Malfoy left me!LEFT ME!Where's Tennant?Did he see me?Where's my WAND?!
Hermione yanked the bed canopy shut, not daring to peek out. The door slammed loudly. The book… the clock… the flower… Who needs so many pillows?! Aha! Her fingers closed around her wand, and she instantly cast fresh protective charms to keep anyone from getting past the curtain.
The ghostly light from the room seeped through the magically starched sheer drapes. The grandfather clock struck with a deep, echoing chime. Malfoy had clearly disappeared into the dungeons. Merlin, when had everything gone off the rails?
It's fine. Inhale. Exhale. Slowly. If Tennant had been nearby, she would have heard him already. Hermione pulled herself together and layered a second set of invisible protective charms, spiced with a few nasty surprises.
But charms fade over time. She had maybe three hours before they weakened, and Tennant could show up at any moment. Sleep was out of the question. She needed the Map. Ginny would be so disappointed. Constant vigilance!
Hermione slumped back against the pillows, clutching her wand. A trace of expensive cologne still lingered in the air, and she involuntarily pictured Malfoy lying in this very spot: book on his lap, glasses askew. Just like that shepherd from the ancient myths… Endimort? Endimood? The one seduced by the moon goddess. According to legend, Selene cast a spell on the boy, granting him immortality—but condemning him to eternal sleep, never able to feel her kisses. There's something in that, Hermione thought. Andy was probably insufferable when awake.
Hey, men have feelings too, came Neville's lecturing voice in her head.As if Hermione didn't know that. Hadn't she spent years coddling Harry's and Ron's feelings? It wasn't her fault Malfoy preferred brooding walks through the castle to emotional honesty—though somehow still managing to look attractive doing it. Not that she had scored top marks in emotional intelligence today—she had shown up and started kissing him out of nowhere...
The candle floating above the bed crackled and sparked. Hermione flinched, and red flares shot from her wand. The carved wooden snakes on the bedposts slithered down, hiding under the blanket. Once her heartbeat calmed, she reclined on the pillows and opened Malfoy's book on wand-making. Neville had given her a few ideas, and now more than ever she needed to find a way to break the curse.
She began flipping through pages, trying to calm her body and distract her mind. Wand-making. Magic and wood. Since wands weren't merely magical conduits but crafted tools imbued with spellwork, the incantations used in their creation required a special kind of precision. The book opened to a page marked with a green ribbon:
This magic-infused wood is one of the most powerful and underrated. The African savannahs are dotted with gnarled trees that take centuries to grow. African darkwood is sensitive to music, resistant to fire, and incredibly durable. It's rarely used in wand-making, but if a wizard shares a connection with darkwood, their bond can form in the most mysterious ways.
Hermione looked anew at the bedposts. One snake had already returned, still wearing Malfoy's glasses, and was bobbing its head as if it too wanted to read the book. African darkwood… What a strange choice for a bed in Hogwarts. Could such magical wood affect the Vanishing Spell? Possibly...
Suddenly the door banged again, followed by heavy footsteps. Hermione sat up, wand raised.
"What, waiting for me, Draco?" Tennant's rasping voice cut through the canopy.
"Just relaxing," Malfoy said.
Malfoy's here? He had been here the whole time?
"Cozy, aren't you," Tennant drawled. Hermione heard the squeak of leather upholstery and Malfoy's irritated sigh."Hm, yeah, this couch is really comfortable."
"Get lost, Tennant."
He's here. Malfoy didn't leave her alone. He stayed, and…
"We need to talk about tonight," Tennant's voice darkened. "That Mudblood's going to pay for stunning me. Little cunning bitch, pretending she was unconscious."
"Really?" Malfoy said, sounding bored. "I thought you just decided to take a nap."
"Useless bastard… You could've revived me!"
"Consider it a lesson," Malfoy said. "You don't mess with Hogwarts' Golden Girl."
Tennant laughed harshly.
"If you think a flower hex changes anything—you don't know me at all. What, going soft over a girl who won't even look at you?"
Malfoy's voice turned icy.
"I wouldn't mind. But you're definitely not the one she'd give it to."
"Gonna leave her to that powdered ponce?" Tennant snorted. "That witch is begging to be bent over." He laughed again. "Which side do you want to take her from?"
Hermione felt sick, fury pounding in her temples. She would get rid of Tennant Rowley, even if it meant sacrificing her standing at Hogwarts. How could they let a wizard like this roam the castle? Then release him into the world to unleash the evil he learned in war—on both wizards and Muggles alike?
Suddenly, what happened with Malfoy earlier seemed like nothing. Even the Vanishing Spell was pushed to the background. Hermione twirled her wand between her fingers, tracing the carvings. Just thinking.
"I don't share," Malfoy's voice was flat, emotionless.
"Then learn to, if you want a piece," the leather couch creaked again, and Tennant's voice came closer to the bed. "Don't tell me you never pictured her clever little mouth on your—"
A loud thump against the charm-protected curtain made Hermione yelp as she shot up onto her knees, wand at the ready.
"Oi, Draco, what's with you?" Tennant sneered. "Getting all jumpy over that dirt? Say, your bed charmed again?"
"Yes," Malfoy snapped. "And stay the fuck away from it."
"You've been putting charms on your bed a lot lately. Someone in there?" The Slytherin chuckled. "Don't tell me she kicked you out."
Hermione gasped loudly. She had to stop thinking of Tennant as his father.
"Don't be an idiot," Malfoy replied calmly. "No one's in there. But surely, you understand the… need… to protect what's mine."
A disappointed sigh.
"You're not at all what I expected this year," Tennant said. "No fun anymore."
"I did try to help you with Granger, didn't I?" Malfoy's voice dripped with contempt. "And what did I get? The pleasure of watching it all go to hell."
"Fine, I admit, the ambush was a bit blunt. My new plan… is more elegant."
"Enlighten me," Malfoy raised a brow sarcastically. "Though frankly, I doubt you're capable."
"Later. I still need to set the stage."
Tennant tapped on the charm-hardened canopy.
"Nice enchantments. Invisible. You'll have to teach me those."
His silhouette was clearly outlined through the silvery fabric—he was just inches away from her. Hermione's heart pounded, though her mind insisted he couldn't see her, couldn't get in.
"I smell flowers…" Tennant said. "Hmm... something familiar."
"There was a letter from my mother somewhere," Malfoy said.
"Unforgettable scent. Your mother's very attractive—my father thought so. He was quite upset when she turned him down. Even though the Dark Lord had promised."
The impact of Tennant's body against the canopy shook the whole bed, and the protective charms wavered, flickering for a split second.
"Never speak about my mother," Malfoy's voice was nearly unrecognizable, "or I'll destroy you—I swear I'll gladly go to Azkaban for it."
"N-nervous little…" Tennant rasped. "Alright, relax. Nothing happened. Merlin."
His shadow moved away, but Hermione could still see Malfoy's lean figure, wand ready. Then came the sound of liquid being poured, ice clinking, and the creak of the sofa.
Tennant took a loud sip.
"You're not fooling me, Drakey. You miss it too. The power. The blood…" His voice deepened. "The games. Remember how we hung that Muggle whore by her—"
"Enough," Malfoy cut in sharply. "The war is over. If you miss my family's hospitality so much, I'll be happy to hit you with the Cruciatus twice a day and let a rabid dog chase you around the entire fucking cast—"
A loud crash, breaking glass. The room dimmed. Hermione was already standing upright, her head brushing the canopy, ready to burst out.
"I liked that lamp," Malfoy noted indifferently.
Another crash followed—this time, it sounded like a table or chair being overturned.
"Watch your mouth, Malfoy," Tennant's voice shook with rage. "You don't want me as your enemy."
Hermione tensed, ready to intervene. Her wand tracked Tennant's steps crossing the room. Soon she heard the annoyed muttering of a wizard getting into bed and the sharp tug of a curtain being drawn.
Another door slammed, this time from the other side. Hermione froze until she heard light footsteps approaching the bed.
"I'm going to sleep," Malfoy announced, and she dispelled the charms to let him in.
Then she shifted aside, making space. She was glad he came back—even with his scowling expression and stubborn refusal to look at her. Malfoy slid under the blanket and stashed his wand beneath the pillow.
"Thank you," Hermione said softly.
Malfoy paused mid-adjustment of the blanket, his expression unreadable.
"Thank you for staying." She sighed. "You were right about Tennant."
An awkward silence followed. Not knowing what else to say, Hermione slipped her wand into the pocket of her pajamas and settled under the covers. She wished she had her red blanket—but right now, she was trying to build a bridge. Anyway, Malfoy didn't seem inclined to touch her at all.
Malfoy blew out the floating candle, leaving only the muted glow of a lamp filtering through the canopy. Just the sound of their breathing and the faint splash of the lake behind the enchanted window.
Hermione had lain like this before—in the dark, with Harry, in the tent, during the war. Late at night, after a long, grueling, dangerous day. Too tired to sleep.
She traced the outline of the embroidered snake on the canopy. Now, with Malfoy, it felt entirely different. Something about the Slytherin's proximity made her skin tingle—a ticklish awareness, a coiled spring of desire deep inside... Don't think about that.
"I wouldn't have left you here alone."
At Malfoy's voice, her heart skipped.
"I know," she whispered.
"I expect you to be more careful in the future."
"I will."
"I'll find out what Tennant's planning. Just... don't provoke him."
"Like you?" Hermione blurted, forgetting her vow to keep the peace. She sighed. "Okay. I won't talk to him."
Malfoy scoffed.
"You don't need words to provoke. So—no scowling or glaring. No judgmental looks or dramatic sighs as you pass him. No—"
"I get it!" she snapped.
Silence. Hermione gathered courage.
"Malfoy?"
Silence.
"Malfoy? You said you know something about Tennant. What is it?"
Malfoy groaned.
"Sleep, Granger."
Hermione turned toward him, barely making out the sharp angle of his profile against the canopy.
"It could be important. If you know something, you have to—"
"It's not important. Sleep."
"At least give me a hint," she pleaded.
"Fine," Malfoy said like he was granting a royal favor. "One kiss—one clue."
"Forget it."
She wasn't going to play that game again.
Malfoy didn't respond—just waited. Hermione stared at his silhouette, thinking. If this was her chance to learn something about Tennant...
"Alright, Malfoy. Talk."
"So predictable. Here's your clue, Granger. Chicken bones."
Hermione sat up abruptly.
"Chicken bones?"
"Exactly," he said smugly.
"That's not a clue!"
"It's an excellent clue. Pay up."
"What does that even mean—chicken bones? How is that—"
"Tut-tut," Malfoy said. "You got your clue. Now I expect my kiss and a peaceful night."
There was a teasing lilt in his voice, and Hermione stared at his outline, startled. Who was this person?
"Pay up, Granger," he purred.
She leaned forward, trying to find his breath, but her lips brushed silky hair. Second try—scratchy stubble on his cheek. Only on the third attempt did she catch the corner of his mouth.
Malfoy turned his head, catching her lips with his. The tip of his tongue ran along her lower lip, sending shivers through her body. Hermione melted into the kiss for a moment—then pulled back.
"Give me a real hint," she whispered.
"Kiss me like you mean it," he muttered. "No? Fine. Sleep and dream about chicken bones."
Hermione snorted and rolled away from him. Merlin, even his breathing sounded smug.
She managed to form two theories and was working on a third when sleep finally overtook her—but there were no chicken bones in her dreams.