"Hermione, what happened?" The upstairs door opened, and Ginny's head popped out.
"We heard a loud noise downstairs. Was that you screaming?"
"Oh, it wasn't me." Hermione stood in the doorway of the second-floor sitting room, still a little stunned. "It was Kreacher."
"Did Kreacher say anything? Did he hurt you?" Ginny asked at once.
"No," Hermione said slowly. "It's not that he hurt me — it's that I said something that shattered his entire worldview."
"Well, I'm glad you're alright." Ginny shrugged. "Do you want to come up?"
"No, I haven't finished brewing my Forgetfulness Potion yet," Hermione said softly. "You go on."
She sat back down on the sofa, and in the full moonlight, she whispered excitedly to the ring on her finger. "Draco, I understand. You're right."
Draco was moving through the crowd of guests, casually lifting his hand as if to check the time, but really just glancing at his own ring.
He smiled faintly.
She seemed to be in a much better mood — perhaps she'd come to some realization.
Hermione had indeed gained some insight, and her feelings were caught in an upheaval she couldn't quite put into words.
She desperately wanted to tell him what she had just done — the unexpected conversation she'd just had, and the small, bright bud of "self" she'd just glimpsed inside Kreacher.
She waited for his reply in the quiet dark. He didn't answer.
Being apart, their feelings occasionally fell out of step.
But they always found the gaps to reach each other.
In the early morning, they rang each other on their mobiles just to hear each other's voices.
During the day, they talked through the rings — sharing whatever books they were reading, songs they were listening to, meals they were eating.
At night, however late he got home and finished his work, he always told her goodnight.
Sometimes she answered; sometimes she was already asleep and only saw the message the next morning.
When they were both free, they traded small talk, word games, and things left charmingly unsaid.
Ever since he'd once caught her talking to herself through the ring and it had made her furious, he'd become unusually careful, as if afraid of upsetting her again. They let themselves long for each other in the abstract but never spoke of wanting each other outright.
But tonight, she didn't want to hold back anymore.
While she still had the courage, while she was still full of feeling, while the ache of distance hadn't yet worn her spirit thin, while her words could still reach him through this strange ring —
She pressed the ring to her lips and kissed it. "I miss you. I want you."
She waited in the dark for a long, long time.
Just as she was about to drift off on the sofa, he finally spoke.
"Then — as you wish."
So it was that, a few days later, the all-powerful Draco Malfoy managed to arrange a visit to the old Black house, and found himself sitting on the very sofa his girl used to sit on.
"Draco, why don't you go upstairs and play with Harry?" Sirius Black said, with a half-smile, glancing sideways at a rather put-out Narcissa. "Your mother seems to have something to discuss with me."
"Oh, yes — let's go up and play a round of Gobstones or Wizard Chess," Harry said eagerly, rising from the sofa. "It's been ages since we played."
Draco didn't move right away. Instead, he glanced cautiously at his mother, silently seeking her permission.
"Go on up." Narcissa forced a smile at her son. "I do have some business to discuss with him."
She put a particular weight on the word "business," her tone drawing tight.
Draco bowed to them both, as proper and correct as any boy raised in a pure-blood household. Harry, unconcerned with such formality, gave a quick nod and pulled Draco straight out of the sitting room.
They'd climbed only two steps when the sitting-room door slammed shut behind them with a bang.
They exchanged a startled look.
"Did Sirius offend your mother?" Harry asked quietly.
"I'll say this much — those two have never had any love lost between them," Draco said, shrugging. "My mother's always been especially wary of him."
"Well, on the surface they seemed civil enough," Harry said, frowning.
"My mother's always been good at putting on a show." Draco handed Harry a gift box. "Here — your birthday present, from her."
"Really, you didn't have to—" Harry took it, a little embarrassed.
"And here — I picked this out myself. A fifteen-in-a-row set. I guarantee you'll like it," Draco said, offhand.
"Oh, I've heard Ron mention that game!" Harry said. "Isn't that the sort of thing the author of Quidditch Origins is fond of—"
"That's the one. Kenneth Whistler is mad for these old board games." Draco stopped at the top of the third-floor stairs, glancing at the row of doors. "Which one's Hermione in?"
"She and Ginny are next door. I thought it best to keep them out of sight, just in case—" Harry glanced at Draco and wisely let the sentence trail off.
That Draco's parents despised Muggles was no secret within the Black household.
Everyone was being careful, determined not to let anything go wrong that day.
Harry felt for the pair of them — especially once Ginny quietly confided that Hermione had seemed to grow gloomier by the day, missing Draco more than she'd admit.
He'd meant to take Draco straight to the room he shared with Ron. But by now he was fairly certain Draco was pining just as badly — the boy showed no interest whatsoever in Gobstones or Wizard Chess.
Harry shook his head, led the way down the narrow corridor to one of the doors, and knocked.
Two quick raps, then one heavy one.
He grinned at Draco. "We came up with a code, so we always know it's one of us."
"Not bad — quite clever." Draco offered the praise absently, a deep, private eagerness building inside him.
"Oh, it was Ginny's idea. She's always got some clever trick up her sleeve," Harry said, sounding rather pleased with her.
The door opened, and past the head of the red-haired girl who'd opened it, Draco saw her.
The girl he'd been longing for, day and night.
A small hair clip held back her brown hair, baring her smooth forehead.
She looked up at him with bright, delighted eyes, a flush rising in her cheeks, like a child who'd just spotted a beloved toy.
In an instant she was on her feet, out of the armchair by the window, and the book on her lap thudded to the floor.
"Oi, Malfoy, you prat — decided to finally show your face?" Ginny Weasley stepped into the doorway, arms crossed, facing him down without a shred of tact. "So you do remember she's your girlfriend?"
Ginny was more than a little indignant.
No one knew better than she did how thoroughly Hermione had been preoccupied with young Malfoy these past few days.
Lately Hermione had been dragging through everything, listless and unfocused.
And here he was, finally turning up after keeping his girlfriend waiting so long.
What a prat. Making them hide away too, as if they were something to be ashamed of. It wasn't fair at all.
But Ginny got no explanation.
She didn't even get an apologetic look.
In fact, Ginny's entire sense of decency reeled — she'd never met anyone so arrogant.
Malfoy, his eyes locked on the girl across the room, simply elbowed Ginny out of the doorway, slipped past her, and slammed the door shut behind him.
For a moment, Harry felt he'd seen this exact scene before.
Hadn't it happened downstairs, only a few minutes ago?
There's no doubt about it, Harry thought. Draco really is his mother's son.
Ginny was too stunned to move.
She stumbled back two steps from the shove, but Harry caught her before she could crash into the narrow corridor wall — or worse, tumble down the stairs.
"Ginny, are you all right?" His green eyes held an obvious flicker of worry.
The last time he'd said those exact words to her, they'd been in the Chamber of Secrets.
She'd woken from the darkness to his grimy, smudged face and that same worried look in his green eyes.
Harry had always been kind to her. That was simply the sort of boy he was.
"It's nothing." A faint flush rose in Ginny's face.
She caught her balance quickly and said, with forced nonchalance, "Malfoy really is rude, isn't he?"
"I have to apologise on his behalf — he probably didn't mean it," Harry said quickly. "I doubt he even noticed you were there."
"Maybe," Ginny said, pouting a little in disbelief, though she had no wish to argue the point with Harry just then.
They turned to the closed door and exchanged a helpless look.
Neither of them had expected Draco to turn the tables and lock them out.
Not knowing what else to do, they simply stood there and stared at the door.
Through it, they could faintly hear Hermione's voice, brimming with a joy they hadn't heard from her in a long while. "Draco!" she was saying, half a gasp.
"Hermione." The boy's voice carried a hint of smugness that Ginny instantly disliked.
Then came the sound of running feet on carpet.
A dull thud hit the door in front of them, followed by the boy's yelp of pain — as though someone had launched themselves into his arms and knocked him straight back against the door.
Hermione had clearly sprinted the length of the room to reach him. Her voice, much closer now, was tinged with panic. "Sorry, sorry — is the back of your head all right?"
"It hurts a bit," the boy said, half sly and half aggrieved. "You'll have to help me feel better."
"Let me see," the girl said, full of concern.
The conversation on the other side of the door stopped abruptly.
Silence.
Or — not quite silence.
"I think — I think they're kissing." Ginny went still, and it took her a moment to find her voice.
She stared at the trembling door — something seemed to be shifting against the panel.
"That's the inside of the door doing that, I'd guess."
"I— I agree," Harry stammered, his ears slowly turning red.
"Shouldn't we remind them—" Ginny said, her voice low and strained, her face burning, "—that this door isn't soundproofed?"
It wasn't as though she'd never seen a couple being affectionate before — she'd watched Hermione and her boyfriend plenty of times.
She loved teasing Hermione about that ice-cream kiss until her face went scarlet.
But witnessing it with a boy she liked standing right beside her was another matter entirely.
Merlin, she'd barely had a few private conversations with Harry, and now this?
Even just the sway of a door panel was enough to set her imagination racing.
"Ah — I suppose there's not much point reminding them now…" Harry's face slowly reddened, and he glanced at Ginny, awkward. "Shall we go find Ron next door?"
"Good idea," Ginny whispered.
"At least cast a Silencing Charm, for Merlin's sake!" she added, raising her voice at the still-trembling door.
She didn't dare meet Harry's eyes again, and walked stiffly toward the next room. "I— I've done all I can."
"Right," said Harry.
For reasons he couldn't quite explain, his steps stiffened too, and he followed her next door.
***
Hermione Granger had been distracted all that morning.
She'd known Draco was coming — it had been written plainly in the Ring Letter, and Sirius had told them as much the day before.
Still, she could hardly believe it.
Draco was always so hemmed in by his parents, so tightly controlled — how had he managed to get away to see her? It seemed impossible.
While she waited for him, she'd pretended to read a book, though she couldn't have told anyone the title; her attention never left the door.
Ginny studied her for a moment, then asked with a grin, "Is he all you can think about? Can't manage anything else?"
"Of course not!" She deliberately went and sat by the window, as far from the door as she could get. "I still have reading to do!"
"Then would you mind holding the book right-side up and actually reading it?" Ginny said sharply. "This isn't The Quibbler!"
After a while, someone knocked.
The code Harry and Ginny had invented.
Hermione didn't dare go answer it, half afraid it would be Harry looking for them and not him — or that his mother had changed her mind at the last moment and left him behind.
But there he was.
Beyond the slowly opening door, in the dim corridor of the old Black house, his hair caught the light like starlight, and his eyes shone with that captivating grey.
He stepped in calmly, his expression almost indifferent.
Only after he'd slammed the door shut did a smile finally break across his face, spreading wider by the second.
"Draco!" Her voice trembled. She didn't even notice she'd stood up, or that the book had slipped from her lap to the floor.
"Hermione." Draco stood steady, opening his arms to her.
She was so beautiful just then — her eyelashes curved slightly, faint smile lines forming at her cheeks.
Why hesitate? Hermione flew at him like a dart finally released, burying her face in his chest, breathing in the scent of cedar, hearing the quick thud of his heart.
She was a clumsy sort of dart.
Inexperienced as she was, she pinned him bodily against the door, the impact loud enough to make him wince.
"Sorry, sorry — is the back of your head all right?" She'd already forgotten to breathe him in; her heart was pounding as she looked up at his face and reached for the back of his head with both hands.
He must have grown taller again. She touched him gently and heard him hiss through a shallow breath.
"It hurts a bit." Draco gazed down at her, his eyes tracing her forehead, her brows, her cheeks, relearning every sweet, familiar feature — she was just as lovely as he remembered, if not more so.
A flicker of longing crossed his grey eyes. "You'll have to come make it better."
"Let me see," Hermione said, full of concern.
She sprang up toward him, and he caught her waist on instinct, lifting her so she clung to him like a vine.
She was taller than him now, held up like this.
She wrapped her arms fondly around his neck and stroked his sun-kissed hair.
She meant to check the back of his head, but he didn't give her the chance.
He tilted his head back, a faint smile playing on his lips, and kissed her.
He brushed her lips lightly, then drew back to study her face, waiting for her answer, seemingly a little unsure.
Hermione smiled.
She wound her fingers into his hair, closed her eyes, and kissed him back.
The instant their lips met she drew a deep breath, filling her lungs with that maddening scent of his.
And in her mind, she let out a soft, contented sigh.
He filled, at last, some nameless emptiness that had been sitting inside her.
Happiness. A kind of hunger. Infatuation.
The ache of missing him vanished without a trace; her low spirits burned off like mist.
They were bold, reckless. She could hear the door rattling. He had her pinned against it now.
He was eager, unmistakably so. Greedy, as always. He wanted, and gave no thought to anything else.
Tight. Close. Taut with feeling.
Her legs went weak beneath her, and she wanted to slide right off him — but he held her fast.
He'd become the dart now, powerful and precise, pinning her to the door so she couldn't slip away.
He hadn't had nearly enough of her yet, he thought greedily.
She was far too sweet to let go of so soon.
His mind filled with a chaotic swirl of thought, her scent still clinging to every corner of it, fluttering wildly and driving the blood pounding through his skull.
"At least cast a Silencing Charm, for Merlin's sake!" Ginny's indignant voice carried through the door.
Only then did Hermione realise the noise from inside had been heard out in the corridor.
But Draco seemed to have missed it entirely, and he had no free hand to reach for his wand; hers was over by the window, and she had no wish to go and fetch it just yet.
Still, doing nothing wasn't an option either.
"Silencing Charm," she said breathlessly, pulling back from his lips just long enough to say it.
He stared at her, mouth still parted, as though he genuinely didn't know what a Silencing Charm was.
Oh, Draco — completely useless just now. Hermione laughed quietly to herself, plucked his wand from his pocket, and murmured the charm toward the door.
The moment she finished, he simply took the wand back, tossed it onto the carpet behind him, and went straight back to kissing her.
This reckless boy — where were his principles? Where was his devotion to proper wandcare? Hermione thought, smug and a little shy, letting his kiss take her over again anyway.
She loved how single-minded he was about her.
It was mortifying, but she loved it. Loved the way their breaths tangled together. Loved that he only had eyes for her.
She loved that he'd toss his principles aside for her sake, just as she loved the little thrills of chaos he brought into her otherwise orderly life.
He always managed to surprise her, and he always left her thoroughly satisfied.
She hummed softly, running a hand over the back of his shirt, tracing the shape and tension of muscle she could feel even through the fabric — and there was a growing urgency in his hands now too.
After so long apart, their reunion had sparked in her a fresh curiosity about every part of him.
She was rediscovering him even as he rediscovered her.
They were at an age of rapid change; each time they met, something about the other had shifted.
Hermione was realising more and more that he wasn't the thin boy she remembered, but a young man growing stronger by the day.
His strength, in every sense, left her feeling helplessly small one moment and hungrily curious the next.
She didn't quite know what she was curious about, or what exactly she longed for — what more was there to want, beyond his kiss?
Was she longing to be swept away by him entirely? Hermione wondered vaguely, half convinced she was losing her mind.
This strange, tender, fiercely intense longing made her heart clench and brim over with warmth.
Something inside her was straining with each breath, like something delicate curling shut. A strange heat spread with every inhale, nearly overwhelming her.
This time, she couldn't hold herself together. Like a target fixed to the back of a door, she opened herself to him, absorbing the dart's every strike.
All she could do was cling to the boy she loved and let him come closer still.
This was dangerous. He would notice. If it went on, he certainly would.
She couldn't let him discover her damp little secret.
"We have to stop." Hermione tore herself from his lips, her face flushed scarlet, her heart hammering in something close to panic.
"Stop?" He hadn't quite caught up yet, still making the door creak faintly.
"Harry and the others are right next door," she whispered, "and your mother's downstairs."
"Silencing Charm—" His voice had gone hoarse as he nuzzled his face against hers, like some insatiable great cat.
So he did know what a Silencing Charm was, Hermione thought wryly.
"We can't keep going like this." She buried her face in his hair and gently rubbed the back of his head with her fingers.
"But I've missed you so much." He gave her a small shake, coaxing, his tone trying to charm her round.
She murmured softly against his ear.
"I've missed you too. But this is a bit much, even for us."
"I know, I know. I'm getting carried away, aren't I?" he mumbled, going still, his cheek hot against her neck as he sighed. "You're right. I've lost my head completely. Let me lean on you a moment, let me settle down."
"Settle down, settle down." She repeated the words, feeling she needed the reminder as much as he did.
"I've so much to tell you," Draco said, breathing her in gently. "I hadn't meant for this to happen. But seeing you, I forgot everything else."
"Me too — there's so much I wanted to say." She rubbed the back of his head and listened to his contented hum, smiling. "But now I've forgotten it all."
"This isn't good." He swallowed hard, feeling her go pliant against him. "Shouldn't we get away from this dangerous doorway?"
"And go where?" she asked, smiling.
"Anywhere." He glanced back over his shoulder. "The bed. The carpet. The armchair."
"Ah — those all sound very dangerous," she murmured.
"Yes," Draco agreed, pressing his cheek to hers, not entirely sincere in his agreement.
He privately thought the most dangerous thing in the room was her.
She was the danger itself, and utterly unaware of it.
***
Next door, Ron Weasley was absorbed in a game of Wizard Chess.
The door opened, and Harry and Ginny filed in one after the other, both looking rather far away in thought. "Why's it just you two?" he asked, curious. "Where's Hermione? Where's Draco? Didn't he come?"
"He's here — next door," Harry said.
"Yes — he and Hermione have some things to sort out," Ginny cut in quickly, shooting Harry a look to make him stop talking.
Harry shut his mouth and stared at Ginny in confusion.
"Sort out what?" Ron asked. "Something private?"
"Something to do with the door panel—" Harry began blankly.
At that, Ginny's loyalty to Hermione kicked in, leaving no room for embarrassment.
She talked right over him. "Just some important door-panel business! Nothing serious."
Ron eyed her, baffled as to what could possibly be so important about a door panel.
He also couldn't help noticing that his usually shy sister kept trading looks with his best friend.
Odd, that.
He went back to setting up his pieces, saying with some regret, "I was hoping to get a game in with Draco today — someone told me his Wizard Chess is the best in Slytherin."
"They'll come find us once they're done talking!" Ginny said. "Have you finished your homework? Hermione said she'd check it today, didn't she?"
"Almost done." Ron sighed, put down a piece, and went to check his parchment.
Harry leaned toward Ginny and whispered, "Why wouldn't you let me say it?"
"Private things about any girl shouldn't be gossiped about behind her back. They shut the door, didn't they? That makes it her business," Ginny said, a faint flush on her cheeks.
"Even about your own brother?" Harry raised an eyebrow.
"Even my brothers. I don't tell tales on any of them," Ginny said firmly.
That answer caught Harry off guard.
He suddenly saw another side of this shy, funny, courageous girl.
She protected the people she cared about.
There was something almost fierce in her loyalty to her friends.
Harry looked at her, surprised, then finally nodded. "Fair enough. I'll respect that."
Ginny gave him a satisfied smile.