Chapter 24: The Room
"Why are we always in the library?" Harry asked, groaning as he launched his bespectacled forehead straight onto a pile of books.
"School," Hermione said curtly, leaning over to pat his head.
"But I'm the Chosen One," he whined, his voice muffled.
Hermione's gentle pat turned abruptly into a swift backhanded swat. "Stop it," she said, her eyes never leaving the page.
Harry propped his chin up, eyeing her. "Should we talk about Ron?"
"Why on earth would we do that?" she asked, rolling her eyes. "Unless you're now one of my gal pals – "
She stopped, fighting a smile. Gal pals, she thought. Oh, Malfoy.
Hermione loved that she could always spot Malfoy's silvery pale hair, even from a distance, even in a crowd – even in the dark, she thought fancifully. Even now she knew he was across the room and it gave her a strange sense of calm, knowing he was somewhere in her universe, orbiting around her.
"I'm your best gal pal, Hermione," Harry said smoothly. "You know that."
At this, she allowed herself to smile widely. "So true."
"So." He'd sat up, stretching his arms toward the ceiling and placing his hands casually behind his head. "What happened with Ron?"
"Oh Harry, surely you don't want me to go into detail – "
"No, definitely no detail," he said hurriedly. "But I think he's putting on a big show for me – pretending his feelings aren't hurt and all that – "
"We just – weren't quite on the same page, is all," she said with a shrug, running the edge of her quill's feathers back and forth across her mouth absentmindedly.
"Hm," he said vaguely, still eyeing her closely. "It's strange, because I could have sworn things were progressing with the two of you – and then, you know, the Lavender thing came out of nowhere – I suppose I just have a feeling there's a piece on your end that's missing – "
"You are the Chosen One, are you not?" she snorted indignantly. "Surely there's something more worthwhile to occupy your mind?"
"I'm only asking – "
"Have you told Ron about Ginny, yet? Or better yet – have you told Ginny about Ginny?" she asked coolly, flipping the pages of her book. She'd of course stopped reading several minutes ago, but wasn't about to abandon pretense while she was trying to make a point.
"That's different," he said quickly. "I mean – there are actual problems there, I can't just – "
"What, you're that afraid of Ron's disapproval?" she asked mockingly. "If I worried that much about Ron's opinions, I'd never get anything done – "
"It's different, Hermione, it just is," he said, exhaling loudly as he brought his arms down. "You wouldn't understand."
She glanced up quickly, eyeing the back of Malfoy's head and trying not to picture it between her thighs.
"True," she said simply, inclining her head in concession.
Harry was rifling through his things. "You know," he commented offhandedly, "now that Malfoy's up and about again, I suppose I should go back to keeping an eye on him."
Hermione looked up, startled. "What?"
"The map," he said, gesturing to the folded up Marauder's Map that was sticking out of his bag. "I stopped tracking him for a bit – partially out of guilt if I'm being honest – but if there's something in the castle – "
"You track him?" she asked, horrified. "Like – when, exactly?" She tried to keep her face neutral as her heart pounded, hoping he had not been looking for Draco Malfoy in – say, her bed.
"I was just keeping an eye on him, that's all," Harry said. "I haven't been for the past week or so." Hermione gave a quiet, gasping exhalation of relief. "But since you told me he might be looking for a horcrux, I mean – he might lead me right to it – "
Hermione shook her head quickly, grasping for words. "I – I suppose – "
There was a small shuffle behind him as their third companion sat down, carefully avoiding eye contact with Hermione.
"Hey," Ron said casually. "What are you lot talking about?"
"Malfoy," Harry said with a shrug. "And horcruxes."
Ron nodded. "Carry on, then."
Hermione realized her mouth was slightly ajar, observing their breezy relationship. Harry suffered so much turmoil fearing something as absurdly trivial as Ron's approval to date Ginny, and yet he was a friend for whom a simple "Malfoy and horcruxes" was a sufficient conversation summary? Boys, she thought again, as she often did.
"Harry," she said urgently. "Have you even gotten the memory from Slughorn yet?"
She watched him fumble guiltily for words. "No – not yet, but – "
Hermione groaned loudly. "Harry – "
"I know, I know," he replied, not meeting her eye.
"Harry, it's been almost a month – "
"Lay off him, would you?" Ron snapped, fixing her with a sharp look. "He's got loads going on – school, and quidditch – "
"Right, yes, and where do you rank 'saving the wizarding world,' then, Ronald?" she asked, glaring back. "A distant third?"
Harry put his hands up quickly. "Guys – "
"What does he need the memory for, Mione? You already figured out what a horcrux is – "
" – barely – "
" – you're not his bloody mother – "
" – Dumbledore clearly thought this was important! Are you really going to fault me, for trying to keep him on track – "
" – just let him alone – "
" – don't tell me to just let him alone, I'm trying to help – "
"Guys!"
Hermione bit hard on her lip, frustrated. This was infuriating. She believed to her very core that Harry was truly a brilliant wizard, but he was so obstinate, so difficult – she would never forget his lack of preparation for the Triwizard Tournament. And could he really fault her, for trying to keep him on track –
It's Ron, she thought angrily. Ron was lazy and unmotivated, simply didn't have the sense to focus – if it were Malfoy, if Malfoy were here, he would take Hermione's side. He would remind Harry the consequences of waiting too long, of not finding answers – if Malfoy were here he'd tell Harry to put his head on straight, remind him that peoples' lives were on the line – Malfoy would never, never be so irresponsible, so blindly ignorant–
"Hermione," Harry pleaded, interrupting her thoughts. "I know, I'm sorry, I'll take care of it."
She shrugged, not meeting his eye. She was still breathing hard, her thoughts wild. Of course Ron, whose biggest concern was a silly game of quidditch, would have the audacity to criticize her for pressuring Harry. But if it were Ron in Malfoy's shoes, if it was his family he'd had to sacrifice himself for – he wouldn't quietly figure it out on his own, denying everyone else's help, isolating himself to protect the ones he loved. He was no Malfoy. Ron would have begged her for help. He'd have come straight to her and Harry, and he'd have made them figure it out for him. And she was angry, thinking of it, thinking of the nerve he had, to be the one with the least at stake.
At least Malfoy was useful. At least he was smart, and focused. At least he understood the importance of sacrifice – at least he –
She heard a small cough behind her and she knew instantly he was there. She breathed a sigh of relief, knowing he was exactly what she needed.
"I don't mean to nag, Harry," she apologized abruptly, standing. "I'll go double-check that book, then – see if there's anything else I can get from it."
She walked away quickly, letting her hips sway as she sashayed into the restricted section. Malfoy was already there, looking at her hungrily.
He grabbed her quickly, pushing her against one of the shelves, and she stretched herself out against him.
"You look upset," he muttered against her neck.
She closed her eyes, feeling his lips travel over her. "I am," she admitted. "I'm having the hardest time getting through to Harry, I just need him to focus – "
"Sounds like a lost cause," he replied smugly, gripping her hips.
"The horcruxes," she whispered. "It's so important, why can't he see – "
"Mm, I know, he's such a poor choice for the Chosen One – "
"Oh," she said startled, remembering. "And we can't see each other at night anymore," she added regretfully.
Malfoy's grip on her instantly loosened. "Why? Did he say something? Are you rethinking – "
"No, no," she said frantically. "He's – well, it's a long story, but he's got this, this map – he can see where you are in the castle – "
Malfoy groaned, resting his forehead against hers. "For fuck's sake," he said sharply. "Of course that git's got a magical secret map, because he doesn't already have enough advantages at his disposal."
"This coming from a member of the Sacred Twenty-Eight," she mumbled, smirking.
He grimaced. "So I have to sleep alone tonight, then."
A night without him seemed torturous, even for her. "We could try to meet somewhere tonight," she offered, looking up at him hopefully.
He glanced down thoughtfully. "Actually," he said, "That works. There's something I need to show you."
"Well, it can't be anywhere too unusual, the map – "
"It's unplottable," he said simply.
She felt a lightbulb go off in her head. "The Room of Requirement," she said breathlessly. "Of course."
Malfoy nodded. "Specifically, the Room of Hidden Things."
Hermione furrowed her brow, confused. "The what?"
"The Room of Requirement can, at times, be the Room of Hidden Things," he said matter-of-factly, bringing his lips near her ear. "I can only imagine what kind of wonders the room would prepare for us given just the thought of you and me – "
She giggled as he nipped at her ear. "Right – "
" – but I need you to be in that room, specifically," he finished, fingering the hem of her skirt.
She tipped her head back, letting his mouth travel over her freely. "Right," she said again, trying to concentrate.
"Are you still upset?" he asked, drawing his hand up and cupping her arse. His fingers over the thin lace fabric felt deliciously inappropriate.
"Um," she said, losing focus. "I – "
He slipped his fingers under her underwear, sliding them up over her clit. "Because if you are – you know, I'd be happy to help you . . . unwind."
He slipped a finger into her and she arched her back, inviting him in. "Yes," she gasped. "I'm – I'm deeply upset." He brought his mouth to hers, slipping his tongue between her lips as his fingers worked nimbly inside her. "I'm – I'm distraught – "
A few gasping minutes later and she was panting against him, awash in the post-Malfoy bliss that was becoming so bewilderingly familiar.
"Better?" he asked, smirking.
"Shut up," she said, closing her eyes. "But yes. Much."
"Good," he said with a nod, kissing her forehead.
She reached playfully for his waistband. "My turn?" she asked invitingly, pulling on his belt loops.
"You naughty witch," he said with a laugh, kissing her again. "I'm in a perfectly fine mood, myself. I can wait until later – you, on the other hand, should get back. Who's to say Potter's not checking his bloody map now?"
"Oh rats," she said suddenly, frowning.
"Right," he said, kissing her cheek. "Off you go." He playfully swatted her arse as she walked away. "See you tonight."
She turned and smiled at him, grateful that he'd been there. The sexual release was helpful, of course, but even without it – just having him notice something was wrong, just the fact that he wanted to talk about what was bothering her – it was all very gallant and romantic in the traditional sense. In so many ways, he was calculating and cold, vaguely aloof and distant; but for her, he was loyal and attentive, and she was finding that to be supremely satisfying. Throw in his brain, his protectiveness, his looks –
That's a man worth covering up a crime for, she thought ironically, and was surprised to find that her body didn't go cold at the thought.
. . . . . . . . .
Draco heard the door open behind him and turned quickly, his wand out. He was expecting Granger, but it wouldn't be the first time somebody tried to enter while he'd been in there. He wasn't about to start letting his guard down now.
But as he crept around a corner and saw her, he felt his edge melt away.
"Granger," he called softly, stepping out to offer her his hand.
She took it with the easy manner of someone who'd been holding his hand for a long, long time. "Hi," she said breathlessly, tucking an errant curl behind her ear. "This is . . . bizarre," she remarked, gazing up at the stacks of lost things, eyeing the countless books in teetering piles and the number of rusty swords that lay at their feet. "Delightful."
"Your house doesn't look like this?" he joked lightly, leading her around an old, speckled pillar crowned with a haphazardly strung banjo.
She looked up. "This bit looks somewhat like the inside of my mum's pantry," she said faintly, eyeing the strewn containers of sweets and what looked like flasks from a potions collection.
"My mother's probably never seen the inside of her pantry, much less her kitchen," Draco said with a shrug. "Here, this is what I needed to show you."
He brought her to the vanishing cabinet, which was nestled in a corner surrounded by tables, each one piled with knick-knacks and chipped bottles of congealed potions that went at least three feet high.
"This is the cabinet," she breathed, her chin tilted upward as she eyed the top of it. "This is the vanishing cabinet you've been so preoccupied with."
"Yes," he said miserably. "The one with the power to bring Death Eaters into Hogwarts."
She looked at him sharply. "Can it?"
"Not yet," he said, shaking his head. "But that's why you're here. Because once I fix it – "
"Understood," she said quickly. She looked up again, eyeing the dark wood with its gold accents. "It's – a bit gaudy, don't you think?"
"It's horrid, Granger, but that's beside the point," he sniffed.
"Right," she said softly. She turned to look at him, finished with her examination. "Well?" she asked. "How does it work?"
"It's not particularly complicated," he said honestly. "You put something inside – yourself, presumably – and say an incantation."
"The incantation?" she prompted.
"Harmonia nectere passus."
"Bind in harmony," she translated, pursing her lips. "Loosely."
"Something like that," he said with a shrug. "But right now it doesn't work. Something wrong in the passage. Not wholly 'bound in harmony,' I suppose."
"But you think you know the problem?"
"Yes, there's an incantation that I think I was missing before."
"Which is?"
"Recto Apudia."
She smiled. "Fix the passage?"
"Essentially."
She sighed. "Magic is so elegant, isn't it?" she mused. "You just ask it for something, and it obliges."
"I suppose," he said, a half-hearted participant in her moment of whimsy.
I don't expect you to understand," she said after a moment, a barely perceptible fleck of wonder in her eye. "But I spent most of my life without it. Without magic."
He nodded, waiting for her to finish.
"It's why I try so hard, I think," she said faintly. "Sometimes – sometimes I'm so afraid I'll wake up without it. Like maybe I'm just a crazy person in a dream, you know?"
He eyed her carefully before bringing his hand to her cheek. "That's not going to happen," he said firmly. "You're a witch. And a fucking good one, too, in case that escaped your attention."
She smiled shakily. "I never thought I would say that out loud," she admitted. "Certainly not to Draco Malfoy."
"Well if we go down the 'never thought this would happen' path, we'll be up all night," he said, trying to be reassuring. "And not in a good way."
"Fair," she said, before taking a deep breath. "Okay," she said, exhaling. "Well – let's do this, I suppose." She looked around. "How do you normally test it?"
"I send something there and Borgin sends it back," he said. "But he doesn't know if it works unless I tell him."
"Is he waiting for you now?"
"Borgin doesn't really sleep," he said, thinking of the sallow man's face. "If I send something, there's no question he'll send it back."
"Okay." She shifted uncomfortably, crossing her arms over her chest.
"Are you okay?" he asked, bringing her into the circle of his arms. "I know this isn't the most pleasant of tasks."
"It's a bit horrifying, yeah," she said with a shudder. "I'd feel better if you had a plan."
"That's sort of the other thing you're here for," he admitted. "Not right at this moment, but – in general." He kissed the top of her head. "I shouldn't be relieved, knowing how much danger I've put you in – but I am, in a way. I couldn't have picked a better, um – "
"Partner in crime?" she asked, eyebrows arched.
"Let's not use that one," he said hastily. "But something along those lines."
"Well," she said, sighing, "let's just do this one step at a time. Do the spell to mend it."
"Fair enough." He raised his wand, preparing to tap it on the cabinet.
"Recto Apudia."
Draco felt a quick surge out of his right hand, shooting into the splintering bones of the object and bringing about a low humming sound, as though the cabinet was a violin that was tuning itself. He listened as it seemed to calibrate, traveling through an array of chords before meeting a small, thin, unified pitch, like an oddly pleasing whine. By the time the pitch faded, he had lowered his wand, keeping his ears trained on the newly rechristened sound of silence.
Granger was looking at him expectantly. "Well?" she asked. "Is it – "
"Yes," he said confidently. "I mean, I won't know for sure until I try it – but I'm pretty sure it's fixed now."
She exhaled regretfully. "I know you're an excellent wizard, Malfoy," she said, "but for a moment there I really hoped you'd botched it."
He grimaced. "I was going to have to succeed at this task, unfortunately," he said. "On penalty of death, per usual."
She winced. "Maybe we should wait a bit," she said, sinking to the floor to take a seat. "I mean – "
"Sure," he said quickly. There was no real reason to wait, except for the very pressing one that neither of them really seemed to have the stomach for it at the moment. "Let's talk about something else first. For a minute."
"Yeah," she said, leaning back onto the leg of an old velvet chair and tipping her head against it.
"I think this is the piece I'm having the most trouble with," she said after a moment. "Killing Professor Dumbledore – it's obviously horrifying, but bringing them into the castle, with all these innocent people – "
"I'm an imbecile, Granger," he said brusquely. "I spent too long trusting the wrong people."
"Who did you tell about this?"
"My aunt Bellatrix," he said, crouching down and sitting next to her. "She's – sort of a madwoman."
"I'm familiar," she said hazily.
"She wanted to know how I was progressing, and I told her I was fixing the cabinet – not for this purpose, though if I'd been paying any attention at all I should have noticed her eyes lighting up – "
"Don't be so hard on yourself," she said limply. "You didn't know."
"Ah, but shouldn't I have known?" he asked, leaning into her. "You would have known better."
"My family's priorities are a bit different, I think," she said, her voice hollow.
They were quiet for a moment as he traced patterns onto the inside of her arm.
"Malfoy, what's Theo's dad like?"
"Scary," he said simply. "Why?"
"He was in your memories," she explained, and he remembered the one she was talking about. "That – and Theo told me you put glue in his slippers."
Draco's sudden laughter came out an explosive bark. "I'd forgotten about that."
"It's so difficult to believe that you and Theo came from your respective fathers," she said, frowning slightly, "and even more difficult when I remember that you were both small, rowdy children at one point."
"When I say Theo's dad is scary," he said, backtracking a bit, "I don't really mean that he scared me." He looked to see if she understood and she seemed to, nodding patiently as he spoke. "I guess it would be like my father if my mother didn't exist – you know, with nothing to even him out. Nobody to soften him."
She seemed to be waiting for him to finish, and he was grateful, as he was having trouble putting his perception into words.
"Theo's mum died when he was a baby, and his dad is so much older," Draco explained. "He really had so little interaction with Theo. Didn't want to be around him much, because he looks like his mother, even though he's named after his father."
"Really? He doesn't look like a Theodore," she said uncertainly. "Something much more sinister would have been appropriate, I think." She leaned onto his shoulder. "Do you like him?"
"No," he said, surprising even himself with his gut reaction. "I mean, as a child, the mansions of Death Eaters were my playgrounds, so the fear and discomfort that probably should have been there wasn't really," he admitted. "Theo and I played our fair share of pranks. Mostly because his father was never paying attention, and my mother rarely disciplined me."
"She does seem exceptionally fond of you," Granger said, a slight smile on her full lips.
"I am her only child," he said, nodding. "I think she wanted more. I'm almost positive they tried for more. I think she wanted me to have siblings, like she did."
Granger snorted lightly. "Look how well that turned out for her, though," she said darkly. "You might be better off."
"Or – and hear me out," he said, facing her. "Maybe with siblings, I could have talked one of them into doing something this stupid instead."
She laughed. "Foiled again!"
He grinned at her, grasping handfuls of her curls and bringing her face to his, kissing her firmly.
"I'm grateful for you," he said, kissing her again. "I was drowning and I'd given up. And now," he said, licking her lower lip, tasting her, "I think you lit a fire in me." He closed his eyes. "I think I burn for you."
"I burn, I pine, I perish," she whispered against his lips, gripping his wrists as they held her face close to his.
He sighed into her mouth and held her still, desperately not wanting to do any of the things that would soon be required of him. He didn't want to fix the damn cabinet. He didn't want to say goodbye and sleep alone. He didn't want to kill a man and then have to leave her behind. He just wanted to hold her and breathe her in, just like this, for as long as she would let him. He'd been made a fool a thousand times over, but it would not happen again for lack of appreciating this moment. He would not be the fool that took her for granted. That was one mistake he would sooner go to his grave than make.
She exhaled shakily. "Are you ready?"
"No," he said emphatically, though he slowly disentangled himself from her with a melodramatic sigh. He stood, picking up the apple he'd brought with him, and placed it in the cabinet before looking hopefully at her.
"What are the chances it just bursts into flames?" he asked stupidly, as though magical items commonly behaved this way.
"Here's hoping," she said with a smirk, handing him his wand.
He turned back to the cabinet.
"Harmonia nectere passus."
He opened the door, and the apple was gone.
"What now?" she asked, leaning over his shoulder to take a closer inspection at the empty contents of the closet.
"We wait."
"How long?"
"Not long – "
And they heard a thud.
Draco opened the cabinet door, peering in hesitantly, and feeling a mixture of dread and relief as he saw the unharmed apple, wholly untouched by its magical passage.
"Did it work?" she asked eagerly, peering over his shoulder.
He held up the apple wordlessly, studying his own reflection in the pristine surface.
"Oh," she said, biting her lip.
He rubbed his temple aggressively, smoothing his hair to the side. "I fixed it," he announced gloomily. "How many points to Slytherin, do you think?" he added sarcastically.
She patted his shoulder, taking the apple from him and replacing it with her hand. "This is just a piece," she reminded him. "A piece of a solvable puzzle."
"How do you know that?" he asked, instinctively tightening his grip on her hand. "How do you know it's solvable?"
"It's you," she said flatly. "It's you, and it's me, and we'll figure it out."
She put her arms around him from behind and he tilted his head back, resting the back of it on top of hers.
"We're partners in crime," she whispered, the sound muffled into his shoulder.
. . . . . . . . .
a/n: This one goes to the new reviewer that made me laugh: MusicalCatharsis (I'll let you keep thinking about it, get back to me when you decide). Thanks again for reading and reviewing!