**Disclaimer: I own nothing; everything belongs to the wonderful J. K. Rowling.
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Chapter 21

A light rain was falling outside the Gryffindor tower when Hermione awoke that morning. The dampness beyond the walls could not penetrate the dorm room though. A warm fire was blazing gaily away a few feet from Hermione’s bed; the reddish light outlining her face as she began to wake, she never closed her curtains when she slept. Hermione opened her eyes and gazed up at the canopy of her four-poster, content for the moment to lie quietly and revel in her solitude. It was nice to have one place that was safe for her; one place where she could stop and think without being bothered by Ron or Harry, one place where she could hide from the penetrating looks that Draco would watch her with. In fact, Hermione’s dorm room had become her one sanctuary from the outside. It was the one place where she could hide under red and gold quilts and pretend that the whole school wasn’t whispering about her as she passed.

It seemed that what had been a rather well kept secret was suddenly the most interesting subject in the entire school. Not to say that no one knew of Hermione being assigned to work with Draco. That had been acceptable to most people, especially those that knew Hermione and understood her absolute devotion to her schoolwork. But, as if overnight, Hogwarts seemed to have sat up and taken notice that not only was Hermione working with Draco Malfoy more often than one would think, but she also seemed to enjoy it. And the Slytherin in question didn’t seem too perturbed about the arrangement either.

Those close to her had known that there was something more than class work going on with Malfoy. There had been several opinions amongst her friends as to what was happening with Draco, the most prevalent belief followed more or less along with a statement of Ron’s.

“She’s gone bloody daft!”

Hermione knew that he meant well. And she knew that Harry and Ron were only trying to protect her. But Hermione had always liked being an only child; she certainly didn’t need any over-protective brothers.

It had seemed that her friends had decided that whatever shame Hermione was bringing upon herself by being with Draco, it was something that should be kept to themselves. Everyone seemed fairly content to ignore her strange behavior and odd acceptance of Draco. The school had continued on unaware of the pair sequestered in their room off the library.

That had all changed, of course, when Draco had confronted her outside of Transfiguration the day before. Nothing had been said that could implicate either of them. But people who had watched didn’t need solid proof; they had all heard the anger and desperation in Draco’s normally sardonically calm voice. But more surprising than that was Hermione’s own acceptance of his demands.

Rumors had begun immediately. How long had they been on speaking terms? Why hadn’t Hermione hexed him yet? Why was Draco tolerating a mudblood in his presence? Were they friends? Were they more than friends? There was very little excitement occurring at Hogwarts this year, no triwizard tournament, no petrified students, and no escaped convicts. So this little bit of gossip about a possible budding relationship between a Gryffindor and a Slytherin spread through the halls like wild fire. Hermione didn’t think she’d been this embarrassed since the time in her first year when she lost all those house points.

She snuggled deeper in her blanket and closed her eyes again. She never wanted to leave this room again.

“Hermione? Are you awake?” An all too close voice whispered.

Hermione opened her eyes and glanced to one side to find Parvarti and Lavender sitting on a neighboring bed. Something about the way that they were eyeing her speculatively made her groan inwardly.

“Hermione, we’re so glad that you’re awake, we wanted to speak to you. A girl to girl talk, you know?” Lavender said smiling a smile that Hermione didn’t like.

“You see Hermione, there’s been a lot talk going around the school and…” Parvarti began but was cut off by Hermione kicking of her blanket and climbing quickly out of the bed.

“Oh no, look at the time, is it really already seven-thirty?” Hermione questioned while ducking into her closet and emerging mere seconds later pulling a robe over her clothes.

Lavender and Parvarti weren’t going to be so easily dissuaded and they followed her around the room while Hermione gathered her quills and books. “Are you going to meet Malfoy?” Lavender asked.

Hermione turned to Parvarti and Lavender. “Malfoy? Of course not, I was going to watch Harry and Ron practice for the next game.” This was a lie of course, she had been planning on heading to the library to meet Draco, and Hermione wasn’t even sure if Harry and Ron even had a practice scheduled for that morning.

“Well let’s all go together then.” Parvarti said brightly and linked her arm with Hermione’s and pulled her through the door.

“No that’s all right, I think I can find my own way there.” Hermione pleaded desperately, knowing that an interrogation was close at hand.

“Nonsense! Parvarti and I love to watch Quidditch, and we never spend enough time together. Do we Parvarti?”

They pulled her down a flight of stairs and Hermione was struggling to think of anything that could get her away from her roommates that were beginning to remind her of a pair of harpies.

“Hermione!” a voice called from the fourth year girls’ doorway. “Oh I’m so glad that I ran into you, I wanted you to help me with this problem in my Charms homework.” Ginny stepped out of her room and beamed at Hermione.

“Hermione’s going with us to watch Quidditch practice,” Parvarti told her coolly.

“Oh this will only take a minute girls,” Ginny grabbed one of Hermione’s hand and tugged her away from the others. “She can catch up with you!” Ginny pulled Hermione into her room and shut the door in Lavender and Parvarti’s face.

Hermione sat down on the edge of Ginny’s bed and sighed in relief. “Thank you.”

“Don’t worry about it, you looked like you could use a rescue. Don’t those two have anything better to do?” Ginny was still wearing her pajamas and flopped back onto her bed next to Hermione.

“Well no one else seems to have anything better to do either.” Hermione grumbled.

“Well honestly, what did you expect? You are with Malfoy, aren’t you?” Ginny looked at Hermione.

“What?” Hermione flushed, “I…I am not! Is that what everyone is saying?”

“It’s one popular theory. It’s right behind the belief that you’re using Draco to make Ron and/or Harry jealous or that he found something to blackmail you into doing all his homework. My personal favorite is that you’re actually Malfoy’s long lost twin sister and that the two of you are so happy to have finally been reunited that you’re spending all your time together.”

“But I don’t even look like Draco,” Hermione muttered. She looked dumbfounded for a moment and then glared at Ginny, “you just made that one up!”

“Well yes, I suppose that I did. But really, some of the things people are saying are absolutely ludicrous.”

“You’re not helping Ginny,” Hermione muttered morosely.

Ginny smiled kindly at Hermione. “It will blow over, I promise. The school is just bored right now. Remember all the rumors that were flying after you went to the Yule Ball with Viktor Krum last year? What can I say Hermione, your love life is just too exciting for Hogwarts to ignore.”

“I’m flattered, really.” Hermione stood up and paced around the room. “What should I do now?”

Ginny had ducked into her own closet and emerged in a school robe, “come to breakfast with me of course. Eating meals all by yourself just to avoid the rest of the school can’t be healthy. And besides, the more you hide from everyone, the guiltier you look.”

“How do you know all this?” Hermione asked.

“I’ve got six older brothers and you’ve met my mother. I know how to get out of the way of trouble. The best thing you can do is face them and laugh.” Ginny linked her arm with Hermione and led the other girl out of the room.

“This can’t possibly be a good idea.” Hermione muttered as they left the Gryffindor tower.



Breakfast turned out to be more bearable than Hermione would have suspected. While the hall had buzzed excitedly upon her entrance, the resolute expression that she wore seemed to overcome even the staunchest gossipers. After a few disgruntled glares in her direction over her refusal to add fuel to the fire, most students settled back down to their own meals, leaving Hermione to hers.

“Oooh, Hermione, try some of this.” Ginny heaped a large portion of eggs onto her plate. There were tiny pieces of brightly colored edible eggshells scattered throughout it.

Hermione looked quizzically at her plate then back up at Ginny, “you know Gin, my Mum usually tries to leave the eggshell out of the breakfast food.

Ginny wrinkled her nose, “why would you want to do that? The shell is were all the flavor is.” She sunk her fork deep into her own.

Hermione said nothing and reached for a piece of toast. She generally enjoyed wizarding food. But today something nice and familiar would be better.

A rustle of movement caught her attention and she looked up to see the morning owls swooping down upon them. Hedwig landed at their table and looked around for Harry.

“Sorry Hedwig,” Ginny told the snowy owl, “Harry’s at practice.”

The owl took flight in annoyance and Ginny watched her spiral upward, but Hermione’s eyes were following a different owl. Draco’s eagle owl had descended rapidly to the Slytherin table, pulling back only at the last second and narrowly missing sinking it’s sharp claws into Draco’s head. The bird was clutching a letter and Hermione dropped her piece of toast. She knew without a doubt that Draco was going to do something very stupid, she knew that he was going to open that letter from his father.

Hermione had done her best to convince him that if his mother really was sick that the Headmaster would tell him. She hoped that she had sounded more sincere than she felt. Draco had had a good point about the Headmaster being less than forth coming on occasion. But Hermione couldn’t believe that Pansy was telling the truth, it had to be some type of trick.

Draco glanced up from the far side of the hall and she met his gray eyes. Even from this distance she knew what he was thinking. He had to know, even if this letter held some vile curse. Even if his father was lying, he had to know.

Draco stood up abruptly and several Slytherins stopped eating and looked at him. He held eye-contact with her a few moments more before turned and walked swiftly from the dining hall, letter in hand.

Hermione stood up immediately almost knocking a glass of pumpkin juice down. Ginny looked up at her in surprise but Hermione was already pushing her chair back and scooting around the other Gryffindors.

“Hermione what are you…” Ginny paused as she followed Hermione’s gaze and saw Draco exit the hall. “Hermione, that’s really not a good idea.” She whispered because the other students were beginning to take notice.

Hermione ignored her and sprinted past the tables and through the doors after Draco. It was almost refreshing to realize that at the moment she didn’t care what anyone thought.

She didn’t even need to think about where he would be. The room off the library was just as ingrained in his mind as it was in hers. Hermione headed to the library dashing down the hall stopping to walk only when Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick emerged from a classroom together. It struck Hermione as she sped up again how ironic it seemed that she was chasing down a hallway after Draco Malfoy when just a year ago, maybe even a few months ago, she wouldn’t even have a batted an eyelash over his suffering. But then, maybe if it weren’t for her he wouldn’t be suffering. Hermione had never considered that any of this might have something to do with her. She had never asked Draco why he wasn’t becoming a Death Eater.

She knocked over a stack of books when she entered the library but ignored the librarian who yelled after her. A few students looked up in surprise as she went by, Hermione was a regular fixture of the library, but to see her running and knocking things over seemed quite out of character with the quiet young bookworm. She took the steps up the little spiral staircase two at a time and threw open the door to their room with such vehemence that it struck the wall.

“Draco don’t,” she called out desperately.

Draco was standing a few steps into the room, already ripping open the envelope, “Don’t worry,” he told her without looking up as he unfolded the piece of parchment, “it’s just a letter.”

“Are you sure?” She said in between breaths.

He nodded and she collapsed into a chair with a sigh of relief, and began to gingerly rub her side where an angry stitch had developed somewhere along her race to the library.

“You can read it if you want,” he said dully and dropped the letter into her lap before turning to picking up a book and then sat down.

Hermione eyed the parchment warily and then glanced at Draco, he had begun to make notations in the book and seemed completely uninterested in her and the letter. Shrugging she picked it up and started to read it.

Draco,

I have no means of which to get this information to you other than hope that you will eventually lay aside some of your childish stubbornness and read the letters that I send you through the owl post. I imagine that you destroy most of them but hopefully some sense will sink in and I will be able to reach you.



I fear that there is very little time left for your dear mother. She has come down with a fearful case of Aucupor and the specialists at St. Mungo’s have assured me that they are doing everything possible to aid her in recovery. However, this is a very difficult illness and your mother has always been a fragile woman with a very weak constitution and I cannot believe that she has the vigor to pull through. She also suffered a mighty blow when you became estranged from us. I have lead to believe that this owes more greatly to the undue influence of some unsavory elements at your school, namely the Headmaster and his precious muggle-borns. You and I know the truth of course, but the knowledge that you would betray your family in such a despicable manner would certainly obliterate any possibility of her recovery.



I am keeping her illness as covert as I can. I believe that a sudden outpouring of support from her friends might not be beneficial and there are those who would use this weakness to affect my goals. Only a few close friends have been informed of the seriousness with which we are taking her sickness.



I have no illusions as to your feelings for myself, but I would hope that I raised you well enough that you would show some concern over the passing of your mother. But the choice inevitably relies upon your rather unfaithful shoulders.



Father



Hermione looked up, “Draco?”



“I don’t want to talk about it.” He said simply without looking up.



“But you can’t possibly believe…”



“I said,” Draco snapped his book shut and glared at Hermione, “that I

did not wish to talk about it.”

“You can’t just accept this for face value,” Hermione stood up and started pacing, “I mean, there isn’t any proof that your mother even has a cold let alone a critical illness.”

Draco stood and glared savagely at Hermione. “It isn’t any of your business Granger.”

Hermione stopped pacing and looked over at him in surprise, “what?”

“It isn’t any of your business.” Draco turned his back to her and went to a stack of books and pulled out the one he wanted. He returned to his seat and pulled found a quill under a roll of a parchment.

Hermione stood speechless watching him. “So that’s how you want it then?” She waited for him to say or do something but he sat stoically still. “Fine.”

She swept past him and snatched a book off the table. Thrusting it into her bag she glared at him over her shoulder and then stormed from the room. Draco never looked up.



Hermione sat cross-legged on the floor at the foot of her bed and angrily opened the Latin dictionary. A sudden ripping sound followed her actions and Hermione stared at the torn page in her hand.

“Oh blast.” She set the book down and pulled her wand out and quickly repaired the torn page.

Leaning back, Hermione closed her eyes trying to force herself to forget the letter. She wanted to forget all about the Malfoys, especially Draco. She wasn’t sure when he became the central figure in her mind, but she now seemed unable to exile him from her thoughts.

Hermione just couldn’t understand why he didn’t realize that none of it was true. It just couldn’t be true, could it? It seemed too coincidental. And Draco just seemed to be accepting it. She just couldn’t understand. And she couldn’t understand how when she had left their room earlier it had felt as if everything they had gained, everything that had seemed to bring them together and blur the lines that had always separated them was now gone. She had left that room feeling as if they were strangers.

“No, not strangers,” she muttered, “enemies.”



The alley was dim but the cobbled stones of the street seemed to refract the light of the moon and send it glancing deep into the sanctuary of darkness that Hermione was cowering in. Voices could be heard and Hermione strained her ears trying to listen. A raucous chorus of laughter overwhelmed the other voices and Hermione leaned out of the ally in order to see what was going on. A group of men stood before a run-down house. Draco was sprawled on the ground looking rather worse for wear with a bloodied lip and bruises marking his normally alabaster cheeks. His father stood before him, casually pointing a wand at his son. Hermione gasped and stumbled forward into the street.

“Draco,” she cried knowing that she could do nothing to help him but seemed unable to stop herself from trying.

Draco glanced in her direction, “Is it all for naught then?”

“What?” Hermione whispered not understanding, none of the other shadowy figures seemed to take notice of her presence.

“Has all my research been for naught?” Draco repeated.

Hermione shivered as a frigid breeze ruffled her robes. But she wasn’t wearing robes; she was wearing her flannel pajamas that her mother had given her for Christmas this year. She shivered again and then woke up.

An icy wind howled around the Gryffindor tower and a draft had leaked into the girl’s dorm. At some point during her dream the quilt had slipped from her restless form and lay pooled on the floor. Leaning down, Hermione scooped it back up and wrapped it around her shoulders. Sitting on her bed she lifted her wand from the bedside table.

“lumos”

The tip of the wand burst into a blue white ball of light that made her eyes go blind for a moment. The radiance that emanated from the wand was comforting after the darkness of her dream.

“Hermione…” a voice mumbled in the bed next to hers. Lavender, who had always been an annoyingly light sleeper, pushed her own blanket back and looked bleary-eyed at Hermione. “What are you doing? It’s…” she glanced at a small clock that rested on her table, “three in the morning.”

“Sorry,” Hermione whispered. “Just had a bad dream, I’ll turn out the light now.”

Lavender sat up in bed and lighted her own wand, “a dream? Really? What type of dream? Was it about a certain Slytherin?”

“No!” Hermione replied too vehemently and then flushed, she had never been very good at lying.

“C’mon, you can tell me, I know all about dreams.” Lavender beamed proudly at her. “Professor Trelawney says that dreams are windows into the inner workings of the sub-conscious.”

Hermione raised an eyebrow in disbelief.

“All right, that’s mostly me, but dreams are very important.”

Hermione put her light out and lay back down. She closed her eyes and tried to will herself to sleep. It was to no avail though; she kept hearing Draco over and over in her.

“Lavender,” she said rolling back over onto her side and relighting her wand, “in my dream, someone repeated something, as if it was really important.”

Lavender, who had laid back down, propped herself up on one elbow, “well does it mean something to you?”

“I…I don’t think so.”

“Are you sure? Had you ever heard it somewhere before? Or, knowing you, read it in a book? I can’t believe I’m saying this, but think hard Hermione.” Lavender pulled her blanket tighter around her before adding, “Sometimes we lose sight of things, and dreams can help remind us. And most dreams are based upon things that you are familiar with to some extent.”

Hermione closed her eyes and tried to focus. It was recognizable, of course, but she could have heard it anywhere, right? She sighed dejectedly and glowered at the floor. The Latin dictionary lay open next to one of the old journals from the library. She had been too frustrated to bother putting them away. It was very unlike her to not treat books well, or be untidy for that matter. Hermione suddenly sat up again. She threw her own blanket off and stumbled out of the bed and kneeled next to the stack of books. She opened the top one and began furiously flipping through it.

Lavender leaned forward and watched with interest. “Think of something?”

“I’m not sure,” Hermione whispered as she tossed aside the first book and started with the next. It was one that Draco had read from so long ago when they had first learned who O’Leary was. She skimmed along quickly going to where Draco had marked his place. They had never finished going through this text, the spell books had taken up most of their interest. Her finger traced along the encrypted code until she found what she was looking for. Draco had noted it with a little slip of paper.

“I can only hope that my research will not be for naught."

“Draco said this,” Hermione whispered softly, forgetting Lavender’s watchful eyes.

“Draco?” Lavender asked with wide eyes, everyone knew the rumors, but this was more intriguing than she had imagined.

Hermione wasn’t listening to Lavender anymore though. She got to her feet and headed into her closet. She got dressed hurriedly and started to pack up her bag.

“Hermione, you’re not going to the library, are you?” Lavender asked in disbelief.

Parvarti grumbled and sat up, “can’t you two talk quietly? Is it really three in the morning?” The sleepiness gave way to annoyance.

“Hermione has been dreaming about Draco Malfoy and now she’s sneaking out to go to the library.” Lavender said matter a factly as she watched Hermione pulled her boots on.

“What! Really?” Parvarti asked excitedly.

Hermione didn’t even bother to glare at her dorm-mates as she quickly headed to the door.

“Don’t get caught!” Lavender called out softly as Hermione pulled it closed behind her.

As she snuck to the library Hermione couldn’t help but hear Draco’s voice in her head, what he had said in the dream and what he read from the book before were so nearly identical, it had to mean something. But there was something else to it. These were O’Leary’s words, not Draco’s. And they were important.