fervere

Chapter Forty One 

Draco gave Hermione a long look when she didn’t budge. Her hair was messy in a floppy ponytail with pieces of hair now framing her heart shaped face. A frown etched in her delicate features. Embolden with the fact that he could have nearly lost her, Draco held out his hand to gently lead her in.  

“We should go-” 

There was a slight groan from one of the limp bodies that had been laying around. Out of sheer panic, Hermione jumped in her own skin and allowed herself to be pulled into the room. Draco shut the door firmly behind them. He then pressed his ear against the wooden door, holding up his finger up at Hermione to give him a minute.  

He then pressed his long finger to his lips, signaling her to be quiet.  

“What is it?” Hermione asked in a hushed whisper, nervously kneading her cut hands. 

Draco’s face twisted at what sounded like the cackle of his aunt’s laugh and footsteps. 

A lot of scattering footsteps, actually.  

“They’re out there,” He mouth, the words barely leaving his lips. Hermione ripped her sights off the way they moved, unsure of how long she had been staring at his lips. She should be more on edge and the fact that she wasn’t, was unnerving. She could slowly feel her head clearing up as if the fear was now draining her.  

It was that damn scent. Hermione grabbed her shirt again, unaware of when she stopped covering her nose.  

The second the door cracked open, she clocked the scent because it gave her the biggest gut punch for not realizing it sooner.  

The soft scent of fresh warm linens, the pages of old books, sandalwood, and dust. Dust...  

Hermione had been transported to all the times she had spent time in Draco’s bed. The combination was such a plain simple scent but it hit her like a ton of bricks as another confirmation on how stupid and oblivious she had been. If it wasn't during their summer cooped up in an old dusty attic, then surely the scent of his linens on Valentines should have been the nail on the coffin for her.

She dreaded how inviting the smell was, still unable to figure out how it still smelled like wealth.  

Draco hadn’t noticed that Hermione had been trying to collect herself when he whirled back around to take in the room they had stumbled upon.  

He straightened up, his brows knitted together in concentration. It was a rather peculiar room. It was glossy and hazy at the same time. There was even a large fountain right at the center with a giant clam shell as its basin of what looked like the glassiest water he’d ever seen, catching all the colors of the rainbow in soft pastels.  

The dizzying scent had to be coming from this source.  

Draco was rather delighted to have found this place, the battle far from his mind now. A sense of security filled in, perhaps false, but he could finally feel a bit of peace from the turmoil he just got them out of.  

Hermione seemed to have an odd reaction, holding her torn shirt now over the bottom half of her mouth preventing her to inhale any of the scents that was disabling her logic.  

“Do you think it smells bad?” Draco studied her. She shook her head. “Then what’s wrong?” 

“It’s Amortentia,” She said with her voiced raised from behind the fabric of her shirt, “It’s one of the world’s most powerful love potions. It should smell like the object of your desires and...” 

Draco cocked a brow up and smirked, his eyes drinking every detail of this strange room. He had a hunch as to what this room was supposed to represent once his eyes settled on a few phallic pillars in the corners of the room and the plethora of sensual images hidden in the mosaic ceilings.  

A teasing smile pulled at his lips, hoping Hermione wouldn’t notice but also, he brimmed with curiosity to see her reaction when she did figure it out. 

Hermione gasped for air, “Do you not find it overwhelming? It’s supposed to be tempting to drink.” 

“Are you tempted?” Draco slowly asked, his head tilted to the side questioning her. Hermione could sense his mood and she was alarmed at the fact that she wasn’t running out immediately to escape his dauntingly inviting gaze.  

“No, I’m not!” She said and it was the truth. She didn’t want to drink it but she also didn’t want to leave. Based on the scent, Draco didn’t want to drink it either. He simply wished he could bottle this intoxicating smell and take it where ever he went. 

“No need to get your panties in a twist,” Draco playfully shrugged, “Just a question.”  

He regarded Hermione for a moment, clearly making her uncomfortable as he stared. A hint of irritation pulled at his heart strings seeing her fidget nervously as if she hated the idea of being alone with him.

“You don’t have to worry,” Draco’s mouth was a straight hard line, “If it was you that it reminded me of, you’d know.” 

Draco continued to scan over the markings of the walls while his mind was slightly stuck on the idea of Hermione’s panties. Hermione, on the other hand, started to feel less of that adrenaline and more of that unsettling feeling she had when Draco confronted her.  

If this room was smothering her fear of what was just outside the door, then Hermione could only assume Draco was also focusing on their conversation they hadn’t finished. She needed a distraction, something to keep her mind off him. Lucky for her, there were plenty of curious objects around to look busy, all interesting to behold. Draco had been intrigued with the room as a whole, noting that the glowing pink light that filled the room didn’t have a source. It was simply living and breathing that color, like a visible aura shifting from hues of itself.  

Hermione kept her peripheral vision on Draco, as she mindlessly pretended to look at some objects. She was picked up a goblet that caught her attention at how heavy it was. On closer inspection, Hermione let out a gasp, putting a phallic stemmed goblet back in its place. 

She glanced at Draco, hoping he hadn’t noticed the burning at her cheeks pretending to contemplate items for far too long without realizing she was invested in rather salacious items. A soft ‘oh’ would escape her lips when a suspicious looking peach looked very much like... 

Hermione cleared her throat, looking back at Draco to see if he had noticed how many sensual visuals that surrounded them. Unbeknownst to Hermione, Draco had noticed but his straight face was rather hard to read. It made Hermione feel rather wholesome and uptight. 

Get a grip, she told herself. It’s nothing she hadn’t seen already.  

Hermione moved on to the decorative walls, deciding that perhaps it was better to seem interested in the walls, etched with what looked like runes. There were even depictions of the circle of life, decorated with pearls and roses and sparrows.  

Hermione lifted her wand, the tip illuminated, to take a closer look at the end of the room. 

There was a beautiful mural of a woman dressed in the sheerest piece of fabric emerging from the sea. Her soft curves were and cleverly placed hands covered most of her intimate parts, except for a cheeky left breast. Under the rather sensual image there was altar fitted with a soft sage velvet plush mat and a sheer piece of fabric thrown across it that looked like a robe. At the foot of the alter was a collection of bottles and fruits, mainly apples and pomegranates, all on a bed of roses on top of a small cushion of the same velvet material as the plush mat. 

Perhaps for kneeling, Hermione questioned internally at the cushion on the ground. If it was meant to sleep, then it would have been on the altar. Maybe, bigger as well.

“Ah,” Draco’s voice piped up direction behind her, making her jump in her skin, “Her.” 

Hermione wondered if he was as uncomfortable as she was beginning to feel.   

Hermione’s mouth parted, “Aphrodite. She’s-.” 

“The original enchantress of love. What an obvious choice.” Draco finished, snorting. With his hands on his hips he admired the image for a moment before something else caught his attention. 

“You know Greek Mythology?” Hermione whipped around.  

“Mythol-” Draco scoffed, “You think those are muggle stories? Muggles are really easily impressed aren't they? Those were no gods. They were magical."

Hermione gave him a well deserved glare.

"Those 'gods' delighted in the fact that muggles were simple enough to have created epics of their simple feats.” Draco finished explaining.

Hermione tuned back to the portrait.  

She lowered her shirt from her mouth to study, contemplating why this room was necessary to study for the Department of Mysteries. Draco bent down to the curious to the bottles at the foot of the alter. He picked one up and unstoppered it.  

The quick sniff made his nose wrinkle but he understood the use.  

“Aphrodisiacs.” He bluntly said, his eyes tearing up at the sharp scent of bitter chocolate and musk.

“Draco,” Hermione gulped, “This is a Love Room.” 

Draco scoffed, sticking his tongue into his cheek to stop himself from smirking. 

 “What gave it away?” He said in a fake shocked tone, “The giant bed in front of Aphrodite? Or the fact the floor has ancient runes for, oh let’s see, fertilization? Sex -” 

The fact that the altar had a cushion for kneeling was just the cherry on top from all the other things he had come across on. Draco could think of one concrete way he could use the cushion to worship. Hermione rolled her eyes, clearly annoyed with him but upset at herself for exposing how simple minded she was. Of course, she appeared innocent to Draco who was known for his extracurriculars with Mille.  

She wasn’t that pure and she wasn’t about to let Draco think that she was.  

“So you figured it out a lot faster than me,” Hermione shot back, “Do you want a prize for it?” 

Draco paused, his tongue darting out just a bit to nibble his bottom lip quickly. Hermione’s insides squeeze. 

“I seem to realize a lot of things faster than you, don’t you think?” Draco quipped.  

“You are being such an- an ass , Malfoy,” Hermione pressed her lips together, her eyes pricking. She whirled around, hiding the fact that she felt stupid in front of him; a boy that once loved her first and her falling too late. 

She gulped down a knot in her throat, forcing herself to focus on details. She was rather good at stuffing down her feelings in favor of discovery. It’s how she managed to survive her first two years at Hogwarts with Draco bullying her.  

She’d often stuff her nose in her books to hide from him if she ever saw him coming. On the slim chance Draco had noticed her, she’d ignore whatever stupid comment he flung at her by making her mind learn something new. 

Hermione glared at the walls, almost angry at them for not giving her something to comprehend, so she could change the subject. 

But then, they did.

“Runes,” She said like a whisper, a whisper that Draco clearly heard. Within the next second, he was next to her, staring at the mosaic wall. “I thought they were patterns at first, seeing how the tile pattern was closely placed but, see here, it’s berkana over and over again...” 

    ᛒᛒᛒᛒᛒᛒᛒ 

Draco narrowed his eyes up at the pattern and could vaguely see the rather distinct rune, which looked like a rather pointed letter B to him.  

It's significance piqued his interest.  

Draco glanced back at the altar. Fertility was quite the choice of a rune to decorate a good chunk of the walls. Hermione approached the mosaic almost in a trance in hopes to find more meaning. She would pause in front of a mural of two intertwined bodies and then continue on, studying as the mosaic morphed into a splay of new runes as she made her way around like she was strolling around a museum, ending back up to the portrait of Aphrodite.

With a final sweep of the room, Hermione gulped.  

“It’s a room for conception.” Hermione announced pointing at a line of scrawling at the foot of the altar, “The translation is rough butI think it reads ‘bodies of perfect two halves will bring forth the seed of sorcery and embed roots of their pure magic.’ It’s like a chant....” 

Draco made a face, spotting the line at the stone altar she had pointed out and found another circle of runes that adorned the alabaster ceilings above the altar.  

“More like a chamber for rituals,” Draco pointed out, making a face, “Requires an audience as well.” 

There were a total of nine stone stools that created a half circle around the altar. Draco was put off that he hadn’t noticed before.  

“Nine?” Hermione smile, almost snorting, “Nine can symbolize unconditional love in arithmancy, quite a rare number to pop up and hold that meaning.” 

Suddenly, Hermione wasn’t at all horrified to be surrounded by so many naked imageries. Truth be told, Hermione was now deeply fascinated why the Unspeakables had something such as this to study. She had a hunch that something about love, pure love , was something that baffled Unspeakables to the core.  

To the point they needed to study it in such a lewd way.  

Hermione found herself admiring her surroundings as a wealth of information that needed to be figured out. Oh how her heart soared at the thought of being the first to discover a hidden mystery. 

Hermione’s trance was broken back to reality when she came across a group of figurines all shaped into different sensual positions. Her smile faltered, glancing over at Draco who was carefully turning pages of an old spell book written in a dead language. 

He leaned against the altar, his jaw firm as he skimmed through the pages. 

When their eyes connected once more, Hermione face slowly melted upon hearing her heart thud in her chest.  

Draco gave her a lopsided smirk. To Draco, there was something incredibly charming about Hermione being blissfully unaware and then having the realization hitting her square in the face.

Hermione didn’t like how smug he looked, as if he was waiting for her to react. 

She had no clue Draco studied the mirco-expressions that made his heart free fall into a thunderous waterfall, pouring out its weight over the ledge to crash over and over again. It was infuriating how he couldn't fully be angry at her, not when she looked so damn gorgeous.

“Don’t look at me like that,” She warned, carefully. 

“Like how?” Draco raised his brows, placing the book back into its proper place, on a book stand next to the altar.  

She crossed his arms, noting that Hermione was now studying the same little figurines he had given a fraction of his attention.  

A heat flushed up from behind his neck. He could feel the heat radiating off his body now, making his hoodie very uncomfortable. He pulled at the sleeves and clawed at the neck to fling it off himself.  

He instantly enjoyed the feel of air on his skin. 

Hermione fought it, but she couldn’t help but to take in the ripples of muscles in his arms, bulging as he cracked the stiffness in his neck. Draco could already tell tomorrow will not be kind to his body.  

Hermione’s eyes fluttered, trying to help her focus on anything but the growing ache in her chest.  Upon seeing the breaks on Draco’s usual smooth skin Hermione closed her eyes, wincing at the sight of the laceration on his shoulder.  

A spell had caught his shoulder like a whip, deep red marks swirled down his arm.  

It was enough for her to hold her steady gaze on him, the concern sweeping over her eyes when there was more to Draco’s skin to note. Draco wasn’t just hurt. 

“Merlin,” She sighed, eyeing the small bumps now forming on his pale arms.  

She approached him, grabbing his arms to inspect them with a careful touch of her finger. His heat she had felt started to make a bit more sense.  

He was feverish. Spots on his arms. If it wasn’t for the jarring cuts on his face, the trademark rash of Kneazle Pox would have been easier to spot.  

Draco’s eyes were half lidded, his lips formed into a frown that his heart hadn’t committed to, not when Hermione hesitant hand grazed over his arms. 

“What?” He asked, feigning annoyance. 

 She let her head lull to the side, “Oh Draco, your face.” 

“Handsome?” He shot back. 

Hermione didn’t respond with a verbal affirmative but her eyes twinkled, exasperated. Worst of all, she agreed. 

He was handsome.  

Draco had always been good looking. Even with the changes Hermione placed on him, his features were stronger and more striking as a brooding brunette. 

But it wasn’t him. 

Hermione was suddenly not pleased with his dark hair now, the way the hair swooped to the side in a long wave of thick dark curls. Hermione rather liked his blonde hair and his eyes... 

Hermione was confronted with her distaste of his new look, despite reminding her of the book character she often gushed over with Ginny. She took out her wand and reversed the spell, his grey eyes now looked kinder but still held that intensity without the sultriness that made her feel things.  

His blond hair fell over his eyes and Hermione squeezed her fist into tight balls.  

Nope, she could still feel it. 

She wanted to blame the intoxicating scent from the Amortentia that she was being forward but she couldn’t. Hermione feared it was actually her and the Room was simply lowering her guard. She was also growing tired of having her feelings get in the way to confront this looming issue head on. It was struggle to remain neutral when so many things have been left unsaid and Draco wasn’t going to let it her get away with keeping him in the dark. His teasing was light, yes, but it still held that weight of trouble that made her feel guilty.

“Draco,” She felt herself asking, her filter nowhere in sighed, “The question I asked before everything...” 

“Question?” Draco narrowed his eyes slightly in thought, “You mean when you asked if I still love you?” 

Hermione burned in embarrassment, especially when Draco made it a point to cross his arms again, and relax back onto the altar. He looked so nonchalant about it, Hermione felt stupid for asking once more.  

“I'm surprised you’re still asking,” Draco shrugged, “Haven't you figured that out?” 

There was a growing pressure in Hermione. At first she thought she was growing infuriated with Draco’s teasing and nonanswers. She was being direct with him, wasn’t she? The least he could do was be direct back.  

No. That pressure in her was starting to morph, almost weaken her. Breaking her down as if the room was allowing her to want him but not in the way she pined for a hot erotic touch. 

No.  

She needed him like she needed air, like he was the very foundation of the ground she stood on.  

She closed her eyes.  

No, no, no .  

This must be the trick of this room. Encouraging- no , enhancing feelings that laid buried or dormant.  

His face was closer than before but Draco hadn’t moved. It was Hermione who had unknowingly taken steps towards him, towards the altar, taking in his face once more, relieved to see his blonde hair and those grey eyes and his skin... 

“You caught the Kneazle pox,” She said, distracting herself. Hermione’s brows tilted up in worry as she ran a tender thumb over a small cluster of bumps on his jaw line, right next to a busted chin. 

Draco froze at her gentle touch, not an ounce of thought behind his eyes. He simply drunk the sight of her in, surprised she was standing right in front of him, looking worried. Like she cared. His heart flopped. 

“Have I?” He asked, his mind screaming to tease her or say some clever quip. His heart wrangled his mind useless, tying his tongue up to allow Hermione trail her finger tips down his neck and ghost over his arms 

Hermione opened her mouth, retracting her hands back like a late reflex. Perhaps afraid that Draco would have another comment to throw at her. A tense moment passed in complete silence.  

Speak you idiot, her mind yelled.  

“It looks like what Ron had,” Hermione said in a low voice, composing herself once more. She trained herself to focus on the tiny clusters on his face. There was one right at the apple of his cheek, telling herself to not stray away from that one in fear that if she looked him in the eyes again, she’d ruin herself. 

“Do you want to know,” Draco asked softly, their eyes locking immediately, “Really know.” 

It was such a vague question. It could have meant a ton of things but Hermione felt it in her core. She knew exactly what he was referring to, she shook her head to reject, but her mouth spoke her truth.  

“Yes,” She whispered out.  

Draco’s expression cracked, “Isn’t it obvious?” 

Her own body betrayed her almost immediately. Hermione desperately wanted a verbal confirmation but she knew, and a few things clicked in her mind. Her arms, those dirty traitors, flung around his neck and pulling him down to her. She squeezed her eyes tight, feeling the floor disappear the second her lips collided with his. 

His mouth was firm and exactly how Hermione remembered and sweet and soft... and he wasn’t reacting.  

Even when she beckoned him with a nudge of her chin against his, he remained frozen. His arms unfurled... hanging loosely at his sides. 

Hermione’s world rematerialized as she pulled back in horror. The slam of humiliation, a fraction of what he had gone through, drained what little sense she had. She pulled away, an apology escaping her lips like a silent plea to Aphrodite, begging the goddess to let this be a figment of her morbid imagination.  

“I don’t-” Hermione gulped, “I didn’t mean to.” 

“No?” Draco closed his eyes.

Hermione gulped, her eyes welling up.  

“Do you want to lead me on?” Draco frowned.  

“That’s not it,” Hermione shook her head.  

“Then please explain.” Draco lowered his lids, challenging her.  

Hermione took a small step back, unworthy of standing at the foot of Aphrodite's altar when she couldn’t even muster up the courage to tell Draco directly.  

“Isn’t it obvious?” Hermione quietly said back, feeling pathetic she couldn’t say it as confidently as he did. 

Gobsmacked.  

Draco stared at Hermione, absolutely stunned.  

Hermione inhaled, trying to ground herself to not break in front of him. She had flung herself at him not once but twice now and he still hadn't reacted in a way that she hoped. Not the days later after she kissed him on the first day of OWLs or right now. It was all terribly confusing.  

“We should go check if anyone is outsid-” 

A force Hermione could only describe as magnetic, crushed down onto her lips. Failing to see the fire behind Draco's eyes Hermione gasped when her thoughts were abruptly interrupted at the movements of his lips and his firm grasp on her waist where he had hooked her in. 

Her stiffened body soon relaxed, her arms flat against his chest slipped their way around his neck once more. The thought of him made her crumble into oblivion, praying once more this wasn’t an illusion. 

Because the way his touch lingered like he was taking a long drink of water from her lips, quenching the thirst he suffered from her absence, was the sweetest things Hermione could ever imagine. The warmth of his breath exhaling in a soft blissful moan, pressing her closer, curled her toes in delight. 

This was better, Hermione thought, so much better. 

“Are you not worried about Kneazle pox? If that’s what I really have.” Draco asked breathlessly, a hint of guilt tainting his pleading eyes when he parted a centimeter away. Hermione could have died seeing him so hopeless, tempted for another kiss.  

Hermione's logic kicked into gear as she shook her head, “No. We’ve been around Ron, and Harry and I have yet to catch it. I think it’s possibly due to the similarities in pathology of Kneazle Pox and the muggle Chickenpox. And we’ve both had it as children and built up immunity and I’ll stop talking-” 

Hermione abruptly rose to her tip toes to stop Draco’s stupid smirk from growing, amused to see how Hermione was unable to help herself from rambling. She pressed her lips against his and a bubble of laughter escaped him, he leaned against the altar behind him half sitting, half standing, pulling at her hips to rejoin their eager mouths.  

“Shut up,” Hermione muttered.  

Draco playfully moaned in response. She could feel his smile in the tenseness of his mouth, trying his best not to let out another snort. He quickly settled, hypnotized by the way her fingers combed through the back of his neck, sending ripples of chills down his spine. 

Draco softened. 

Her heart squeezed, receiving the tenderness that poured out of Draco’s firm hands on her waist, one inching up to her neck while the other traveled down. She arched her back, reacting to his touch, wanting more from him and flushing at the fact that she wanted his hands to grope her bottom. A pleading whine nearly escaped her when he stopped at the curve of her lower back. 

She could just tell him but the thought of it made her timid. Where the hell was her bravery now? 

Draco cradled her in his arms, placing soft lingering kisses on those lips he had once unknowingly had. He felt drunk and elated and altogether bewildered.  

It’s not how he predicted his night would go. Hermione confessing was not at all within his predictions and still, he thought he was dreaming or perhaps dead. Draco might be even seeing another version of himself enjoying how Hermione’s body clung on to him, so he could feel every delicious curve of hers.  

Her body was only a fraction of discoveries that debilitated him. The simple fact that he couldn’t find a semblance of a coherent thought every time Hermione let out deep soft moans. He was afraid he was slowly losing control to drown in her. He let out a groan of satisfaction, savoring every detail of her.  

Draco's eyes flew open when she stopped, her stare was glazed and her mouth gaping unable to piece a word together. 

It felt short lived. He could be here forever and not be satisfied or fulfilled with the time he had with Hermione. 

Draco winced, now aware of the aching pain now pushing against his pants. He was hard and getting heated, that was certain. But he also felt a familiar weakness he knew all too well. He knew the flaw of urges that overrode logic, but this kind of weakness was not that.  

He pulled away to control his ragged breathing, trying to collect his storming thoughts, intertwining with the emotional and the physical. Something felt different. Almost like a brain fog. 

Yes, there was a that heat simmering deep within him. A seed, finally taking root. But it felt like his mind was racing and yet doing nothing at all to process the glorious moment.

Draco head tilted back, catching his breath, reading the runes above the altar.  

He, the fevere blood that flows and She, the respire of life.   

A hand combed through the back of his head, leading him back to her welcoming lips. Draco brows knitted as he crumbled, giving every piece of him when Hermione parted her lips allowing him to deepen their kiss.  

They tangled into each other, fingers raking through his soft hair, soft moans escaping lips and that infuriating feeling that they couldn’t get close enough to satisfy the need. 

Draco swiftly picked her up, switching spots, to seat her on the edge of the soft bedding of the altar, nestling himself between her legs that gladly accepted him in. She was finally at his eye level, clawing at his shoulders to bring him in for another kiss, something he wasn’t going to withhold from her.  

He happily claimed her lips once more, her arms wrapping tightly around his neck. His own hands on her thighs, thumbs softly drawing circles before the crept up to hold her small waist.  

His fingers played with the waistband of her pants.  

Hermione was the first to break, a softness in her features as she pressed another two kisses on Draco’s lips.  

“You're burning,” She whispered, her hand now on his forehead. Hermione frowned at his flushed feverish face. 

Draco gave her a weary smile, happy that she was able to figure out what weakness had been afflicting him.  

“And for a second I thought you were going to mention else,” Draco gulped, now realizing his own hips had been softly rubbing against Hermione’s groin.  

Hermione let out a small oh that nearly caused Draco to come undone when she glanced down. It wasn’t that Hermione didn’t notice. It was that she was constantly thinking this was a rather vivid hallucination, savoring a girthy member that triggered her hips to grind back. He placed his burning forehead on her shoulder, letting out a strained laugh.  

“I won’t push it.” Draco promised, “I... we should actually-” 

He cleared his throat looking back over to the door. 

“I just had a thought.” She whispered. Hermione unhooked her arms, using them to lean back, propping herself up on one of her elbows to take a good look at Draco. A dull pain radiated in her shoulder that had been been hurt. She hid the wince of pain with a cock of her head. Draco nearly lost it, wanting to fall to his knees and put that cushion to good use.  

Hermione had her own temptations to sort through. Draco's was flushed; lips slightly swollen with a gut-wrenching look of devotion on his face. He looked at home, settled in between her legs, his fingers pressing with need into the fleshy part of her hips. It nearly made her want to throw caution to the wind if it wasn’t for... She closed her eyes.  

They should be trying to get out of here- 

“Never leave?” Draco muttered, a teasing smile pulling up at the corners of his mouth. He looked down back that that cushion and grinned, plucking out a rose from the altar’s offerings. He bent the stem and snapped off the thorns.  

“No,” She sighed, “We actually should make ourselves presentable to leave but-” 

She was cut off by Draco slipping a flower into her hair followed by another long kiss from the distraction. Draco leaning over her, bending over the altar to catch her lips.  

He snorted softly, “Like Belle.” 

Hermione’s hand lifted to touch the wide bloom of the rose placed behind her ear. Merlin, this man couldn’t get any more perfect, Hermione thought. Had he really held on to that book she caught him reading last year when their friendship began? 

“But what?” Draco beckoned, wanting to hear the rest of her thoughts. It killed her he was so gentle with her when she wouldn’t mind if he took control and claim her as his. Draco let her lead to allow her to do exactly what she wanted. He was in awe that she wanted him as much as he had pined for her all these years. 

“But if we died here,” She said bringing him down to her again, “I think would be the sweetest death I could imagine.” 

Draco’s laughter bubbled, maddened with the truth that Hermione was here, reciprocating and saying the most morbid things that sounded like music to him. He pressed his forehead into her shoulder to hide his laughter from the most bizarre thing he’s ever heard her say.  

Bizarre because he completely understood her. 

“I’ve died a few times already, if I’m honest,” Draco admitted, “And been damned to be resurrected and killed over and over by your words, by those lips.” 

Hermione stared, wanting to voice her suggestion that, perhaps Draco should crawl over her, join her on this soft plush mattress. She felt ready.

Hermione let out a long sigh when she found herself unable to do so.  

Not when Draco’s attention drifted elsewhere. His mouth had found the curve of her neck sending a ripple of a new sensation. Her body twisted, unable to stop herself from reacting to his touch. A gasp escaped her lips at the soft nibbles his mouth performed on a sensitive area, right under her ear.  

A delectable burn scorched her when he latched on to her skin, moving around her neck, down her shoulder and nearing the curve of her breast. He had tugged Hermione’s shirt down to expose a bit more skin that was begging to for his attention. It didn’t take a lot of force for the rip of her shirt to tear down the line. He left marks all over, daring anyone to claim she wasn’t his. 

He pulled her back up, tempted with the thought that a second longer hovering over her, he’d do more reckless things. Draco, however, didn’t wish to stop. Not when he felt his hormones take over, unable to find its fill of tasting her. 

Her soft mews nearly undid him, growing stiffer by the second and wanting her with a lot less clothes than she had at the moment. Her legs instinctively wrapped around him, encouraging him to devour her, her nails raking through his hair. Hermione’s lids lowered; breathing was slowly becoming erratic. She could lose herself here with him but a painful thought entered her head when he moved away to work on her other side.  

The realization teetered to activate her logic when she got a good look at his face again. 

The cuts all over Draco lusting face and his busted chin (one she was sure he didn’t realize he had), anchored her back.  

“We’re in the Department of Mysteries,” Hermione said, as if they didn’t know. 

“We are.” He agreed, although he was a tad bit confused, but a sense of euphoria filled him with the sight of more of her soft peachy skin was expose for him to nip at. 

“The map stopped.” Hermione moaned out, the moment his teeth dragged over her collar bone in the most delicious way. His hand had just slipped her bra strap off her shoulder, placing that devilish hand on her rib cage, his thumb a millimeter away from the curve under her breast. And then his large hand slipped under cupping her and gently squeezing her breast as his thumb ran over her sensitive nub. 

Hermione swallowed a gasp. Draco pressed his forehead against hers again, tenderly catching her lips.

"The map?" Draco asked, his hand still handling her.

She had to force it out of herself or else she feared she’d lose herself completely. He was being agonizingly slow as if he had to savor this moment, a moment he never knew could ever happen.

"The tracking," Hermione gulped, feeling irritated that she had to continue speaking sense when she was teetering on loosing herself. Still, Draco had enough sense to realize Hermione was trying her best to distract him. Draco pulled away, to study the girl in front of him, removing his hand to rub his thumb across those lips he loved. Hermione mentally kicked herself for derailing her own needs. 

“Yes, right, you mentioned before it did stop.” He confirmed, “We can still safely get out. The Order already saved our half-baked plan out there.” 

Hermione inwardly groan but her face cracked into a smile. How he was able to be so tantalizing and still level headed was beyond Hermione’s comprehension. If it wasn't for her internal struggle, they wouldn’t exactly be talking at the most inopportune times. His godly restraint... It only made him that much desirable to Hermione, the way he wasn't irritated with her interrupting.  

“Did I ever mention that we have a terrible track record of planning things out properly?” Hermione rolled her eyes jokingly.  

Draco chuckled and gave her a quick kiss to show he didn’t mind, not when he was drunk with her taste. He beamed at her when she smiled. A surge of happiness filled Hermione, tickling her skin like a new form of magic.  

Like she could feel his gentle devotion cocoon her in an invisible cradle she could melt in.  

She could melt into him and she did. 

She allowed herself one more long perfect kiss. She wished she could hold on to this memory forever and it broke her heart that she couldn’t. 

Once she convinced herself to allow herself to be swept away, it was Draco who was now being the sensible one.  

“Come, I think it’s time to go, Hermione,” Draco said, peaking her lips, once, twice, and three more times.  

Hermione pressed her lips into a flat accepting line, sadly jumping off the altar. Draco handed her his hoodie to slip on, giving her a sheepish smile at the wreak he made of her shirt. Her shirt hung on to her body loosely, much like the scantily clad woman around them.  

Hermione blushed, glancing down at herself before her eyes swooped down Draco, settling on what looked like a painful large bulge struggling against his pants. 

“Don’t worry,” Draco gave a half hearted shrug.  

“I- I...” Hermione gulped, surprised that he was so casual about it, “I’m sorry we don’t have time.” 

His laughter rung in her ears.  

“You're sorry? Even if we did,” He smiled, “I wouldn’t want to take you here.” 

“No?” Hermione’s face fell in disappointment. Draco inwardly groaned, almost brought to his knees at the effects of this woman had on him. He closed the already narrow space between them and leaned over, as if he needed her to listen to each and every single word.  

“When I do,” Draco quietly said, “It’ll be in my bed and you there, a complete mess in my sheets. Screaming my name for the entire dorm wing to hear. Aphrodite be damned.” 

Fuck, Hermione thought, almost losing her footing at how utterly tempting he was. Even his dirty mouth had a way of making her feel like she was floating. Draco’s eyes were glued on her as Hermione became more aware of the ache in her core that went straight down between her legs where the thin fabric of her underwear felt heavy and wet. She wanted him, yes, but when they still needed to leave the Department of Mysteries they needed to prioritize escaping first, then maybe they find a way to not leave another thing half started.  

Draco patiently waited with his hand held out for her hand to led them back out. She quickly threw on Draco’s hoodie and pulled it over her head as if it would shield her from his sweet warning.  

Once the door was shut behind them and the influence of the scent was cut off, Hermione had hoped she could think more clearly but Draco pulled her in his arms again, stealing another kiss. 

“Mm,” He hummed out, “What are you doing to me, Granger?” 

Hermione tried to pull away now very aware they were out in the open. The fear began to tickle back in. They were still very much in danger but also, Hermione couldn’t help but to melt under his touch.  

“Draco,” Hermione pleaded, wondering why he hadn’t snapped out of the trance. She hadn’t either but they needed to in order to get out.  

Alive.  

“Yes?” He asked stealing another kiss one that Hermione fell victim to, again, allowing herself to be swept away. Well, she had her answer didn’t she.  

It only took a bit of danger and a dash of stupid bravery to succumb to their underlying simmering desires and answer the question she had. 

Draco loved her. 

He didn’t have to say it. She could tell by the way he held her, so tightly against him when they kiss and how he’s gentle but firm enough to show her how much he wants her.  

And, Merlins, did he want her.  

Hermione’s eyes rolled back, another agonizing wash of desire nearly drowning her. 

It was a mistake to take his hoodie, because she was sure that the scent of Amortentia was about to shift into a solid scent of him. The sandalwood of his hoodie was stronger and the light scent of the rose stuck in her hair enveloped her mind. 

“I love you.” Hermione blurted out, her brows knitted up in earnest, “I do. I don’t know how I missed it because I think I’ve known for a while. And I’m sorry it’s so sudden because I’m aware you- I know you’re still with Millie and it’s complicated. It’s... fucked and I’m a terrible friend for hiding so much from you, I know, but, do you still...” 

Draco laughed, “Are you seriously still asking? You think I can get over you, when you’ve been the center of my world?” 

Hermione could feel a wave of heat burn at her cheeks. 

“And if it makes you feel better,” Draco sighed, knowing that a speechless Hermione wasn’t one that could stand a vague response, “Of course, I love you and I’m sorry for being an ass about the whole thing. Daph’s party...” 

Hermione winced at the memory of their passionate kiss when she disguised herself as Millie.  

It was definitely a different kind of kiss and one she was looking forward to experience once more. It was rather shocking how great his lips were when something much more heated was sparked between them, igniting a deep seeded need for him.  

“Preferably, next time you do-” 

“I’ll let you know,” Hermione agreed.  

“Yes, please,” Draco face erupted in a laugh when a funny thought entered his head, “I wouldn’t quite know what to do with if I suddenly find myself quite ravished with Goyle if you decide you needed to be him one day.” 

Hermione joined in on his laugh which was quickly extinguished with Draco’s lips.  

He let out a groan and a sigh, wreaked with the realization that this life time wouldn’t be enough to enjoy every second of her taste.  

Even when a rumble under their feet reminded them they need to go, Draco was hesitant to part from her lips but he held on to the truth that they’ll be able to rectify a solution. There were things to tend to at Hogwarts, things to straighten out in order to indulge himself in Hermione. 

“Oh for fuck’s sakes.”   

The couple tore their sights off each other in favor of the irritated figure limping towards them. 

Ginny emerged from the shadows, glaring at them, “I’ve been looking for the both of you, scared shitless! And now I find you both eating each other's faces.” 

Hermione sheepishly let Draco go when she snapped out of it but Draco held on to her, quite content to like the way Hermione felt in his arms. Ginny flashed a look of contempt towards Draco as if she hadn’t officially approved of him but only because he had a lot to explain.  

“Glad to see you both. Alive ,” Ginny sighed out, her brows quirking up at the sight of Hermione being swallowed in Draco’s hoodie, “Shall we get out of here? Get the news back to Millie that she’s now single now that you too had a bit of fun?” 

Ginny wedged herself between the two, like a chaperone, to ensure they wouldn’t find another corner to sneak off to and continue their snog session. 

Draco was slapped with his reality that he was still dating Millie and had now just branded himself a cheater. His urgent need was now quelched when the unsettling thought of how he needed to break up with Millie entered his mind. Nervous was nowhere close to describe how he felt but it must be done.

Ginny led them toward the left of the Rotating Room, stepping over some rubble and swung open a door that led to the offices once more. 

Hermione hesitated wanting to remind Draco of the enchantments before it was too late but Ginny pulled them in rush to get out of there, eventually making their way out of the Department. 

The three bodies moved quickly in the dark, only motivated by one thing: getting back to Umbridge's office. They sprinted passed the desks and back into the halls, a sinking ache now afflicting their bodies. 

They all looked at each other horrified at the true extent of their injuries. Hermione stretched out her arms, shocked at the number gashes she had when she pushed up the sleeve of Draco’s hoodie... 

Her mouth parted, unable to recall when she had slipped his hoodie on. The three of them had seemed to slowed in pace, surveying themselves in alarm. 

“How will we explain this to Madam Pomfrey?” Ginny hissed, limping, hissing with each wobbly step. 

Hermione shook her head, “I don’t know. I...” 

Hermione glanced at Draco who looked sickly. His eyes were glazed over and his skin... 

Kneazle Pox? 

Draco gulped down a wave of pain that throbbed in his head.  

“Let’s hurry back,” He shook his head, wincing at the sound of his own voice. 

The halls were still and empty as the three silently made their way towards the lift but opted for the stairs, taking them to the main lobby of the Ministry. It wasn’t the way they had come in but they heard talking and their curiosity got the best of them. 

A group of Aurors surrounded their friends all in different forms of distress. The Lobby once pristine and gleaming, had ripped banners, flapping over themselves. More shards of glass scattered across the black marbled floor that had a deep crack that branched out like a virus gripping a tight hold on the Ministry.

The sight of their friends, all of them, was a relief for a brief moment. Neville looked a right mess, comforting Ron who was now sporting a black eye and bloodied nose. Both were sporting busted lower lips. Luna’s light hair had been stained with a thick dark red color. Ginny limped over to her brother, her knee looking very wobbly. 

It must have been a terrible fight, Draco concluded, if he could remember any of it. The urgency of trying to recall and utter confusion trickled into Draco upon seeing the destruction that was now littering the lobby of the Ministry. And right in the middle was Dumbledore was on his knees next to an unconscious Harry. Hermione rushed over to see if her friend was okay. 

Neville called Draco over, catching the attention of Professor Dumbledore who perked up and swung his sights over to him. Draco made his way over to Neville, his ankle reaggravated and sensitive once more from a past injury he thought he had recovered from. There was a feeling like he had just been in a dream. Like Draco had missed a huge chunk of something rather important.  

“What happened here?” He asked, “Did we miss anything?” 

Neville turned to Draco pale in the face, “Voldemort was here.” 

Draco blinked rapidly, a sickly fear trickling back in. It triggered that unforgettable scent of death and rot. He could only thank his luck that he had missed the entire spectacle but a guilt filled Draco for not fighting alongside his friends.  

“Is Harry- Did you see?” 

“No, we didn’t,” Neville answered, “And Harry, well, he’s as fine as he can be... That’s what Dumbledore said. The Order is securing the area. Moody’s also out there giving the Minister a piece of his mind for wasting an entire year denying his return.” 

Draco nodded, “So, you didn’t fight Voldemort?” 

Neville let out a guffaw and winced, as if his sides were bruised up.  

“Absolutely not,” He snorted, “The Order took us to a safe room after...” 

Neville blinked trying to recall.  

The extended pause only embarrassed him, his cheeks turned a shade of pink under the splatters of dried blood, huffing out a dry laugh. 

“After we got out. I musta hit my head against something,” Neville sighed, “I don’t think I remember anything that happened.” 

Draco opened his mouth as if he was going to fill Neville when he realized he couldn’t remember, too. In fact, he didn’t remember anything beyond arriving and then suddenly coming out, feeling like he was just dragged through the mud. 

Ginny shivered, rubbing her arms for comfort, “Do you think he’s still around? Like lingering or something?” 

Draco shook his head, “No. You’ll know if Voldemort’s around.” 

Draco frowned at the sight of Harry.  

“Mr. Malfoy?” Dumbledore hissed out, “What on earth are you doing here?” 

Draco gulped and looked at his friends for assistance. They looked blankly at him. It was the first time in a long time Draco had faced Dumbledore. He had been absent for most of their fifth year.  

“I...” 

“He helped,” Hermione said, her head poking out from behind Dumbledore. She gave Draco a curious look before she added, “I think...” 

Draco narrowed his gaze on Hermione, wondering why on earth she had his hoodie. A simple glance at his own white shirt, told him he wouldn’t have willingly handed that over when he was bloodied and his arms were now forming noticeable red spots.  

Still, Draco slowly nodded to go along with Hermione’s claims, breathing in deeply, exercising his techniques he learned from Snape to tap into his mind, into every memory he had made and nothing.  

There was simply nothing. 

They had snuck into the Department of Mysteries and the next thing Draco knew was that he was being dragged out by Ginny. Draco had been stupidly smiling as he crossed out of the offices before the aches of his body consumed his concern. 

“Do you understand the amount of danger your just put yourself in Draco?” Dumbledore asked, “To risk exposing-” 

“He didn’t,” Ginny pipped up, “Hermione changed his features, right?” 

Ginny turned to Hermione expectantly. Her face twisted.  

“I did,” She assured, her eyes unfocused and faraway, “Before we went in. But that’s all I remember.” 

“I don’t remember anything either,” Draco admitted.  

“We went in to the...” Neville trailed off. He glanced carefully at Dumbledore who gave them all an outright scolding for even attempting to trespass on the Ministry. He ordered them to stay put so they’ll be escorted by The Order back to Hogwarts.  

With a final glance, Dumbledore shook his head, “I’ll send word to Poppy that she has another case of the Kneazle Pox, good riddance, too. You saved me having to explain away your hospitalization, Mr. Malfoy.”  

Dumbledore stormed off back to Harry and within the next moment they disappeared. Neville let out a long breath he was holding during Dumbledore’s raging lecture. They had never seen him that mad.  

“I don’t understand,” Neville grumbled taking out a map Ginny had handed him. He unfolded it and studied it for a moment.  

Draco cocked his head to get a better view of what Neville was looking at. There was one change to it. A surprising one that caught his eye.  

“Love Room?” He whispered out, wondering what in the world that was since it hadn't been labelled before. He frowned and studied the rest. The dots that had concentrated in the Hall of Prophecies before were now scattered around the department, unmoving. 

It was frustrating to have gone in and not a have a single recollection. Surely something happened they were all banged up pretty good and for fuck sakes, Voldemort showed up, didn’t he.  

Nervous about the appearance of Voldemort, Draco focused. Trying to piece together his night out of fear. What if Voldemort had shown up and saw Draco? He shook his head, he would have still felt his sickening presence penetrating into his skin. 

Draco huffed, closing his eyes attempting to retrace the details and order of his night. 

He had been avoiding Millie...  

Millie.  

Flashes of Draco storming into the Hospital Wing to confront Daphne days ago.  

The confirmation of Hermione’s deceit. Days jumbled up warping them in anger and then Hermione was in his room. Ginny was there, trying to share the fantastic news of animating the map and... 

Draco could feel the humiliation trickle back into his veins. The way everyone knew how much of a sucker he was for kissing the wrong girl.  

For dating the wrong girl while everyone knew of how awful she truly was. 

And then the memory of Hermione asking him if he still loved her. His face burned in mortification assuming she asked to figure out how to reject him gently. 

“How angry do you think Dumbledore is?” Luna whispered over to Ron. 

“Very,” Dumbledore answered, popping back up from behind them, joined by a few more from the Order. 

“I cannot speak for anyone's parents,” He began, “But I’m sure Arthur Weasley, here, will be able to issue out a proper punishment for his own children.” 

Arthur Weasley stepped forward and Ron and Ginny winced at their dad’s grave face.  

“As for Neville-” Dumbledore began. 

“Please don’t tell me my Gran's around the corner,” Neville begged. 

“No, but she is now well aware of the situation and wishes to take you home immediately,” Dumbledore announced, “We will arrange for your belongings to be delivered by tomorrow afternoon as well as a trip to St. Mungos just to make sure you three are fine. As for Ms. Granger?” 

Hermione perked her, her face firm, as if she was also trying desperately to recall what had happened in the Department, her absentminded fingers rubbing circles over her collar bone. 

“Yes, Professor?” 

“I believe it is in the best interest that you tell your parents the truth of the matter,” Dumbledore advised.  

“That’s not fair,” Ron grumbled under his breath, exchanging a look with Ginny who looked like she fully agreed.

“I’ll send a letter to them explaining what happened in the Department, but I’m sure your mind doesn’t fail you as to what prompted you to even attempt.” Dumbledore sent a glare to Draco, “Mind telling me?” 

“Pardon?” 

Dumbledore reached into his robe and took out a copy of the map he worked hard on attaining.  

Draco’s face drained.  

“How was it that you even found something like this.” Dumbledore’s voice lowered. 

Draco didn’t want to voice it in front of his friends, it was another reason to feel ashamed of how terrible of a person he was.  

“Professor,” Draco began, “I would appreciate it if you don’t tell my parents, yet. You see, they are still unaware of my allegiance.” 

Dumbledore frowned, “Did he not see you in the Department for his intended retrieval?” 

Eyes snapped over to Draco who felt uncomfortable.  

“Who? My dad ?” Draco gulped, “He was there? Actually there?” 

The blank faces around Dumbledore cued him in that the poor students had no clearance of the Department, thus having to cross the barrier that scrambled their memories.  

“He wouldn’t have recognized you anyways,” Hermione pipped up, “I'm certain that I changed your features before we went in.” 

“Are you sure?” Dumbledore asked, “He looks very much like Draco to me.” 

Hermione and Draco exchanged looks, on the verge of a recalling a beautiful memory but faltered and drew blanks.  

“Yes,” Draco voice assertively said, although his face twisted in doubt.  

A pair of soft footsteps approached them.  

Daphne’s parents.

They were brought in to sweep the entire Department as Unspeakables, taking note of the after math. Dumbledore perked up at the sight of them and Daphne’s mother face twisted as she shook her head.  

“Sirius...” She sniffed, “Amongst the thirteen casualties.” 

Dumbledore took off his half moon spectacles and pinched the bridge of his nose.  

“I’ll focus on Harry first to retrieve his hidden memories,” Dumbledore sighed, “He’ll need to process Sirius’ death, surely the memory will be painful but crucial to go through a proper grieving process.” 

Draco blanched. Casualties? Sirius? Had... Had they failed Harry? That was the entire point of their plan, to save Sirius. They hung their heads in shame and overwhelming frustration that none of them could recall what had led to Sirius’s death. They only knew that their efforts were in vain. They knew the adults were glad they had all gotten out alive but something about the news... 

Draco turned to Dumbledore, “Does... Harry know?” 

“To an extent,” Dumbledore shook his head, “I came across him as he was chasing down Bellatrix Lestrange. She was taunting Harry with his death...” 

Hermione perked up, “After coming out of the memory barrier? Is it possible, then, to retain the memories?” 

Dumbledore slowly nodded, “Yes but it’s almost like putting a puzzle back together, blind folded. Unfortunately, if Ms. Lestrange crossed over still with her mind intact, I fear that they had managed to bypass the security details of the Department. Equally as worrisome to the Ministry, if they allow themselves to admit it.” 

It was a stunning conclusion, one that made Draco’s guts twist into knots.  

“So they remember?” Neville asked slowly and Dumbledore gave a short confirming nod. Dumbledore let out a sigh as if he blamed himself for being away from his students. Maybe if he had been around, this wouldn’t have gone as far as it did. 

“Thankfully the healer that worked on Arthur Weasley’s memories, I imagine, would be more than willing to work on Harry before the summer starts.” Dumbledore announced, “The rest of you would do well if you abandon any attempts to remember. The memories will return to you as a faraway dream. Best not to dwell when it does. I fear there are some things worth forgetting.” 

Hermione deflated.  

Arthur Weasley announced his leave glaring at his two youngest children to follow him out 

Tonks rejoined Neville happily escorting away to his own version of hell. Luna remained at their smiling at Draco and Hermione. 

Draco felt unsettled to be next to Hermione knowing that they’ll have to, one day, finish that conversation that was left mid air.  

“It was quite the adventure, wasn’t it?” Luna pipped up. Hermione immediately clung on to Luna, hoping she had the answers that was plaguing her empty head. 

“Do you remember Luna? Anything at all?” Hermione asked to which the witch paused and shrugged.  

“Not really,” She smiled, “But I was amongst friends and I’m sure one day it will be quite the story to tell.” 

Hermione deflated, yet again.  

“Indeed,” Dumbledore jumped in, looking at his watch, “It’s nearly dawn. I’m sure Professor Snape wouldn’t mind paying Draco a visit in the Hospital Wing.” 

Draco’s face fell.   

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- 

Hermione glared at the folded clothes on the long countertops of the sink inside the private bathrooms of the Hospital Wing. She had just come out a long medicated bath that helped soothe some aches and pains her body was distressed from.  

It even loosened the tight knots at the bottom of her neck and relieved the pain on her tender left shoulder.

That's where her eyes were trained at.  

Her neck.

She had taken time to survey the startling injures she had received, fully naked in front of the mirror. 

The bruise on her back was concerning and her shoulder joint felt like it had seen better days, but it was the small bruises on her neck and down her collar bone that she was fixated on. Even the disastrous state her shirt was in, like someone had ripped it open in the front.  

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut, pleading with all her might to recall the reason she was wearing Draco’s hoodie.  

She knew the kind of bruises that decorated her neck and she only had one conclusion on how she got them and from who, but... 

A breath hitched up in her throat at the thought of Draco even doing something like this to her.  

Had she liked it? 

Of course you did, Hermione scolded herself. The thought of it even happening made her desperate to want to remember. Her mind trail down to her core and then down to her most intimate of areas, pausing to scrutinize. If she thought of him, she ached as the need filled her core, yes, but it was not the type of soreness she associated with that .  

Hermione cleared her throat, reaching for a soft fresh brassier to change into. 

Of course that wouldn’t have happened. She was much too logical to jump Draco’s bones in the middle of something so dangerous.  

But something told her she would have, sensing the rising beat of her own heart. Her fingertips grazing over the love marks that she would have enjoyed.  

There was a bang at the door. 

“Hermione?” Daphne called out, "Are you alright?"

She flushed, pulling a hospital gown over her head, “Yes. I'm coming!” 

Hermione licked her lips. She'd have to dedicate the last of her days at Hogwarts diving into ways to break memory charms.