Warning: This chapter contains some rough language regarding female characters.
Hermione stomped over the greenhouses, grumbling to herself. She was in no mood for yet another heart-to-heart chat about parties, plants and prats, but she'd promised Luna an explanation. Too bad, really. All Hermione wanted to do was sit in a Ginny-free bedroom with her "Durmstrang: A Directory." The school's pseudo-military structure was fascinating: Prefects were called Officers and led by Commanders. There were no House Points, since there were no Houses. Instead rule-breakers earned Demerits, and the three students with the most Demerits at the end of the year were Spülened, or expelled, which was frankly ...
All too soon Hermione arrived at Greenhouse Three, where the most dangerous plants were kept. Luna was working with her back to the door, standing near a potted Devil's Snare.
"Luna!" Hermione called. Her friend turned around as a single vine swung out to encircle her neck, missing her skin by inches.
"Naughty, naughty," Luna said, waving the vine away with a flap of her hand. Hermione stared, impressed by her friend's wandless magic.
"I'm glad you're here, Hermione," Luna said. "Come see."
Hermione joined her at a table scattered with thin blocks of wood and a few curled strands of something nasty.
"This," Luna said, handing her a pale grey block, "is Amorantus wood." Hermione accepted the wood, then almost dropped it as it turned pale green.
"Yes, Amorantus wood changes with your mood," Luna said. "You are confused, which is understandable."
"What are you doing?" Hermione asked.
"I'm trying to make a wand out of Amorantus wood and Koowolf tendon." Luna raised her wand. "Neville is helping me shape the wood, and Mr. Ollivander taught me the spells during our visit to Malfoy Manor. He was too weak to make a wand then but thought I might ..."
Hermione frowned. "Wandmaking is delicate work, Luna. And dangerous."
"Yes," Luna said composedly. "But think of having a wand that responds to your every mood. And Koowolves are quite magical and emotionally stable. Very rarely upset. A nice balance."
"Luna, you shouldn't do this without Mr. Ollivander." Hermione put her hand on the wood block. "If your spell is too complex or too aggressively cast, you could shatter the wood you're enchanting. The rebound could affect your magical core, tie you to the spell—"
Her friend gently took the block back. "I've put up a shield charm, don't you worry." She set down the wood and smiled. "You're here to talk about our party, I hope. Did you have a good time? Our preliminary estimates are less than encouraging, but we hope to see those numbers go up. Did you fill out our survey at the door?"
"I was a bit busy near the end there, Luna."
"Of course. Well, no matter." Luna pulled a thick sheaf of parchment from her bag. "Just fill this out and return it to one of the listed Study Committee. I know it's a bit long, but we had more activities this year."
Hermione eyed the cover sheet listing the survey's 27 sections with interest, then firmly put the papers away. Luna sat on a stool, hands folded on her lap, and Hermione pulled another stool to the table and sat facing her.
"That was very interesting, how you Vanished like that last night," Luna said. "Where did you go?"
Hermione swallowed. It was difficult to say it aloud.
"Draco Malfoy's bedroom," she choked out. "Malfoy adapted the spell from the Vanishing Cabinets to work between two beds."
Luna tilted her head. "Intriguing. I would not have guessed. You two appear a bit high-strung to be having regular sex. Perhaps you're doing it wrong."
"We're not doing it wrong!" Hermione snapped. "I mean, we're not having sex!"
"You're in Draco's bed and you're not having sex? Ah, no wonder then." Luna leaned forward and patted Hermione's hand. "You've come to the right person. Now, there are many ways you can get things started. I've found tying the wizard up while he sleeps and waking him with a nice ..."
"Luna!" Hermione nearly fell off the stool. "I'm not here to talk about sex with Malfoy! I'm here to explain the Vanishing spell!"
Her friend picked up the block of Amorantus and it turned pale green. "But I don't understand. Why is Draco bringing you to his bed if not to have sex with you? Are you study pals? If so, that's a very efficient way to—"
"No, no." Hermione shook her head. "He didn't intend to bring me over. He was trying to set things up with someone else but ... well ... something went wrong." Hermione gritted her teeth but she was determined to explain honestly. "I arrived instead and we've been trying to repair the damage ever since."
Luna nodded. "Well, I have complete faith in both of you. Once you decide to break the spell, I have no doubt you'll succeed."
"Didn't you hear me? We've been trying to break the spell."
Luna blinked at her owlishly. "So you say. But you haven't been trying very hard, have you?"
"Of course we have!" Hermione jumped off her stool. "We've cast and recast the spell and I'm trying to fix my broken clock to stabilize the time element and I wrote 43 inches on Vanishing Spells and their applications, plus took out an owl subscription of Woodworking Weekly to find—"
"Yes, yes." Luna patted her shoulder. "Yes, you've been doing all kinds of interesting things, I'm sure. Very nice. You both deserve to enjoy yourselves."
"I am not enjoying myself!" Hermione cried. "I've never been so confused in my life! I'm trapped with him night after night and he looks cold and harsh but when he touches me, he ... he ..."
"He needs you," Luna said softly.
Hermione blinked. "Nonsense. Draco Malfoy doesn't need anybody."
"He needs you," Luna repeated. "He needs you, and you need to be needed."
"I certainly do not," Hermione objected. "I had enough of that with Harry and Ron. I gave and gave ..." She trailed off, near tears. "I was just so ... tired." She sent down the block, which had shifted from green to grey.
Luna wrapped her arms around Hermione and held her close. "Yes, you were, but you're not anymore. Tired, I mean."
Hermione sniffed. "Well, no. I've been sleeping better."
"Of course you have." Luna released her with a smile. "Draco needs you as much as Harry and Ron did. Maybe even more ... Draco just never likes to admit it."
Hermione went very still, thinking of the first night she woke up to Malfoy thrashing about from a nightmare. How he took her hand, a silent request to stay near. She thought of his sighs when he relaxed against her, his breath in her hair. She thought of his eyes that night she hummed for him. The thrill that went through her every time he let her help.
"He fights me," Hermione said. "It's always a struggle."
Luna said nothing, just watched her.
"How do you know so much about Malfoy all of a sudden?" Hermione asked with a frown. "How do you know what he needs?"
Luna shrugged. "The Dinglefingers told me. They're very perceptive."
"The Dinglefingers told you to set him on Isobel MacDougal?"
Luna shook her head. "No, that was a bit of a miscalculation on my part. I had underestimated your effect on Draco. Disappointing, rather. But then both Justin and Draco tried to seduce her at the party, so Isobel feels sufficiently desirable now."
Hermione was appalled. "That's terrible. Isobel doesn't need to be disgustingly propositioned to feel attractive. What kind of lesson is that? I'm surprised at you, Luna."
The blonde witch looked abashed. "Yes, the Dinglefingers felt the same way. They didn't want me to meddle. But I must say, I didn't expect such behavior from Justin."
"That wasn't Justin last night at the party," Hermione explained. "It was Tennant Rowle under Polyjuice."
Luna's eyes widened. "That explains the dark aura. I thought it was wrackspurts."
Hermione grunted in irritation. "Anyway, now Isobel's interested in Justin, except it wasn't Justin who propositioned her—"
Luna clapped her hands. "Well, that's just lovely! That means Isobel considers Justin dangerous, if not as dangerous as Draco, and Justin will enjoy that very much."
"He will not . You have no idea how prissy that man can—" Hermione stopped and sighed. "The Dinglefingers, right?" She rubbed her forehead. "Just ... just don't interfere any more, alright, Luna? Just leave them be."
Luna nodded. "And I'm sure you and Draco will have a nice time plotting. It can be very stress relieving."
"Ah, sure."
"Sex works much better, however," Luna went on. "It's a shame you don't want to have sex with Draco."
"I do, it's just ..." Hermione snapped her mouth shut.
"Of course you do," Luna patted her hand. "I'm sure he knows all kinds of dark, twisted things."
"He probably wouldn't," Hermione said glumly. "He wouldn't with Romilda—aaagh!" Honestly, Luna was like a walking Veritaserum bottle.
Luna smiled. "I'm sure you could talk him into it."
"But it's completely mental," Hermione protested. "It's Draco Malfoy. I should want someone like Justin."
Luna looked shocked. "You would take Justin away from Isobel?"
"Justin doesn't have Isobel! She's only interested because Tennant Rowle was being a sleaze in his—oh, never mind." Hermione slumped on her stool. Reasoning with Luna was pointless.
She expected Luna to share more Dinglefinger insights but the Ravenclaw just looked at her silently.
"Something has changed between Malfoy and me." Hermione admitted. She twisted her hands in her lap. "He's ... he's ... pursuing me. He's trying to protect me. And I find myself ... I find myself trusting him."
Luna said nothing, just hopped off the stool and began sweeping the wooden blocks and Koowolf tendons into a bag.
"Isn't that mad, Luna? Trusting Draco Malfoy?"
Luna smiled and patted Hermione's hand again. "Yes. And that's why you should."
***
Luna's words still echoed in Hermione's mind as she shivered on a windy balcony later that night. He needs you. It was nearly impossible to believe, and yet ... and did she need Malfoy, too? Or did she need to be needed? Or did he need to need her because she needed to be needed ...
Enough. What she needed was to successfully track Tennant. He was headed her way now down the fifth-floor corridor, according to the Map, although he moved with agonizing slowness. Was he drunk? Was he injured? Had he turned himself into a beetle?
Hermione tried to be patient and not think about all the study time she was losing. For two hours after dinner she'd been dashing all over the castle, using every trick and secret passage she knew to stay ahead of Tennant. His movements had been rather random: He'd gone to the library again for a brief time, then to the Charms classroom with the plaster heads, then Gryffindor Tower. Now he was on the fifth floor. Had he somehow gotten the password to the Prefect's Bathroom? Was he trying to surprise some female student there? Sick, twisted son of a ...
But Tennant didn't enter the bathroom. Instead he stopped in front of the statue of Boris the Bewildered. Hermione peeked out from behind the tapestry to see better.
"Perdita," Tennant said in a hoarse whisper, and the statue shifted several feet to the right to reveal a passage. Tennant wedged himself into the small space with a grunt and disappeared. Boris' statue slid back into place.
Drawing her wand, Hermione stepped up to the statue and waited ten minutes, shuffling her feet. Caution. A nearby clock struck nine.
"Perdita," she murmured, and Boris moved again.
"Lumos." Hermione descended the passage's ladder bolted to the wall. The metal bars were icy cold, her ankle-high boots slid dangerously. She hadn't planned on scaling secret Slytherin ladders tonight. Merlin, she'd spent almost half her life in this castle and there was still so much she didn't know.
The passage brought her to a curtained alcove and she slipped through the gap in the wall, which slid shut behind her. Hermione checked the Map. First floor. She began scanning the nearby library, but the dots were thickly clustered with names layered atop one another. Was that a "T" or an "F"? If people would just quit moving around and concentrate on their studies, maybe she could ...
"What are you doing?" asked a dark voice.
Hermione doused her lumos. The voice was deep and aristocratic. Slytherin.
"YOU again." A second voice, lighter, feminine, familiar, but so twisted with warning that Hermione hardly recognized it. Ginny.
"Are you sure? Maybe you should ask me a question. About the Potions cupboard."
"I am not asking you about the Potions cupboard." Ginny sounded tense.
"Ask me what ingredient you were holding. Or about the pin you wore." A pause. "Or how your lips tasted."
Hermione was shocked. She now recognized the other voice. Ginny had been kissing Zabini in the Potions cupboard? That hypocrite!
Zabini chuckled. "I'll answer anyway: Shrivelfigs. A little silver eye. Intoxicating."
Hermione shivered. Did all Slytherin men practice that purr? She backed away carefully. She'd just head back up to the fifth floor again and circle around the ...
"Perdita," she whispered, but the wall didn't move.
Ginny, meanwhile, was running through her own security questions. "When I spoke to you in the library, what book were you reading?"
"Potions Most Foule."
"When I tested your wand this morning, what came out of it?"
"A blue rose." Zabini's voice was insufferably smug. "I can also tell you how your—"
"STOP!" Ginny screeched.
Hermione heard a crackle of magic, and for an instant she thought Ginny had hexed Zabini on general principles. A draft shifted the curtain a crack and she saw the blunt profile of Tennant Rowle, his face like thunder. Hermione froze. Was he returning to the alcove?
"LURKING," Ginny hissed.
"Fuck off, you daft cunt." Tennant growled.
"I know you were raised among barbarians, Rowle," Zabini said, "but surely you can manage a few civil words to a lady."
"That's no lady," Tennant said. "Watch your cock, Zabini. I enjoy red pussy, but this kind's got teeth."
"Szhech!" Zabini hissed, and purple flame flashed, instantly taking Hermione back to the Department of Mysteries. The scar on her chest burned. Dolohov's Curse. She began to shake, dropping her wand and Map.
"Zabini, don't!" Ginny cried. Hermione's hands clenched over the mottled scar on her chest as she stared at Tennant through the crack. Ginny's wand was now at Tennant's throat.
"Get out of my way," snarled Tennant, who had apparently dodged Zabini's spell, or perhaps the dark-haired wizard had missed.
"What are you doing, Rowle?" Ginny asked. "What's in that alcove? Did you hide a body in there? Cover him, Zabini."
The curtain moved aside a few inches and Ginny's face appeared. Her eyes widened when she saw Hermione's pleading face, but Ginny just nodded and swept the curtain shut again. Hermione bent and retrieved the Map with shaking hands, then raised her wand.
"And what do we have here?" asked another voice.
Hermione shook her head unseen in her hiding place. Theodore Nott. Just what everyone needed.
"Is this a little study group?" Nott prattled on. "How nice. We do have that Transfiguration exam coming up. Anyone care to quiz me on multi-level conjuration?"
"Piss off, Nott," Tennant snapped.
"Mr. ... Rowle," Nott said politely with a shade of doubt, as if he didn't share regular meals and classes with the big wizard. Hermione rolled her eyes. Honestly, it was a wonder that Nott didn't get punched every day.
"I had the pleasure of welcoming your father into our home last year," Nott continued in his garden-party voice. "Thorfinn seemed a bit dazed at the time, but it's difficult to tell the difference, really."
"Don't you dare insult my father, you fat bastard. What did you—"
"Ah, ah, ah, language," Theo tutted, as Zabini's wand dug further into Tennant's thick neck. "Let's all put our wands down—you too, Miss Weasley—and agree to disagree."
Nott's voice was compelling, and Hermione found herself lowering her own wand unseen. Tennant stepped out of her line of sight, replaced by Nott's smug face. A glint in his green eyes made Hermione step backward. Had Nott seen her?
"So you two really do share everything." Tennant had regained his old, taunting tone. "Including Gryffindor whores."
"Blaise," Nott barked.
"Listen to your boyfriend, Zabini," Tennant said. "And don't play with spells you don't mean, or I'll show you how it's done." Heavy footsteps faded off down the corridor.
There was a short silence, and then Ginny spoke.
"He's up to something," she rapped out. "Plotting. Lurking. Stalking."
"And you're surprised?" Hermione could hear Nott's raised eyebrow.
"Slytherins," Ginny hissed. "You're all up to something. Always."
"Well, yes," Nott said blandly.
"I want Tennant Rowle out of this school." Hermione could barely recognize Zabini's voice, it shook so. "Immediately."
"Yes, well, these things take time," Nott said. "Miss Weasley, I apologize for my Housemate's language. Come on, Blaise. Miss Weasley is quite safe now, trust me."
His voice was suggestive, and Hermione grimaced. Nott had seen her. The Slytherin managed to wheedle Zabini back down the corridor, leaving only Ginny behind.
Hermione stepped out of the alcove, right into Ginny's raised wand. "What color is my mother's favorite mixing bowl?" the redhead asked.
"Yellow, with a chip on the rim."
Ginny lowered her wand, eyes narrowed. "What were you doing in that alcove?"
"What were you doing kissing Zabini in a cupboard?" Hermione returned. "That doesn't sound very vigilant."
Ginny flushed. "I made him take Veritaserum first. And warded my hair."
Hermione stared. "You kissed someone who just drank Veritaserum?"
Ginny's eyes widened. "I did!"
Hermione grinned. No wonder Zabini had looked so smug. He must have asked Ginny some interesting questions in that cupboard.
The redhead looked furious with herself, and Hermione touched her arm.
"It's alright, Gin," she said. "It's all right to like him."
"You would say so," Ginny said bitterly. "You're the one shagging Malfoy."
"I'm not!"
Ginny blinked, hearing the sincerity in Hermione's voice. Then her lips curved upward. "No? Bet he loves that."
"We've been ... he's so ... we need to ... agggh." Hermione shook her head, frustrated, then tried again. "I'm beginning to think I'm being a little unfair," she confessed.
Ginny flashed a rare grin. "Don't worry about it. It's good for him." She eyed the Map in Hermione's hand. "Why are you following Rowle around?"
"He's preying on girls."
Ginny lowered her voice, although there was no one else in the corridor. "McGonagall asked me to head a new Student Security Committee for the school. Rowle is a Person of Interest."
Hermione wanted to roll her eyes, but she said nothing, just lit her wand over the Map. "Rowle's on the fourth floor and still climbing. I have to go."
"You're keeping a log of his movements?"
"Of course."
"I expect a full report." Ginny looked over Hermione's denim skirt, grey jumper, and pink and white striped tights. "You're poorly dressed for tracking. You need a black cloak."
"It's fine."
"What's that?" Ginny cried. She spun around, wand out.
Hermione hadn't heard anything. "There's nothing—"
'Constant vigilance!" Ginny hissed, and ran off down the corridor in pursuit of a lurking threat, or more likely, a ghost or mouse or stray bit of parchment.
Relieved to see her go, Hermione turned toward the staircases. Tennant's dot had reached Gryffindor Tower and slipped into an alcove opposite the common room entrance. He was still there when Hermione approached the Fat Lady's corridor; Hermione was forced to wait around the corner and field idiot questions about Malfoy from passing Gryffindors.
"Did you really dance with him, Miss Granger?"
"And touch his hand?"
"Yes, I touched his hand," Hermione snapped. "That often happens when you dance."
"What did it feel like?" asked another girl.
Smooth and strong, with the slightest brush of ...
"Was it cold?"
"Was it slimy?"
"Did his Dark Mark try to bite you?"
Hermione hissed at the girls to leave or she'd set Ginny on them. The girls squeaked and ran off, and she pulled out the Map again.
Tennant had left his hiding spot, possibly drawn by their voices, and was again headed her way. Hermione hurried to hide. This area had no doors or alcoves, only a wooden spiral staircase in one corner leading to the tiny North Turret. The staircase was a surprisingly delicate piece of work for Hogwarts, with graceful curves and intricate latticework. Hermione ducked into the shadows behind the stairs, trying not to think about spiders.
She breathed in relief as Tennant's heavy footsteps passed. What was he doing in the seventh-floor corridor, anyway? Had he discovered the Room of Requirement? Did he plan to lure a girl in there?
Hermione almost hoped so. She had some nice, subtle curses she was dying to practice. But all she heard was the rattle of doorknobs as Tennant tried room after room. Hermione was disappointed—Slytherin wizards could be shockingly inefficient.
"I should be practicing my multi-level conjuration spells," she muttered, thinking of Nott.
"Then go away and stop bothering me," said a deep, testy voice.
Hermione started, banging her head against the wood above. "Who's there?"
"Bang and slam, that's all you students do," the voice creaked. "Pounding up and down my stairs, slapping my bannisters. Suppose you think it's funny, do you?"
"Ah, no." She pulled out the Map and risked a tiny light for an instant. She stared at the label above her dot. This was the Grumpy Staircase?
"Up and down, up and down, day in and day out," the voice groaned on. "Oh, my aching boards!"
"Well, you are a staircase," Hermione pointed out.
"A little care is all I ask, a little consideration," the staircase continued. "And perhaps a little polish on Sundays. Is that too much to expect? Nobody cares how I ..."
"Who's there?" A large hand grabbed Hermione's arm and dragged her out from behind the stairs, then threw her down on the floor. She looked up to see Tennant looming above her, his face half-lit by the torchlight.
"Hermione." The wizard's grin showed nearly every tooth in his head. "Isn't this quite the invitation."
Hermione looked down at herself and realized she was sitting on the stone floor, legs open, her denim skirt riding up. She slapped her knees together. "Accio vinewood!"
"Now, now," Tennant said. One glossy black boot pinned her wand to the floor. He held his own wand firmly in hand.
"Ah, ah," he said as Hermione started to get up, "I like you right there."
Tennant stepped forward, sliding her wand with him along the floor. "You're just where you belong. Cowering," he said with a leer.
"I'm not cowering," Hermione snapped. "You're really going to play these games in the middle of the corridor? If so, you're even stupider than your—"
"You fucking —" Tennant advanced, infuriated.
"I'll polish you every Sunday!" she called out.
Surprise flashed across Tennant's heavy face and he halted. "Will you now? So glad you're beginning to see things my way, sweetheart." A rich chuckle. "Why don't you show me a little of that—"
The Slytherin had no chance to finish the hateful sentence, for the Grumpy Staircase unspooled like a ribbon and whipped smartly through the corridor, missing Hermione by inches and smashing into Tennant. There was a sharp crack, and splinters of wood rained on the stone floor. The wizard fell heavily on his back with an "oof!" of released air, blood trickling from a gash on his head and thin cuts on his face and hands.
"Accio vinewood!" Hermione cried, and this time the wand slapped against her palm. She scrambled to her feet.
"Thank you," she said in a low voice to the staircase, which was curled up once more and still quivering. She waved her wand, and the broken pieces of wood swirled into the air and reattached themselves.
"My third-level lattice is tilted," the staircase complained.
Hermione straightened the carved panel, then turned to Tennant, now splayed half-conscious on the floor. Hmmm. He'd make a nice turtle, Tennant would. She could put him in the empty cage in the sixth-floor corridor and bring him water and bits of salad every day.
Then she sighed. No. You can't just Transfigure people, even awful people. The Slytherin was dazed, but he would be fine. Hermione was angrier at herself—some tracker she was, caught twice by her quarry on the first day. She considered casting a nice Bat-Bogey Hex on Tennant before leaving, but a distant toll reminded her of the time. Nine-thirty. Bugger it.
"I never get to do anything fun," she grumbled, stepping over Tennant to return to Gryffindor Tower
"Tell me about it," the Grumpy Staircase said. "I was built to suffer."
NEXT UP: Draco talks too much.