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It was late, and the dim corridors were empty. Hermione’s hasty footsteps echoed as she went, moonlight illuminating her path and revealing her every time she passed one of the magnificent arched windows. Pain throbbed in her left hand, sending sharp burning waves up along her wrist and her fingers. Every now and then an eye-watering sting made her suck a harsh breath through her teeth.
She was furious and determined. A teacher was hurting students, her friends. That monster of a woman was actually hurting children. She would have clenched her hands to fists if it didn't cause white hot pain to even slightly move her hand.
There will be payback, whispered a dark part of her mind, but now was not the time. Tonight’s mission was to relieve Snape’s potion and ingredient storages of everything related to Murtlaps.
Shivering, she descended to the dungeons, the still, cold air soothing the throbbing in her hand. Her senses heightened in the dancing shadows of torchlight as she advanced.
With a final glance left and right to make sure she had not been noticed, she broke into the storages with practised ease. In the ingredients cupboard, she hastily filled her pockets with preserved and dried Murtlap tentacles. From the potion storage, she took a satchel and filled it with ready-to-go and undiluted vials of Murtlap essence. If she rationed it, maybe everyone in D.A. could get some.
The vials were clinking together as she tightened the satchel closed.
Footsteps. Adrenaline shot through her and she froze. The steps weren't brisk, so she probably hadn't triggered any alarms.
"Nox ," she whispered and stood still, holding her breath in the darkness of the storage room. The door was just slightly open, so if anyone checked they would notice the break-in.
The relaxed footsteps passed the door and receded. Hermione let out the breath she was holding. She waited for a moment more before grabbing the satchel and getting out. Carefully, she cast the locking and protective charms again and turned to return. She also quickly glanced at the other direction, where the footsteps had disappeared.
Her heart jumped to her throat when she recognized the telltale signs of a disillusioned figure some distance away. The flickering torchlight made it quite easy to spot. It didn't move. Yet.
She started walking, pretending she didn't notice. Her heart was pounding, fast. Blood was rushing in her ears so she wasn't sure if she heard another set of footsteps along her own or not. It felt like turning your back to a predator. After a couple of steps she couldn't take it anymore and broke into a run. She didn't hear the other person, but the flames of the torches closest to her tried to block her path in response to a spell that tried to trap her. She extinguished the flames and shot a Finite behind her in an attempt to remove the advantage of her pursuer. She still couldn't hear them. She kept running.
Hermione was almost at the end of the corridor. If she could just reach the corner, get through the door and lock it. That would buy her time to get the ingredients to safety, and she could then face some more detention afterwards.
Breathless, she was about to turn the corner when the floor under her changed into ice, smooth as glass. Her feet slipped and she fell, sliding forward until she hit the wall. She winced in pain and tried to banish the ice. She didn’t recognise the spell, so she just managed to melt some of it. She quickly got back to her feet and ran towards the door, sending more Finites in the direction of the person who was clearly having fun with the chase.
The door wouldn’t close behind her, so she left it. She ran up the stairs to the moonlit corridor and almost got to the next door, before it slammed closed in front of her. She knew Alohomora was not going to be effective, so she turned to face the other person. The figure was harder to spot without the flickering lights, but the weirdly rippling air finally betrayed its location. The disillusionment hadn’t been cast by an experienced witch or wizard.
The footsteps of the figure made no sound. Briefly, Hermione wondered why she was so stupid. Why didn’t she just do the same when she was carrying out this mission? Disillusionment and silenced footsteps. In the darkness of the castle, it would have been almost as good as the invisibility cloak.
She lifted her wand and the figure stopped moving.
“Finite ,” she whispered again, breathless from her failed escape.
It really wasn’t that surprising when she was met with Slytherin robes, all too familiar platinum hair, and way too satisfied smirk. Malfoy was pointing at her with his wand as he emerged from the cancelled disillusionment.
Hermione glared at him without lowering her own wand, not really in the mood for arguing with this grinning bastard right now. Like she ever was.
He tut-tutted at her, looking triumphant. “I thought my eyes were deceiving me. I was happy to catch a thief, but that it would really be you, Granger.” His grin was infuriating.
She said nothing. He approached her, but neither of them lowered their wands.
“You swallowed a silencing potion by accident and were stealing supplies for an antidote?” he drawled, his eyes roaming on her, trying to locate the stolen goods.
“Nope,” she said and looked at him defyingly.
“Shame,” he commented and looked at her bulging pockets. “That’s quite a lot. Gryffindor throwing a party with some questionable potions? Did you know that Educational Decree Number Thirty-Two prohibits parties?”
“Maybe you should come and check then," she suggested, with a smirk of her own. "Make sure nothing that upsets your precious Umbridge is happening in the Gryffindor tower?“
"I don't think so, Granger," he said darkly, and flicked his wand towards her pocket. Hermione tried to prevent the ingredients from escaping her, but to no avail. A packet of dried Murtlap tentacles landed on Malfoy's open hand.
He studied it for a moment, and narrowed his eyes at her.
"What are you planning?" he asked, his smirk now nowhere to be seen.
"None of your business," she spat at him, and instinctively tried to clench her hand to a fist, but gasped in pain instead. The burning sensation was overwhelming and she whimpered. It made her wand hand waver as well. Looking down to her left, she noticed dark drops of blood landing on the floor next to her. The exertion of her escape had the wound bleeding and throbbing painfully again.
"You're hurt," came an observation from the boy in front of her. Hermione blinked away the tears of pain and hid her hand in her robes, looking at him once again.
Malfoy looked from where her hand had disappeared in her robes to the packet in his hand, and back at her eyes again. "But why didn't you just…" he trailed off, looking puzzled.
"Just open the door," she whimpered, her wand hand already lower. The pain burned so bad she thought she was going to pass out.
Malfoy threw the packet of tentacles at her. Reflexively, her left hand shot up to catch it, but she failed. The packet clattered to the floor. She didn't realise it was a trap. Quick as a cat, Malfoy was on her, gripping her by the wrist to inspect her hand. She tried to pry herself free, but the pain put an end to that. She also had her wand aimed at him, but no spell crossed her pain-seared mind. His grip softened slightly when she winced.
Sounds of protest did nothing. He just stood there, staring at her hand for a moment. Hermione tried to carefully pull her hand away, but he didn't yield. A gentle swish of his wand, and the blood obstructing the wound disappeared. Fresh drops immediately dribbled from the deep letters carved on the back of her hand, now easily readable.
I will not break rules
Malfoy's eyes widened as he took in what he was seeing. He tilted his head to make out the letters before locking his eyes with hers again. Now he looked distraught.
Hermione followed, confused, as he gripped her forearm with his other hand, wand now forgotten and dangling from his grip. He gently pulled her off the door and led her to the moonlight. Long platinum strands fell in front of his eyes as he shook his head at the wound and started pushing her towards the stone bench that stood under one of the great windows.
Stunned speechless by his reaction, Hermione just let him do it. She dropped to the bench, sighing as she finally got to rest. He crouched in front of her, still holding her hand. This time, he looked at it carefully, his hands gently tilting it in the moonlight, like he was inspecting some fragile object.
"How…?" he finally muttered, astonished.
Hermione's eyes were stinging with tears. Her hand was burning and she hated Umbridge. She hated her so much. "Detention with our favourite inquisitor," she whispered furiously, in a mixture of rage and pain. She sucked in a steadying breath that made her dizzy.
Malfoy looked up at her from under his brows now, looking serious. "She used a Black Quill?" he asked in a low voice for confirmation.
"Yes," she whimpered, as a new wave of burning pain enclosed her hand.
A hint of panic flashed in his eyes. "You never wrote your name on anything, did you?“ he inquired quickly, in a tone she had never heard from him before. He was serious and… worried? It was a moment of confusion for her. Mere minutes ago he was unleashing the elements to trap her and get her into trouble. The change in him had been instant and it was highly peculiar.
She shook her head and closed her eyes in pain. She heard him give a quiet, relieved sigh and felt him slightly move her hand again as he kept inspecting it.
"How many times did you write this?" he whispered after a while.
She shrugged. "We were there 3 hours. My writing speed lowered considerably after the first line." She gave a short, pained laugh. It died in her throat when she opened her eyes and saw Malfoy's horrified look. Her sight blurred under the tears she didn't allow to drop.
Once he recovered from his shock, he brought one of his hands to his mouth, absentmindedly rubbing his lips as he thought.
"...if it was the will of the inquisitor… I am part of that so maybe I… maybe it's the same…" he muttered to himself and frowned at her hand.
She watched him swallow nervously and grab his wand that had dropped on the floor. She blinked her tears away and flinched from him as he did, but he took her hand back, still holding it uncharacteristically gently.
"Hold still," he said in a low voice.
"What are you doing?“ Hermione asked, suspicious, and pulled her hand away again. Malfoy just looked at her, and something in his expression made her stop. She had never seen the boy in front of her like this. His silver eyes, usually so full of malice and mockery, looked honest and pleading. His mouth wasn't tilted in its signature smirk, or in a condescending sneer. His lips were just slightly parted in genuine worry. His hands were so gentle and warm on her. She was drowning in his warmth and care, and it was the weirdest feeling.
She shut her mouth and nodded in consent.
Once again he took her hand in his, properly and securely. After a last glance of reassurance, he focused on the back of her hand and lowered the tip of his wand on it.
His lips were moving in a silent repeating incantation. After a while, Hermione felt a relieving chill in her hand. Then it turned into a comfortable warmth. Finally, the pain in her hand had dulled into an annoying, itching ache.
Large, moonlight illuminated silver eyes were now looking up at her questioningly, waiting for confirmation. She moved her fingers and sighed in relief when the burning sting wasn't there anymore. She looked back at the eyes that hadn't left her face.
"What did you do?" she whispered.
Malfoy let go of her hand and stood up. "We have to wait now for it to work properly," he announced and dropped to the bench next to her, returning his wand to his sleeve.
"What was it?“ she pressed.
He pushed stray platinum strands back from his face.
"I actually have a knack for healing," he started, a bit sheepishly. "Mother says she knew it immediately when I got my wand, she researched all the components when I…" he trailed off, as if realising who he was talking to. He gave her a quick glance. "Anyway, I've accompanied my father to many meetings and negotiations where the Black Quill is used for signing documents. It's blood magic, used for the most important contracts only. It's strong." He was looking into the distance, recalling memories. After a while, his eyes cleared and he looked at her again.
"It can only be healed by either of the parties involved in the contract, and as he's representing the Malfoy family, I can also do it. He drags me along to heal him. It's done after every signature to avoid scarring." He sighed and flicked his eyes to her aching hand that was resting between them. His expression darkened. "I… I don't know what happens when you use it repeatedly, without healing in between, and so many times in such a short window of time."
She knew it couldn't be healed by any typical methods. She had tried. This was clearly some old, protected method.
"Anyway, I thought as a member of the Inquisitorial Squad I can represent her. There was no real contract, but she offered the quill and you used it, so that should be enough."
She just looked at him. Seeing him there, almost glowing in the moonlight, sincerely teaching and discussing an interesting topic had Hermione doubting her sanity. Why was this irritating nuisance of a person suddenly so gentle, competent and knowledgeable? It tickled her curiosity, and it made her feel funny in her stomach. Maybe she had passed out from the pain in the storage cupboard and was just dreaming? Why was he like this?
"Why did you help me?“ she managed to ask.
Malfoy huffed through his nose and looked straight ahead, away from her. He was irritated, but also amused.
"Believe it or not, Granger, but even I draw a line at torture." He glanced at her, "Even if it's just you."
So he agreed it was horrible. Even him. Even Malfoy.
"There were 20 of us, 20 more tomorrow and the rest on Thursday," she said, angry and defeated.
Malfoy looked speechless. Then he just looked sad as he dragged his hand over his face. "So that's why you were stealing everything Snape has."
She nodded, swallowing. She had set off for her mission quite recklessly, in the heat of the moment. She knew Snape and Umbridge would immediately know where the supplies had gone, but she didn't care. This was war, and she was going to rebel against the horrible woman in every way she could.
Malfoy gave a short chuckle. "I see her message didn't really hit home." He eyed the angry red letters decorating the back of her hand.
She huffed in amusement. "No, it did not."
They stayed silent for a moment. When he spoke, his tone was lighter.
"I can't exactly set up a pop-up infirmary in the dungeons can I? There will probably be a new Educational Decree prohibiting those as soon as I do." He was running his hand through his hair again, and ended it with awkwardly scratching the back of his neck.
Was it something he actually considered?
"And I'm not asking you to. I just want to see these ingredients to safety, you can report me after."
He looked at her, considering, before slowly wetting his lips and sighing.
"I could have sworn I saw someone in the corridor leading to Snape's storages tonight, but when I checked, everything seemed to be in order."
A smile tugged the corner of her mouth. "Really?" she asked, raising a conspirational eyebrow.
He shrugged. "Yeah, it was the weirdest thing."
Hermione looked at the floor in front of her, fresh tears clouding her vision. The thought of the younger members of D.A. being left completely without relief from the pain had stressed her so much it hurt. Now it seemed she would be able to help them, after all.
"Thank you," she breathed.
He said nothing. After a moment, she heard him stand up and soon he had quietly taken over her complete field of view. He crouched in front of her again.
"Let me see," he whispered quietly and took her hand again. She didn't protest or pull away. The warmth of his hands sent contradicting shivers through her.
"I think it worked," he said after a careful inspection. Indeed, the letters were red and looked fresh, but the bleeding, burning, and stinging had ceased. He lifted his gaze to her and Hermione had to swallow, her throat suddenly dry.
"I know you have many patients, but save some of the essence for yourself as well," he said gently, and Hermione wondered just how deep did his knowledge of her character go. Infinitely deeper than her knowledge of him at least, if this interaction was anything to go by.
He looked at her with soft eyes, and it had her pulse quickening. She tried to rationalise it away, deny it, and push the thoughts away, but he looked so… gentle. His pale complexion bathed in the moonlight, his long, pale lashes fluttering as his gaze quickly flicked to her mouth and back. Strands of soft hair dropped in front of his eyes as he switched his position so that he was on his knees, reaching for something in his pocket. The movement shifted him even closer to her, his robes grazing the side of her leg.
He reached for the bench next to her, leaning on it to write something on a piece of parchment. When he was done, he folded the parchment and held it out to her.
"You can find the spell in this book," he said in a voice so low it was almost a whisper. "You should be able to do it. And I think she gave detention to the whole guild of yours, so you can probably heal the others, being a representative."
She looked at him, completely taken aback by everything he was offering to her. His expression was serious. She took the parchment from him.
"Thank you," she said again, looking back in his eyes. It felt like he was even closer than before.
The next moment might have taken mere seconds, or maybe it was hours. She looked at the moonlight reflecting from his eyes, and how his hair glowed in the rays filtered through the dusty windows. The gentle up and down of his shoulders as he breathed. His lips, that were wet again with a small and discreet movement of his tongue. The movement had warmth pooling in Hermione's lower body. Her own breath shivered when she finally drew it. She didn't know how she had ended up here, in this situation. It was unthinkable but she didn't have it in her to resist. The beautiful boy in front of her had just impressed her with his skills, knowledge and kindness. It had her heart flipping in her chest.
He swallowed, and lowered his gaze. Hermione felt a sting of disappointment, before she felt him take her hand again. He looked at their joined hands for a moment, before he returned to look at her. Her heart was pounding like never before when she could feel his breath on her own lips.
His nose brushed hers as she closed her eyes and their lips met. It was gentle and tentative at first, but not shy. An unfamiliar wave of warm pleasure travelled through Hermione and settled between her legs as he pressed closer, deepening the kiss. The hand that was not holding hers lifted to caress her jaw as she kissed him back. Her right hand quickly found its way up to caress the soft hair at the back of his neck.
They both sighed under the touch of one another, and made no move to stop. She pulled him even closer by his neck, and he complied, the warmth of his body now close enough for her to feel. His hand finally let go of hers and slid around her waist, pulling her against him. His tongue was carefully tasting her lips with short, gentle brushes, and she answered eagerly, wanting to taste him as well. It was a gentle dance of tongues and lips that made the fire in her rise under his warm, caressing hands. A low moan escaped her, and it made him sigh in answer.
But the moment was over. Their kiss slowly calmed down, and he pulled away from her. She dreaded opening her eyes, but did it anyway. He looked aroused, but it was quickly replaced with a blank expression with a hint of longing. Reluctantly, she released his hair and let him pull away and stand up.
He looked down at her for one final moment.
"Goodnight, Granger," he whispered, and disappeared towards the dungeons.