Hermione walked towards the greenhouses, grumbling to herself. She was not at all in the mood for another heartfelt conversation about dancing, herbology, and idiots, but she had promised Luna to explain everything.
What a shame. All she wanted was to sit in her room, preferably without Ginny, with the "Durmstrang: A Handbook" in her hands. The pseudo-military structure of the school was fascinating: prefects were called officers and reported to commanders. House points were not awarded, as there were no Houses. Instead, rule-breakers received penalty points, and the three students with the maximum number by the end of the year were subjected to Spülen — that is, expulsion, which, to be honest...
Unbeknownst to herself, Hermione had already arrived at Greenhouse Number Three, where the most dangerous plants were kept. Luna stood with her back to the entrance beside a pot of Devil's Snare.
"Luna!" Hermione called.
Her friend turned, and at that very moment, a tendril of the plant shot up, attempting to coil around her neck, missing by barely an inch.
"You rascal," Luna sang, waving her hand to return the vine to its place.
Hermione froze, impressed by her skill in wandless magic.
"I'm glad to see you, Hermione," Luna said. "Look."
Hermione stepped closer and saw thin wooden blocks and several twisted strips of something suspiciously nasty lying on the table before them.
"This," Luna handed her a pale gray block, "is Amaranthus wood."
Hermione took it — and almost dropped it when the wood turned green in her hands.
"Yes, Amaranthus changes color with your mood," Luna explained. "Right now, you're bewildered, which is perfectly understandable."
"What are you doing?" Hermione asked.
"Trying to make a wand from Amaranthus and a Kneazle whisker," Luna held up her own wand. "Neville helps me process the wood, and Mr. Ollivander taught me the spells when we were at Malfoy Manor. He was too weak to make a wand himself, but he thought I could..."
Hermione frowned.
"Wand-making is a delicate art, Luna. And dangerous."
"Yes," Luna agreed calmly. "But imagine a wand that reacts to your mood. And Kneazles are emotionally stable magical creatures. They rarely get upset. A perfect balance."
"Luna, you shouldn't be doing this without Mr. Ollivander." Hermione placed her hand on the wooden block. "If the spell is too complex or you cast it too sharply, the wood could splinter. The shockwave could damage your magical core, bind you to the spell..."
Her friend gently took the block from her hands.
"I've cast a protective charm, don't worry." She set the block aside and smiled. "I hope you came to chat about our party? Did you have a good time? The preliminary ratings aren't very encouraging, but we hope for improved performance. Did you fill out our exit survey?"
"I was a bit busy at the end, Luna."
"Of course. No problem." Luna pulled a formidable stack of parchment from her bag. "Just fill this out and give it to any member of the Research Committee. I know the survey is a bit long, but there were more entertainments this year too."
Hermione curiously skimmed the title page, which contained 27 sections, then resolutely set the survey aside. Luna sat on a stool, hands folded in her lap, and Hermione pulled a second stool closer, sitting opposite her.
"You chose a very curious way to disappear last night," Luna observed. "Where did you go?"
Hermione swallowed. Saying it aloud was harder than she thought.
"To Draco Malfoy's bedroom," she exhaled. "He modified the Vanishing Cabinets spell for inter-bed travel."
Luna tilted her head.
"Interesting. I never would have thought. For people who regularly have sex, you two seem awfully tense. Maybe you're doing it wrong?"
"We're not doing it wrong!" Hermione exclaimed. "I mean, we're not having sex at all!"
"You're spending time in Draco's bed and not having sex with him? Well, no wonder." Luna leaned forward and patted Hermione's hand. "You've come to the right place. There are many ways to initiate sex. For example, I like to bind a wizard while he's sleeping, and then wake him with a pleasant..."
"Luna!" Hermione nearly fell off the stool. "I'm not going to discuss sex with Malfoy! I came to tell you about the Vanishing Spell!"
Her friend took the Amaranthus block, and it turned pale green.
"But I don't understand. Why would Draco move you to his bed if not for sex? Are you preparing for lessons together? If so, that's a very effective way..."
"No-no," Hermione shook her head. "He didn't intend to move me. He wanted to link the spell to someone else, but... something went wrong." She gritted her teeth, but was determined to explain everything honestly. "In the end, I was in his bed, and we've been trying to fix it ever since."
Luna nodded.
"I have no doubt in either of you. When you decide to remove the spell, you will succeed."
"You're not listening to me? We're already trying to remove it!"
Luna blinked slowly, like an owl.
"As you say. But you're not trying very hard, are you?"
"Of course we are!" Hermione sprang to her feet. "We've tried counter-spells several times, I repaired my broken clock to stabilize the temporal element, wrote forty-three inches of essays on Vanishing Spells and their application, and even subscribed to 'Wood-Charmers' Digest' to find..."
"Yes-yes," Luna patted her shoulder. "You've been doing very interesting things, I have no doubt. That's great. You both deserve to enjoy yourselves."
"I'm not enjoying myself!" Hermione cried out. "I've never been so confused in my life! I'm trapped, night after night, and he... he looks so cold and stern, but when he touches me, then... then..."
"He needs you," Luna said softly.
Hermione blinked.
"Nonsense. Draco Malfoy needs no one."
"He needs you," Luna repeated. "He needs you, and you need to be needed."
"Not at all," Hermione countered. "I had enough with Harry and Ron. I gave and gave..." Her voice trembled, her eyes filled with tears. "I was so... depleted." She lowered the block, which had turned dull gray in her hands.
Luna hugged her tightly.
"Yes, you were. But now it's different. You don't feel depleted anymore."
Hermione sniffled.
"Well... yes. I've been sleeping better lately."
"Of course," Luna released her, smiling. "Draco needs you no less than Harry and Ron. Perhaps even more... It's just hard for him to admit it."
Hermione froze, remembering the first night, when she woke to Malfoy thrashing in a nightmare. How he grabbed her hand — silently begging her to stay. She remembered his sighs as he relaxed beside her, his breath on her hair. She remembered his eyes that night when she hummed a tune at his request. And that strange thrill that ran through her skin whenever he allowed her to help.
"He resists," Hermione said. "It's a constant struggle."
Luna remained silent, only watching her.
"How do you suddenly know so much about Malfoy?" Hermione frowned. "How can you know what he needs?"
Luna shrugged.
"The Dinglefingers told me. They are very insightful."
"Did the Dinglefingers advise you to set him up with Isobel McDougall?"
Luna shook her head.
"Oh no, that was my miscalculation. I underestimated your influence on Draco. Annoying, you know. However, it led to both Justin and Draco trying to seduce her at the party, so Isobel now feels quite desirable."
Hermione was shocked.
"That's disgusting! Isobel doesn't need dirty advances to feel attractive. What kind of lessons are these? You surprise me, Luna."
The blonde witch looked abashed.
"The Dinglefingers were also displeased with me. They warned me not to interfere. But I confess, I didn't expect such behavior from Justin..."
"Because it wasn't Justin at the party," Hermione explained. "It was Tennant Rowley under Polyjuice Potion."
Luna's eyes widened.
"That explains the dark aura I saw. I thought it was brain-eaters."
Hermione grunted in annoyance.
"Anyway, now Isobel is interested in Justin, though it wasn't actually him who offered her..."
Luna suddenly clapped her hands.
"But that's wonderful! So Isobel considers Justin dangerous — well, almost like Draco — Justin will definitely like that."
"He definitely won't like it. You have no idea what a prude he can be..." Hermione fell silent and sighed. "Dinglefingers, huh?" She rubbed her forehead. "Just... just don't interfere anymore, okay, Luna? Leave them alone."
Luna nodded.
"I'm sure you and Draco will have a wonderful time, plotting intrigues. It can be quite relaxing."
"Yeah, right."
"Although sex is much more effective," Luna continued. "Too bad you don't want to have sex with Draco."
"I want to... I mean, I..." Hermione abruptly clamped her mouth shut.
"Of course you do." Luna patted her hand. "I'm sure he knows all sorts of wicked... perverted things."
"Unlikely," Hermione muttered darkly. "With Romilda, he didn't... Aaaah!"
Honestly, Luna was a walking vial of Veritaserum. Luna smiled.
"I'm sure you could persuade him."
"But that's insane!" Hermione protested. "It's Draco Malfoy. I should want someone like Justin..."
Luna looked shocked.
"You want to steal Justin from Isobel?"
"There's nothing between them! She only became interested in him because Tennant Rowley behaved like a scumbag, pretending to be... Never mind." Hermione plopped down onto the stool. Arguing with Luna was pointless.
Hermione waited for more Dinglefinger revelations from Luna, but the Ravenclaw merely watched her silently.
"Something has changed between me and Malfoy," Hermione admitted. "He... he's courting me. Trying to protect me. And I... I'm starting to trust him."
Luna silently hopped off the stool and began gathering the wooden blocks and Kneazle whiskers into her bag.
"Isn't that insane, Luna? To trust Draco Malfoy?"
Luna smiled and again patted Hermione's hand.
"Insane. That's exactly why you should try it."
Luna's words still echoed in Hermione's mind as she shivered on the windswept balcony later that evening. He needs you. It seemed almost impossible, and yet... Did she need Malfoy herself? Or did she need to be needed? Or did he need to need her, because she needed to be needed? ...Enough. What she really needed was to track down Tennant. According to the Map, he was moving with agonizing slowness along the fifth-floor corridor towards her. Was he drunk? Injured? Had he turned himself into a beetle?
Hermione remained patient, trying not to think about the lost time she could have spent studying. She had already been scurrying around the castle for two hours, using every secret passage she knew to stay one step ahead. His route was erratic: a short visit to the library, then the Charms classroom with the plaster heads, and then Gryffindor Tower. Now he was on the fifth floor. Had he gotten the password to the prefects' bathroom? Was he trying to ambush some student? A sick, perverted bastard...
But Tennant didn't enter the bathroom. Instead, he stopped before the statue of Boris the Bewildered. Hermione peeked out from behind a tapestry to get a better view of Rowley.
"Perdita," Tennant whispered hoarsely, and the statue moved a few feet to the right, revealing a secret passage. Tennant grumbled as he squeezed into the narrow space and disappeared. The statue of Boris returned to its place.
Pulling out her wand, Hermione approached the statue and waited ten minutes, nervously shifting from foot to foot. Precautionary measures. Somewhere nearby, a clock struck nine.
"Perdita," she whispered, and Boris moved again.
"Lumos."
Hermione began descending the iron ladder fixed to the wall. The metal rungs were icy, and her low-heeled boots slipped. She had absolutely no plans to climb through secret Slytherin staircases tonight. Merlin, she had spent half her life in this castle, and still knew so little...
The passage led her to a draped alcove, and Hermione squeezed into a slit in the wall, which immediately closed behind her. She checked the Map. First floor. Her gaze skimmed the library, but the dots were grouped so tightly that the names overlapped. Was it "T" or "F"? If people just sat still and studied, instead of darting here and there, maybe she could...
"What are you doing here?" a gloomy voice asked. Hermione extinguished her Lumos. The tone was low, with aristocratic notes. A Slytherin.
"You AGAIN," a second voice sounded, higher, female, familiar, but so distorted by menacing notes that Hermione barely recognized it. Ginny.
"Are you sure? Maybe you should ask me a question first? About the potion ingredient cupboard."
"I won't ask you about the cupboard," Ginny's voice sounded tense.
"Then ask what ingredient you were holding. Or about the badge you were wearing." Pause. "Or about the taste of your lips."
Hermione was utterly shocked. Now she recognized the second voice. Ginny had been kissing Zabini in the cupboard? What a hypocrite!
Zabini smirked.
"I'll answer anyway — Abyssinian fig. Silver eye. Intoxicating."
Hermione flinched. Do all Slytherins, then, train this purring timbre? She carefully backed away. She would just go back up to the fifth floor and go around...
"Perdita," she whispered, but the wall didn't budge.
Meanwhile, Ginny continued her interrogation.
"When I spoke with you in the library, what book were you reading?"
"Potions Most Foul."
"And when I checked your wand this morning, what came out of it?"
"A blue rose," Zabini's voice was disgustingly self-satisfied. "I can also describe how your..."
"ENOUGH!" Ginny shrieked.
Hermione heard the crackle of magic, and for a moment thought Ginny had cursed Zabini simply on principle. The curtain fabric rippled from a sudden movement, and through the resulting gap, Tennant Rowley's crude profile flashed. His face was contorted with fury. Hermione froze. Had he decided to return to the alcove?
"EAVESDROPPING," Ginny hissed.
"Fuck off, you stupid bitch," Tennant snarled.
"I understand you were raised by barbarians, Rowley," Zabini said, "but even you are capable of finding a few polite words for a lady."
"That's no lady," Tennant replied. "Watch your prick, Zabini. I like red-headed pussies, but this one bites."
"Burn!" Zabini hissed in Russian, a purple flame flared, and Hermione felt as if she were back in the Department of Mysteries. The scar on her chest became searingly hot. Dolohov's curse. Her hands trembled, dropping her wand and the Map.
"Zabini, no!" Ginny shrieked. Hermione pressed her palm to the uneven scar, watching from her hiding place as Ginny held her wand to Tennant's throat.
"Get away!" Tennant roared. Apparently, he dodged Zabini's curse, or Zabini simply missed.
"What are you planning, Rowley?" Ginny asked. "What's in this alcove? Did you hide a corpse there? Watch him, Zabini."
The curtain moved a couple of inches, and Ginny's face flashed in the opening. Her eyes widened at the sight of Hermione's pleading gaze, but then she merely nodded and pulled the curtain shut.
Hermione bent to pick up the Map and her wand from the floor, her hands trembling.
"Well, well, what do we have here?" another voice sounded.
Hidden from everyone, Hermione shook her head. Theodore Nott. Just what she needed.
"Is this a study group?" Nott chirped. "How sweet. We really do have a Transfiguration exam soon. Does anyone want to test me on multi-level materialization?"
"Clear off, Nott," Tennant snarled.
"Mr... Rowley," Nott said politely, but with a hint of doubt, as if he didn't regularly sit at the same table with this brute. Hermione rolled her eyes. Honestly, it was amazing Nott hadn't been beaten up yet.
"I had the honor of hosting your father at our home last year," Nott continued in a social tone. "Thorfin seemed slightly... stunned, but, to be honest, it's hard to tell the difference from his usual state."
"Don't you dare insult my father, you fat bastard. What are you..."
"Sh-sh-sh, mind your language," Theo clicked his tongue. Zabini's wand dug deeper into Tennant's throat. "Let's all lower our wands — and you too, Miss Weasley — and agree that we disagree with each other."
Nott's voice sounded hypnotic, and Hermione too involuntarily lowered her wand, though she still remained invisible. Tennant disappeared from her sight, giving way to Nott's self-satisfied face. The cold gleam in his green eyes made Hermione step back. Had he noticed her?
"So you really do share everything with each other," Tennant regained his former mocking tone. "Even Gryffindor whores."
"Blaise," Nott commanded.
"Listen to your boyfriend, Zabini," Tennant said. "And don't cast spells you're not ready to use, or I'll show you how it's really done."
His heavy footsteps gradually faded down the corridor.
A short pause ensued, and then Ginny spoke.
"He's planning something," she blurted out. "Making plans. Sneaking around everywhere. Spying."
"And you're surprised?" Hermione could practically hear Nott arching an eyebrow.
"Slytherins," Ginny hissed. "You're always up to something."
"Well, yes," Nott agreed indifferently.
"I want Tennant Rowley to disappear from this school." Zabini's voice trembled so much Hermione barely recognized it. "Right now."
"All in good time," Nott said. "Miss Weasley, I apologize for my housemate's language. Come, Blaise. Miss Weasley is now perfectly safe, believe me."
His tone sounded meaningful, and Hermione winced. Nott had seen her. The Slytherin led Zabini away, leaving Ginny alone.
Hermione stepped out of the alcove — directly into Ginny's raised wand.
"What color is my mum's favorite mixing bowl?" the red-haired witch asked.
"Yellow, with a chipped rim."
Ginny lowered her wand, narrowing her eyes.
"What were you doing in that alcove?"
"And what were you doing, kissing Zabini in the cupboard?" Hermione countered. "Not very vigilant."
Ginny blushed.
"I made him drink Veritaserum first. And cast a protective charm on my hair."
Hermione stared at her.
"You kissed a person who had just drunk Veritaserum?"
Ginny's eyes widened.
"Damn!"
Hermione smirked. Now it was clear why Zabini looked so smug. He had probably asked Ginny a few interesting questions in that cupboard too.
The red-haired witch was angry at herself, and Hermione touched her hand.
"It's okay, Gin. It's alright," she said. "It's normal to have feelings for him."
"Of course you'd say that," Ginny retorted bitterly. "You're sleeping with Malfoy yourself."
"I'm not sleeping with Malfoy!"
Ginny blinked, hearing the sincerity in Hermione's voice. Then the corners of her lips crept upwards.
"Really? I bet he's thrilled with the abstinence."
"We just... he's so... we need to... aaargh!" Hermione shook her head, annoyed, then tried again. "I'm starting to think I was unfair to him," she admitted.
Ginny gave her a rare smile.
"Don't worry. It's good for him."
Her gaze slid to the Map in Hermione's hand.
"Why are you following Rowley?"
"He's hunting girls."
Ginny lowered her voice, though there was no one in the corridor.
"McGonagall asked me to lead a new Student Protection Squad. Rowley is our primary interest."
Hermione wanted to roll her eyes, but she remained silent, only lighting the Map with her wand.
"Rowley's on the fourth floor and still ascending. I need to go."
"Are you keeping a log of his movements?"
"Of course."
"I expect a full report."
Ginny's gaze swept over Hermione's denim skirt, gray jumper, and pink and white striped tights.
"You're dressed terribly for surveillance. You need a black robe."
"It's fine."
"What was that?" Ginny suddenly shrieked. She spun around, wand at the ready.
Hermione heard nothing.
"There's no one..."
"Constant vigilance!" Ginny hissed and rushed down the corridor, pursuing a hidden threat or, more likely, a ghost, a mouse, or a stray scrap of parchment.
Relieved that she was gone, Hermione headed for the stairs. Tennant's dot had reached Gryffindor Tower and disappeared into the alcove opposite the common room entrance. When Hermione reached the corridor with the Fat Lady, he was still there — Hermione had to wait around the corner and answer silly questions about Malfoy from passing Gryffindors.
"Did you really dance with him, Miss Granger?"
"And you held his hand?"
"Yes, I held his hand," Hermione snapped. "That's usually what happens when you dance."
"What does it feel like?" another girl asked. Smooth and strong, with a subtle...
"Was it cold?"
"Slippery?"
"Did his Dark Mark try to bite you?"
Hermione hissed that she would send Ginny after them if they didn't clear off. The girls shrieked and fled, and she pulled out the Map again.
Tennant had left his hiding place — perhaps drawn by the voices — and was again moving towards her. Hermione hurried to hide. There were no alcoves in this spot, only a wooden spiral staircase in the corner, leading to a tiny North Tower. The staircase looked overly delicate for Hogwarts, with graceful curves and an openwork balustrade. Hermione darted into the shadow behind it, trying not to think about spiders.
She exhaled with relief as Tennant's heavy footsteps passed her hiding place. What was he even doing in the seventh-floor corridor? Had he found the Room of Requirement? Was he planning to lure some girl there?
Hermione almost wished it were so. She had a few elegant, subtle curses stored away that she was just itching to try out. But she heard nothing but the rattling of doorknobs as Tennant methodically checked room after room. Hermione was disappointed — Slytherin wizards could be appallingly ineffective.
"I really should practice multi-level materialization spells myself," she muttered, remembering Nott's words.
"Then get out of here and stop bothering me," a low, irritated voice said.
Hermione sharply flinched, banging her head on a wooden step.
"Who's there?"
"You students, all you do is clatter and bang!" the voice grated. "Tramping on my steps, slamming on my banisters. Do you think it's fun?"
"Uh, no," Hermione took out the Map and risked lighting a tiny light. She stared at the inscription above her dot. Grumpy Staircase?
"Up-down, up-down, all day long," the voice continued to wail. "Oh, how my boards ache!"
"Well, you are a staircase," Hermione reasonably observed.
"Just a little bit of care, a little bit of respect," the staircase continued. "And maybe a polish on Sundays? Am I asking for too much? No one thinks about my..."
"Who's there?" A rough hand grabbed Hermione's arm and pulled her from behind the staircase, throwing her onto the stone floor. She looked up and saw Tennant, towering over her, his face half-lit by torchlight.
"Hermione," his smirk revealed almost all his teeth. "How hospitable you look."
Hermione glanced at herself and realized she was sitting on the floor with her legs wide apart, her denim skirt hitched up. She sharply closed her knees.
"Accio, vineyard vine!"
"Now, now," Tennant said. His polished boot pinned her wand to the floor. His own wand he held in his hand.
"Don't squirm," he said, when Hermione tried to stand, "I like you in your place."
He stepped forward, dragging her wand across the floor.
"You're exactly where you should be. On your knees. Trembling," he grimaced into a lewd smirk.
"I'm not trembling!" Hermione blurted out. "Are you seriously going to play these games in the middle of a corridor? If so, you're even dumber than your..."
"You, you bloody..." Tennant took a step, his face contorted with rage.
"I'll polish everything you ask for every Sunday!" Hermione cried out.
Surprise flashed across Tennant's crude face, and he froze.
"Really? Well, finally you're starting to understand me, baby." He laughed hoarsely. "Why don't you demonstrate..."
The Slytherin didn't manage to finish his disgusting proposition when suddenly the Grumpy Staircase straightened like a ribbon, and sharply darted across the corridor, narrowly missing Hermione and striking Tennant with force. A loud crack sounded, and splinters rained down onto the stone floor. The wizard fell heavily onto his back with a hoarse "oof!", blood oozing from his lacerated forehead, and his face and hands covered in small scratches.
"Accio, vineyard vine!" This time her wand slapped directly into her palm.
Hermione sprang to her feet.
"Thank you," she said softly to the staircase, which had already coiled back, shaking slightly. A flick of her wand — and the fragments of wood flew into the air, returning to their places.
"The railing on the third turn is crooked," the staircase complained.
Hermione adjusted the carved balustrade, then turned to Tennant, who was lying on the floor in a semiconscious state. Hmm. He'd make an excellent tortoise. I could put him in the empty cage on the sixth floor and bring him water with a lettuce leaf every day.
Then she sighed. No. One shouldn't use Transfiguration for punishment — not even on the most repulsive people. The Slytherin was stunned, but generally unharmed. Hermione was more angry at herself — what a tracker, caught twice by her own target on the very first day. She was already thinking of giving Tennant a good Bat-Bogey Hex before leaving, but the distant chime of a clock reminded her of the time. Half past nine. To hell with it.
"All the fun is passing me by," she muttered, stepping over Tennant and heading for Gryffindor Tower.
"Are you telling me?" the Grumpy Staircase retorted. "I was made to suffer."