Jewel

III

Hermione fumbled the time turner back into her sweater as she crashed into the kitchen, seven hours back in time. She knew she'd find herself sitting there, but she couldn't help the involuntary movements her hands made. Walking into yourself was eerie.

Her younger self looked at her, her mouth sagging open - and then she realized she should say something to console her. Me. But what had she said again? "Don't worry," she blurted out, "I'm going to... the South Gate of Ulcridwe Castle."

Drawing her wand, she Apparated, nearly splinching herself because of that wretched other Hermione gawking at her, trusting her senses and the maps of Ulcridwe she'd studied. As soon as she opened her eyes, she knew she'd done it.

When she stumbled over something and examined what it was, she wished she hadn't.

She appeared to be standing in the middle of a grand courtyard. The trees, however, had withered away and died ages ago - as had the other plants - and the bare earth was muddy, and somehow even seemed slimy. The paths around the garden were her main concern, though.

The paving stones were cracked, and through the cracks there seemed to seep something. It didn't seep so much as filter; it was some kind of vague greenish light that apparently was worming its way up through the cracks. At some places it had broken through entirely; there the stones had vanished, and the light curled outward; it curled, like some kind of wicked mist. There was a shadow at the heart of it.

"Deathspang," she mumbled and kicked the skull she had stumbled over towards one of the strange green flames. With a hiss, it sprang forward, wrapped itself around the bone - then it pulled back, as if realizing that its prey was already dead. Within seconds the courtyard had returned to silence; but Hermione knew that it was a predatory silence. She should start moving.

Hopping from stone to stone, she reached a deserted hallway, then looked down at herself. Her light jeans and cream sweater would give her away within seconds, in this darkness. She pointed her wand at herself, opened her mouth - and closed it again, choosing to chant the spells mentally. Best not to draw attention to herself.

After throwing on - and securing - several Chameleon charms, she started slinking along the corridor walls as silently as she could. She managed not to stir so much as a ratted tapestry as she passed it. When she came at a double staircase, she barely hesitated before she chose. When dealing with the Dark Arts, she mused, down was always your best guess.

~*~

It had been forty minutes since her encounter with the vampire, and she was still shaky from it. She'd been making her way along a broad hallway that was located at least seven storeys lower than the courtyard from where she'd started, when suddenly the door right at the other side of the hall had banged open and a tall, white-skinned man had stalked out.

She'd held her breath and pressed herself against the wall. That hadn't saved her, though. He hadn't been a step past her when he stopped dead in his tracks. Ever so slowly, his head had turned in her direction. It had cost her a lot of self-control not to scream out loud when he looked at her, his irises almost white from lack of blood, his fangs peeking out from under his lips in his otherwise so human face.

She was certain he had known something was there. He had apparently dismissed it - her - as something minor, though - a poltergeist, perhaps - at least nothing interesting enough to occupy his attention any longer. Still, it had taken her the better part of ten minutes to get her body to start moving again.

Now she was uncomfortably and unhappily perched next to the stone railing opposite a broad marble staircase, leading her lower still. But she was resolved not to move again until she had that wretched twitch out of her system - she had already stumbled twice, and it'd be rather ironic to die from falling down a staircase in the middle of enemy territory.

That was when she saw it. A hooded and cloaked figure, barely visible at all - she suspected it'd been hit with a few Chameleons as well. None of them nearly as good as hers, though, she noted with pride. It was moving swiftly, shifting from pillar to pillar - sometimes it was so close to invisibility that she wondered if it was really there at all.

When it stopped near the base of her staircase and hesitated, she was sure. It was there, it was human, and it was as much out of place here as she was. Rapidly, she got up and set to following him.

That proved more difficult than she would have imagined. She now didn't only have to watch her own step and make sure she moved quickly without being detected, she also had to keep an eye on the stranger, to check whether he'd moved too fast for her to keep up, or whether he'd taken a sudden turn.

And then suddenly he was gone. She froze for a bit, wondering where he'd disappeared to, then hastened her own step to catch up.

She reached the spot where he'd vanished. She passed it. One step, two steps...

Then she felt something crashing into her, twisting her arms on her back and pinning her effectively to the ground. "Gotcha," he breathed.

He pulled out a wand and send a wave of magic at her - probably a finite incantatem to get rid of the chameleons. She gasped as they fell away - but surprisingly, so did he.

"Granger?"

It was by the sudden wave of astonishment he radiated, and the sudden glitter of his eyes, that she recognized him.

"Zabini. Could you get off me?"

~*~

"So. You're here because you thought you might have been the one that saved your ex-boyfriend's life. Very logical. Especially when you take into account that you've been warned say, three hours ago, not to come here today. But hey, what do I know, I'm only a Death Eater, I couldn't tell you the second thing about the Dark Arts. Right?"

Sarcasm was dripping off his voice, and Hermione straightened her shoulders haughtily. "Have you considered Ron and Harry, blundering through the castle? If it weren't for me, you wouldn't know about that. You might have ended up accidently killing one of them... now that, I suppose, would've been awkward."

He stared at her broodingly, then turned away. "There's no sense in arguing. You'll have to come along, I suppose." He started rummaging through his cloak, pulling out a mantle much like his own and a wrapped package. He threw the mantle at her and started fumbling with the cords around the packet. When the cloth fell away it revealed a mirror - much like the Two-Way Mirror Harry had possessed, but this one was obviously a lot more valuable; it gleamed dully from gold, and there were six sparkling jewels set in the frame.

Zabini covered the emerald with his thumb. "Malfoy," he hissed, "get your ass into a silence ward and answer me."

With that, he lowered the mirror, beckoned her closer and threw up a silence ward of his own. When he'd assured himself it was secure and undetectable, he grinned at her. "We figured we'd have more chance of finding that damned Horcrux if we split up. There's seven of us down here."

The appearing of Draco Malfoy's face in the mirror broke him off. "Zabini. I really hope that whatever it is you've got to tell me is very urgent, because if it isn't, I'm going to get back up there and kick your arse. I was this close to being supper!"

"Hiya, Malfoy," Hermione put in.

The image of Malfoy wavered, then grew sharp again. "I'm sorry - I thought I heard something."

"You did," said Blaise, "That was Hermione. Apparently, she followed the Golden Duo after finding out they'd left for Ulcridwe without waiting for information."

"Hermione? As in, Granger Hermione? The one you warned not to come here?"

"The very same."

Malfoy swore. "They should really write a book or something. The ways of Gryffindors explained so that Slytherins can understand them. Bloody hell. All right. So you've got Granger with you, and the other two morons are somewhere inside the castle as well?"

"Yes," Hermione cut in. "Problem is, though, that they have no idea that there are vampires down here. I only found the book mentioning that today. Moreover - Ron is angry, which means he's likely to blunder first, think later. We've got to find them." After all, she could hardly tell them she was from the future and knew what was going to happen to them.

"Fine," growled Malfoy, "but if they compromise us in any way... How far are they in front of you?"

"An hour, tops. They might have started elsewhere."

He looked thoughtful. "They should be level with me and Nott, then. I'll contact him. Blaise, if there is any trouble, get the girl out of here first. We really can't afford to risk her, right now."

Blaise nodded curtly. "I will."

"Cheerio."

With that, the mirror went blank. Quickly, he re-wrapped the thing, and put it back somewhere in a pocket. "Stay close behind me. Say as little as possible, and above all - keep up." With that, he pulled her to her feet, dismissed the silence ward and started moving again.

He was good at it, she finally admitted about an hour later. Really good, in fact. He seemed to know where to find the next staircase simply by glancing around, and he managed to disable booby-traps before she even saw them. He was fast, too. The keeping up proved to be harder than she'd expected.

He was about twenty paces in front of her, now, and heading towards a small door. She quickened her pace as he pulled it open, checked the hallway lying beyond it, glanced back to give the OK and slipped through.

The sudden flash of movement from her right took her completely by surprise.

A wave of force rammed into her, sending her flying towards the corridor wall. She hit it with a bone-breaking slam. Sliding dizzily to the floor, she could only stare when a figure, swathed in black robes, materialized in front of her.

"You thought I hadn't seen you, didn't you, pretty girl?" a hissing voice whispered in her ear as the world swam back into focus. Iron bands gripped her upper arm, pulled her upright. An icy hand forced her chin up. "And because you did, I now have not only one main course, but two! Imagine that." Her eyes travelled upwards over his face; parted lips, hooked nose, bloodshot near-white irises...

The vampire from earlier.

She screamed, and everything went black.

~*~

Someone shaking her. "Enervate. Enervate. Wake up, damn you - Enervate!" Hurried whispers. Hands sliding over her body, lingering at her wrists and neck. A frantic muttering. Sudden pressure on her belly. Something sliding underneath her - a sensation of warmth - darkness slowly turning into a soft purple -

Uttering a half-yelp, half-shriek, Hermione sat bolt upright.

"Good morning," said Blaise.

She stared at him, and kept staring until long after her gasps for breath had calmed. It took ages for her to break the silence. "What's my favourite colour?"

It was his turn to stare, now. When he had concluded that she was, in fact, serious, he cleared his throat. "Um.. Blue?" he provided hesitantly, remembering the dress she'd worn at the Yule Ball of their fourth year.

She let herself fall back into the pillows, obviously relieved.

After a while he spoke again. "I was right?"

He heard the smile in her voice when she responded. "No... but if you were a hallucination, you would've known it to be magenta."

He barked a laugh and leaned back into his chair. "You had us all quite worried, you know."

She worked herself up to her elbows. "Did I? What happened? The last I remember is a nasty looking vampire, trying to eat me."

"He got a fair end, too. He'd almost drained you when I arrived."

She paled. "I'm not Turning, right? I'm not a vampire myself, am I?"

Blaise responded by getting up and throwing the curtains open. Pale sunlight spilled in, right onto the bed. "No, you're not. He didn't try to turn you. He was merely.. feeding."

Hermione shuddered and wrapped her arms around herself. "Somehow, that thought is even less appealing."

He shrugged.

"So.. did you.. kill him, then?"

He gave her a hard stare. "Yes, I did. Why do you ask?"

She pulled up her shoulders. "No reason.. it's just.."

"He was still human. He might have been capable of regaining his sanity, once. There was no need to kill him outright. Is that what you were going to say?"

Was there a hint of hurt in his voice? "No! No. I - no. It's just that.. yes, I think he might have been cured, once. But there was no alternative, save letting him... devour me. I know that. And really, I thank you for saving my life. Truly. I just can't seem to get used to this whole 'others dying so that I may live another day' business."

He still glared, but the hardness slowly left his eyes. Suddenly he threw himself against the back of his chair, growling low in his throat. "Gryffindor."

"Indeed."

When he looked at her again, he almost smiled. "I did bring you a little souvenir." She arched an eyebrow. He grinned, and started digging around in his trouser pockets. "Now, where is the damned thing... ah!" A small object flew through the air, to land perfectly in her lap.

"Your dinner companion was wearing it. It's some kind of alloy - the smith that made this probably tried to imitate starmetal, or something close to it. He didn't succeed entirely, but fair enough, I suppose."

It was a signet ring, with the Fyula crest imprinted on the top. The ring itself was a pearly almost-gold, the crest was a rich dark-red. It was obviously very valuable. She wondered why he hadn't kept it for himself.

"Thank you," she said softly. Blaise nodded and smiled. He was about to say something when the door creaked open and a blonde head poked around it.

"Cinderella still asleep?"

Cinderella..? She looked at him incredulously while Blaise grimaced. "Wide awake, actually. You did bring coffee, didn't you?"

Grinning broadly, Draco Malfoy swept into the room, carrying two mugs. "Of course I did. I'm the one that's going to have to suffer your temper when you don't have any." Passing one of the mugs to Blaise, he took a sip of his own, and looked at Hermione pensively. "So. You're feeling better?"

"I'm feeling quite well, thanks. As a matter of fact, I'd like to get up, now." Pushing away the blankets, she suddenly realized that she was wearing a long white shirt and short leggings, neither of which were hers. She decided not to mention it. "Do you have a house-elf that can take me to a bathroom?"

Blaise smiled. "Of course I do. You know her, actually. Sally?"

With a crack, the floppy-eared house elf that had been her secretary during her many library visits appeared. "Good morning miss Hermione, miss! Sally is happy to see you awake again, miss!" the small elf babbled happily. Hermione smiled down at her.

"Miss Granger would like to be shown to a bathroom. You are to take care of her every need, Sally." Blaise did speak shortly, true, but his voice was definitely not unkind. "You can take her to the third drawing room when she's done."

Sally bobbed a few curtsies to Blaise. "Yes, Master. Sally will take care of it, Master."

He nodded, and Hermione rose. "Well then, I'll see you later, I suppose." Blaise took another gulp of coffee, but Draco inclined his head.

"Granger."

"Malfoy." With that, she swept from the room, following Sally.

As soon as the door fell shut behind them, Draco shot his companion a sharp look. "What was that all about?" Blaise arched an eyebrow. "You can cut the I-don't-know-what-you're-talking-about act, Zabini. I've known you for twenty years straight. You are always, and I repeat always, almost frighteningly civil towards women. And just now, I heard your house elf call Granger Hermione - which indicates that you've been calling her Hermione an awful lot of times as well - and you didn't remark upon her leaving? I call that strange."

"Call it whatever you want, Malfoy. I'm quite sure I don't mind."

Draco's eyes widened for a split second, then he 'hmm'd and tapped his chin. "She could use some polishing up, I suppose. But her air is graceful enough. You're just lucky your father isn't still around to disown you."

Blaise nearly spat out his coffee. "What?!"

"So you do mind, after all. How cute." The dark man's silence was deafening. Draco merely smiled in response.

Finally, Blaise cleared his throat and looked away. "I'm going to pretend you did not just lose your mind completely. Thank me later. Bugger off, now. Go get a newspaper or something."

Draco sprang off his chair. "I live to serve," he said while sweeping a gracious bow. "My diabolical mind, that is," was merely an added afterthought.

~*~

The clothes fit her to perfection. The navy jeans seemed tailored to her legs, the heeled boots felt like flat shoes, the soft purple mini-dress brought out the colour of her eyes beautifully, and the black poncho and cap were as warm as any winter coat.

She was definitely keeping them.

Sally was leading her again, probably to the third drawing room. She supposed she should wonder what she'd find in there. But for now, she was quite happy gawking at all the magnificent paintings, bookcases, candelabras and panoramas she passed - which basically meant she gawked at everything. She almost sighed in awe when they passed a particularly beautiful view - the Italian landscape was simply magnificent. The Zabinis sure knew where to build a house.

Her dreamy mood popped like a bubble when she saw the grim faces on Blaise and Draco. With a hand movement, Blaise dismissed Sally, who disappeared with a pop. Hermione quietly closed the door to the now empty corridor, then crossed her arms over her chest. "What is it?"

Wordlessly, Draco threw a newspaper at her. She plucked it deftly from the air, but gasped when she saw the headline.

Golden Trio stumbles over Vampirism

According to a reliable source in St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies, Ronald Weasley, one of the so-called White Fighters, is now confined to the Critical ward. It has been confirmed that he has been bitten by a vampire. Though Healers first believed the danger to his health to be of no significance, the young man is at the moment going through what could be the first stage of a Turning. Is the Golden Trio finally falling apart?

She sagged to the floor, quickly scanning the rest of the article. The bulk of it seemed to be general Voldemort promotion - the Daily Prophet editor was obviously a Dark Wizard - but she could deduce a few facts around the situation. They weren't particularly good.

Ron was apparently turning into a vampire.

"Is this true? I mean, have you confirmed it? It's the Daily Prophet, after all, we all know they lie three quarters of the time..." her voice trailed off when she saw the quick glance the two males exchanged. Blaise cleared his throat.

"I'm afraid it's true. At least, that he's been bitten. Whether he Turns or dies, I don't know. But that's not our main concern at the moment. As you can see, the greater part of the Wizarding society now knows where your loyal sidekicks reside. I doubt Voldemort will wait for Weasley's death if he gets the chance to speed it up handed to him. We have to move them. Preferably now."

Hermione nodded shakily. "Where to?" Silence fell.

After what seemed an eternity, Blaise spoke again. Quietly. "Here."

She stared at him. "Here? As in, in your house? We can't do that. Think of the risk it'd be, think of - "

Harshly, he cut over her. "There is no alternative. Think, Granger. You can't bring a possible vampire to any of your safehouses. You simply don't have the spellpower to contain him if he does Turn. I do. Besides, I trust you'll have realized that I am in quite a comfortable position in Voldemort's camp. It's unlikely he'll suspect me if he's got other options."

She stared at him, trying to comprehend what he was offering. His gaze was trying to tell her more, but she couldn't quite grasp his meaning. Finally he averted his eyes, and she swallowed. "Very well then. You'll have to come along, though. I can't Apparate Harry and Ron here without leaving tracks."

Draco stood. "I'll do it. You should go to the Dark Lord, Blaise. Get yourself a nice alibi."

Blaise nodded his thanks, and Draco helped Hermione to her feet. "Off we go, then," he said, while quickly altering his features from aristocratic to middle class. With a flick of her own wand, Hermione's hair was short and multicoloured. Draco grinned. "Punk. I didn't know you had it in you."

~*~

Getting onto Critical ward hadn't been that much of a problem, with Draco around. He had spun a story of two minutes concerning a sick cat, and when Hermione had deemed the Healers sufficiently distracted, she'd Befuddled them all in quick succession. Draco had seemed mildly impressed, but that didn't stop him from pointing out that Befuddlement Charms were easy to track. Hermione in turn pointed out that, if the Death Eaters ever came to a search, they probably wouldn't be surprised to find her wand imprints all over the place.

Ron's room wasn't hard to find, either. The Shielding ward surrounding it practically glowed. Hermione tapped on the door cautiously. "Hello?"

They heard a scraping sound, footsteps, then a voice calling. "Who is it?"

"Cerberus' name is Fluffy. Open up?" The door flew open and Harry shot out, crushing her into a hug.

"Will you never - ever- - do that again - ever? I was worried sick about you!"

"Touching though this scene may be, Potter, we've no time for it. The Death Eaters' assassination squad could be here any second."

Harry stiffened when he heard the dry male voice, then let her go. "Malfoy? You brought Malfoy along?"

She nodded. "Long story, no time to explain. We need to get out of here. Now. Can you carry Ron?"

Harry looked dubious. "I can, but.."

"Do it." He nodded, ducked back into the room, then appeared again, holding a limp Ron in his arms. Hermione swallowed.

"Potter." Draco looked thoughtful, then drew his wand. With a fluid movement, he twisted it around in his hand, catching it by the tip instead of the bottom. He held it out towards Harry. "Lend me your wand?"

Harry looked at him for a few precious seconds, then drew his own wand and threw it towards the other male. "Keep yours. I'll use Ron's."

Draco nodded. "Granger, can you find the house?"

She scoffed. "Of course I can."

"Good. I'll be right behind you."

She gave him a curt nod, then turned to Harry. "You make sure we don't splinch ourselves. I'll lead." He looked alarmed, but wasted no time in complaining. When she was sure he held her and Ron in a tight enough spell lock, she closed her eyes, concentrated and stepped forward.

The sound was deafening. She knew that, when an Apparated object got heavier, the crack of the magic snapping around it got louder exponentially, but she hadn't expected this. Staggering, she clapped her hands over her ears. The whole world spun around her.

She felt some steadying hands on her shoulders, softly shaking her. "Gods, 'Mione, you're as pale as death. You should be in bed. Where are we?"

Harry's face swam back into focus. "Zabini Manor," she managed to blurt out.

He whistled. "Italy? Okay. You relax, all right?" He carefully sat her onto the floor, next to an unconscious Ron. "I'll handle it from here."

She swallowed, then croaked, "Sally?" She saw the small green blur of house elf appear at her side. Then everything went fuzzy.

~*~

Waking up in the small bedroom for the second time turned out to be a lot less stressful. She simply drifted towards consciousness, started to move - then decided against it, preferring to relish the warmth of the blankets for a bit longer.

The creak of the door announced a visitor. She'd already decided that she should sit up and see who it was when he started to speak. "Sweet Merlin, Zabini - you still in here?" Blaise? Still? In here? Now why on earth was that?

Reply to Harry's inquiry came from a corner of the room. "So it appears. Everything all right out there, Potter?"

"Ron's sound asleep - at least, I think he is. There's a motion detecting ward among the ones I put up, so I guess he should be - but you never know. Malfoy just left. He was mumbling something about getting his story straight. I suppose he expects a summons from Voldemort." A short silence followed, then Blaise spoke.

"The Dark Lord wasn't too happy about the three of you escaping. Draco's deception was really artwork. He's laid false tracks, partially scattering them - we all took the bait, ignoring the tracks at the other side of the corridor. When Abury realized the lead we were working on was going nowhere, the actual tracks were too old to get any useful information from. We tried to follow them, but once they reached outside, he'd scattered those as well, but with more care. He must've been exhausted, doing spellwork of that level with a strange wand."

Another pause, then Harry again. "I never expected to say "thank you" to Malfoy and mean it. Today is a day of firsts, I guess."

Blaise laughed, a warm sound from deep in his throat. "Honestly, Potter, Slytherins aren't half as bad as you seem to think."

"I figured, with you sheltering us from the wrath of Tom and all that." Silence fell.

"So. Zabini. Why are you here?"

"To check on Granger, obviously."

"As soon as you heard from Malfoy that Hermione had collapsed, you came here and you haven't left the room, since. As far as I know, you haven't even left that chair."

"Well, in the chair's defence, it's very comfortable. Coffee?"

Hermione knew what expression Harry was wearing, and almost giggled. He's gonna sigh in five... four... three... two... Harry sighed. "Yes, please. Black." She heard the rattle of china against china, then someone moving.

A murmur of thanks, and Harry spoke again. "Just remember that she's got about sixty friends with wands that'll have your throat the moment you hurt her, and probably some two hundred more the next day."

A gurgling sound indicated Blaise was choking on his coffee. It took a while for his coughing to recede. "Yes, well, thank you for that. Isn't there some Gryffindor rule about refraining from making odd comments to near strangers?"

Harry laughed. "Hey. We're Gryffindors. The rule states that we are to make odd comments to near strangers as often as possible."

Wake up time. Hermione slowly opened her eyes, blinked a few times and worked herself up to her elbows. "Good morning."

Harry put down his coffee cup with a sharp tick. "Afternoon, actually. Feeling a bit better?"

"I was feeling quite fine to begin with, really. So you could say I'm still feeling all right." Harry laughed, and reached past her to fluff up her pillows and arrange them behind her back.

From the corner of her eyes, she saw Blaise grin. She grinned back at him. "What?"

"Nothing," he said too quickly. "Coffee?"

Coffee would be great," she sighed.

He rose and poured her a cup. When he'd given it to her, he looked at Harry. "I'll be going to the library. Call for Sally if you need anything. I'll see you," and with that, he swept from the room.

Harry arched an eyebrow. "Did Zabini just wink at you?"

Hermione shook her head. "No, he couldn't have. Figment of our collective imagination. So. Fill me in. What's happening to Ron?"

Harry closed his eyes, and leaned back. The silence carried for a long time.

At last he spoke. "Ron's Turning. He'll be a vampire by tomorrow night."

~*~

The way she was feverishly flipping through pages was starting to annoy even Blaise. When she'd slammed the umpteenth book closed and pulled yet another one towards her to repeat the process, Blaise slammed his own book with equal force. "That's it."

He pushed his chair back, stalked around the table, plucked the book from her hands and crossed his arms over his chest ominously. "What?" Hermione asked dazedly.

"You, miss Granger, are annoying. So I'll tell you what's going to happen. You will be moving towards the kitchen within the minute, where you will have a decent supper. As soon as you are done eating, you will have a bath, and after that, you will go to bed, where you will sleep for ten hours straight. The only choice you have in this matter is this one: either you do all this willingly, or not. What will it be?"

She stared at him, then lunged after her book. "Fair enough," he said, planting the book on the table.

Before she knew what was happening, he had picked her up, hoisted her over a shoulder and was carrying her down the stairs. "Put me down. Zabini! Put me down! Zabini? Zabini! ...Blaise! Put me down!" She kept on wriggling, but to no avail - his grip was like iron.

When they arrived in the kitchen, he planted her onto a chair, and poured her a bowl of tomato soup from a big pan standing on the stove. "Once again, one choice. Either you eat this on your own, or I force it down your throat." She had no doubts as to whether or not he'd do it. Wordlessly, she picked up a spoon. He smiled, looking infuriatingly self-satisfied, and got a bowl of soup of his own.

When he'd seated himself across from her and started eating, a thought occurred to her. "How were you planning to force me to take a bath?"

He didn't even raise his eyes from his bowl of soup. "Sally takes orders."

She smiled. "And the sleeping thing?"

Now he did look up, eyebrow arched. "I might be terrible at potions, but that doesn't stop me from buying them."

At that point, Draco Malfoy burst in. "Hello, Blaise, Granger. Ah, soup!"

Without further comment, he helped himself to a bowl and joined them at the table. Apparently, he was planning to feign innocence. Blaise merely stared at him.

It took perhaps twenty seconds before Draco slammed his spoon down. "All right, all right, I get it. Bloke can't even eat soup in peace nowadays."

"My soup," Blaise said airily, "but you're right. You can't. So. How did the summons go?"

"Quite fine, considering that, apart from my cute smile and my Occlumency skill, I had no way to prove that I'd been doing what I said I'd been doing."

"And what did you say you'd been doing?"

At that point, Draco leaned back and smiled slyly. "I told him that, when I read the article about Weasleys vampirism, I started working on a mind-controlling gem - much like the ones Grindelwald used on the Rechiius clan - to make an attempt to infiltrate the Golden Trio if Weasley Turns."

"And he bought that?" Blaise asked incredulously.

"He didn't only buy it, he approved of it, complimented my way of thinking, and suggested I went to see you to get the details of the Trio's flight. He seemed to be under the impression that you were leading the search for them."

Blaise smirked. "I am, actually. I can tell you with some certainty that the Trio has been in Romania, recently. You never know, they might have gone back - looking for help from a fellow vampire. I'm sure a Gryffindor would come up with something like that."

"I'm still here, you know," Hermione brought in.

"Of course I do, Granger. Absolutely riveting to see you again. Drove Blaise mad already?"

"Not quite yet, but I'm working on it."

Draco smirked. "You should try stealing his food. Result guaranteed. But don't come anywhere near his coffee - his temper tantrums are kind of pathetic, in a scary sort of way."

She grinned. Blaise almost dropped his spoon when he saw it. "Gods, Malfoy, don't give her ideas. Shouldn't you be working on your potions or something?"

"Potions?" Hermione tilted her head. "Still into potions, then, Malfoy?"

"I'm surprised you remember. I thought all Gryffindors labelled my Potion grades as charity."

"Most of us did. Don't change the subject."

He grinned and took another gulp of soup. "Quite vicious tonight, aren't we, Granger?"

"But Draco, dear, you know I am always vicious. Don't you?" she said in a mock-sweet voice, batting her eyelashes.

Blaise didn't quite succeed in hiding his smile behind his hand. It took her a while to figure out why, but when she did it hit her like a stone - his smile was reaching his eyes. He seemed a different man, suddenly. With a start, she realized Draco was talking animatedly to her, and just managed to grasp his meaning.

"Wolfsbane? You mean the potion..."

".. Lupin used to take back in third year? That's the one. There's been quite a market for it, since Greyback started his rampage. I'm trying to find a total cure, actually, but I guess I'm doomed to fail. Lycanthropy itself isn't a disease. The only thing you can cure about it is its symptoms."

The only thing you can cure about it is its symptoms...

That's it.

Draco had probably stopped talking a while ago already, for when she looked up from her bowl, the two men were exchanging concerned glances. She smiled. "We're searching in the wrong direction. We don't want to cure Ron's condition - we can't. Once a vampire, always a vampire. But we can cure his symptoms. If I can create a Warding Gem..."

Blaise's eyes widened. "If we can create a Gem large enough to hold sun wards..."

Hermione started tapping on the table. "The biggest problem is oxygen. The adrenaline rush that comes with a draining kill is what enables a vampire's heart to beat fast enough for sufficient oxygen to reach the brains."

"When a vampire doesn't kill for a while and gets blood starvation, it isn't from lack of blood, but from lack of oxygen in the brain cells. That's what will drive the vampire mad, in the end. So what we want to do..."

Blaise cut over her, a large grin on his face - "Is to make sure that Weasley's heart keeps beating fast enough to allow his blood to remain flowing at normal pace - even when he doesn't kill. And we can do that - all we need is an Amulet, an experienced Healer and someone excelling at Charms."

Hermione grinned. "I've got someone in mind."