Inevitable Lovers

Chapter 16:

Time, in the way that it usually does, had crept steadily on. In their haste to brush up on their magical learning for the approaching mock NEWTs, most of the seventh years had watched the weeks fly by. The mocks had taken place at the beginning of February, with the Great Hall laid out as it would have been for the real exams.

Owing mainly to the persistent chivvying from the teachers of their subjects, there had been a flurry of activity in the library that month, and there was actually a waiting list put on the most popular revision books. Madam Pince, the librarian, seemed to cast a keener eye than ever over her precious leather-bound volumes, should they come to any harm.

Despite Hermione's customary devotion to not only revising thoroughly, but also encouraging others to do the same (even Ginny, who had had less important tests herself, was not able to escape Hermione's reminders about their vital importance), the time that had flown by for many seemed to pass more slowly for her. Indeed, whenever she had found her mind wandering to subjects not related to homework in any way, the one recurring name - the one unforgettable name - that stole through her thoughts and even, dreams, like a mantra, was Draco's. The loss of those fiery kisses, those formidable yet loving eyes, her delight in the knowledge that his dislike for her was all an act; it was all just a memory now. All that remained was the same (even now) feeling she got every time they encountered one another; that something hot was rapidly melting in her chest, causing her heart to swell; a dizzying effect. This contrasted with the wretched absence of affection, passion, and most of all, love.

All of these sentiments had, of course, been recorded in Hermione's only outlet, her diary, so that some nights, after finishing reams of homework, she would doze off in her armchair by the fire, the small book slipping from her fingers, only to wake a minute or two later, usually by Crookshanks, and clutch it back in fear of losing it.

Before the mocks, Hermione hadn't really seen Draco and Pansy together. Lessons were, of course, part of the fabric of school life and not to be avoided, but she still preferred to stay out of any Slytherin's way. Since that first night at the beginning of the year, Pansy had not, to Hermione's knowledge, entered their tower at all, for which she was glad.

Therefore, the only thing Hermione could possibly do was continue as normal, as best she could, as Head Girl, duties couldn't be shirked where matters of the heart were concerned. As far as everyone else knew, she and Draco had always been mutual enemies anyway, so her ignoring him wasn't exactly out of the ordinary. Hermione sometimes thought what it would be if she had a platonic relationship with Draco; a friendship, but dismissed the idea. It would be too tantalising, like seeing something she wanted just out of reach and never being able to have it. She had the feeling that Draco was holding something back, as if he was waiting for her to speak to him. As it was, the only words they did exchange were stiff and cordial, as if they barely knew each other. Yet, she caught his eye when they often least expected it, and any true feelings were communicated in the split second of a glance, where Draco looked candidly apologetic. The tower they shared now had an air of discomfiture; entirely invisible, but still discernible to both. She rarely studied with him now, and the fact remained that while Pansy Parkinson was happy, nothing had changed.

The first time Hermione caught a glimpse of Draco with Pansy was outside the Charms classroom as they lined up to take their lesson, the week after the mocks were over. She, Harry, Ron and several other Gryffindors were already at the front of the line, when the Slytherins in the class walked towards them. Pansy was holding Draco's hand. Hermione, who had been talking to Ron about their Charms test, swallowed, as she felt an unpleasant rush of jealousy and longing. She had never been able to hold Draco's hand like that; in full view of everyone, no questions asked. To Hermione, Pansy looked more pug-like than ever, with a smug smile across her face. Draco looked the other way as they passed, his usual sneer absent, and joined the back of the queue with the rest.

***

Inside the Charms classroom, Draco let go of Pansy's hand abruptly, but docilely let her lead him to row of desks next to the wall. At least Crabbe and Goyle could sit on his other side. Hermione wasn't in his line of vision from this angle, but he could sense her presence as they got their ink and quills out. He had nothing to say to the Gryffindors today; he wasn't sure if Hermione had told them anything for a start, although he suspected no because of the lack of provocation from Potter, of late. The rivalry was as intense as ever, as always in the lead up to a Quidditch match. The mere sight of Potter's baleful expression infuriated him, as did the fact that both he and the Weasel had Hermione to themselves.

Draco raised his eyes as Professor Flitwick began the class as squeakily as ever, rousing everyone's attention.

'I have here the results of your Charms mock NEWTs,' he said, peering at them all over the desk. 'You have all done fairly well, and I expect then, that you will all go on to achieve your potential in the real exams. Minor errors, of course, can easily be corrected at this early stage! Now, here are the papers; kindly hand them out, will you, Blackstop?' he requested of Ravenclaw Jimmy Blackstop, at the front of the class.

As they received their marks, students began muttering amongst themselves, comparing with friends. Professor Flitwick spoke over them, 'I must say, congratulations to Miss Granger, on having achieved the best mark in the class!'

Hermione, who had not failed to note her grade, turned pink, as Harry and Ron nudged her, and as certain Slytherins turned to give her filthy looks.

'Infuriating little Mudblood, isn't she?' whispered Pansy to Draco with relish. He nodded curtly.

The rest of the lesson involved taking notes on the application and usefulness of Disillusionment Charms in the field of secrecy and disguise. Draco diligently took down Flitwick's many points, noticing next to him that Pansy was inking small embroidered hearts, each with a 'D' in the centre, on the corner of her parchment. He rolled his eyes, but did not comment.

Only when they were practising the spell on the guinea pigs Professor Flitwick had distributed to them, was Draco able to think of other things. Since Hermione had finished with him, things had taken a rather different, more unpleasant turn for him at Hogwarts. After that night in the common room, when he had finally let Pansy take him off, he knew he had resigned himself. The fight was over; the rebellion against his father, the coldness between him and Pansy that had existed for so many months. What would be the point in continuing it without his secret trysts with Hermione? After all, before he had fallen for her, this resistance hadn't existed, and if he carried it on, he would surely land himself in hot water with Lucius again, anyway.

This wasn't to say he had stopped thinking about Hermione, stopped fantasising; stopped loving. He still wanted her, heart and soul. Which made this all the more difficult to bear, but was also why, when Pansy turned to give him an indulgent smile amidst the chatter, he could satisfy her by grinning insincerely back. Ever since he had "succumbed to her charms" once again, as she believed, she had been happier (and more irritating) than ever, acting as though she was a step above all the other Slytherins, mainly due to Draco's popularity. The only thing he really drew the line at now was letting her sleep with him in the Head Boy tower - he didn't wish Hermione to have to witness that.

The bell rang then, drawing the lesson to a close. Around the room, half-camouflaged guinea pigs gambolled across the desks, where Disillusionments had been attempted. Hermione's, however, was difficult to spot; it had taken on the exact colour and texture of the wood beneath it.

Charms was followed by a free period, then a lesson of Potions for Draco and the trio. They had been instructed to begin the complex process of brewing a Calming Draught, a potion to "soothe emotional toil", and were forewarned by Snape that maturation of the remedy was vital, hence any mistakes made now could not be rectified later. Hermione, of course, took heed, and with a little assistance, Harry also managed to earn a "competent, at best" from Snape for his potion.

Fortunately, Hermione did not run into Draco again that afternoon.

***

On the morning of two days later, Draco awoke with a feeling of ominous threat, as if he had just escaped the clutches of some nightmarish demon. Then the events of the previous night were upon him, and, staring around the unfamiliar dormitory, he understood why. He threw the covers off and slipped out between the dark green, velvet four-poster curtains, and dismally began pulling on clothes, all the while being careful not to make too much noise. Pausing for a moment, he gazed at the dormant girl on the same bed. Last night, he recalled, had been awful.

Draco had not made love to Pansy since he had forced himself to "make it official'" that they were a couple almost a month ago. He had had a feeling that the subject would come up before long, but had not second-guessed Pansy's coy demeanour at all. He had accepted the fact that intimacy would come with the everything else, and fully expected her to be as brazen and demanding as ever, but that had not been the case. It had begun as they filed out of the Great Hall from dinner yesterday evening.

During dinner, Theodore Nott had sat next to Draco instead of Pansy, and the opportunity to question him about his recent goings-on had arisen. Draco currently did not know what to make of Nott. Certainly he fitted the bill of the average Slytherin, yet there was something strangely sinister about him. He rarely spoke, for a start, and not in a Crabbe and Goyle-esque way ; Draco could well suspect he calculated many things in his head which he did not communicate, which bothered him

Blaise Zabini sat with Pansy a few seats away, so he could not fathom whether Nott had apologised, or even spoken to her, since that scene in the Slytherin common room. Hence, he still had the feeling Nott had run rings around his well thought-out interrogation - about why he was so often absent from lessons lately for one thing, and why Draco had bumped into him more that once on a very late night stroll in the blackened corridors, as he finished his prefects' duty. Encountering anyone in the halls when it was that dark was alarming, but Nott barely acknowledged him; indeed, during the last time he had seen only the outline of his figure, bright eyes gleaming from under dark hair. Even in seven years, he had to admit he knew less about the boy than he did about some of the teachers, although he knew the Nott family were involved in Death Eater activity.

While Draco's mind was still intent on Theodore, Pansy had made plain her motives for the night. It was nothing explicit, just a soft brush up the forearm that could have been accidental; but Draco, having had his shirt sleeves rolled up and no robes, felt her touch. She had smiled almost shyly, and beckoned him away from the chattering people dispersing throughout the castle, into a small side passage, as they all left the Hall.

Pansy had promised him something very special, using a coy little voice that required him to lean down to hear her. However, as spontaneous as she might have seemed when requesting he join her in the seventh year girls' dormitory, he suspected this had been a long standing plan, as the bedroom was a little too pristine to be impromptu. The absence of a single other seventh year was obviously no coincidence, and he had wondered vaguely where they had all gone. He supposed he should be embarrassed to cause such an inconvenience, but it was too much to care about that as well. He did feel a bit guilty about depriving Blaise of her own bedroom for the night.

Draco thought he had made quite a convincing display of genuinely wanting Pansy, but it was frustrating that no one was aware but himself. He had to admit, however, Pansy was strangely more attractive when she wasn't dolled up in expensive underwear and lipstick, but just in her school jumper and tie and skirt, her hair in pseudo-innocent pigtails. "Is that a wand in your pocket, or are you just pleased to see me?" she had purred, and he had rolled his eyes. But as it was, it was pitch black with the heavy curtains drawn around her bed, so he was free to imagine Pansy was Hermione, in some thrilling secret liaison. Pansy had not been able to keep her hands off him, trapping his body tightly between her legs and raking sharp fingernails across his abdomen; eliciting genuine groans of pleasure.

Afterwards, he had felt sickened with himself. Pansy lay contented in his arms, but as soon as she had fallen asleep, he had extracted himself and lay free on his back, staring into nothingness, clenching the bedclothes in a fist.

As he paced the dormitory this morning, deliberating whether to wake Pansy up, the same stifled feeling threatened to suffocate him. Last night he'd lain for a long time, exhausted but unable to sleep as the injustice of it all made him want to curse everyone and run childishly away from Hogwarts. As it was, there was no one to talk to, and as far as Crabbe and Goyle were concerned, he was simply happy to comply with the orders of Lucius. Just thinking about Hermione gave him a dreadful feeling...what if her never got to kiss her ever again? Or what if they defied all odds and just left Hogwarts, never again to see Lucius, or Pansy, or that fool Dumbledore, or Potter...

'Oh Draco, what a night!' Pansy's sudden words interrupted the daydream, and he twisted up the resolve, feeling murderous, but all the same turning to her with a very forced smile.

***

Hermione was in the process of pouring some orange juice into her goblet at breakfast on the same morning, when the post owls swooped into the Great Hall. As usual, she extracted her copy of the Daily Prophet and slipped a knut into the owl's leather pouch. Today it was not the front page, but the third, that caught her attention.

DEATH OF A DEATH EATER

The body of Augustus Rookwood, 36, was discovered in the Wizarding village of Hogsmeade yesterday night. The discoverer, Aberforth Dumbledore, of the Hog's Head tavern, has been summoned to the Ministry of Magic for questioning, as there appear to be no other witnesses. The Minister for Magic, Cornelius Oswald Fudge, has issued the following statement:

'The murder of such a prominent Death Eater has evidently sparked off further activity related to He Who Must Not Be Named. Rookwood was an extremely dangerous individual who had previously escaped Azkaban prison. The Ministry of Magic had had an extended hunt in process for him until yesterday, and we are now presented with, er, difficulties. I mean to say, the wizard who was able to commit such a murder would have had to have been either very brave - or very foolish - depending on how you look at it, but nonetheless very capable, leading us to suspect the deceased may have been executed for not fulfilling his duties as a servant to the Dark Lord.

Rookwood, who was found decapitated, had committed several murders himself and has proved thus far to have been very elusive, up until, of course, yesterday evening. Representing the Ministry, I implore any wizard with information to step forward with information.'

Hermione frowned, looking towards Dumbledore at the staff table. A Death Eater decapitated...outside his own brother's pub...how very odd, she thought, before folding the newspaper over and indicating Harry and Ron read the article too.

Ron gave a low whistle as he scanned the page. 'Wonder if Dumbledore trusts his own brother?' he said.

'I don't know, but these funny deaths...they seem like they're the run up to something worse.' She looked at Harry, and saw comprehension in his eyes.

'Yeah, something tells me it might have been Voldemort that killed Rookwood, he said in a low voice (Ron blanched), or at least another Death Eater.' Hermione nodded.

'So,' said Ron. 'Do you reckon we're going to be allowed in Hogsmeade this weekend, then?' For they were due the second Hogsmeade visit of the year that Saturday; it was Wednesday.

'It depends what Dumbledore thinks,' said Hermione absently; over on the Slytherin table, Draco Malfoy had apparently just read the same article. She watched his expression - far from looking shocked at the news, he looked pensive...perhaps he had heard already from Lucius? It was not likely that she would find out.

Hermione's first lesson was to be Muggle Studies, making Ron's Care of Magical Creatures, and meaning Harry had a free period, by their timetables. This, it transpired, was not a good thing.

Just as they had left the Great Hall, Harry indicated they group around him.

'Listen,' he said. 'Hermione, do you know if Malfoy's in a lesson now?'

'M-Malfoy?' Hermione coughed. 'Why?'

'Because I think this might be the perfect opportunity to see what he's up to,' said Harry determinedly, and Ron passed him a significant look. 'I've got the Cloak all ready.'

'For heaven's sake Harry, you're not going to follow him around!' said Hermione, remembering his promise. 'It'll be ridiculous.'

'No,' said Harry. 'Ron and I decided, that we can start by looking for anything dodgy in your tower. But as you and Ron are in class...'

Snooping around the tower? Hermione thought in disbelief.

'No way. Number one, you're meant to be studying. And two, if there's anything "dodgy", I can find it myself.'

'Not really,' put in Ron now, 'I mean, why would you be in Malfoy's room? It would never happen.' Hermione looked to the floor. 'But now it's all quiet, almost everyone's in lesson and we've got-' the bell rang then, silencing him for a second or two - 'a whole hour.'

'Come on, just tell me the password,' said Harry. 'If Malfoy's a Death Eater, I want to know about it.'

'But-' she began, trying to think of a way out. 'I can do it, whenever I like. Just lend me the Cloak.'

'If you're caught,' said Ron warningly.

'If you're caught,' said Hermione to Harry.

'If I'm caught, I'll be able to shut him up,' he said simply. 'Now what's the password, or you'll be late for class.'

'It's...it's Specialis,' said Hermione desperately, 'it's Latin for - but Harry had turned away with a nod. 'Please don't do it, though, Harry -' she broke off as Ron patted her on the shoulder and Harry began walking away, lost in a wave of students.

'Nice one, Hermione,' he said, 'See you at dinner time, we're training at lunch.'

Hermione, stood there, feeling rather lost, before she remembered Muggle Studies and hurried away up the corridor.

***

The hour in which Harry spent in Hermione and Draco's tower had not been tedious. From the moment he'd entered, almost forgetting the obscure password, he was determined to find answers, for Hermione's claim about Malfoy's initiation had unsettled him. Once inside, he was only able to enter Draco's dormitory, even with the Invisibility Cloak, which Hermione had not forgotten. However, she still did not like the idea of Harry being discovered, and sat through the whole of her first class imagining it, not raising her hand once.

'The only thing I found was a letter,' said Harry.

It was not in the Great hall that they sat, but in front of the fire in the Gryffindor common room that night. Hermione had done her homework, but didn't know about the others. The day had dragged, and dinner had not provided a chance to talk due to inconvenient seating. Here they could talk, but it came at the price of Ginny being included - Harry didn't see the problem with her there, and Hermione hardly liked to raise objections in front of her boyfriend and brother; Ginny would only have argued anyway.

'You took a letter?' said Hermione in a hushed voice.

'No, I thought it would be a bit suspicious. This was after I almost got trapped, anyway.' Hermione now noticed that Ginny was stroking Harry's right hand soothingly, and she raised her eyebrows in question.

'Malfoy's Hand of bloody Glory,' said Harry for explanation. 'I didn't realise...touched it and it clamped down on my hand, I thought it had broken it.'

So he's obviously talked to Ginny already...before Ron and me, thought Hermione, nettled.

'Anyway, what else was there?' asked Ron.

'Loads of things shaped liked dragons...a knife, and expensive candles. A locked drawer, and some kind of mirror in the wardrobe...I'm sure it took a breath when I walked by. But the letter was on the night stand; it had been sealed, by wax I think, but I didn't open it, it was already opened. It was to Malfoy...from Lucius.'

He paused, and they all looked at each other.

'What did it say?' Ginny breathed.

'There were some things I didn't understand,' admitted Harry, 'but it sounds like Lucius is angry with him...he said all this stuff about Draco "behaving properly"...he's mad. Then he mentioned he has people that will report to him in a second if Draco doesn't act like a real Malfoy. Then, he was going on about that Pansy Parkinson, he said that he's heard they're acting like a couple, and he said that's good 'cos there's not much of this year left and they can settle down as soon as possible. The only other things were about he hopes Malfoy is staying "loyal", or something. Oh, and that Theodore could be considered an ally. I think he was talking about that Nott boy, you know, the tall one.'

Ron put out his hands to the fire. 'Nutters, the lot of them,' he said firmly. 'I bet Malfoy's not up to anything at all, Lucius just likes to feel important so he talks to him like there's something secret going on.' Ginny nodded in agreement.

Hermione had not liked hearing that Draco was together with Pansy properly, and she certainly could not see what Theodore had to do anything.

'Well, if that's the case,' she said, 'then I think it's best if you just leave it now, Harry. If you keep meddling you'll get caught sooner or later. Until we get real evidence, we've no proof Malfoy's doing anything; he's always making stuff up just to show off.'

'True,' said Ginny. She leaned her head on Harry's shoulder; Ron looked revolted. 'Fancy going for a walk?' she said dreamily.

'Er, all right,' said Harry gruffly. 'But before I forget-' he reached into the deep pocket of his robes and withdrew a small felt book. Hermione's face drained of colour instantly, and she felt hot and then cold all over.

'Where did you get that?!' she exclaimed in one breath.

'Oh, so it is yours,' said Harry, holding it out to her. 'I did wonder...' Ginny looked curious. 'It was on the floor in your common room, you probably dropped it.'

Hermione's face flamed. Oh my God, has he read it? her mind screamed. What does he mean by wonder?! Quickly, she stuffed the diary into her own robes, trying to look nonchalant.

'Ready?' said Ginny to Harry, and without further ado, they stood up and made towards the portrait hole, waving goodbye, seemingly unaware that Hermione was more embarrassed than she had ever been in her whole entire life, including the time when Draco Malfoy himself had knocked her back.

She said nothing, mulling over Harry's words, trying to work out if there had been anything worth worrying about, or if he had read the entries. Surely he would have the common courtesy not to, knowing it was a diary...if he found out about Draco, it would be disastrous. Why on earth had she let him go in there in the first place? It was completely out of order to touch someone's things...She looked at her watch suddenly, realising there were fewer people in the common room, and Ron was still sitting there.

'Well, I suppose I'd better-' Hermione broke off her excuse to leave. Ron was staring at the floor in a torturous way, as if he was waiting to say something extremely embarrassing himself. 'Ron?' she ventured.

Ron looked up. 'Er...that wasn't so good about Malfoy, was it...but he's a git anyway,' he said a little feverishly. 'You probably shouldn't worry about him, 'Mione - Hermione.'

Hermione nodded slowly, not commenting on his use of her name.

'But the thing is, we might not be allowed to go to Hogsmeade on Saturday,' continued Ron, changing subject at random. 'And there was something I was going to ask you.' A burst of giggles came from behind them: Ron started and blushed, but it was only a few chattering third years, apparently a coincidence.

'What was it, Ron?' said Hermione, non-plussed.

'Well, Hermione, I...well, Harry's got Ginny, and erm...basically, I really like you.' He was not looking into her eyes anymore, but down at the floor, he glanced up once. 'I wanted to ask you if you would, er, go out with me.' Now Ron looked uncomfortably embarrassed.

Hermione's heart leapt, and not in an ecstatic way. Oh God, she thought desperately, why, Ron, why? A blush had crept to her own cheeks again. Draco...but if I go out with Ron, then Harry won't be suspicious...if he's read my diary...She tried to remember ever using Draco's name in an entry; generally, she refrained from doing so, in case of instances just like this. She would put a locking spell on it as soon as possible, perhaps one that gave the intruder a dead arm...

Hermione could not stay silent any longer. 'Ron, I -' Ron's face was expectant, hopeful, 'I...of course I'll go out with you. You should have asked earlier.' So what is this, your equivalent to Draco's Pansy? she berated herself immediately. You stupid girl!

Ron did look ecstatic, however. He could not repress a grin; Hermione shared a small smile with him.

'That's really - really good,' he said, in an effort to keep his voice natural.

'Okay well, Ron, I'm glad too, but I really do have to go,' said Hermione apologetically, for he looked a bit put-out. She darted forward and kissed him on the cheek, a little clumsy, for he hadn't been expecting it. 'I'll see you tomorrow.'

Once out in the dark corridor, ten minutes before night time curfew, Hermione broke into a very brisk walk. That little scene had brought back too many memories of Draco, their first kiss...when he had taken ownership of her mouth like she knew Ron never would, and when she took him to bed. I must have been mad to give that up, thought Hermione distantly. I think I'd rather be Draco's other woman than Ron Weasley's first time. Oh God...and with that, she marched up to the phoenix painting door of her tower, slamming it neatly shut behind her and mentally cutting of Ron's horribly enthralled expression. This was to be a night of regrets, for sure.