.”

Draco sighed, “Goody gumdrops. Probably have us birthing manticores or something.”

Hermione rolled over onto her stomach and propped herself up on her elbows, looking at Draco.

“Draco...”

He seemed so relaxed beside her. His now longish white blonde hair was tousled and a bit, she had to let herself think, more then a bit... sexy. He was staring up at her with those eyes that she had begun to notice, changed color a little depending on his mood. Sometimes they were a pale gray, the color of rain clouds. And sometimes they darkened, the color of stone. But when he was happy they turned a little blue. He’d called himself a strange boy before, but man did seem to be closer to the truth. It was that man/boy in between time. His shoulders were wide and she could catch a glimpse of some pleasing biceps peaking out from his short sleeves. Boys, she realized, always seemed to just sprout muscles at about age fifteen. Of course, he’d played quidditch the year before but that was nearly six months ago. Had she ever noticed how handsome he was? She probably hadn’t let herself.

Hermione was so lost in thought that she didn’t quite realize that on Draco’s side of things, they were in the midst of a very intense pause in the conversation during which their eyes were fixed on each other. Hermione’s hair was falling around her shoulders and so long that it was brushing against his arm. Draco could hardly contain himself. He wondered if she had any idea. Here she was after all, a beautiful girl paying him a lot of attention. He was used to girls paying him attention, but it was usually a very artificial, fawning attention, all loud and girlish flirtation. This was different.

He wanted to kiss her. His mouth was open a little and his breath was quick. He really, really wanted to kiss her. Instead he settled for raising his right hand to play with the hair that was torturing him, which he still considered daring for their purposes. Hermione seemed to snap out of her trance and smiled.

“I hadn’t made up my mind,” he said.

She quirked her eyebrows as he twirled a tress around her fingers. “About what?”

“About jumping,” he said simply. “Without the broom.”

Hermione’s expression turned serious and she nodded. She reached up and took the hand that was fidgeting with her hair in her own two hands. She was examining his scars as if solving an arithmancy problem and tracing them with her fingers.

“I’m glad you didn’t,” she said. “Although that free fall stunt was terrifying.”

“You know about free falling?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Harry told me what it was. He was very impressed.”

Draco felt a surge of satisfaction. Harry was easily the best quidditch player in the school now and he considered it a victory that he’d pulled that dangerous feat before Potter had tried it.

Hermione let go of his hand and laid on her side, her head settled on a pillow. Draco saw her heavy eyelids looking droopy.

“You can sleep if you want,” he said.

“I’m not sleeping til you sleep,” she insisted.

“I’m not tired.”

They lay there silently and Hermione held out for a long while until she finally nodded off.
“Hermione?” he said softly. “You asleep?”

She didn’t answer and Draco stared at the ceiling trying to picture the future. Hermione apparently could predict the future, or dreamt it anyway. He reminded himself to ask her more about her dreams. It sounded like she’d had a few that concerned him. Maybe Hermione could tell him something about his destiny. Though, according to Dumbledore, there was no such thing as destiny. It was Hermione echoing his father’s words that had stopped him in the tower.

Just turn from it...

She made it sound possible.

Draco looked at Hermione and whispered, “You made me want to live.”

************************************************************************

“You’re kidding!”

Ron’s eyes were lit up like a wizard’s Christmas tree.

“I thought he was dead for sure!” Harry exclaimed.

“He’s got to show us how. I’ve only seen pictures. Quiddit ch News keeps running warnings against free falling. It’s pretty underground, everyone thinks it’s too dangerous.”

“It can’t possibly be allowed here,” Harry pointed it out.

They were digressing, Harry suddenly realized. The real point of the story was that Draco was so desperate, he’d nearly leapt to his death. That and the mysteriously glowing scar which was more then a bit troublesome.

“Oh yeah,” Harry said casually. “And my scar was glowing.”

Ron’s eyes widened. “Your scar was what?!”

Harry looked around to see heads turning around the Gryffindor Table where they sat eating breakfast and grimaced.

“Shh!” Harry hissed. “Do you want to start a riot?” he whispered.

“That can’t be good!” Ron whispered.

Harry shrugged. “It was itching worse then ever, that’s why I found Hermione. And she told me it was glowing purple but it went away later, when we got back from Astronomy Tower. I was going to talk to Dumbledore,” Harry said worriedly. “But I asked McGonagall before breakfast and she said he’s away on ministry business all day.”

Ron nodded. “You think you should tell... Snuffles?”

Harry shook his head vehemently. “Absolutely not! Ron, if I tell him he’ll come running out here and he can’t take the risk. And besides that, he’s got more important things to worry about.”

The subject of Serious was a sore one. After two and a half years, his name had still not been cleared and he was still on the run. Ever since the truth had come out about Crouch in fourth year, the ministry had been as loath as ever to admit they had made a mistake. From what Harry understood from his letters, Serious was somewhere hiding in secret with a tightly knit group of aurors all of whom were, in a sense, outcasts of the ministry and keeping their own tabs on Voldemort’s activities. Lupin was with him, according to a letter referring to a “pet wolf.”

Harry didn’t like thinking about the absence of the closest thing he had to a father and quickly changed the subject.

“Do you have any idea what Ginny is up to?” Harry asked. “She keeps mumbling about a special potions project and disappearing into Snape’s dungeons.”

Ron shrugged. “I don’t know exactly, but she was thinking a lot about the Voxius potion last night.”

“Voxius changes your voice, doesn’t it?” Harry asked.

“I think so,” Ron said.

Harry mulled over his suddenly mysterious girlfriend and poked at his porridge.

“I wonder where Hermione is,” he said. “Not like her to sleep in. Even on a Saturday.”

Ron’s eyes rolled up to the ceiling. “Um... I don’t read her or Malfoy right now. Then again, I’ve been buzzy all morning. There are about a hundred people in my head right now and I have no idea what language they’re thinking in.”

“I need to know what happened with Draco,” Harry said.

“Don’t look at me,” Ron muttered. “I can hardly make sense of him.”

“I have an idea how to find out...” Harry said slowly.

Ron, who was usually up for any semi-dangerous or fully dangerous exploit was a little wary of Harry’s tone.

“What is it?” Ron asked.

“Well,” Harry said, “he does have a pensieve... Odds are, he’s used it already.”

Ron narrowed his eyes. “Harry, I’ve already seen inside Malfoy’s brain. Do I have to jump into his memories too?”

“Ron, my scar is glowing.”

“You may have a point.”

*******************************************************

Hermione and Draco slept right through breakfast on Saturday morning and until nearly eleven. At around ten-thirty, Draco eased out of a peaceful sleep and into a very pleasant reality. He opened his eyes to see that Hermione was treating him much like a gigantic teddy bear. She slept with her head on his shoulder, her arm over his chest almost protectively and her leg flung over his body.

Draco sighed,”You’re a very good tutor.”

Her hand was right over his heart and he wondered how the pulse of it’s beating had not wakened her. He put his left hand over hers and imagined himself waking up in a similar position with Hermione every morning. He felt her stir and closed his eyes, pretending to be asleep.

Hermione woke and her breath caught in her throat. Draco’s face was turned toward hers and very close. She slowly became aware of her unprofessional position.

Oh, great green crikey in the sky, why didn’t I see this coming?

Hermione wasn’t sure what her move should be. Particularly since she was luxuriously comfortable. Draco was lean and muscular but in this relaxed state was quite a useful pillow. She was also fascinated by the beating of his heart under her hand. Hermione decided she was becoming much too aware of his body and started to move her hand when she felt him tighten his grip slightly. But he couldn’t stop her from moving her leg which she did with some reluctance. He was disappointed at first until Hermione pulled a surprising move, sliding lazily over him on her front to get to the other side of the bed forcing Draco to let go of her hand. Draco nearly gave himself away, his breath catching in his throat just a little as Hermione’s rather scantily clad self slid over his body. It was, he thought to himself, more like a move that only a lover would make.

“Draco?”

Draco opened his eyes.

“Good morning,” Hermione said cheerfully. “Did you sleep alright?”

“Yes, actually,” he mumbled. “Could use a bit more sleeping in fact,” Draco said, rolling over on his stomach and burrowing into Hermione’s pillows.

“Draco! Draco!” Hermione protested. “It’s eleven o’clock! We’ve got to study, you’ve got so much catching up to do! And we’ve only got six hours before detention!”

Draco opened his eyes and ogled Hermione. “Good Merlin, woman. You’ll be the death of me.”

Hermione found this amusing given their activities the night before and smiled. She got up and preceded to grab Draco’s hands, attempting to drag the apathetic Malfoy off the bed. Hermione got to her feet and gave a hearty yank which made her stumble, bringing both herself and Draco to the floor.

“C’mon, you slug!” she huffed. “Oof!”

Draco found himself lying across Hermione’s legs and propped himself up on his elbow.

“I thought you wanted me in a laying down position?” he asked with a typically sardonic expression.

Hermione matched his wry smile. “Twat,” she said simply.

Draco heaved a melodramatic sigh and stood up, stretching.

“Alright, prefect. Would you mind terribly if I took the luxury of a shower first? Or would that interfere too severely with our studies?”

“Go,” she commanded, crossing her ankles on the floor. “And potion those teeth. You’ve got dragon’s breath.”

His reply was a deftly thrown pillow which bounced off Hermione’s still sleepy eyed face and disheveled her already mussed hair.

“Never in my life!” she heard him declare as he left the room with a swagger.

Hermione shook her head. “Moody boy, that one.”

****************************************************************

Once Draco and Hermione had showered and dressed, it was already time for lunch. They ate with Harry, Ron and Ginny all of whom were acting a little bit shifty. Harry and Ron kept sneaking sly looks at each other when Draco wasn’t looking while Ginny just looked a bit wild-eyed and kept muttering under her breath about how the wizarding world had grievously underestimated echinacea. Hermione rushed Draco through lunch, harping about their dwindling study time and finally the two made their way to the library for research on Snape’s potents table and some catch-up on arithmancy.

“Don’t think I’m doing all your work for you,” she said brusquely as they strode down the corridor. “I’m your tutor, but I’m not one of your old minions like Crabbe or Goyle.”

“Are you mad, woman?” Draco said incredulously. “You think I ever used Crabbe or Goyle to do my homework for me? I do want to pass my classes, you realize.”

Hermione chuckled. “Would you be saying that if this were fifth year?”

“It’s never been a secret that Crabbe and Goyle are blithering twitters,” Draco said. “They’ve got the combined intelligence of Barny the Fruitbat but without the personality. And besides that, they’re not exactly on my list of favorite people after the other night. But I’ll get them back. Zabini and Parkinson too. Bunch of traitors.”

Hermione cast him a sidelong glance. “Well,” she said, “you did choose to leave Slytherin...”

Draco’s eyes flashed. “How did you know that?”

“I have my ways,” she said mysteriously. “But I wondered why.”

Draco sighed and his usual expression of sardony returned.

“The dungeons are so damp,” he drawled, “it was ruining my complexion.”

Hermione though annoyed at his lack of answer just nodded as she pushed open the door of the library. Immediately the twenty inhabitants of the library including Madam Pince, turned their heads to stare at the two Gryffindors. Draco held his head up and swaggered past the tables of gawkers.

“’Morning, all!” he said loudly,as Hermione followed. “Lovely to see you all looking brainless and vacant eyed as usual. Close those mouths, Hufflepuffs! Hasn’t Sprout taught you to breathe through your noses yet?”

Madam Pince looked greatly affronted and was about to shush them until Hermione gave her an appeasing expression and grabbed Draco by the hand, rushing him to a study room. Hermione shut the door of the small study, one of some private rooms set aside for sixth and seventh years.

“Why did you have to say that?” Hermione groaned.

Draco shrugged and set his bag down on a large mahogany table.

“They obviously wanted a show,” Draco said, “I thought I might as well give them one.”

Hermione reflected on this as she unpacked her bag and soon the two were engulfed in the finer points of advanced arithmancy. With Hermione’s help Draco was catching up on the concepts he’d missed and Hermione was impressed his with adeptness on the subject. But after an extended period of studying Hufflian Kinetics, Draco was starting to see arithmancy formulas in double vision.

“Augh,” Draco grunted. “Can we take a break?”

Hermione blinked. “Break?”

She vaguely recollected the idea from the frustrated mumblings of Harry and Ron.

“My mind’s gone foggy,” Draco declared.

Hermione, who could study a single subject for sixteen hours and literally forget to eat also tended to forget that others did not share her singular stamina for academics. She nodded and sat back in her chair, taking the moment to stretch. Draco sat up and couldn’t help but watch, transfixed as Hermione extended her arms above her head and arched her back, letting out a satisfied murmur of pleasure.

Draco swallowed.

“I was wondering,” Hermione said, following a yawn, “why you like muggle music so much?”

Draco shook himself out of his daze and leaned forward on his elbows. Hermione was looking at him intently, now leaning her head on her hand.

“Do you like it better then wizard’s music?” she asked.

Draco didn’t have to think about that one. “Yes,” he said, “I do. Strange, I suppose.”

“Why?” she pressed.

“Because muggle music is...” Draco’s eyes wandered for inspiration, as if the answers were written on the ceiling. “It’s... raw.”

Hermione rose her eyebrows. “Raw?”

“Yeah,” Draco said, “raw. It’s like... Wizard musicians always use magic in their music. They have magical instruments too. Even The Weird Sisters. And they sound good but they sound... too smooth. Magic guitars sound different then those electric kind. They use magic to improve their songs and make the melody flawless but I think by using magic they don’t... I dunno, learn from the mistakes they would’ve made. They don’t use that instinct, I’ve heard most wizarding bands mostly steal from muggle bands too. It’s almost like... like...” Draco grasped for words and sighed.

“Like maybe...” Hermione started to say, “There’s another kind of magic they’re missing out on?”

Draco felt his heart tug a bit. “That’s exactly what I was trying to say,” he whispered.

Hermione smiled. “So do you only like that classic rock stuff?” she asked.

Draco frowned. “What do you mean?”

“All the songs I’ve heard you singing,” she said. “Those are all around thirty years old. Classic rock. Alot has happened since then. Punk, ska, new wave, grunge, rap, dance, techno, emo, alt rock, electronica...”

Draco looked genuinely aroused. “I’ve got to get to London,” he muttered.

“But, “ Hermione said firmly, “none of those are potents.”

Draco moaned dramatically as Hermione got up and made her way back into the main body of the library and toward the potions section. He got up eventually and followed her, though his mind was on music now and trying to figure the soonest opportunity when he could get to a muggle music store. Or maybe, he thought, he could convince Hermione to ask her parents to shop for him.

I’ll need one of those disky thingies!

****************************************************************
After breakfast was Quidditch practice, Harry was the team captain this year, and after Quidditch practice was lunch. During lunch Harry had listened to Hermione babble about nothing but how much studying Draco needed to do in the library, and threw a very purposeful thought in Ron’s direction concerning their pensieve scheme. Ron who was feeling briefly clear headed again, nodded meaningfully. After Ginny had rushed back to the dungeons and Harry and Ron were sure that Draco and Hermione were squirreled away in the library, the two hot footed their way to Gryffindor Tower. Draco’s room was thankfully empty of second years but Harry still felt odd snooping around Malfoy’s things. The pensieve was not out but Ron found it in the bottom drawer of Draco’s dresser. The two of them took the basin out carefully and set it on the floor.

Ron felt his heart pounding as he suspected that Draco’s memories though by themselves harmless, were not for the faint of heart. They two just stared into the shallow misty pool and Harry drew his wand and touched it lightly to the silvery liquid.

“Look,” said Harry, “ he has used it.”

They watched as the silver cleared and a room appeared. It was a dark bedroom of high stone walls and ornate wrought-iron furniture. Draco was in the bedroom, standing toe to toe with Lucius Malfoy. They appeared to be having an argument and finally Lucius shoved Draco against the wall and put his wand to his son’s throat. Lucius cast some sort of spell that made the little veins and capillaries in Draco’s face stand out a bright red and the boy’s mouth stretched wide in a silent scream. Ron and Harry winced at Draco’s obvious pain.

Ron could hardly breathe. “What the hell kind of spell is that?”

”I’ve never seen it before,” Harry said.

Harry reached forward and prodded the pool again. This time they watched as the figure of a girl a few years older then them rose out of the waters and Harry was reminded of his first experience with a pensieve, when he’d seen Bertha Jorkins looming from Dumbledore’s memories. But this girl was lying down on a stone bench of some kind and Harry and Ron gasped when they saw her face. She was extremely pale and gaunt, her face just skin and bones and most alarmingly, she appeared to be bleeding from... everywhere. Her eyes, which they saw were pure white as if she’d been blinded, wept blood and it dribbled from her mouth and nose.

“Who’s that?” Ron whispered.

Harry shook his head. “I don’t know,” Harry said, “but she’s dying.”

The girl was shaking, as if from fever and her breath came shallow. She reached out a small hand, assumingly to an invisible Draco.

“Draco...” the girl rasped. “You can stop them...”

The girl coughed and closed her eyes as drops of blood oozed out of them.

“It’s okay...” she breathed. The girl convulsed and the her life seemed to fade further before them. “Don’t cry, Draco... you can... stop them... Draco...”

With her final words, the girl’s body relaxed and her head fell back.

Harry looked at Ron with grave eyes.

“She’s dead.”

************************************************************

Draco was the only person Hermione knew who could look graceful carrying a two foot stack of books in his arms. Hermione meanwhile carried three large anthologies including Fennian’s Potentes Complexius. As the assignment wasn’t due for nearly a week, Hermione was assured of plenty of research material still available. She led the way back to their room and Hermione frowned to see a strange book lying on their table. It was certainly a book that did not belong to either one of them. Hermione set her selections on the table and stood in front of the massive tome that lay open atop their arithmancy notes.

“Where did this come from?” she asked rhetorically.

Draco set his books on the table and gingerly dusted off his hands.

“Where did what come from?”

“This book,” Hermione said. “We didn’t leave it here. I’ve never even seen it before. I think it’s from the restricted section.”

She gazed down on the open book, not touching it. It appeared to be an anthology of ancient magical artifacts. It was open to an illustration of a strangely shaped gray rock and a lengthy description and history of the stone.

“What’s the ‘frozen flame’? I’ve haven’t heard of it...”

Her words trailed off when she looked up to see Draco, standing beside her, his face ashen and horror in his eyes. Draco had that feeling one gets when the world seems to shift around them. He stepped back and spun around, as if whoever had placed the book on the table would suddenly apperate out of the shadows.

“Who did this?” he whispered. “Who put this here?!”

“I don’t know,” Hermione said. “Draco, what’s wrong? What’s the Frozen Flame?”

Draco couldn’t breathe. He was seeing visions of bleeding eyes, of death and hooded men and that terrible stone. The walls seemed to be closing in and felt the ground slip from under his feet.

******************************

“Draco?”

Hermione heard Draco’s voice from beyond the gloom and slowly opened his eyes.

“What... The flame! No!” He said quickly, sitting up.

“Draco, calm down!” Hermione commanded. “I think you had a flashback of some kind. And then suddenly you leaned on the table and fell to the floor. You passed out. I had to cast a spell to revive you.”

Draco rubbed his aching head where it had hit the floor and frowned.

“I didn’t faint in a girly way did I?” He asked wryly.

Hermione set her jaw in exasperation.

Even at a time like this!

“No, it was very manly,” she said. “Now would you tell me what all this is about?”

Draco was avoiding her eyes.

“Look,” she said. “Somebody put this book here for some purpose so I need to know what’s going on and I think you need to tell me. It’s... Well, it’s killing you!”

Hermione leaned in close, but it was only when she touched his hand that he began to feel that overwhelming sense of horror lift.

“Tell me,” she whispered. “It’s alright.”

Draco stood and sat back down at the table. He did want to tell her. Dumbledore’s pensieve had helped with his little episodes but he needed to let it all come out to someone. And he had the distinct feeling that Hermione needed to know as much as he needed to tell her.

He started to open his mouth and immediately closed it. There was so much to tell that he hardly knew where to start. He closed his eyes and all he could see was his father.
So Draco decided to start there.

“Alright,” Draco said, “you’ve known my father was a death eater at least since the Triwizard. But that was only the beginning. I had foolishly believed what my mother told me. That Lucius was only in it for appearances as one of the pureblood elite. And after the tournament my father said publicly that he was getting out. He said he had run from the dark mark at the Quidditch Cup because he wanted out. He even said that he had been tricked into the whole thing.”

Draco shook his head and sighed. “I don’t know if I ever really believed that but I wanted to. I did think he was leaving it behind in fifth year. I was a good son to my father as a child. I believed what he believed with a child’s mind. It didn’t hit me until I came home after fifth year. Even after Cedric’s death I didn’t... or I didn’t want to...”

His voice trailed off and Hermione squeezed his hand. He looked up to see the compassion in her eyes where he had thought he would he see anger.

“It’s okay,” she whispered. “It’s okay, Draco.”

When she said it he believed her and he continued.

“When I came home after fifth year,” Draco said, “I realized that not only did he have every intention on serving him but that he was quickly becoming you-know-who’s right hand man next to Pettigrew.”

Hermione looked somewhat surprised and Draco nodded. “Oh yes, I know all about him. He came to the house often to discuss plans. All of them. Crabbe and Goyle’s father, Nott and Macnair. You remember Lestrange broke out of Azkaban last year? They were there too. The death eaters were meeting at our house more and more. I heard them making plans, talking about ‘exterminating the unwanted element’ for good. They were talking about something called the Frozen Flame, but I didn’t know what it was. The whole thing was starting to get under my skin. I can’t explain it, but something bothered me...”

Hermione’s stifled a chuckle. “I think that was your conscious, Draco. Took a while to kick in.”

Draco rose his eyebrows. “Oh, that’s what that feels like... odd.” He paused and then continued his story. “One night in July I couldn’t sleep. I went downstairs to the kitchen and I heard a commotion in the corridor. I peaked out and saw Lucius and Pettigrew and Lestrange carrying something toward our dungeons. It was a girl but she was unconscious. I think they petrified her. I couldn’t make out much of what they were saying. They talked about perfecting some kind of extraction technique. At the time I didn’t know what they were extracting. It took me three days to be able to sneak down to the dungeons. I had to buy an invisibility cloak and brew some Confusion Concoction to throw off the guards and sneak it into their supper. That was when I met Lauren.”

Draco looked particularly pained and dropped his gaze to stare away at the wall.

“Lauren was a muggle, an innocent girl. She was only a few years older then us. They kept her in a cell in our dungeon. She was disoriented, she thought she was dreaming or crazy. I explained to her where she was and about the magical world.”

Draco swallowed and ran a hand through his hair. “I didn’t make any promises. I was confused, I guess. I hadn’t much close contact with muggles and she certainly didn’t seem like what my father taught me a muggle was. A day later I went out to Bunger’s Library on Knockturn Alley, trying to find out what about the Frozen Flame. I found a copy of this book, in fact. But by the time I got back to Lauren, she was already sick. I became her... friend. I told her I would help her. And I knew then that my father or you-know-” Draco cleared his throat, “ or Voldemort had managed to recover both pieces of the stone.”

Hermione shook her head. “Draco, I don’t understand. What made her sick?”

Draco pointed at the book. “Don’t you see? The Frozen Flame is a stone that contains a plague. A deadly plague that only strengthens with time.”

Draco leaned closer and pointed at the illustration in the middle of the second page.

“Right there, the picture of the stone makes it look as if it is coming apart. But actually it is coming together. The Frozen Flame is in two identical pieces, once brought together and activated it will spread a plague that will destroy everything it infects. You know your history, Hermione. The Bubonic Plague?”

“Binns said it was created by a powerful dark wizard, Halitos the Bugger,” Hermione said dutifully. “Are you saying...”

Draco met her eyes and for the first time she could really see not only his fear but some sense of guilt. “They’ll tell you that it was a dark wizard who created the Black Death which killed millions,” Draco said. “That it was stopped by Alberic Grunnion who died along with Halitos the Bugger when Grunnion ended it with a series of spells that was never recorded. They’ll tell you that the Ministry created the myth of the disease as a natural phenomenon in fear of a worse backlash against the wizarding world. What they don’t say is that the stone, that stone, the Frozen Flame is what actually contained the plague and it was never destroyed. Only separated and hidden. And if it is again released, the plague will only be worse. And it is. I’ve seen it. It’s been fermenting for more then six hundred years.”

Hermione could hardly breathe, so frightened was she now that she knew this much of the truth.

“But,” she said softly, “wouldn’t the plague have killed the very wizard that created it? It would kill everyone.”

Draco stood up and Hermione watched as he turned away from the seemingly harmless book on the table.

“It doesn’t kill everyone,” he said in a low voice. “It only kills muggles.”

*********************************************************************
Harry and Ron knelt, hovering over the waters of the pensieve where the girl had melted back into it’s gray mists. The liquid swirled and then cleared and there the girl was again inside the pensieve, this time alive though in the same state she was in before and alone in what looked like a dungeon cell.

Harry furrowed his brow with determination. “I think we should go in.”

Ron nodded but looked apprehensive.

“It’s not like anything can happen to us. It’s just a pensieve,” he pointed out.

Ron nodded and the two tentatively reached forward with their fingers and touched the liquid in the basin. The Gryffindor dorm tumbled around them and soon they were standing near the girl who lay on the same stone bench in a cold and damp room that was obviously a dungeon. At the end of the room was a steep staircase that led to a heavy door. Ron and Harry gazed down at the girl who lay helpless and bleeding, breathing with great difficulty and occasionally convulsing. Harry knew there was nothing he could do but still felt the urge to help her in some way. His thoughts were interrupted when the door above them burst open, seemingly of it’s own accord. They could hear the quick footsteps coming down the staircase but there was no one there. And then Draco’s head appeared, hovering next to them. Draco took off an invisibility cloak and tossed it aside. He looked the worse for wear, as if he’d just come from a particularly rough quidditch match, in a wizard’s white dress shirt under Hogwarts robe that was untucked and dirtied with muck and what looked like a few spots of blood. His hair was damp with sweat and there was a cut on his forehead.

The girl wheezed,”Draco...”

Draco knelt at her side and took her hand in his own. “Lauren,” he said, “I’m sorry I took so long. I was looking for a cure.”

“There is... no cure... is there?” Lauren said between heavy breaths.

Draco avoided the answer. “Um... There’s a wizard I know who could help us. The headmaster of my school, but I couldn’t find him. I sent him an owl. You remember I told you about owls?”

“Draco...” she whispered, “I’m going soon...”

He shook his head. “No,” he said firmly, “Dumbledore will find us. He’ll know how. He’ll know how to cure you.”

“Where’s your... father?” Lauren asked.

“They’re going to Grier’s Mountain,” he said quietly.

Ron and Harry saw Lauren with what little strength she had, squeeze Draco’s hand.

“Did they... take the... stone?” she asked.

Draco nodded. “Yes.”

“Draco,” she cried with sudden energy, “you’ve got... to stop them. You’ve got to.”

Ron and Harry were equally somewhat shocked to see tears slip down Draco’s cheeks.

“No,” he said, “I can’t leave you alone like this! We’ve got to wait for Dumbledore. For the cure.”

She squeezed his hand again. “There’s... no cure... Draco.”

Draco wept and reached up to the brush the hair away from Lauren’s damp forehead. “There is,” he whispered, “I know there is. He can find it.”

“You said... I was... your first... human friend?” Lauren whispered.

Draco smiled a little through his tears. “My first muggle friend. Wizards are human too.”

The girl seemed to be in particular pain suddenly and her eyes shut but she spoke with effort. “It’s... enough,” she rasped. “I’m glad... you... found me.”

Draco cradled her head with on arm put the other over her protectively.

“I’m sorry,” he cried. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry...”

“No...” she whispered, “you’ll... stop them. You’re a... good person... Draco...”

“No,” he said, shaking his head, “I’m so sorry, I’m sorry!”

She convulsed again and whimpered a little. “I... need to... go...”

Draco was trembling. “No!” he cried.

“Draco... you can stop them.”

Draco whispered, tears falling and held her head in his hands, “No... I’m sorry... I’m so sorry... It can’t end like this... No!”

“It’s okay,” she breathed, her body seizing up. “Don’t cry, Draco.... You can... stop them... Draco...”

With that, as Harry and Ron expected, the girl’s eyes slipped shut and she relaxed in Draco’s arms. Harry looked at Ron who shared his expression of sympathetic horror.

“NOOO!!” Draco cried. “No... No...”

Draco knelt there silently for a few moments and then rubbed his eyes and sniffed. He stood up slowly and took off his robe, laying it carefully over the girl’s body. For a moment he looked down at the dead girl and then he raised his head. Harry saw in his expression a familiar looking fierceness. Draco looked ready to kill. He whipped around and rushed up the stairs, slamming the cell door behind him.

Harry was just wondering if they should attempt to follow when the walls around them blurred and the scene changed. The two found themselves outside in the darkness of a cold and violently windy night. They were standing beneath a tree. They stepped forward and just behind a grouping of wild foliage, irrationally feeling like they needed to hide. They saw to their right, forbidding cliffs ending in the gray foamed crashing waves of the sea. In front of them was a huge circle of sharp edged boulders and inside the circle were several large wooden posts. In the middle stood several men in black, hooded robes and next to them what looked like the dead bodies. Though on closer inspection, Harry saw that they were not dead but petrified into stillness. They turned to look behind them and behind the trees saw Draco zoom in just above the ground on his broom and set down quickly for a landing at a run. Draco was wild eyed and Harry felt he could actually see the adrenaline in his veins. It was an odd sensation as they saw Draco step up and hide behind the foliage just inches from them.

“We’re here, aren’t we?” Ron said needlessly.

“Of course,” said Harry, “Grier’s Mountain.”

*******************************************************************

“You’re telling me that the Frozen Flame wasn’t recovered that night?” Hermione asked in a shaky voice.

Draco stood, staring out of the window.

“No,” he said. “I was able to gather that much from Dumbledore when he visited me at home. He said it was thrown into the sea but they haven’t found it yet. I’m not even sure that’s true and I’m not supposed to tell you that. No one is supposed to know. Very few even know that the Frozen Flame was found at all.”

“I don’t understand,” Hermione said. “Tell me how it happened.”

Draco took a another in a series of deep breaths.

“I knew Lauren was sick after I read about the Flame. They’d developed a way to infect just one person with the plague to test it out. They wanted to see how potent it had become. How long it took to kill someone. In Lauren’s case it took a week and I managed to sneak into her cell everyday. She was in a lot of pain, more then she could bear. She went blind and bled for no particular reason. She had open sores and her bones were decaying.”

Draco stalked to the window seat and leaned on the wall. “I was stupid! I waited too long to look for Dumbledore. I thought I could do it myself. I researched everything I could find on the Frozen Flame, all the theories on Grunnion’s cure. Anything I could find. But nothing worked. All I could do was give her pain potion and perform small healing spells. Finally, I went looking for Dumbledore. I ran away and came all the way back to Hogwarts but he was away and they wouldn’t tell me where. All I could do was owl him. I didn’t know what to do and I didn’t trust the ministry. That Fudge is all too friendly with my father. That afternoon I tried to sneak back down to the dungeon. But father and his... associates were already there. They were ‘examining’ Lauren.”

Draco shut his eyes. “I could hear her screaming, pleading for her life! They were hurting her! They were-”

His voice broke and he felt a hand on Hermione’s hand on his shoulder.

“I had no plan, “ Draco said, “But I tried to stop them. Lestrange stopped me quickly enough with a crucio. My father told me I was weak willed and all the rest of it. They locked me in my room and I knew they were going to Grier’s Mountain with the stone to release it into the world. I managed to escape without using magic.”

Hermione looked at him questioningly.

Draco rolled his eyes. “I jumped out the window.”

Hermione couldn’t help but be amused. “That’s a nasty habit you have.”

“Thankfully, the ground broke my fall and I snuck through the outside passage into the dungeons.” Draco’s face darkened again. “Lauren was dying.”

They two sank down into the window seat and Hermione kept her hand on his shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly though she felt her own tear slip down her cheek.

“She knew there was no cure. She told me to stop them but I wanted to wait for Dumbledore. And then it was too late. She died. Just died there in front of me.”

Hermione wept silently and Draco stared at his shoes. “I’d never seen anyone die like that. Up close and painfully. I could almost feel it. And then I left. All I could do was scribble out another owl to Dumbledore and pray he got it and I took off for Grier’s Mountain on my broom. I got there just in time to see them about to start the rites of the Flame. They had a bunch of people petrified. I later found out that they were both muggles and wizards, muggle-born of course. And from what I had read, the ritual depended on their deaths.”

*******************

Harry, Ron and the pensieve version of Draco watched from behind the bush. The death eaters were binding the petrified people to the wooden posts. Harry already knew from the newspaper stories, that some of them were wizards, most of them muggles and a few were children. He glanced at Draco who stood, clenching his wand, seemingly uncertain of his next move. Ron was examining the death eaters who, except for Lucius, were all hooded.

“Has it occurred to you,” said Ron, “that someone is conspicuously missing from this little get together.”

Harry was grimacing. “You mean Voldemort.”

“Yes.”

Harry rubbed his chin. “I think... He is here... In some way.”

Harry decided to prove his theory and walked around from behind the bush toward the death eaters. Ron followed and they stood near Lucius who was shouting commands at the other death eaters.

“Tighter bonds there, Nott! Quickly! Time is running short! My day of glory is at hand!”

Harry’s eyes widened. “There!” He shouted to Ron excitedly, “Did you hear that? He’s speaking as Voldemort! A death eater would never say that! Look in his eyes! They keep turning red!”

“What then?” Ron asked. “Polyjuice? Are you saying that Draco Malfoy killed Voldemort?!”

“No,” Harry said quickly. “Too simple. It’s something else. Something like what happened with Quirrel first year!”

Lucius held his hand up to reveal a gray stone carved to look something like a sculpture of fire on his palm.

“We must assume that my weak willed son has already contacted that dolt of a headmaster!” Lucius growled. He eyed the stone in with a sense of awe, his eyes again flashing the red of the dark lord.

“He’s speaking as Lucius too!” Harry said. “They’re inhabiting the same body somehow!”

The death eaters finished tying the bodies to posts and formed a circle around one particularly large boulder on top of which Lucius placed the stone.

“Now we find out how it really happened,” Ron whispered.

The death eaters were chanting incantations while Lucius waved his wand around at the posts and said,”Finite incantatum!”

************
“... Then he ended the petrification,” Draco was saying. “There were a lot of death eaters, thirteen I think. I don’t know who all of them were. They were chanting and I don’t remember what they were saying but the stone started to turn orange. Then Lucius cast a spell that turned his wand into a sword and went to a muggle woman tied to a post. He was chanting along with them and he was about to kill her. I didn’t know what to do at first. I knew it was impossible to take them alone and I’d been waiting for Dumbledore. So instead I stayed hidden and tried to remember everything I’d learned in school...”

************

It was hard to look.

It was like watching a horror film and already knowing the end. They knew Malfoy would live but they also knew that eight innocent people would die. Ron had counted thirteen people tied to the posts. One for every death eater, he noticed. They were in a circle chanting and Lucius was approaching a muggle woman with the wand he had turned into a sword. It was noisy, what with the loud chanting, the gusty wind and the crashing of waves below.

Harry had his eyes on the stone. “Whatever that rock is, it must have something to do with that girl dying!”

But Ron was watching Draco who he could just barely see behind the bushes far away.

“C’mon Malfoy,” Ron muttered to himself. “Do something!”

Lucius was just about to cut the throat of a terrified muggle woman when suddenly she broke away from the post and ran right under Lucius’ arm.

Ron’s eyes lit up. “Whoah!”

He ran around behind the posts to see all the bindings untying themselves. And then he looked to the death eaters to see strange things happening indeed. One of the death eaters was putting out a fire on the hem of his robe, another was throwing up slugs. And then Ron couldn’t help grin to hear a loud bang and see another turn into a ferret!

“Alright, Malfoy!” he cheered.

He ran back to the bushes to see Draco flicking his wand about, rapidly spouting hexes and spells under his breath like mad, sweat pouring down his face. Meanwhile, Harry was watching the confusion as the death eaters shouted counter spells and finite incantatums while still attempting to chant. Harry was quite impressed. The muggles had all been untied. The children seemed frozen in terror and some of the adults had started to run only to be petrified, unpetrified by Draco and repetrified. Some of them had been caught by a few death eaters who were attempting to tie them back up. But a few seemed to have escaped the scene and Harry wondered if they were of the five victims who had survived. A muggle or wizard man had actually managed to take the wand of a death eater and thrown it into the ocean. The death eater just ran away.

Lucius was livid. He waved his sword around.

“Who dares this?!” And then he shouted to his the other death eaters. “Kill them, you fools! We still have a chance!” And then he bellowed again, “Finite incantum!”

With that, all of Draco’s hexes ended.

Harry watched, his heart beating wildly as three death eaters drew daggers and held them to necks of two children and one middle aged witch.

******************

Draco’s voice trembled but he spoke fast, a bit hysterical, with his fists clenched.

“I tried! I tried! I tried to stop them but then the death eaters started killing them all! I didn’t know what to do! And I couldn’t! I couldn’t stop them! I tried but I couldn’t! I ran forward and avadad one! It was Mr. Lestrange and... and then a few death eaters just disapperated away. Crabbe and Goyle’s fathers, I think. And then they caught me and took my wand! I tried! But I couldn’t stop them!”

******************

“NOOOO!”

Harry heard Malfoy’s shout and looked to see the blonde boy run out from behind the bush and toward the fray. For one dread moment, Harry could not believe that Draco would really live through this and wondered if the Draco at Hogwarts was really an impostor. Draco pointed his wand at a death eater who was about to slit the throat of a boy his age.

“Avada kedavra!” Draco shouted.

Harry felt nauseous watching the green light shoot out of Draco’s wand and hit the death eater right in the heart. The teenage boy, a muggle, sprung to his feet and grabbed a small child to make a run for it, only to be swung at by the dagger of a death eater. Instead, the child was hit. Harry looked away and wondered what happened when a person vomited inside a pensieve. Ron was standing across from Harry, feeling equally nauseous as a death eater did away with another muggle. And then he watched as Draco was grabbed by the arm, his wand wrenched away and thrown to a far tree. Ron realized that he would not be killed yet, because the death eaters didn’t yet know if Lucius Malfoy was willing to have his own son murdered. They did, however, crucio him and Draco seized up in pain. He was held by two death eaters who dragged him to his father as the few remaining death eaters attempted to deal with whatever survivors were left. They held Draco with his arms behind his back, forcing him to a kneeling position in front of his father. Lucius stood, robes billowing, the stone in one hand and his sword in the other. The stone, Ron and Harry noticed, was now glowing with orange light.

“WHY MUST YOU DEFY ME?!” Lucius thundered. “Why now when this could be our proudest moment?!”

Ron stepped up next to Harry. “How the bloody hell did he get out of this?” He said in a sick voice.

”You’re a coward! You’d moan and groan and say you wanted out of the circle! That’s why you ran from the mark and then you went running back to him! COWARD!”

Harry put his hands to his head in frustration. “Good Lord! Where’s Dumbledore?!”

“Foolish boy! You know very well what all this has been for! What you have been raised to be!”

****************

“They killed the children! And then they had me before my father! And I knew I had to get the Flame away from him but I just shouted at him and I knew I was going to die and the plague would be released! And I told him! I told him I wouldn’t join Voldemort and he said it was my destiny! I had to do it!” Draco had his hands on Hermione’s shoulders, was actually holding her very tightly and half forgetting where he was and Hermione could only cry. “I had to do it! Do you see?! I had too!”

****************

“You kill children!” Draco was screamed. “That girl in the dungeon, she was pleading for her life! How can you say she has no soul when she pled for her life?!”

Harry had turned just in time to see several black specks in the sky just coming up from the horizon. Ron kept having to remind himself that this was only a memory and that if he ran forward and tackled Lucius, it wouldn’t matter.

“Dumbledore!” Harry said. “Finally!”

Ron turned to look quickly and then they both turned back to watch Draco and Lucius.

“You know what it is to be a death eater, Draco! To serve our Lord! It is your destiny! You cannot turn from it! And if you do, you will only fall with the rest of them. I will kill you if you get in my way! Which you appear to be doing right now!”

“Merlin!” Ron hissed, his heart in his shoes.

Lucius was pointing his sword at his son.

“This was supposed to be over...” Draco said.

“No, my boy. It is just the beginning.” Lucius said.

Ron grabbed Harry’s arm, suddenly feeling the need to clench something as the death eaters looked up to see Dumbledore and the other aurors approaching.

They both saw Lucius stare at the stone, now glowing a bright white light and Harry knew what was coming.

“Malfoy!” Harry shouted.

***************
“He was going to kill me! And I did it! I grabbed the sword! And then it was like lightening went through me and I got the stone out of his hands! And I didn’t think about it! It just happened! But I did it!”

***************

“Avada ked-”

“No!” Ron shouted.

And then it didn’t matter because Draco had lurched forward and grabbed the sword with his bare hands.

Ron and Harry gasped.

“Bloody hell,” Harry whispered.

Lucius was momentarily shocked but trying to hold on and focus on the stone at the same time. And then Draco sort of seized up for a moment, as if he was being electrocuted. He wrenched the sword out of Lucius’ hand and threw off the death eaters holding him. Harry was transfixed as Draco flipped the sword, deftly catching it’s proper end, with his cut up hand to boot, and knocked the stone right out of Lucius’ grasp.

Lucius shouted, “NOOO!”

And then Draco ran the sword right through Lucius’ chest and Harry and Ron both felt ill as from the side they saw the tip of it come out of his back.

“You can’t escape it, boy,” Lucius wheezed.

They watched the wild eyed Draco Malfoy give the sword a final push and hiss menacingly at his father, “Avada kedavra, you bloody bastard.”

“Gods...” Ron whispered.

Draco pulled the sword roughly from out of his father who had fallen backward and now lay lifelessly on the ground. On the outer edge of the circle, Dumbledore and the others had touched down. Draco threw the sword as hard as he could into the sea and they saw him looking around, panting. He looked down at the stone on the ground next to his dead father and then up and Harry followed his gaze to see Lupin now running towards Draco.

“Who gets the stone?” Harry thought aloud. “Dumbledore?”

“Remember,” said Ron, “I told you what he was thinking yesterday. He thinks the dark lord’s going to get it back. Dumbledore couldn’t have it!”

Harry had indeed forgotten Ron’s comment on the stone and it was true that if the ministry hadn’t allowed it to be reported, then something very bad had happened. Yet he couldn’t stop himself from muttering at Draco, “Get the stone, Malfoy! Get the stone!”

But Draco did not get the stone. Instead he ran to one of the Firebolts the aurors had arrived on and mounted it, flying off into the sky.

***************

“I killed him, Hermione!” Draco shouted. “I killed him! I killed my father!”

Their hands were on each other’s shoulders, their teary eyes locked in an intense stare.

“Draco!” Hermione cried. “Draco!”

For the first time in a while Draco quieted and Hermione whispered,”Draco, it’s okay. I know why you did it! I know you had to do it!”

She leaned forward and grasped him in a tight embrace.

“I could’ve taken the stone,” he said. “I didn’t! Why didn’t I? I could’ve taken it away from them! But I ran! I thought they would kill me!”

Hermione squeezed him harder and held the back of his head in her hand. “It’s okay,” she kept whispering. “It’ll be alright! I know it will! I’ve dreamt it!”

Draco sighed, letting out a breath he’d been holding for around an hour and shut his eyes. His face was nuzzled into Hermione’s hair and he held her tight as if she was a life saver. Which, Draco supposed, she actually was.

***************

Harry and Ron sat on Draco’s bed, blinking and trying to catch their breath.

“Blimey,” Ron said.

“My thoughts exactly,” said Harry.

“Now we know how it happened,” Ron said. “But we’ve got to know what’s happened to that stone! And Draco didn’t stay long enough to find out.”

They were both a little frustrated. It was like reading the end of a good book and wanting very badly to read the sequel(!).

Harry rolled his eyes. “Yes,” he said. “But we don’t even know what the stone is.”

“If it has anything to do with that girl,” Ron said logically, “and she was dying of something dreadful, then maybe it makes people sick.”

Harry nodded as it seemed to make sense. “What we need is someone else who was there. They would know what it is, and maybe what happened to it.”

Ron snorted. “We need another pensieve.”

They’re eyes lit up as they turned to each other and said in unison, “DUMBLEDORE!”

******************************************************************

Draco had quieted down and was leaning against the window pane.

“So I don’t know what happened to the Frozen Flame,” he said. “But I know the ministry doesn’t have it. Neither does Dumbledore.”

Hermione looked at his far away eyes. “Draco, you did the right thing. You did stop them. My parents would probably be dead right now, if it wasn’t for you.”

“But eight innocent people died,” Draco said. “Some of them people I used to think didn’t even have souls.”

“But your different now,” Hermione said. “You saved millions. Countless millions. You’re brave. And you’re good.”

“You don’t understand,” he said, sighing. “It’s just that...”

“What?” Hermione prodded.

Draco swallowed. “Tom Riddle killed his father. And Crouch junior killed his father. And I...” His voice trailed off. “It’s practically a grand tradition,” he said.

Hermione almost smiled. To her, it seemed like such a silly thing to worry about. But Draco seemed all wrapped up in this idea of destiny.

“Draco...” She said softly. Hermione turned his head toward hers and held his cheek with her right hand. “You’re not them. Not even close. Different bloody universe.”

“Do you believe in destiny?” Draco whispered.

“I believe in... both,” she answered. “Fiornus, the wizard philosopher, he said that every wizard had two destinies, a dark and a light. But one day he chooses between the two and the other is left behind. You’ve chosen, Draco. You stood up to evil. You’ve found your redemption now.”

Draco reached up and took her hand in his.

“What do you dream, when you dream of me?” he asked.

Hermione smiled shyly. “I dream you’re flying,” she said. “Not on a broom and not falling. Just flying. And you’re happy.”

He could love her, he realized. This beautiful girl who had just heard all his darkest secrets and could still look him in the eyes and say he was good. Who dreamt that he could fly. Maybe, he thought, he already did love her. He didn’t know. What was love anyway? He felt like he had no idea. Had he ever loved anyone before? And his breath caught because for a moment he almost said it. The words had risen up in his throat. He had almost said he loved her.

**********************************************************

Harry was gripping the Maurader’s Map so tightly, that he very nearly ripped it in two.

“Look!” he shouted. “He’s in Hagrid’s Hut! Let’s go!”

Harry stuffed the map into his cloak and the two dashed out of Gryffindor Tower and to the statue guarding the passage to the headmaster’s office.

“Lemon drop!” Harry shouted, “Chocolate frog! Bertie Bott’s!”

“Droobles! Whizbees!” Ron shouted. “Canary cream!”

At that the passage opened and Harry and Ron glanced at each other in surprise and then trampled up the stairs to office. Harry muttered hello at Fawkes who squawked in response. Harry opened the doors of the cabinet and peered into the pensieve.

“This is going to take some prodding,” Harry said, feeling frustrated. “Dumbledore’s got a lot of memories in there.”

Harry poked and prodded in the basin, looking for something resembling Grier’s Mountain. Meanwhile, Ron kept his eyes on the Marauder’s Map but after another ten minutes Dumbledore was still in Hagrid’s Hut, as was McGonagall.

“There! I’ve got it!” Harry shouted. “C’mon!”

Ron leaned over the basin to see Dumbledore nearing the cliffs on his broom and the two touched their fingers to the mist. The walls swirled and they adjusted quickly. They were standing on the edge of the cliffs now, opposite from where they’d stood in Draco’s memory. They saw Dumbledore and the aurors touching down quickly on their Firebolts as muggles, wizards and death eaters battled, while down near the front of the circle, Draco was pulling the sword from his father’s chest.

“Remus!” Dumbledore bellowed, “Help Draco!”

They watched their old Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher run toward Draco who, once again, threw the sword into the sea, saw Lupin and started to run.

“Draco!” Lupin shouted.

Lupin was looking for a broom to give chase with but Draco was fast on the Firebolt and soon just a dot in the sky. Meanwhile Dumbledore seemed to have disabled two death eaters and was constructing a magical shield around two wizards and a muggle woman.

Harry was sure Lupin would see the stone lying near Lucius, but he didn’t because a death eater knocked him from behind and he turned around to fight, drawing his wand.

“What happens to the stone?!” Ron shouted.

And then on the very edge of the cliff a figure appeared from about three feet above the ground. Ron saw it too and thought it looked like a person had stepped out of an invisibility cloak while jumping up and down.

“Who’s that?” Harry yipped above the din. “Did he apperate?”

Ron shrugged. “I don’t know! I’ve never seen anyone apperate like that before!”

It was a person much shorter then any of the death eaters or aurors and wearing a black cloak. They could not see a face, so low was the hood pulled over the person’s head. No one had seemed to notice the, as everyone was engulfed in the fight. The person stopped for a moment and looked around with his hooded head. They watched him (or her, for all they knew) run to Lucius and point a wand at the stone.

Ron and Harry stepped closer and saw the stone began to crack and then split in two. The cloaked figure reached out and grabbed a piece of the stone in each hand. Now they Dumbledore turn from a battle with a death eater to see the mysterious intruder just as stone stealer seemingly threw one half of the stone over the side of the cliff. The person turned around and Dumbledore seemed to see under the hood, an expression crossing his face that Harry wasn’t sure he’d ever seen on the headmaster; surprise. Astonishment, in fact. But the stone did not go over the cliff, but vanished into thin air. And then another hooded death eater appeared suddenly behind the figure and grabbed the stone out of the person’s other hand, disapperating immediately. The figure whipped around and then just ask quickly turned and ran, leaping over the cliff and following the path of the stone’s other half. Like the stone, he didn’t fall over the cliff but simply disappeared.

“That wasn’t a disapperation!” Ron protested. “That was an invisible door or something!”

Harry was frustrated. “I didn’t even see his face!”

Dumbledore and the aurors had managed to divide the survivors and the remaining two death eaters, now disabled. And then reporters from The Daily Prophet showed up.

“C’mon,” Harry said finally, “there’s nothing more to see.”

************************************************************

Draco and Hermione sat talking for another two hours, sitting there on the window seat. They talked about everything and nothing from Draco’s days with the muggles to the mission statement of S.P.E.W. Draco, Hermione decided, was sarcastic and dangerous and as intelligent as he was unpredictable and abruptly charming and pessimistic and dark and cutting and subtle and outside of the intelligence quotient, about as unlike Harry as it was possible to be. But he was also brave and daring, which were very Harry-like qualities.

He was also staring at her, not just to look her in the eyes when she spoke but he seemed to be taking all her in. And when she looked away, he was still staring. He never seemed to take his eyes off of her and she felt she would be swallowed by those gray storms.

“I didn’t have my wand with me,” he was saying. “But I did alright. I chased port keys but mostly I stayed in the muggle world, drifting around.”

The practicalities of Draco’s adventures in muggle land were somewhat of a sensitive subject. Fed the best of magical delicacies from birth and raised in the one of the most ostentatiously lavish mansions in the wizarding world, Draco had been in for a shock when he thrust himself into the coarse and difficult muggle world and without the benefit of his wand. He couldn’t count the times he had regretted not running back for it. His pride never did give in and never once did Draco actually beg for food. He’d gone for days without it but he did manage to discover the art of what muggles called “the dine and ditch.” During a brief stint in Toronto, he’d managed to finagle something called a Mocha Frappucinno from a barista using nothing but good looks and puppy dog eyes. But in Cairo, he’d fallen apart. He’d started getting flashbacks he could not control and nightmares until he stopped sleeping for so long that he started to go mad. The ministry investigators had discovered him on the crash down from sleep deprivation.

“How do you chase port keys?” Hermione asked. She was looking down at his hands, trying not to blush deeply because he was still staring only at her.

“When I flew away I went to a key I already knew about near home. That took me to Vienna and then I just looked around for wizards in groups or strange objects in unusual places. A boot on the sidewalk or an old doll on a rock. Toronto, Paris, Amsterdam... I stumbled into London but I knew I couldn’t stay there long so I found a key to Bath and from there Edinborough and then Cairo.”

“But Draco,” Hermione said, “why did you run?”

Draco rolled his eyes and squirmed. “Because... Because I just wanted to be away.”

Hermione reached out for his hand. “Well, I’m glad you came back.”

“Are you?” he asked rhetorically.

Hermione marveled. Draco could manage to sound sarcastic, seductive and sincere all in the same two word sentence. She wanted to tell him what she was feeling but she didn’t know how.

I’m pulled to you and I don’t know why...

Something about you brings me closer...

Draco was playing with her hands, running his thumbs along her palms. Hermione felt all... fluttery.

“Hermione...” he said softly. She looked up and was a little startled. She hadn’t realized they were sitting this close.

“Hermione-”

“Oh, sorry!”

The door had swung open and in the doorway stood a third year Hufflepuff who blushing more then Hermione.

“OUT!” Draco barked.

The Hufflepuff skidaddled and Hermione stood up and smoothed her robes. Draco grimaced and created several interesting and terrible names for the invader.

“We’ve missed dinner,” Hermione said matter of factly. “If we rush we can pick something up before detention.”

***********************************************************

Harry and Ron returned to Gryffindor where Ginny was waiting by the fire with a fresh batch of numbing solution for Harry. They worked on their assignments for a while and then went to dinner and wondered where Draco and Hermione were. Ron, who eventually remembered that he had the map in his pocket, reported that they were in the library. They meandered back to the Tower before detention, just missing Draco and Hermione who had gone to kitchen to ask the house elves for a snack and missing them again when they left the Tower to go to Hagrid’s Hut.

Hermione had said she wanted to change clothes before detention and Draco thought he might as well too. She threw on a white t-shirt, jeans and a corduroy jacket and waiting in the common room, her knees wobbling when Draco appeared on the stairs. He was wearing those Dockers again, in black this time and a clingy black v-neck sweater. Draco ran a hand through his hair and Hermione cleared her throat.

“Let’s go,” she said. “We’re already late.”

They walked quickly down the corridors and outside to the Hut, stealing surreptitious glances at each other all the way. Finally, Hermione had to ask.

“Why do you wear black so much?”

Draco shot her a quintessentially Draco smile. “Drives the girls crazy,” he said.

Hermione rolled her eyes but inside thought, Yes, yes it does.

At the door to Hagrid’s Hut they found Harry and Ron. When Draco wasn’t looking Harry kept shooting her meaningful looks and mouthing “we need to talk.” Hermione nodded but didn’t think much of it. Whatever Harry and Ron had discovered, it couldn’t possibly be as momentous as what she now knew about Draco. Draco was squirming. Weasley kept looking at him with something he’d never seen from him before. It looked a bit like... respect.

“Do you have something to say, Weasley?” Draco finally demanded.

Ron shook his head quickly. “No. Um... No.”

The awkward moment ended when Hagrid came out of his Hut, nodding hellos.

“’Ermione, Ron, ‘Arry. Good ter see you back, Draco.”

Draco shifted on his feet and grunted in response. Hermione stifled a chuckle.

“We’ll be going to the forest tonight...” Hagrid said.

Draco gave Hermione a triumphant look as if to say “I told you so.”

Harry sighed. “Well, this is all too familiar,” he muttered.

“Got to pick up somethin’ from the paddocks first,” Hagrid said.

Harry and Ron caught up with Hermione on the way to paddocks as Draco slunk far behind.

“You won’t believe what we found out!” Ron hissed.

Hermione was wary herself. Draco had told her everything in confidence and she wasn’t about to speak of it.

“What?” she whispered.

They had agreed that it was okay to tell Hermione. That she should know because she was spending so much time with him and because what happened wasn’t over yet.

“About Draco’s father,” Harry whispered. “Do you know?”

Hermione narrowed her eyes. “What do you know?”

“It was Draco,” Harry said, “He...” Harry mouthed “killed him.”

Hermione nodded. “Yeah,” she said, “he told me.”

“Do you know about the Frozen Flame?” Ron asked.

“How do you know about it?” she asked. “You read his mind, didn’t you?”

Ron shrugged. “Well, sort of. But we... Er...”

Ron glanced at Harry who looked sheepish. “We snuck into his pensieve.”

“Harry! Ron!”

Harry put his hands in defense. “I wanted to find out why my scar was glowing!” said Harry.

“Did you find out?” she challenged.

“Well,” said Harry, “no.”

Hermione huffed. “You can’t know what happened to the Flame,” she muttered, “because Draco doesn’t know either.”

“Well, actually...” Harry started to say.

Hermione groaned. “What?”

“We got inside Dumbledore’s pensieve too.” Ron said.

Hermione gasped.

“Hey, he shouldn’t make his passwords so easy,” Ron pointed out.

“Alright! Here we are!” Hagrid announced.

“We’ll talk later!” Harry said.

They stepped up to the paddock fence and Draco finally caught up to them.

“Didn’t want to interrupt your little conference,” he grumbled.

“Bitsy boars!” Ron said in surprise, looking down on a litter of young pink pig-like creatures with green spots and floppy ears. “Hagrid, what’re we doing with Bitsy Boars in the Forbidden Forest?”

Hagrid stepped into the paddock and attached collars and leashes to three Bitsy Boars who started laughing loudly.

“’Ave any of yeh ever had a Borgie truffle?” Hagrid asked.

Harry, Ron and Hermione shook their heads but Draco’s mouth instantly watered. Borgie truffles were a delicacy in the wizarding world. They were tasted almost like a fruit fruit, darkly sweet, creamy and rich and when mixed with dark chocolate... Draco would eat Borgie truffles all day if he could. The roots were also utilized for aphrodisiacs. They were exceedingly rare and very expensive.

“Been thirty-two years since the last ‘arvest,” Hagrid said. “So they’re in season now.” Hagrid stepped out of the paddock, holding the three leashes.

“Bitsy Boars have one particular specialty, other then laughin’ and that’s rooting out Borgie truffles,” he said. “Borgies are all over the forest, yeh just let the Bitsy’s do the work.”
Since they sixth years now and clearly adept at handling themselves in the face of danger, Hagrid told them the four would split into two pairs and Hagrid would pick by himself. As Fang didn’t get along to well with Bitsy Boars, he was not coming along but Hagrid took his quiver of arrows, just in case.

Draco stood next to Hermione and crossed his arms.

“’Ermione, yeh can go with Ron and Harry’ll go with Draco,” Hagrid said.

Draco glared at Hagrid, “I’m going with Hermione.” It was the same voice he’d used when he’d tried to challenge Snape, Hermione noticed.

“Draco, why don’t you go with Hermione,” Hagrid said immediately.

Harry and Ron frowned at each other and Hermione looked questioningly at Draco who just smirked knowingly. Hagrid handed Ron and Hermione leashes and baskets to Hermione and Harry. They trekked out to the entrance of the forest.

“Mind yeh don’ go too far,” Hagrid warned. “I’ll come and find yeh when yer time is up. If yer boar gets a bit cranky, best to scritch em’ between the ears.”

Hagrid and the two pairs went their separate ways into the looming, dark forest, wands lit.

***************************************************************

Ron and Harry weren’t far into the forest when their Bitsy Boar tugged on the leash, leading them to cluster of shrubs. The boar rooted out two truffles which Harry dutifully put into basket. The truffles didn’t look very appetizing to either Harry or Ron, just a clump of roots and sliminess.

“Alright,” said Ron, “let’s review. Lucius was a bastard, that we already knew, possibly possessed by Voldemort that night. Malfoy is now a good guy. The Frozen Flame, which may or may not make people sick, is now split in two and the death eaters’ve got one half. And the other half was thrown through an invisible door. Of course,” he continued, “we still don’t know what Lucius intended to do that night, exactly what the Flame is and what the girl died of, who the stranger in the cloak is, where the invisible door leads, how Voldemort manage to occupy Lucius’ body or why you’re scar was glowing last night.”

“Hermione’ll know more,” Harry said. “Maybe if we just tell Malfoy we already know what happened, he’ll talk to us.”

“Yeah, “ Ron said, “he’ll love that we snuck into his room and invaded his pensieve.”

*************************************************************

“I haven’t heard of Borgie truffles,” said Hermione as they two made their way into the depth of the forest, “but Hogwarts once had a Borgie Ball around thirty years ago.”

“It was because of the truffles, “ said Draco. “My parents took me to a Borgie Festival in Transylvania once. The Veelahs danced for nine days straight.”

“I don’t see what the big deal is,” Hermione said as their boar rooted at the base of a tree. “It’ s just a truffle.”

Draco leered at her. “You’ve never had one.”

Hermione couldn’t help but think that she should tell Draco what the boys had done. He needed to be able to trust her so she didn’t want to keep secrets from him. They walked on and then stopped again, at the mercy of the Bitsy Boar. Neither of them saw the thorny branches creeping out of the ground at Hermione’s feet and growing in seconds into a large and angry bush. Draco was watching the Bitsy do it’s work and Hermione was staring at her hands.

“Draco,” she said softly, “there’s something you should-”

But she never finished her sentence because the large and angry bush sprouted two branches that reached out and grabbed Hermione by the jacket, yanking her into the shrub. Hermione screamed and Draco looked up. He dropped the leash and and ran to the bush where Hermione was thrashing around, trying to gain control of her wand and get out at the same time. Draco tried to fend off the aggressive plant, searching his mind for a spell that would make a plant stop attacking someone.

“Stop struggling!” Draco shouted. He could see that the plant mostly had her by the jacket which was practically shredded. Hermione stopped moving but managed to grab her wand and Draco dove in, grabbed her with one arm around her waist and a hand around her head and pulled backwards. Thankfully, he was too strong for the plant which let go of Hermione and the two tumbled away from the plant and to the ground. Hermione sat up and pointed her wand at the plant.

“Botanicus reducio!” The plant shrank to the size of a sprout and Hermione stuck her wand into the back pocket of her jeans and took a breath. “Ow.”

Draco helped Hermione to her feet and took a good look at her. She had little scratches all on her arms and thorns stuck in her t-shirt.

“Are you alright?” Draco asked. Hermione cast a healing spell on her arms and set to picking the thorns out of her clothes.

“Yeah,” she said, “just stings. I’m not sure what that was. Must be related to the Whomping Willow though. It’s a shame. I liked that jacket.”

Draco stood close and started picking nettles out of her mussed up hair.

“Be more careful, prefect.” Draco said. Hermione looked up and saw that Draco’s words belied the concern in his eyes.

They were having a moment again.

I’m going to kiss her, Draco thought. I don’t care anymore. If I don’t kiss her, I’m going to catch on fire.

“Harry and Ron got into your pensieve,” Hermione blurted.

Draco’s face darkened. “They what?!”

“They were wrong, I know,” she said. “But Harry’s scar was glowing last night, it’s been itchy! That could mean something! They just wanted to know what happened!”

“And my hand is itchy,” Draco said, snapping out of the moment, “but I didn’t go snooping through Potter’s diary! Oh, I forgot, Potter is Potter so he can go sneaking around doing whatever he wants just in case he might save the world again!”

“You’ve joined the Save the World Club too, ya know,” Hermione pointed out with a tone of amusement.

Draco turned away to find the Bitsy Boar which had been happily rooting up more Borgie truffles the entire time. He picked up the leash and Hermione found the basket and collected the truffles that had fallen out.

“So they know,” Draco growled. “Well, that’s grand.”

“Draco, they’re on your side!” Hermione assured him.

Draco scowled. “Brilliant. Because I so desire Potter and Weasley’s approval! I’ll murder them!”

“They’ll kill me for telling you first,” Hermione sighed.

“Why did you tell me?” he demanded.

“Because I don’t want to lie to you,” she said firmly.

Draco was taken aback. Hermione continued to surprise him. She was so direct. It was a little jolting. So unSlytherin-like. So unMalfoy-like. He couldn’t think of anything to say to that so he walked on, following the Bitsy Boars lead. He could hear the sound of water nearby and that was about the time he felt the ground fall out from under him.

“Draco?” Hermione hollered. She’d knelt down to pick up two more truffles and stood to see Draco nowhere in sight. “Draco!”

She was about to toss up sparks when she heard a splash and followed the sound around a corner to see a waterfall streaming into a pond. Another splash and then Draco appeared, standing up in the waist-high water, a squealing Bitsy Boar under his arm. He trudged toward her, wearing a deeply aggravated expression.

“What happened?” Hermione shrieked.

Draco pushed his soaking hair off his face. “Oh, nothing. Just felt like a swim.”

The boar was squealing so Draco, remembering what Hagrid had said, started scratching it between the ears. The boar chuckled appreciatively and Draco set it on the ground as he climbed up out of the pond. It was a cool night and as Draco stepped out of the water and back onto flat dry ground, he realized he was freezing in his wet sweater.

So he took it off.

Hermione stumbled. She opened her mouth, closed it, opened it again. Felt every drop of blood in her body rush to her head.

Drying spell... drying spell... I use it everyday! What is it??? Starts with a... C?

Hermione stepped backwards down the path, eyes wide and turned away from Draco, racking her brain. Draco caught up with her, ringing out his sweater. They were entering a clearing and the Bitsy Boar pulled out the leash from Draco’s grip and started rooting out another cluster of truffles.

Hermione swallowed. “Why don’t you cast a drying spell?” she asked breathily.

Draco caught on quickly and grinned. “Why don’t you?” He stepped in front of her and crossed his arms.

Hermione wouldn’t look at him. “I... Er...”

He was making her nervous. And, he realized, she was completely adorable when she was nervous. Her lips twitched and her gaze shifted around furtively, settling on his chest, away and back on his chest.

So this, he thought, was what it was like to fall in love.

“I’m sorry for everything I ever did to you,” he whispered.

She smiled. “I know you are.”

“You can slap me again, if you like,” he said playfully.

Hermione winced at the memory. “That’s not necessary,” she said. “Um... We should collect the truffles.”

She was getting away again. But Draco wasn’t about to let it happen this time. Not if there was any chance in hell that she could feel the same way he did.

“Wait!” he said, taking her by the arm and letting his sweater fall to the ground. “Hermione...” And now he didn’t know what to say again. He had to stop doing that.

“I’m pulled towards you,” she said suddenly. She had a habit of blurting, he supposed.

Draco was elated, his arms were suddenly tingly and he stepped forward. “You’re pulled towards me...”

“When McGonagall asked me to help you,” she said huskily, “I had to say yes. I don’t know why. I think it’s why I dream about you. It’s like I was... meant to help you. I couldn’t just leave you alone. That’s why I came to the Tower. Even when we hated each other, maybe it was sort of like that. A pull that we didn’t understand.”

Draco tried to process this and felt that his heart would beat right out of his very bare chest.

“Do you still hate me?” he asked.

“Be serious,” she said testily and pushed him lightly with the hand that wasn’t holding a basket full of truffles.

“I am serious,” he breathed as he pulled her forward and kissed her.

Hermione dropped her basket as Draco’s lips captured hers. His arms wrapped around her and his kiss deepened. Hermione whimpered into him and this time her knees really did go weak but he kept her up. When he pulled away, Hermione wasn’t sure which way was up or down until she looked into his eyes and saw uncertainty.

He was insecure, she realized. Draco Malfoy feared rejection. It made her want him more and it made her want assure him so this time she reached up to put her arms around his neck and kissed him again. He did taste somewhat dangerous. How could a person taste dangerous? And dark and mysterious and strong and wonderful...

She was raking her fingers through his wet hair and kneading his bare back.

“Hermione...” he whispered between kisses. “I was so stupid... I was so stupid...”

She kissed his cheeks, his lips, his neck, his lips. What a contradiction she was, he thought. That someone so bookish and organized would kiss as if it were her last day on earth. Finally she leaned her forehead against his, and they stood there still breathing heavily.

Draco set a strand of hair behind her ear. “Let’s have detention more often,” he suggested.

Hermione chuckled. “There’s always tutoring,” she said innocently.

Draco let out something that sounded like a contented growl. And then they heard another boar’s laugh close by. They pulled away reluctantly.

Hermione twittered,”Er...” She remembered the drying spell and cast it quickly on Draco’s clothes. Draco put his sweater back on and just in time as Harry and Ron appeared in the clearing.

Ron saw Hermione and Draco standing next to each other and looking very uncomfortable. He noted the swelled lips, the mussed hair and the shifty eyes and felt all wistful again.

There went my last shot.

“Fancy meeting you here,” he said wryly.

Harry eyed the Draco’s Bitsy Boar that was rolling around on his back, next to a pile of truffles.

“Your boar seems to be having a good time,” Harry said.

Hermione collected herself and again collected all the truffles that had fallen out of the basket while Draco nabbed the leash of his easy going boar. Both of their baskets were full now so they decided to go find Hagrid. Harry and Ron walked ahead, chattering about quidditch and Hermione and Draco followed, again sneaking looks at each other although this time they weren’t as clandestine. Hermione slipped her hand into his and he gripped it tightly.

Then Ron tripped. He stumbled over some object sitting in the middle of the path and went tumbling forward and for the third time that night, a basket of truffles spilled all over the ground. Draco and Hermione stopped short and let go of each othere’s hands.

“Oi!” Ron yelped. “What was that?” He got to his feet and rubbed his elbow.

Harry bent down and picked up what looked like a small brown ball off the forest floor.

“It’s a cocoanut!” Hermione said in surprise.

Draco rose an eyebrow. “What’s a cocoanut?”

Harry smirked and held it up. “This is a cocoanut.”

“Thank you, Potter, for that insightful information,” Draco drawled, walking up next to him.

“A cocoanut is a fruit,” Hermione explained. “A muggle fruit. And it’s not exactly native to this environment. Cocoanut trees only grow on tropical islands. And this is a temperate zone.”

Draco shrugged. “Well, swallows fly south but they’re from England.”

Harry gave him a look. “Are you suggesting that cocoanuts migrate?”

Hermione broke out into hysterical laughter, receiving strange looks from all three boys.

“What’s so funny?” Ron asked.

They could hear Hagrid plodding towards them and Hermione shook her head, giggling. “Tell you later, “ she said.

Hagrid appeared with his basket and his Bitsy Boar and Harry held up the cocoanut.

“Hagrid,” he said, “we found a cocoanut!”

Hagrid blinked,”Oh.”

And then they heard the thundering. From far off, came something sounding like a stampede as if a very large and very fast creature were pounding down everything in it’s way and, in fact, something very large was making it’s way to the five truffle pickers.

“What’s that?” Hermione gasped.

They saw it, the shadow of a large beast on the approach and running at full speed. And from it came a loud trumpeting sound that made the hair on Harry’s neck stand up.

“Get outter the way!” Hagrid shouted.

And then there it was, huge, gray and horned. It was an Erumpet and it was charging down the path straight towards them. A split second before the rest of them were about to run screaming, it happened.

It happened.

Draco raised his right hand suddenly and Harry stared fiercely and out of Draco’s scars and Harry’s forehead shot two bolts of purple light which shot forward, joining into one bolt that blasted the Erumpet, blowing it about a fifty feet backwards until it slammed into a tree and slumped to the ground. The bolts disappeared and Draco lowered his hand.

Silence.

Everyone stared at Harry and Draco who were gaping at each other in utter disbelief.

“Now what?!” the two said in unison.

Ron ran his tongue along the inside of his gum, raising his eyebrows.

“Guess we know why your scar was itchy,” he said simply.

Hagrid cleared his throat. “Right then,” he said. “Dumbledore’ll be wantin’ ter see yeh. All of yeh, I expect.”

Hermione took a deep breath and looked at the Erumpet lying, possibly dead or possibly unconscious at the foot of the tree.

And the hits keep on coming...

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A/N: Like it? Tell me about it! Yaaay. :0D