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“Here it is!” Hermione said, stopping suddenly.

Draco looked around them. “Hermione, this is an empty corridor,” he said, pointing out the obvious. They were somewhere on the seventh floor, standing opposite a tapestry of trolls doing ballet, and he couldn’t see any doors or secret hideouts anywhere.

“Stand there,” she directed, indicating one side of the corridor. “And watch.”

He watched bemusedly as she walked in front of the wall three times, her eyes tightly closed and muttering under her breath. He gasped as he saw a highly polished door appear in the wall opposite the tapestry.

Hermione seized the handle and pushed open the door. “After you,” she said with a grin, indicating that he should go in first.

Draco felt his jaw drop as he entered the room. It appeared to be a cross between the Library and a smaller version of the Gryffindor common room. It was decorated in warm, inviting reds and golds, with mahogany shelves spanning the wall, all of the books about poisons and antidotes. There was a table already covered in parchment and ink, all neatly laid out. In one corner was a wide, comfortable looking faded-leather sofa and there was a small fire crackling merrily in the grate.

He turned to Hermione, who was already browsing the bookshelves. “What is this place?”

“The Room of Requirement,” she answered, and then went on to explain how it worked as she pulled out her books and their project.

Draco was staggered by the time she had finished. The potential for this room was practically limitless. People could do anything in here.

“This is where you were having those meetings, wasn’t it?” he asked, joining her at the table. “Dumbledore’s Army, or something?”

Hermione scowled at him. “Yes, it was. Until you helped shut us down.”

He shrugged. “Inquisitorial Squad, remember? I was just doing my job.”

“I still don’t see how you could have sided with Umbridge,” she muttered, almost to herself.

“She was a total cow,” Draco told her cheerfully, making her look up at him.

“Then why did you join her pathetic little dictatorial squad?” she wanted to know, and he grinned at her apt nickname for the Squad.

“She was the one in power, wasn’t she?” he said reasonably. “In the end, you were very nearly expelled and I wasn’t – I happen to care about my education, so I thought I would tow her line for a while.”

She pursed her lips, but didn’t say anything.

Draco pulled a book towards him and started work. Hermione had accused him of being distracting, but in reality it was her that kept sidetracking him. He would become absorbed in the movement of her slender fingers as she absently wound a strand of hair around them. She would bite her lip whenever she was thinking hard, making them go a deep and appealing red. Every time she crossed and uncrossed her legs the material of her skirt would hike up around her thighs, meaning that his thoughts would wander far away from studying.

After about an hour of silent work Hermione laid down her pen so she could pull off her jumper. In the firelight her white shirt was semi-transparent, revealing a dark blue bra as the material subtly flowed down the curves of her body.

“Are you trying to make me fail this project?” Draco asked.

“Hmm?” Hermione said, looking back up from her work.

“Nothing,” he said, shaking his head incredulously. She may have near non-human intelligence, but she was utterly oblivious to her beauty and appeal to men.

After a further half an hours working Draco finished his last sentence and threw down his quill. “Done.”

“What?”

“I’m finished.”

“How did you get it done so fast?” she demanded.

“I did some last night after Quidditch practice, and in the Library at lunchtime,” he told her.

Hermione made a frustrated noise and looked down at her work.

“You’re actually annoyed aren’t you?” Draco laughed, tilting his chair back. “You wanted to finish first!”

“Its not a competition, Draco,” she said loftily, and then added under her breath, “Though if it was you would have cheated.”

He blew her a kiss. “Slytherin.”

She seemed to be struggling not to smile. “I’ve only got these two sections left to do, and tomorrows Saturday, so I can do them then.”

“So how long has this taken us?” he asked with mild sarcasm. “Four days out of the fourteen we had?”

“If we had some sense we should have drawn it out longer,” Hermione said, closing her books.

“What do you mean?”

She gave him an almost shy look. “Well, this is our excuse to be together – unless we just don’t tell people we’ve finished.”

He grinned at her. “We can keep coming here. This can be our secret hideout.”

“Oh yeah? And what will we do in here?”

Draco stood up and walked around to her side of the table, and lightly pushed some hair off her face with his fingertips. “I have an idea …”

She smiled nervously as she looked up at him in a way that made his heart-rate splutter, and then accelerate. He bent down and touched his mouth to hers, parting her lips easily. Her hands came up around his neck and she wound her fingers into his hair, holding him to her.

He pulled her up and guided her over to the couch, their lips never breaking apart. They sank down together, and Hermione’s hands moved downwards to run over his chest, making him shiver against her.

Within moments he was laying half on-top of her, pressing her body down into the cushions. The tips of his fingers traced down the side of her torso, across her waist and over her hip before pausing to play with the hem of her skirt.

He broke away from her lips to kiss her throat and collarbone as she gasped for breath beneath him. His tongue flickered out to taste her and he lightly bit the skin of her neck, just hard enough to leave a faint mark.

Her leg wrapped around his narrow waist, leaving his hand flat against the silky smooth, creamy skin of her upper thigh. He sucked in a shocked breath and allowed his hand to move slowly upwards.

Hermione started to giggle.

“What’s funny?” he asked, surprised at how husky his voice was, as he dragged her earlobe between his teeth.

“It’s just … if you had told me a week ago that we would be here …”

Draco pulled back to stare down at her. Her eyes were dark, with her pupils huge and dilated, while her lips had turned an even deeper red from their kiss. “I would have been shocked too.”

“Really?”

“A week ago I still hated you.” He smiled wryly and trailed his fingers over the hectic flush on her cheekbones as he gazed down at her. “I wanted you, of course, which is why I kissed you in the bathroom, and I could admire you as a person – but you were still everything I was against.”

He cupped her face with both hands, supporting his weight on his elbows and stared into her eyes. “I’m not sure what I feel for you now,” he told her honestly.

“I know,” Hermione whispered, her eyes stark. “It’s all so confusing…”

He buried his face in her hair, inhaling her soft, floral scent. “We’ll find a way to be together, ’Mione,” he murmured into her ear before he pulled her upright so that they were sitting side-by-side, though still touching.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, feeling the sudden change in mood.

“Lets just talk,” he said, putting an arm around her slim shoulders to pull her against him. “We’ve hardly spoken until recently, and I feel I know nothing about you.”

While he did want to kiss her, to touch her, he also wanted to get to know her better – he wanted to know whether or not he loved her.

*     *     *

Harry frowned and checked his watch. It was nearly curfew and Hermione still hadn’t come back from the Library yet. It wasn’t like her to stay out this late, and she had promised to help him with his homework.

“Where do you think Hermione is?” he asked Ron, who was playing chess with Ginny.

“Library most likely,” he replied without looking up from the board. “Don’t worry, I’m sure she’ll be here soon.”

Harry sighed and pulled his charms book towards him, trying to make sense of the complex weather charms.

*     *     *

Hermione felt a little self conscious at first, but it quickly faded at the look of absorption on Draco’s face as he listened to her talk about her childhood.

He asked what it had been like, growing up as a witch among muggles, and so she told him about all the times she had accidentally made things happen – the time she had turned their pet dog green, shrinking her bed until it was the size of a shoebox and when she had made it snow in the middle of her classroom in June.

He started to tell her about his own upbringing. He didn’t reveal any of the anger he had shown in the forest when he had spoken about his father, but rather talked with a clinical detachment, as if it was a story that had happened to someone else.

Instead of dwelling on his parents disciplinary methods, as he had done before, he told her about all the amazing historical and magical places that they had taken him to and Hermione had to suppress a brief flash of jealousy. He had been to the Tsar’s palace in Russia, the Ancient Greek temples where the muggles had raised witches and wizards to the level of Gods, the catacombs underneath Paris and even the village of Salem where they had held the witch trials they had studied in History of Magic – which led to a conversation about their school life.

She was a little surprised at how easy it was to talk to him. It was similar to talking to Harry and Ron, but different at the same time. Instead of familiar banter it was curiosity; his questions, and hers in return, never seemed to run out as they eagerly learnt more about each other.

*     *     *

Draco was gasping for breath, laughing so hard that his sides hurt and tears trickled down from the corners of his eyes.

“And then,” Hermione giggled, “I just waved my hands and went ‘but there’s no wood!’ I was just utterly useless and couldn’t think what to do, and Ron just shouted ‘are you a witch or not?!’ I had just completely forgotten about my wand!”

“I can’t believe you would ever loose your cool like that in a dangerous situation,” he chuckled, wiping his eyes.

Hermione swatted him playfully on the chest. “Give me a break, I was only eleven!”

*     *     *

Nearly everyone else had gone up to bed, but Harry was still pacing the common room, waiting for Hermione. It was well past midnight now and she still hadn’t come back. Muttering a curse, he went up to his dormitory. All the other boys were asleep with their hangings pulled tight, so none of them noticed as he rummaged around his trunk.

After a minutes searching in the dark he found the Marauders Map and tapped it with his wand, muttering “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.”

At once little ink lines spread from his wand over the Map. He bent over it, searching for Hermione. Lavender and Parvati were in their dormitory, but she wasn’t with them – neither was she in the Library.

Harry grabbed his invisibility cloak and headed back down to the common room. He wasn’t sure what exactly he was going to do or where he was going to search, since she wasn’t appearing on the Map, but he wanted to do something to look for her.

“Where do you think your going?” a familiar voice stopped him.

Ginny was standing a little behind him, wearing a pale dressing gown and slippers. Her flaming hair was messy around her face, as if she had just got out of bed.

He hesitated, and then said, “Hermione isn’t back yet, and I can’t find her on the Map. I was going to go find her.”

Ginny raised her eyebrows. “If she’s not back then she probably has good reason to be staying out.”

“But what if -”

“What if what?” she interrupted.

“What if she’s hurt?”

Ginny smiled at him. “Harry, do you really think she’s hurt?”

His gut wasn’t telling him she was, but he was still worried at her un-Hermione like behaviour.

“Most likely,” she said, reading his expression. “She has got some secret boyfriend she isn’t telling you about, so I highly doubt she would appreciate it if you came barging in on them – if you could get into whoever-it-was’s common room, which I doubt.”

Harry frowned.

“Tell you what,” she continued. “If she’s not back tomorrow I’ll help you look – and if we can’t find her then we can panic.”

He couldn’t help a grin at her blasé attitude, and she smiled back. “What are you doing up this late anyway?” he asked.

“Couldn’t sleep,” she shrugged. “So I thought I’d come down here and work on my boggart essay. Wanna help?”

“Sure,” Harry said, smiling as they sat down together. He always relished every chance to be with Ginny.

*     *     *

As they talked they had ended up pressed against each other, with Hermione lying between Draco’s legs and resting her head on his chest. His fingers were lightly sifting through her hair.

They lights in the room had dimmed, suiting their now sleepy mood perfectly. Hermione could hear his heartbeat, strong and steady, thumping inside him, and remembered how that sound had been a lifeline in her darkness when she had been injured in the forest.

She told him that, and he was silent for a long time.

“I’ve never really been scared of anything in my life, but that night I was terrified,” he whispered. “Not for myself, with those spiders, but for you. I was so worried I wouldn’t be able to save you.”

“But you did save me,” Hermione said to him, but her words came out distorted by a massive yawn.

Draco chuckled softly. “Sleep ’Mione.”

Only her family ever called her ’Mione, and she had told Harry and Ron she didn’t like the nickname when they had tried to call her it, but somehow she didn’t mind that Draco did.

“I should go back to my common room,” she muttered, though she made no move to get up.

His arms tightened slightly around her. “No. Stay,” he murmured in her ear. “Stay here with me.”

Hermione smiled sleepily, but didn’t reply, snuggling closer to his warm chest instead. Within moments she had been lulled to sleep by the regular rhythm of his heartbeat.

*     *     *

Draco gazed down at Hermione’s sleeping figure, relishing the sensation of her soft form pressed against him. He was curling her silky brown hair absently around his fingers. Her sooty eyelashes cast shadows over her lightly tanned skin, and she slept with her lips slightly parted.

They had talked most of the night away, discussing everything as they easily jumped from topic to topic; from their hopes and ambitions, to their favourite books, to the differences between wizard and muggle life.

It was amazing just how much they had to say to each other. It had been the longest, most animated conversation Draco had had in weeks, possibly months.

He didn’t feel particularly tired, and he wanted to savour each moment with her. He bit his lip, hating the feeling that they might not have very long together – after all, he was the son of a Death Eater and she was practically a member of the Order. When people discovered them they would be torn apart.

Hermione murmured something in her sleep and he smiled down at her, deciding then and there that, for now, he would simply live in the moment.

*     *     *

Hermione kept her eyes closed, wandering where she was. She wasn’t in her bed, she knew that, so perhaps she had fallen asleep in the common room with Harry or Ron. She was definitely with someone – one of her hands had slipped between the buttons of a shirt to rest against skin, and she could hear a heartbeat as she lay against someone’s chest.

Cool fingertips lightly touched her face. “Are you awake?” a familiar voice whispered softly, and the previous night came flooding back.

She opened her eyes and saw that she was still in the Room of Requirement, and that she was laying half on top of Draco Malfoy. She propped her chin on his chest to peek up into his sparkling grey eyes.

“Good morning,” he said, smiling crookedly.

“Hello,” she said, and then sat up suddenly. “Merlin’s beard, we stayed out all night!”

She checked her watch, and was horrified. “We’ve completely missed first lesson! We should -”

“’Mione, calm down,” Draco chuckled, grapping her wrists to stop her leaping off the sofa. “It’s a Saturday.”

“Oh,” she said, relaxing for a moment, but then she remembered something else and hit herself in the forehead. “I was supposed to help Harry with his Charms last night! He’ll be wondering where I am.”

“Just tell him you fell asleep in the Library,” he said reasonably. Hermione bit her lip, knowing Harry he would have checked the Marauders Map, which she couldn’t tell Draco about. Did that mean Harry knew?

“I should go,” she said reluctantly.

Draco sighed. “Well we can’t stay in here forever, I suppose.”

They got up and started gathering up their school bags and books. “What are we going to tell people when we finish the project?” he asked.

Hermione hesitated a moment. “Tell you what, lets cross that bridge when we get to it. Who knows if we will be able to get through this next week without killing each other?”

Draco assumed a fake hurt expression. “Do you really think we would do that?”

“Its possible,” she teased. “You are a Slytherin cheater, after all.”

“Bossy Gryffindor,” he retorted, smiling.

“Spoilt brat.” Hermione was grinning now too.

“Know-it-all.”

“Ferret.”

He pretended to wince. “Low blow, ’Mione,” he said as they headed out the door. “That is a very painful memory.


*     *     *

“There you are!”

Ginny watched as Hermione jumped nearly out of her skin and turned around. “Hi Ginny,” she said lightly.

“Where have you been?” she asked, noting Hermione’s slightly crumpled school uniform, tousled hair and the school bag she still carried.

“Oh, I, um, fell asleep in the Library,” she said, a slow blush rising in her cheeks.

“Right,” Ginny snickered. “And what about that hickey on your neck?”

Completely scarlet now, she clamped a hand to her throat. “Nothing! I, uh, I fell.”

“And obviously landed on your neck,” she said sarcastically. “Come on, Hermione, I recognise a love-bite when I see one! Who were you with?”

“Nobody!”

Ginny shook her head, unable to believe that. “Don’t worry Hermione, Harry and I already suspected a secret boyfriend anyway. He was about to go out looking for you last night, since he couldn’t find you on the map, but I told him you probably wouldn’t want to be disturbed.”

“He couldn’t find us?” Hermione asked, looking relived.

“Aha! So there was someone! Spill!” Ginny slipped her arm through hers, linking them as they walked.

Hermione opened her mouth, and then shook her head. “It’s only just starting out, Ginny, I don’t want people to know about it yet.”

She made a frustrated noise. “Alright … but come on, Hermione, give me some details!”

“Well, um … he’s tall, really clever, very good looking and …”

“And?” Ginny prompted.

Hermione sighed. “And I think I’m falling in love with him.”

Description
“Here it is!” Hermione said, stopping suddenly.

Draco looked around them. “Hermione, this is an empty corridor,” he said, pointing out the obvious. They were somewhere on the seventh floor, standing opposite a tapestry of trolls doing ballet, and he couldn’t see any doors or secret hideouts anywhere.

“Stand there,” she directed, indicating one side of the corridor. “And watch.”

He watched bemusedly as she walked in front of the wall three times, her eyes tightly closed and muttering under her breath. He gasped as he saw a highly polished door appear in the wall opposite the tapestry.

Hermione seized the handle and pushed open the door. “After you,” she said with a grin, indicating that he should go in first.

Draco felt his jaw drop as he entered the room. It appeared to be a cross between the Library and a smaller version of the Gryffindor common room. It was decorated in warm, inviting reds and golds, with mahogany shelves spanning the wall, all of the books about poisons and antidotes. There was a table already covered in parchment and ink, all neatly laid out. In one corner was a wide, comfortable looking faded-leather sofa and there was a small fire crackling merrily in the grate.

He turned to Hermione, who was already browsing the bookshelves. “What is this place?”

“The Room of Requirement,” she answered, and then went on to explain how it worked as she pulled out her books and their project.

Draco was staggered by the time she had finished. The potential for this room was practically limitless. People could do anything in here.

“This is where you were having those meetings, wasn’t it?” he asked, joining her at the table. “Dumbledore’s Army, or something?”

Hermione scowled at him. “Yes, it was. Until you helped shut us down.”

He shrugged. “Inquisitorial Squad, remember? I was just doing my job.”

“I still don’t see how you could have sided with Umbridge,” she muttered, almost to herself.

“She was a total cow,” Draco told her cheerfully, making her look up at him.

“Then why did you join her pathetic little dictatorial squad?” she wanted to know, and he grinned at her apt nickname for the Squad.

“She was the one in power, wasn’t she?” he said reasonably. “In the end, you were very nearly expelled and I wasn’t – I happen to care about my education, so I thought I would tow her line for a while.”

She pursed her lips, but didn’t say anything.

Draco pulled a book towards him and started work. Hermione had accused him of being distracting, but in reality it was her that kept sidetracking him. He would become absorbed in the movement of her slender fingers as she absently wound a strand of hair around them. She would bite her lip whenever she was thinking hard, making them go a deep and appealing red. Every time she crossed and uncrossed her legs the material of her skirt would hike up around her thighs, meaning that his thoughts would wander far away from studying.

After about an hour of silent work Hermione laid down her pen so she could pull off her jumper. In the firelight her white shirt was semi-transparent, revealing a dark blue bra as the material subtly flowed down the curves of her body.

“Are you trying to make me fail this project?” Draco asked.

“Hmm?” Hermione said, looking back up from her work.

“Nothing,” he said, shaking his head incredulously. She may have near non-human intelligence, but she was utterly oblivious to her beauty and appeal to men.

After a further half an hours working Draco finished his last sentence and threw down his quill. “Done.”

“What?”

“I’m finished.”

“How did you get it done so fast?” she demanded.

“I did some last night after Quidditch practice, and in the Library at lunchtime,” he told her.

Hermione made a frustrated noise and looked down at her work.

“You’re actually annoyed aren’t you?” Draco laughed, tilting his chair back. “You wanted to finish first!”

“Its not a competition, Draco,” she said loftily, and then added under her breath, “Though if it was you would have cheated.”

He blew her a kiss. “Slytherin.”

She seemed to be struggling not to smile. “I’ve only got these two sections left to do, and tomorrows Saturday, so I can do them then.”

“So how long has this taken us?” he asked with mild sarcasm. “Four days out of the fourteen we had?”

“If we had some sense we should have drawn it out longer,” Hermione said, closing her books.

“What do you mean?”

She gave him an almost shy look. “Well, this is our excuse to be together – unless we just don’t tell people we’ve finished.”

He grinned at her. “We can keep coming here. This can be our secret hideout.”

“Oh yeah? And what will we do in here?”

Draco stood up and walked around to her side of the table, and lightly pushed some hair off her face with his fingertips. “I have an idea …”

She smiled nervously as she looked up at him in a way that made his heart-rate splutter, and then accelerate. He bent down and touched his mouth to hers, parting her lips easily. Her hands came up around his neck and she wound her fingers into his hair, holding him to her.

He pulled her up and guided her over to the couch, their lips never breaking apart. They sank down together, and Hermione’s hands moved downwards to run over his chest, making him shiver against her.

Within moments he was laying half on-top of her, pressing her body down into the cushions. The tips of his fingers traced down the side of her torso, across her waist and over her hip before pausing to play with the hem of her skirt.

He broke away from her lips to kiss her throat and collarbone as she gasped for breath beneath him. His tongue flickered out to taste her and he lightly bit the skin of her neck, just hard enough to leave a faint mark.

Her leg wrapped around his narrow waist, leaving his hand flat against the silky smooth, creamy skin of her upper thigh. He sucked in a shocked breath and allowed his hand to move slowly upwards.

Hermione started to giggle.

“What’s funny?” he asked, surprised at how husky his voice was, as he dragged her earlobe between his teeth.

“It’s just … if you had told me a week ago that we would be here …”

Draco pulled back to stare down at her. Her eyes were dark, with her pupils huge and dilated, while her lips had turned an even deeper red from their kiss. “I would have been shocked too.”

“Really?”

“A week ago I still hated you.” He smiled wryly and trailed his fingers over the hectic flush on her cheekbones as he gazed down at her. “I wanted you, of course, which is why I kissed you in the bathroom, and I could admire you as a person – but you were still everything I was against.”

He cupped her face with both hands, supporting his weight on his elbows and stared into her eyes. “I’m not sure what I feel for you now,” he told her honestly.

“I know,” Hermione whispered, her eyes stark. “It’s all so confusing…”

He buried his face in her hair, inhaling her soft, floral scent. “We’ll find a way to be together, ’Mione,” he murmured into her ear before he pulled her upright so that they were sitting side-by-side, though still touching.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, feeling the sudden change in mood.

“Lets just talk,” he said, putting an arm around her slim shoulders to pull her against him. “We’ve hardly spoken until recently, and I feel I know nothing about you.”

While he did want to kiss her, to touch her, he also wanted to get to know her better – he wanted to know whether or not he loved her.

*     *     *

Harry frowned and checked his watch. It was nearly curfew and Hermione still hadn’t come back from the Library yet. It wasn’t like her to stay out this late, and she had promised to help him with his homework.

“Where do you think Hermione is?” he asked Ron, who was playing chess with Ginny.

“Library most likely,” he replied without looking up from the board. “Don’t worry, I’m sure she’ll be here soon.”

Harry sighed and pulled his charms book towards him, trying to make sense of the complex weather charms.

*     *     *

Hermione felt a little self conscious at first, but it quickly faded at the look of absorption on Draco’s face as he listened to her talk about her childhood.

He asked what it had been like, growing up as a witch among muggles, and so she told him about all the times she had accidentally made things happen – the time she had turned their pet dog green, shrinking her bed until it was the size of a shoebox and when she had made it snow in the middle of her classroom in June.

He started to tell her about his own upbringing. He didn’t reveal any of the anger he had shown in the forest when he had spoken about his father, but rather talked with a clinical detachment, as if it was a story that had happened to someone else.

Instead of dwelling on his parents disciplinary methods, as he had done before, he told her about all the amazing historical and magical places that they had taken him to and Hermione had to suppress a brief flash of jealousy. He had been to the Tsar’s palace in Russia, the Ancient Greek temples where the muggles had raised witches and wizards to the level of Gods, the catacombs underneath Paris and even the village of Salem where they had held the witch trials they had studied in History of Magic – which led to a conversation about their school life.

She was a little surprised at how easy it was to talk to him. It was similar to talking to Harry and Ron, but different at the same time. Instead of familiar banter it was curiosity; his questions, and hers in return, never seemed to run out as they eagerly learnt more about each other.

*     *     *

Draco was gasping for breath, laughing so hard that his sides hurt and tears trickled down from the corners of his eyes.

“And then,” Hermione giggled, “I just waved my hands and went ‘but there’s no wood!’ I was just utterly useless and couldn’t think what to do, and Ron just shouted ‘are you a witch or not?!’ I had just completely forgotten about my wand!”

“I can’t believe you would ever loose your cool like that in a dangerous situation,” he chuckled, wiping his eyes.

Hermione swatted him playfully on the chest. “Give me a break, I was only eleven!”

*     *     *

Nearly everyone else had gone up to bed, but Harry was still pacing the common room, waiting for Hermione. It was well past midnight now and she still hadn’t come back. Muttering a curse, he went up to his dormitory. All the other boys were asleep with their hangings pulled tight, so none of them noticed as he rummaged around his trunk.

After a minutes searching in the dark he found the Marauders Map and tapped it with his wand, muttering “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.”

At once little ink lines spread from his wand over the Map. He bent over it, searching for Hermione. Lavender and Parvati were in their dormitory, but she wasn’t with them – neither was she in the Library.

Harry grabbed his invisibility cloak and headed back down to the common room. He wasn’t sure what exactly he was going to do or where he was going to search, since she wasn’t appearing on the Map, but he wanted to do something to look for her.

“Where do you think your going?” a familiar voice stopped him.

Ginny was standing a little behind him, wearing a pale dressing gown and slippers. Her flaming hair was messy around her face, as if she had just got out of bed.

He hesitated, and then said, “Hermione isn’t back yet, and I can’t find her on the Map. I was going to go find her.”

Ginny raised her eyebrows. “If she’s not back then she probably has good reason to be staying out.”

“But what if -”

“What if what?” she interrupted.

“What if she’s hurt?”

Ginny smiled at him. “Harry, do you really think she’s hurt?”

His gut wasn’t telling him she was, but he was still worried at her un-Hermione like behaviour.

“Most likely,” she said, reading his expression. “She has got some secret boyfriend she isn’t telling you about, so I highly doubt she would appreciate it if you came barging in on them – if you could get into whoever-it-was’s common room, which I doubt.”

Harry frowned.

“Tell you what,” she continued. “If she’s not back tomorrow I’ll help you look – and if we can’t find her then we can panic.”

He couldn’t help a grin at her blasé attitude, and she smiled back. “What are you doing up this late anyway?” he asked.

“Couldn’t sleep,” she shrugged. “So I thought I’d come down here and work on my boggart essay. Wanna help?”

“Sure,” Harry said, smiling as they sat down together. He always relished every chance to be with Ginny.

*     *     *

As they talked they had ended up pressed against each other, with Hermione lying between Draco’s legs and resting her head on his chest. His fingers were lightly sifting through her hair.

They lights in the room had dimmed, suiting their now sleepy mood perfectly. Hermione could hear his heartbeat, strong and steady, thumping inside him, and remembered how that sound had been a lifeline in her darkness when she had been injured in the forest.

She told him that, and he was silent for a long time.

“I’ve never really been scared of anything in my life, but that night I was terrified,” he whispered. “Not for myself, with those spiders, but for you. I was so worried I wouldn’t be able to save you.”

“But you did save me,” Hermione said to him, but her words came out distorted by a massive yawn.

Draco chuckled softly. “Sleep ’Mione.”

Only her family ever called her ’Mione, and she had told Harry and Ron she didn’t like the nickname when they had tried to call her it, but somehow she didn’t mind that Draco did.

“I should go back to my common room,” she muttered, though she made no move to get up.

His arms tightened slightly around her. “No. Stay,” he murmured in her ear. “Stay here with me.”

Hermione smiled sleepily, but didn’t reply, snuggling closer to his warm chest instead. Within moments she had been lulled to sleep by the regular rhythm of his heartbeat.

*     *     *

Draco gazed down at Hermione’s sleeping figure, relishing the sensation of her soft form pressed against him. He was curling her silky brown hair absently around his fingers. Her sooty eyelashes cast shadows over her lightly tanned skin, and she slept with her lips slightly parted.

They had talked most of the night away, discussing everything as they easily jumped from topic to topic; from their hopes and ambitions, to their favourite books, to the differences between wizard and muggle life.

It was amazing just how much they had to say to each other. It had been the longest, most animated conversation Draco had had in weeks, possibly months.

He didn’t feel particularly tired, and he wanted to savour each moment with her. He bit his lip, hating the feeling that they might not have very long together – after all, he was the son of a Death Eater and she was practically a member of the Order. When people discovered them they would be torn apart.

Hermione murmured something in her sleep and he smiled down at her, deciding then and there that, for now, he would simply live in the moment.

*     *     *

Hermione kept her eyes closed, wandering where she was. She wasn’t in her bed, she knew that, so perhaps she had fallen asleep in the common room with Harry or Ron. She was definitely with someone – one of her hands had slipped between the buttons of a shirt to rest against skin, and she could hear a heartbeat as she lay against someone’s chest.

Cool fingertips lightly touched her face. “Are you awake?” a familiar voice whispered softly, and the previous night came flooding back.

She opened her eyes and saw that she was still in the Room of Requirement, and that she was laying half on top of Draco Malfoy. She propped her chin on his chest to peek up into his sparkling grey eyes.

“Good morning,” he said, smiling crookedly.

“Hello,” she said, and then sat up suddenly. “Merlin’s beard, we stayed out all night!”

She checked her watch, and was horrified. “We’ve completely missed first lesson! We should -”

“’Mione, calm down,” Draco chuckled, grapping her wrists to stop her leaping off the sofa. “It’s a Saturday.”

“Oh,” she said, relaxing for a moment, but then she remembered something else and hit herself in the forehead. “I was supposed to help Harry with his Charms last night! He’ll be wondering where I am.”

“Just tell him you fell asleep in the Library,” he said reasonably. Hermione bit her lip, knowing Harry he would have checked the Marauders Map, which she couldn’t tell Draco about. Did that mean Harry knew?

“I should go,” she said reluctantly.

Draco sighed. “Well we can’t stay in here forever, I suppose.”

They got up and started gathering up their school bags and books. “What are we going to tell people when we finish the project?” he asked.

Hermione hesitated a moment. “Tell you what, lets cross that bridge when we get to it. Who knows if we will be able to get through this next week without killing each other?”

Draco assumed a fake hurt expression. “Do you really think we would do that?”

“Its possible,” she teased. “You are a Slytherin cheater, after all.”

“Bossy Gryffindor,” he retorted, smiling.

“Spoilt brat.” Hermione was grinning now too.

“Know-it-all.”

“Ferret.”

He pretended to wince. “Low blow, ’Mione,” he said as they headed out the door. “That is a very painful memory.


*     *     *

“There you are!”

Ginny watched as Hermione jumped nearly out of her skin and turned around. “Hi Ginny,” she said lightly.

“Where have you been?” she asked, noting Hermione’s slightly crumpled school uniform, tousled hair and the school bag she still carried.

“Oh, I, um, fell asleep in the Library,” she said, a slow blush rising in her cheeks.

“Right,” Ginny snickered. “And what about that hickey on your neck?”

Completely scarlet now, she clamped a hand to her throat. “Nothing! I, uh, I fell.”

“And obviously landed on your neck,” she said sarcastically. “Come on, Hermione, I recognise a love-bite when I see one! Who were you with?”

“Nobody!”

Ginny shook her head, unable to believe that. “Don’t worry Hermione, Harry and I already suspected a secret boyfriend anyway. He was about to go out looking for you last night, since he couldn’t find you on the map, but I told him you probably wouldn’t want to be disturbed.”

“He couldn’t find us?” Hermione asked, looking relived.

“Aha! So there was someone! Spill!” Ginny slipped her arm through hers, linking them as they walked.

Hermione opened her mouth, and then shook her head. “It’s only just starting out, Ginny, I don’t want people to know about it yet.”

She made a frustrated noise. “Alright … but come on, Hermione, give me some details!”

“Well, um … he’s tall, really clever, very good looking and …”

“And?” Ginny prompted.

Hermione sighed. “And I think I’m falling in love with him.”