fervere

Chapter Twelve

Moments later (Draco assumed), he woke up. Mr. Weasley was hovering over him with a face etched in concern along with Professor Lupin with a bar of chocolate waiting for him. Draco groaned. He must be dreaming. There was no way he was surrounded by two of the most unlikely people, that is until a flash of red and a splash of freckles caught his attention.

Ron jumped off the foot of his bed and stretched. 

"That's enough of that," He proudly announced, "I'm going down to get breakfast."

Draco almost wanted to throttle Ron for shaking the bed slightly, making his brain rattle around in his dull skull. Clearly the annoyance was written all over Draco face because both Mr. Weasley and Professor Lupin smiled kindly but carefully at Draco once he stirred from being unconscious. Draco found himself very confused confirming the worry etched into their eyes as they watched him closely. He held his head in his hands and paused to think.

A blurred memory of brown hair and soft arms in his embrace caused a faint but burning blush creep up his neck. 

Did he faint? Did he actually faint from having Granger press up against him? 

Draco braced the dread of embarrassment if it was confirmed. The first time he had held Hermione so close (by mere accident and coincidence) and he fainted. He let out a huff of air and that’s when Draco scanned his attic and saw her cautiously peek over Mr. Weasley’s shoulder looking very apologetic. 

Great. He had an audience. 

Draco was quite surprised he was back in his room being tended to. Clouded by a fog of confusion, he heard Molly’s voice ring, pleased that Draco was alright. Mrs. Weasley had poked her head in stating her relief before announcing she would get started on breakfast and assure Draco would be sent food, so he didn’t have to get up.

"Ronald's already made it clear he's waiting for me down stairs," She rolled her eyes, "Can't be fast enough for that boy."

With a swift turn, Mrs. Weasley was gone.

“What happened?” Draco asked in a whisper, hoping that both Mr. Weasley and Lupin would get the hint of needing this to be a secret. He didn’t need Hermione to listen in. 

“The spell didn’t work well,” Mr. Weasley announced glancing at Lupin.  

“I must apologize. After a full moon, my strength isn’t the best.” Lupin confessed, “Luckily, I still have great sight in the dark so I saw you both take the fall. My aim was good but it wasn’t enough to give you a softer landing, I’m afraid.” 

“At least it wasn’t as hard as it should have been,” Mr. Weasley assured more to Lupin who looked guilty than to Draco who was slowly regaining his focus, “It would have earned you a trip to Saint Mungo’s if you hadn’t intervened Remus.” 

Hermione’s worried face was a wreak, “You hit your head, Draco.” 

That would explain the splitting headache that was now settling in. It was just regrettable he couldn’t remember falling that hard. All he remembered was Hermione’s body- He closed his eyes, gulping.  

Not in front of everyone.  

He felt the heat pool at his cheeks and in other areas. One in particular that would be rather embarrassing to have it be known. Breathing techniques, yes. Focus on breathing. 

"It really is my fault," She added, pure guilt filling her eyes.

“Lucky that Snape has some potions he’s made for the Order,” Lupin pipped up, “I’m sure he has something medicinal to help you with your head.” 

“You nearly scared the lights out of us!” Mr. Weasley lightly scolded, “We were back from fetching Hermione from her home. Then we heard your heavy footsteps-” 

Draco shrugged unceremoniously, “I couldn’t sleep. I was thinking about Dumbledore and what to tell him.” 

Remus Lupin let out a small joyful chuckle, “Well Dumbledore will be here sometime after breakfast, maybe even closer to noon. Best you rest for the meantime.” 

“I’ll see if Snape is able to apparate back to make sure you’re alright. He’s out on duty.” Mr. Weasley said. Both men straightened up and began for the door, the wild look of Hermione whipping back around to confront the men brought a smile to Draco’s face.  

She was real. He wasn’t hallucinating.  

“Are you really sure he’s alright?” Hermione asked, waving over to Draco, a chocolate bar in her hand that Lupin had given to her.  

“My skills in healing aren’t up to par,” Mr. Weasley confessed, “But he looks fine, nothing a bit of rest can’t help. Plus, I don’t think it’s a good idea to take him to Mungos and tip his parents off. Severus should be here soon.” 

They both dismissed themselves, leaving Hermione alone with a bewitched boy. She didn’t stay for too long. Not a second later that the two men were gone, Hermione had also left giving Draco one look of pity before she fled. 

As hard as it was to remember, he was convinced that he must have been a git in order for Hermione to run away like that. Did he possibly feel her up? Accidently?

Draco cringed.

What if he said something embarrassing while he was brought up to the attic, slurring out his confession teetering the thin line of consciousness. Surely he would have remembered something... anything.  

Before Draco drowned himself in self pity of his racing mind, much to his surprise, Hermione soon returned with a tray in hand. She promptly crossed over to him, her face screwed up in worry as she placed the tray on Draco's lap, displaying a bowl of warm porridge, a glass of milk and honey, and two vials of some kind of potion.  

Draco was stunned before he pulled himself to sit up. Hermione responded wordlessly by propping his pillows up with him.

“Uh thanks?” He mumbled out, trying to stop himself from looking too grateful.  

Hermione frowned, “It’s my fault. I should have jumped out of the way and then you cushioned my fall.” 

Draco cocked his head.  

Hermione rubbed her forehead, “Professor Lupin warned me about Grimmauld before we arrived, that if I heard anything in the dark, it’s probably some apparition, a folly, to scare someone like me. And if I heard it, to stand my ground.” 

“What do you mean?” Draco grumbled.  

“Eat,” Hermione lightly ordered, “It will get cold.” 

Draco didn’t question it. He'd do anything Hermione ordered him to do. He began to take a spoonful of porridge and was grateful that Mrs. Weasley was an excellent cook. His body gained a bit of clarity from just a bit of food.  

“Well it is Sirus’ ancestral home, isn’t it?” Hermione tucked her long hair behind an ear, “The Blacks were known for not being very welcoming to someone like me. Bill’s been working on breaking any curses the house might have, but he can’t seem to detect anything sinister. It's just... provisional warnings.” 

Draco understood that Hermione was warned of possible jinxes which made sense how Lupin was able to react quickly when they fell.  

“I wasn’t aware you’d...” Hermione’s voice caught his attention, pulling his focus away from his food to her, noticing she was in her regular muggle clothes, a boxy white top and a pair of light washed jean shorts. Draco’s eyes took in every detail of hers, down to her feet. 

“You’re here,” She suddenly said flustered, as if she was embarrassed to point out the obvious.  

“Yes,” Draco nodded.  

“I- I didn’t know.” She licked her lips, “When Dumbledore said there would be some surprising people in the Order, I didn’t think of you, if i'm being honest.” 

He let out a lighthearted huff, “I think he meant Snape. I wouldn’t know much about the Order considering they would have no use for a student.” 

“Oh, right.” Hermione closed her eyes, “Yes, of course.” 

Draco could see how much it bothered her to be mistaken, but he found it most endearing. It reminded him of all the times she had gotten an answer wrong on her potions test and spent a considerable amount of time asking Professor Snape why it was wrong. It only deducted a few points from her House, but she persisted.  

“How long will you stay?” She asked.  

Draco shrugged, “I dunno. I usually spend a good chunk my summers with Snape.” 

“What?” Hermione brows rose in surprise, “For what reason?” 

Draco almost wanted to blame her for his stay here, but he withheld his tongue and figured that if he could hide her in his mind, then this interaction would be safe to have.  

“Occlumency,” He said if that was enough to explain. Thankfully, it seemed like it was because Hermione didn’t press on. Draco was happy that she wasn’t Ginny.  

“Drink the tonics,” She quietly added, “Mrs. Weasley whipped one’s for aches and the other is firewhiskey.” 

Draco raised a brow.  

Hermione sheepishly cringed, “Sirus thought you’d appreciate it. He said it’ll loosen you up.” 

Hermione stood up to allow Draco a bit of privacy to finish up his food.

"Rest," She ordered with a smile before she stepped out. Draco took paused before ultimately scarfing down the rest of his porridge. He chugged down the sweet milk and knocked back the tonic and firewhiskey.  

He was determined to spend as much time with Hermione as possible. Draco didn’t know if she was here for the whole day or just to speak to Dumbledore. Either way, he wasn’t going to let a little fall take away the one thing that motivated him the most. Draco ushered the tray off him, allowing Aster to lick the remains, and swung his legs off the sides. 

Hermione stuck her head back in and playfully glared at him, "I mean it Malfoy. Rest."

A lopsided smile spread lazily over his face and he resigned. 

"As you wish, Granger." He joked back. 

Draco still felt a bit lightheaded as he descended, slowly this time, to find where Hermione was. He did take the advice and rested for most of the morning. He was in and out of slight naps and the warmth of Aster, whining at his feet, made him feel a comfort he wasn't ready to give up. 

Sure, Hermione was the best reason to run out of bed but he stayed, on strict orders.

Fortunately for him, by the time Draco regained a bit more strength and steadiness, he had seemingly walked straight into a gathering in the family library, right on time. There were several bodies in there that parted to reveal Dumbledore keenly observing the collection of books owned by the Blacks.  

“Ah! Mr. Malfoy, I see you are doing well.” Dumbledore cheerfully greeted, a glint of sparking in his eye as if he was well aware of what had happened a few hours ago. Molly Weasley gently pushed herself to the front with a tray of sweets and tea for the Headmaster.  

“Something to snack on Albus,” She lovingly said, “I know you have a sweet tooth, made a lemon pound cake.” 

“You know me too well, Molly,” Dumbledore chuckled, before turning to all of the adults in the library, looking as if they were ready for any order to act upon from Dumbledore.  

“Thank you for your warm welcome,” Dumbledore smiled, “But I’m here only for these three, right here.” 

He pointed toward Ron and Hermione who were by the desk Draco regularly studied at and Draco who was by the entrance.  

The Order looked over at the three teenagers while Hermione and Ron both join in on averting their gaze towards Draco. The revelation was enough to have a palpable shock radiate through every single face of the Order. Draco shifted uncomfortably around. 

The Order slowly trickled out of the library room and down into the kitchens to enjoy some of Mrs. Weasley’s treats that were left over. Their aged headmaster gave his wand a simple flick and a flash that looked like an expanding bubble filled the room. 

“I hope you don’t mind if I use a bit of magic for privacy, your brothers are awfully curious Mr. Weasley,” Dumbledore winked. Ron let out a small bashful chuckle. 

Three heads of red hair were seen marching up the stairs looking all to displeased of being left out of their secret meeting.

“I wanted to speak to Ron and Hermione about what I need from you. You must understand this about Harry at the moment,” Dumbledore said, his tone serious, “If you truly believe his word that Voldemort is back, then you already can sense that Harry will want to join in on the fight.” 

He paused. Ron and Hermione exchanged looks.

“I need you to dissuade him if possible if he mentions anything about wanting to seek answers about Voldemort. Assure him that everything is under control. It is imperative to keep Harry away from danger as long as possible.” 

Draco couldn’t have heard that correctly, As long as possible? It wasn’t an idea beyond belief that Harry might be targeted by Voldemort. It would be strange if he didn’t. In fact, it was almost expected. What Draco didn’t expect is that Dumbledore was implying that he saw an inevitability in Harry, as if he knew that Harry would willing walk into a situation he wasn’t ready for.  

"I trust you have kept your promise?" He continued to which Ron and Hermione earnestly nodded to confirm.

“The less Harry knows, the better for now. I don’t want to give him any reason to act upon anything that would put him in harms way.” Dumbledore concluded, “I know I haven’t spoken to Mr. Malfoy about the secrecy I asked Mr. Weasley and Ms. Granger to adhere to but I need you to make sure Harry doesn’t get any information he doesn’t need to know, Mr. Malfoy.” 

“You’re going to keep him in the dark?” Draco questioned, “Why?” 

"Considering you’re one of our strongest in mind,” Dumbledore began, “I’m sure you realize the importance of protecting your mind. It would be best for Harry if he knew as little in the worst case that he come across a threat.” 

“Voldemort, you mean,” Hermione pipped up, concern swirling in her eyes. 

"I’m asking you to help me with Harry,” Dumbledore continued, “It can’t be easy for him to be left in the dark but as his close friends, you are detrimental in grounding him. You are something that he will desperately need to survive this year.” 

Draco knew he wasn’t exactly included in that instruction, but he nodded nonetheless, figuring that Dumbledore wanted him to know. 

“I trust you’ve been keep your promise of simple letters, if there are any being owled?” Dumbledore asked.  

Ron snorted, “I never write.” 

“Then who are you owling, then?” Draco asked, recalling the few times he's witnessed Ron sending and receiving letters in the past three weeks of their summer.  

Ron turned a violent shade of red and that was enough to tip Draco off.

Daphne.

He wanted to hold back a knowing grin, but he failed miserably when Hermione exchanged looks between the two boys.  

“Am I missing something?” She asked lightly, already giving Ron an accusing sort of glare.  

“Professor,” Draco began, placing his hands behind his back. He selfishly gave Ron the grace of changing the topic, “Yesterday I was speaking to Ginny about what happened during the final task.” 

“Yes?” 

“She mentioned a graveyard.” He stated and with a knowing look, Dumbledore gave a single nod.  The sensation of plunging into an ice-cold lake rippled through Draco’s skin. He had a piece of the puzzle. Dumbledore knew. What else could have they done to have more to have seen this and stopped Voldemort's return. 

“B-but,” Draco shook his head in disbelief, “I don’t understand. How?” 

He couldn't find the words to continue his questioning, as if his own mind was racing so fast that he couldn't slow it down enough to create a single sensible thought.

“Didn’t your father tell you, Malfoy?” Ron spat, as if he suddenly rememberred his hatred for Draco, “He was probably in it too. Mad Eye Moody, he jinxed all the tournament to put Harry in it only to hand deliver him to... Your father was there when he called. Harry said so!” 

“It wasn’t Professor Moody, Ronald,” Hermione hissed, “He was using polyjuice potion.” 

Draco’s mouth fell open slightly. Mad-Eye? Dumbledore looked apologetic as if he was also ashamed that despite the warnings Draco had presented, he hadn't been keen enough to detect the deception under his nose.

Dumbledore smiled sadly, “Yes, Mr. Weasley. I have it on good word that Mr. Malfoy here doesn’t spend a remarkable amount of time at home with his father. Severus has been taking care of his skills that I hope will come to help you in your future.” 

“If the graveyard was true,” Draco blurted,  “Then I think it wise to look into the Department of Mysteries, Professor.” 

“What’s that?” Hermione asked, “Is that the branch at the Ministry no one talks about?” 

“Surely my father would offer his services and connections to the Dark Lord if he’s willing to gain his confidence back.” Draco added in a haste, ignoring Hermione’s hard questioning look, “He seemed to have sensed it coming sir. Should I investigate?” 

Dumbledore shook his head, “I cannot ask you to risk-”  

“You don’t have to ask,” He earnestly responded, “I can find out. Please allow me to go home and find out more.” 

“I cannot allow you to do that in good faith, Mr Malfoy. Severus is still scoping out the way Voldemort will be forming his army, and until we have more information then, we can equip you with enough skills and information to have you safely be among your family without being detected.” Dumbledore began to rise to his feet. His tea was cold and long forgotten, “And I am well aware you father believes you’re under good care of a tutor.”  

“Are you serious,” Ron scoffed, “Both Snape and Malfoy will be our insights to his army? How can we be so sure they won’t-” 

“I won’t,” Draco interrupted, “I can't fail. Even if it means betraying my parents trust to save them. I know they’re not the best people and they’ve been mistaken to trust a flawed idea. But I rather allow the judgement of a fair trial to punish them than living in the constant fear of retribution from Voldemort.” 

Hermione’s eyes widened at the confession. It was as if she had asked for a reason and got more than what she asked for.  

“He has my full confidence,” Dumbledore smiled warmly, “Now, I’ll let you relax while I discuss with the Order about retrieving Harry when September nears. Oh, also another thing.” 

He took a moment to look at all of them, “Please, I implore you, to not owl Harry anything that would motivate him out of his home on Privet, Mr. Weasley?” 

"I swear!" He shook his head, "Its not Harry that I'm writing too..."

Ron trailed off, his dark blue eyes growing in size. He seemed to have noticed the stack of letters that happened to appear in Dumbledore’s hand. All of them addressed to either Ron or Hermione. Harry’s letters to his friends.  

“I’ve collected these from the Burrow, it seems like Harry assumed that you’d be vacationing in Bulgaria so I had to fetch some from there.” Dumbledore announced, causing Hermione to wince, “I know it’s hard to keep secrets and want to make sure Harry is okay, but rest assure that he is in the safest place at the moment. And, if it is of any assurance, we do have an eye on his movements. The Order will do whatever is necessary to do to keep Harry safe.” 

Hermione and Ron looked downcast at the impressive stack of letters. Almost as if Harry had been desperately writing just to hear from his friends, all mostly unanswered. 

Draco opened his mouth but was quickly shut down by the Headmaster.  

“That goes for you as well, Mr. Malfoy,” Dumbledore chuckled, “The less Harry knows the better.” 

Draco nodded. Dumbledore didn’t stay for long, he announced he must go back and look for some more clues for, well, Draco wasn’t quite sure. It sounded like very serious business whatever it was and was very eager to talk to Bill Weasley.  

The three of them stood in the library for a moment too long before Draco quietly excused himself. 

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- 

Later on that same day, dinner was met with lots of awkward chatter around Draco once again. It seemed like the word spread that, for whatever reason, Dumbledore had finally voiced his full trust in Draco.  

A more trusted source than Snape’s mouth. 

It was a matter of fact that was unbelievable for the children of the Weasley Clan. Ginny, despite having her own reservations, had a better time poking fun at it.  

“Well it’s not like Draco’s a highly skilled wizard,” Ginny snorted, casting a careful look at Draco. It was playfully taunting as if she was daring him to react and show his true colors, “Can’t possibly believe he’d have Dumbledore fooled or under the Imperius curse.” 

“GINEVRA!” Molly Weasley scolded, “One more toe out of line and we’ll send you to Uncle-” 

Ginny grumbled, “Fine. My apologies, just trying to lighten up the mood.” 

The table fell into an even more tense atmosphere than before. Even Draco had trouble eating Molly’s food, which he never had a problem before. He focused on his plate, trying to avoid any stolen looks Draco might have received. He didn’t know exactly what to say, but he quickly learned that neither did Ginny and that never stopped her from trying.  

She broke the ice once more with the most amusing bit of news during their meal.  

“Ron. You got another owl, today,” She casually dropped. Ron earned a sharp glare from Hermione, who nearly looked enraged.  

“Ronald!” She snapped, clearly forgetting a crucial clue she had over looked, “Dumbledore made us promise not to say a single thing to Harry! How could you go against his wishes?” 

Ron looked up from his oatmeal, mildly confused, “I’m not owling Harry!” 

Draco held in a smirk when Hermione's quick mind recalled a tiny bit of information. 

"Then who would you be writing to if not Harry!" She narrowed her eyes.

Ginny held up a small envelope in her hand when the attention was brought back to her. Just as Draco suspected, the parchment was a smooth brownish color, elegant with thing golden borders. It was the kind of parchment that was not native to England. 

French parchment.  

Ginny had cleverly swiped the delivery early on and had no trouble showing the table to tease her brother. Fred and George were quick to reach for the secret correspondence before Ron had the chance to jump.  

Ginny dodged all three of her brothers, clearly deeming herself the worthy one to open up the letter. Ron was being held down by the twins who looked might proud at their sister. 

Ginny flipped the envelope over to read who it was from.  

“It was delivered this morning while you were speaking to Dumbledore from a certain Daphne Greengrass? I would have handed it over right away but you told me to bugger off when I tried to ask about the meeting Ronald.” Ginny teased causing Ron to turn several shades of red in a concerning amount of time.  

“That’s invasion of privacy! Give it here,” Ron demanded weakly. He gulped, avoiding the mischievous exchange of looks between the twins.  

“Isn’t she in France?” Draco mindlessly asked out loud.

Ginny turned to Draco looking elated, and her face lit up, “You've got a good eye, Malfoy. This definitely feels like French parchment. Is that why this smells like perfume?” 

“Ginny,” Mrs. Weasley sighed out her warning, setting down a full bowl of grilled buttered corn and a plate of steaming sausages for second helpings. She had been too busy finishing up the last of their lunch to interject, until at that very moment. Fred and George quickly tackled the new hot food while Ron surprisingly kept his eyes on his sister. 

“Are we getting another love match for the Weasley Tribe? So soon?” Ginny ignored her mother, glowing in her own mischief, “As if it’s not bad enough that Bill and Fleur are getting a little too comfortable with her English lessons, Ronald here is exchanging letters with Daphne, a Slytherin!” 

Mrs. Weasley placed a hand on her hip, “Do not tease my boy, Ginny! There’s nothing wrong with Slytherins, in fact, Arthur’s mother Cedrella, your grandmother, was a Slytherin! And look what a fine man she raised.” 

Draco cocked his head as if there was a brain itch that had to be addressed. He spent a long pause, recalling a long line of family history that he had to learn when he was only six years old.  

“Cedrella?” Draco piped up, “As in Cedrella Black?” 

Mrs. Weasley looked at the stoic boy carefully, regretting that she even spoke up. Draco began to think of all of his mother’s linage to the Black family over a bite of a warm English muffin.  

“Are we...” Draco began, looking at Ron and then at Ginny and the twins who were seemingly confused. Now that he really thought about it, Draco was never really taught much about relatives so far removed. He thought perhaps they weren’t as important as closer relatives or hadn’t made much of an impact on our mother’s family history. Just as luck would have it, Mr. Weasley marched in looking famished but pleased there was still food left for him to enjoy. He squeezed himself between Ron and Ginny and loaded his plate. The tension in the air was back but it felt a lot more volatile, uncertain of how a Malfoy would enjoy being reminded that they were sitting amongst family. 

“Mr. Weasley,” Draco suddenly smiled, “Your mother was a Black? Like mine?” 

The twins were the first ones to make the connection.  

“Oh god." Fred made a face, “Dad, seriously? Gran’ Ceddie?” 

“Well,” The tips of Mr. Weasley’s turned red, “Perhaps, yes? Distant, of course-” 

“The farthest,” George groaned.  

Ron still was stumped, “What’s going on?” 

Hermione, who had been nearly invisible the entire time, smiled brightly, “Cousins?” 

Ginny had abandoned her delight in teasing Ron. She was now facing the fruits of her karma for pushing and pushing. She also twisted her face around in horror, “Mom?” 

“It must be third or fourth cousins once removed,” Mrs. Weasley explained looking nervously at the Blonde boy, “Distant. Yes, almost no relation really. Practically strangers...” 

It seemed like Mrs. Weasley was regretting opening her mouth, wanting to avoid upsetting Draco. The Weasley parents didn’t seem so surprised by the bit of information but definitely never brought attention to it.  

Draco mulled over the new information. He simply smiled and enjoyed the last bite of his scone before turning to finish off his half-eaten plate. It was like magic the way he suddenly felt a lot better. 

“Interesting,” Draco finally said, “Do you usually make the mash extra crispy on the Shepard's pie, Mrs. Weasley?” 

“Are you not revolted to be related to us?” Ron interjected once the tension ease for a second. Ginny inwardly groaned.  

“Ron, who cares?” Ginny mumbled.  

Hermione cleared her throat, quickly interjecting her neutralizing thoughts, “Well, I think it’s interesting how family history intertwines.” 

Draco sneered, eating a spoonful of his pie, “I rather not think about it.” 

There were a few concerned looks cast at Draco who gratefully savored this filling food. It was like Hogwarts but heavier, it stuck to his stomach and gave him the satisfaction of fullness. 

“How much inbreeding there is for the sake of blood purity?” Draco licked his bottom lip, “I’d rather die than to marry my own cousin, even if they’re far removed.”  

There was a silence that came and after a moment of pause, Ginny once again eased the unsettling confusion in the air.  

“Alright cousin,” Ginny rolled her eyes, “You don’t have to make our dinner so politically charged. I’m sure it won’t take much convincing to ask your parents to consider someone else other than me for your future marriage.” 

They all shared a chuckle. Draco gave Ginny an appreciative smile. She was pretty quick witted.  

“Imagine the future of the Malfoys running around with red hair?” Fred snorted, “That’s a laugh.” 

“A horrifying laugh,” George chimed in.  

While Draco shared a laugh with the twins about the possibility of marrying Ginny (while she sat cringing), Hermione watched Draco in silence, a tinge of conflict clouded her mind.  

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- 

The summer couldn’t have been more perfect, in Draco’s opinion. Although it wasn’t exactly what he wanted, like galivanting around in muggle neighborhoods or watching something at the movies, it was not as bad slowly getting to know the Weasley gang on a more personal level rather than on a rival one. 

He didn’t exclusively partake every time they grouped together. Draco thought they were still a bit uncomfortable to allow Draco fully in, but Draco didn’t mind. He was still allowed to observe Fred and George’s creations. The extendable ears and puking pastilles weren’t exactly of Draco’s realm of interest. The fever fudge was one that Draco couldn’t resist putting his two cents in.  

Fred had walked stiffly into the library, where Draco was just finishing up the last of his summer homework, heading straight for the bookshelves.  

“Malfoy,” He cleared his throat. Fred voice had an edge to it, “Do y’know if they have any books about boils here?” 

Draco tore his sight away from his book and parchment and did a double take at Fred who looked red in the face and beads of sweat formed at his hairline.  

“You look awful,” Draco blurted, “Are you sick?” 

“Fever fudge,” Fred exhaled, feeling his hot forehead. 

Draco gave an impressed nodded, “Not bad.” 

“No, it’s bad,” Fred sighed out, “But it’s not the fever that needs fixing. It’ll pass in a bit . It’s the boils that stay for quite a while.” 

“Boils?” Draco repeated, “You look fine.” 

“I rather not show you,” Fred grumbled, looking back to the bookshelf as if he expected to find something to help him with his problem, “It’ll be unbecoming of a Weasley man.” 

“Snape has a few potions that can help,” Draco offered.  

Fred took a book randomly and pried it open, not expecting much, “George and I have an ointment, that helps soothe the boils but it’s not exactly what we want out of the product. I don’t see many people wanting a fever and boils up their arse. Perhaps we added too much of the Bolivian Brown Pepper.” 

Draco cocked his head and looked at his potions book, the same book he had just finished his essay for. Draco twisted, resting his arm on the back of his chair and stared at Fred. 

“Why don’t you try murtlap essence? Snape’s got some in his corner up in the attic.” Draco suggested, “It has healing properties for things of that sort.” 

Fred gave him a glossed-over look. Draco feared that maybe the fever had gotten to Fred. Instead Fred crossed over and gave Draco a big kiss on the top of his head.  

“Brilliant!” He cried before quickly, but stiffly, running out of the library shouting for George. 

After that, the twins didn’t mind Draco so much. Ginny never made it a point to exclude Draco like Ron did so long as she could barge into his room up in the attic to hide so she didn’t have to continue to help Fred and George extract venom from the doxies that they have been hunting down.  

There was a nasty unresolved infestation around the third floor that Molly had recruited all available hands to help. They’ve been at war for a full month and it still felt like they have made little progress. Draco never helped but only because Molly insisted Draco had other things to worry about, like surviving the lessons Snape gave him.  

Hermione had kept to herself as much as she could, hiding out in the room she shared with Ginny. All it took was one late night they studied together in the library and the twins finding out about it.  

“So cough it up, lovebirds. What was all this giggling at two in the morning?” George said the next morning, eating his porridge in the most undignified way.  

Fred snorted, “You’d be surprised how much these extendable ears can reach.” 

Hermione and Draco exchanged guilty looks, recalling a very lighthearted conversation about the dark art books Draco finally got around to. He certainly couldn’t disobey this father. Hermione thought it was ridiculous but she understood how learning how the other side works could benefit them in some way.  

“It was nothing.” Hermione explained, “We were just finishing up some of our summer homework.” 

Fred grinned widely, “Ah, Ms Granger, but that’s what is so suspicious.” 

Ginny bit her lip and braced herself.  

“I told them you finished up you summer work ages ago.” Ginny blurted, “And that you were helping me a bit on my own.”  

Four heads turned to Hermione while Ron mindlessly ate his sausage links. It certainly took Draco by surprise as well. Hermione was flushing. 

“I-,” She began looking towards Ron for help.  

Thankfully, he did.  

“Is it that shocking that Hermione continues to study beyond what is expected?” Ron groaned, frowning with a mouth full of meat, mumbling that he hasn’t even gotten started on his own work.  

“Draco was showing me his book...” Hermione slowly began.  

George snorted, “Is that the terminology the young kids are using these days?” 

“Oh you!” Hermione cried, before slapping George’s shoulder who happened to be sitting next to her.  

“What book?” Ginny asked.  

“Dark arts. I have more actually.” Draco simply said to which the lively table settled down to a state of unease. Draco felt the uneasiness return.  

“Um,” He gulped, “My father doesn’t know obviously that I’m here. He thinks I’m with a tutor who is teaching me dark arts. He required me to take some of these books to study, if I don’t...” 

Draco tried not to wince at the memories of his father's discipline. 

“I think they’re really insightful,” Hermione defended, “We should use them.” 

Ron huffed, “I’m sorry Hermione, come again? Did you just say that we should use dark arts?” 

“No,” Hermione rolled her eyes in frustration. 

“Maybe this Imperious Curse thing might have some merit,” George muttered playfully, "He's turning our 'Mione into some dark Slytherin princess."

 “I mean they give an insight on how the other side works.” Hermione huffed, pink dotting at her cheeks, “Draco thought it would be helpful to see the kinds of spells they have up their sleeve and we can have a proper defense...” 

“Isn’t that what Defense Against the Dark Arts is for?” Ginny cocked her head to the side.  

“Well-” 

“She read ahead for our fifth year course,” Ron pipped up, “I assume.” 

“Ronald!” Hermione threw a glare at Ron.  

“Am I wrong?” Ron shrugged.  

“No,” Draco smiled, “She finished.” 

Hermione pinked at the cheeks avoiding Draco’s stare, “I’ve noticed that plenty of the dark spells from Draco’s books aren’t covered in our school course which means that these are not officially recognized spells. It could mean that they’ve been recently created and haven’t been recognized by the Ministry, it could be from other countries who have different kinds of magic, or...” 

Draco filled in, “I was telling Hermione that it could be that the spells are highly unstable. It might cause high damage but it’s very hard to know exactly what it should be doing. Like eating a puking pastille and everyone else around you begins to faint.” 

Fred elbow George in a panic. 

"Write that down," He hissed at his twin brother, "The git is giving us free ideas."

“What’s the point of having spells that don’t even do what you want?” Ginny snorted.  

“As long as it causing harm, what does it matter what it does?” Draco pointed out, “A bit suicidal if you ask me, but it’s not like they have much of a choice under Voldemort’s rule.” 

“I think admirable that you’re risking so much so you can help,” Hermione earnestly said, giving Draco an encouraging smile that meant the world to him. 

The lot fell into silence for just a second before it fell into a madness, caused by a simple look that Fred and George exchanged. They held in their snorts, which was then followed by Ginny who hid her grin, and Ron continuously asking what was going on.  

“Weird story to tell your future children Hermione,” George shook his head, “That you fell for Draco here over the subject of Dark arts.” 

“Did you notice she failed to explain the giggling?” Fred roared in delight, “Over the dark arts late at night?” 

Both Hermione and Draco were stunned as everyone began to laugh. Even Ron, who was at first speechless, was now wiping tears and clutching his stomach. Hermione turned a red that Draco didn’t know was humanely possible. 

Nevertheless, there wasn’t much late light giggling anymore after that night. 

There wasn’t much of anything anymore. 

In fact, it seemed like Hermione calculated when and where she would interact with Draco. There was always at least two people present and if for some god-awful reason, she was stuck with one person other than Draco she would immediately excuse herself.  

Draco didn’t have much time to question Hermione. He had finally dove into the Dark Art books his father requested him to read, wondering what would impress his father if he brought it up in a conversation. Usually every other day, Snape would sweep in after dinner and give Draco a hard time during their lessons.  

It was mostly because Snape claimed that Draco was too obvious he was hiding something. Sometimes Snape would find a recent memory of Hermione within seconds of entering his brain and those nights were never fun. It meant the next day he had to rest to recover from the mental toll. 

Truthfully, Draco had trouble balancing between blocking Snape out completely or having him find Hermione in his head. He was probably not trying hard enough, but Draco found it easier to blame the sudden spike in temperature. 

Recently the Black home suddenly became sweltering hot under the heatwave. 

It was easy for the adults who were able to conjure cooling charms on themselves and on their children, Draco was often an afterthought if Molly wasn’t there.  

And Draco wasn’t one to beg or complain.  

Not in front of Hermione.  

There were times when the Order had too much to do and they forgot about them, the real summer clothes came out. Ginny in a boxy crop top. Hermione in a tank top and plaid mini skirt, nearly sent Draco straight to the privacy of the attic to take the edge off.  

Snape had sneered at the very prolonged memory of seeing Hermione lounging on Ginny’s bed looking over a box of something and using what looked like earmuffs. Draco couldn’t help it. They were singing, and terribly so, Draco had to come down to the fourth floor to tell them to quit or else he was going to end up with a headache, but after witnessing so much skin, what Draco really ended up with was a different kind of ache he had to rush away to take care off

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- 

The next evening Draco was holed up with Snape and, after an exhausting hour of having a lecture about mediative techniques, word got around that Dumbledore had arrived once. Draco hardly excused himself from his lesson, rushing down the spiral staircase. He knew that abruptly ending the lesson would get him reprimanded but the unannounced appearance of Dumbledore had to be something. Following the gathering voices, Draco found himself nearing the reading room, where Dumbledore was being greeted by several members of the Order. Ron and Hermione were keeping a distance peering into the room, in hopes of saying a quick hello to Dumbledore.  

Draco took it upon himself to join them, listening in. 

“Is it true then? Dementors?” Lupin asked, looking quite sickly and beat up. For as long as Draco has known his ex-professor, Lupin’s always had a look as if he’s had fallen out of a very tall tree. His face scratched, healing wounds on his arms riddled with deep scars of past gashes, “We heard from Kingsley.”  

Dumbledore nodded solemnly as Mrs. Weasley handed him a warm cup of tea, “Two of them. Considering they’re under the jurisdiction of the Ministry, it shouldn’t be a mystery as to how they happen to come across a muggle town and even more mysterious to come across Harry.” 

Draco's brows rose in astonishment.  

“Dementors?” He quietly said to himself. Ron and Hermione glanced at him briefly, just as involved with the conversation as he was.  

“Curious.” Snape’s voice jumped in from behind. The three of them jumped in their skin, feeling Snape take a step away from them. 

“Sir, you know, it is following the same patterns as the first time,” Snape pointed out, “I'd be brash to point out the obvious that Voldemort is behind the attack. Unless the Ministry can provide some evidence, and damning evidence might I add, to otherwise explain why two dementors happened to part ways from their duties, undetected.” 

“I feel the same Severus,” Dumbledore nodded, “For now we need to plan Harry’s arrival. Arthur, can you quickly gather a team within the Order to transport him safely. It will need to be by done, tonight.” 

“Of course, Albus.” Arthur Weasley pipped up, his cheeks turning a shade of red. He quietly excused himself, pulling Remus and Tonks with him but, before they left, Dumbledore spoke up once more 

“Harry will need a bit of briefing from you about his trial, Arthur” Dumbledore pointed out, “Make sure he only knows as much as he needs to know.” 

Arthur, with a swift nod, left.  

“Trial?” Hermione cried out, “What on earth would he be on trial for?” 

The rest of the Order was stunned into silence as if they hadn’t realized there were three heads popping around the corner listening in. Molly Weasley gave Ron a stern look and, in response, he lightly pushed Hermione forward as their representative speaker. Dumbledore took a moment to collect his thoughts. 

“Harry defended himself and his cousin against two dementors by producing the patronus charm. However,” Dumbledore continued, “According to the Ministry, Harry broke several laws including the decree of underage magic as well as performing magic in front of a muggle. Judging how the Ministy has been using the Daily Prophet to disparage Harry, it would not surprise me if they want to use this to further discredit him. I just came back from the Ministry to assure that Harry get’s a trail. Whether it is tried fairly, is up to the council./” 

“Surely, there are circumstances that can excuse it!” Hermione cried out, “For Merlin’s sake he was in danger! And- and his family knows of his magical abilities! How on earth could they pin... It’s almost comical.” 

“Yes, yes,” Dumbledore nodded, “I will be there to aid when Harry’s trial arrives but for now, let’s have our meeting in half an hour for his retrieval. Molly?” 

“Yes Albus?” 

“Do you happen to have any lemon tarts? You know yours have been a unique favorite of mine.” 

There was a chaotic rush to plan out Harry's retrival and something in Draco's gut harden in sadness. Ron and Hermione huddled away and he was left standing awkwardly in the center of the mess. It was the end of his somewhat blossoming summer with the Weasley's, the Order, and Hermione. He knew deep down that once Harry appeared, he would rightfully take seat of his throne and cast Draco out. Harry would claim these people as his and Draco would have to stand back. That's what will happen. The Weasley Kids and Hermione stood at the foot of the stairs as the Order filtered into the kitchen, talking quietly amongst themselves. 

"Oy," Ron bellowed out, "Git."

Draco's cool grey eyes snapped over to them. Hermione smile, tilting her head up as if she was motioning him to come up the stairs with them. 

"Are you coming or not?" Ron huffed. 

Something in Draco pulled in his chest, like heart strings feeling the pure joy of hope.

"Your room is the only one that is nice," Ron smirks. 

"Assuming your room is untidy." Hermione interjected, looking at Ron.

"Filthy," Ginny made a face. 

"C'mon then," Ron whined, "Let's go."

And Draco join his new group of friends and, as foolish as his hope was, he wanted this summer to last forever.