The Gloriana Set

“You’re wasting your time with Theo, Granger. You think he’ll be any easier to manage? A smiling, scrubbed-up, more palatable version of what you really want?”

“Never presume again to know what I want, Malfoy,” Hermione said, her voice purposely cold this time. “I am far from over what happened in the charms classroom and I’m not your plaything either.”

“Of course not, you’re something better.” Malfoy smirked. “I now have my own little war hero. Merlin, if you could only have seen yourself, bursting into McGonagall’s office like an angry lioness, defending me tooth and claw. Oh, the look on Pot-head’s face!”

“Don't call him that! And I thought you didn’t like me fixing things for you.”

“I don’t like you fixing things behind my back,” he responded, uncrossing his arms and pointing a long finger at her. “But feel free to continue leaping into situations, yelling and defending my honor. It’s very arousing.”

“So pretty right now, aren’t you, little girl?” Hermione continued relentlessly, her voice still low. She was going to fucking end this—right here, right now. “But you won’t always be pretty … better find yourself a title quickly, Greengrass, before the bulging toad eyes and wide toad smile come out in your face and you're just a tall, skinny Umbridge with a little … diamond … bow in your …”

“I demand the immediate return of our property by any means necessary to Malfoy Manor. I look forward to your reply confirming that this has been accomplished. Only then will you again have the right to call me,

Father”

“Dear Sir,

I regret to say I am unable to accede to your request. The object in question is in the possession of an individual more than worthy of receiving it, and I will not accept its return. Two more objects remain in my personal possession, to use as I see fit.

“As for disgracing my name, I clearly remember a day at Flourish and Blotts in my Second Year, when Arthur Weasley said to you, “We have a very different idea of what disgraces the name of wizard.” His words proved prophetic, I think, and undoubtedly there will be many times in the future where you and I disagree on how to best honor the Malfoy legacy.

Sincerely,

Lord Draco Malfoy

“Of course she’s alright,” Neville said indignantly. Ginny backed off and let him sit up. “I threatened it with an icy frost that would freeze its leaves and snap its branches. The poor darling lashed out at Pansy with its vines and I had to conjure icicles to pin them down. Don’t worry,” he added. “The vines were fine.”

“Nice, Neville,” Ginny said approvingly. “Take a witch to see a homicidal plant so you can protect her in a virile way. Well done.”

“Wendy is not homicidal!” Neville cried.

“It certainly is,” Hermione said. “All those Winkweeds should be Incendioed.”

“We’ve come far afield,” Ginny said. “What I want to know is—how did Parkinson show her gratitude?” Neville’s face was brick-red. “Tell Aunt Ginny now.”

“I suppose you’re all right,” Draco said reluctantly. “You Gryffindors have no sense of self-preservation.”

“Says the man who volunteered to take Veritaserum.”

A tiny shrug. “I knew you would protect me.”

“Well, then you can protect me, too,” Hermione said.

His eyes took on that unblinking basilisk stare. “That’s right, if you let me,” he said quietly.

She was leaning against the wall outside Ancient Runes, reviewing the limitations of the Inanimatus Conjurus spell, when footsteps prompted her to look up. Draco was striding toward her briskly, his face unreadable, black robe flapping. He walked straight up to her, and for a mad instant she thought he was going to shake her hand, he looked that businesslike, but instead he placed a hand on the wall beside her head and brushed her lips with his.

“I think this is a simple light, placed inside the stone.” She pointed her wand at it. “Intermisa,” she said, a breaking spell.

A crack appeared and the stone cleaved in half, releasing the light, which dissipated into the air and left the crystal pieces behind.

“A clever move, dear Miss Granger, but it won’t earn you full marks,” said Bluebell, floating beside them.

“Why not?” Hermione said, surprised. “I identified the spell and removed it.”

“But you broke the object,” Bluebell said. “Do you always break things just to see what’s inside, Miss Granger?” She drifted away, leaving Hermione open-mouthed.

A hand slid over hers and tightened. She could feel the edges of the broken quartz pieces scrape her palm. “Well, dear Miss Granger?” Draco whispered in her ear. Her chest suddenly felt tight. “Would you break me to look inside?”

Hermione turned to look at him. “Will I have to?” she asked.

“No,” he said. “Apertus.” Open.

“Dear Mother,

I hope this message finds you well. I am courting Hermione Granger. Console Father as well as you can.

Love,

Draco

“I’m confused,” Lavender said. “What’s wrong with the question again?”

“The question is flawed because neither flobberworms nor pond slime is required to complete the potion,” Hermione said. “If you just monitor the fire carefully it will thicken …”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Now that’s just semantics—”

“Wacky Faint.”

He held up a finger. “Don’t start."

Harry turned back to Hermione, his auror training compelling him to get to the bottom of this. “Why did you steal his snitch?”

“So he would show me his family’s rune manuscript. Harry, it was the Codex Runica, a significant relic from the early ….”

“I don’t believe this,” Harry said.

“I know,” Hermione said. “The Malfoys really should be more generous.”

“Did I or did I not give you hours with that Codex, even after you tried to blackmail me?” Draco asked her. “I practically had to pin a cup to your shirt so you wouldn’t drool all over the vellum. Then you put a wand to my throat.”

A crowd of older Hufflepuffs ran by, waving more black-and-yellow banners. “Party in the Badger Common Room!” crowed Justin Finch-Fletchley.

“BADGER POWER!” the Mice yelled. “PARTY!”

She hardened her voice. “Draco, I want to be honest with you, I really do, but if you go spare and turn up at the Burrow, flinging curses, I will want a conversation about what we’re doing here. Do you understand?”

He gave her an irritated look. “Of course I do,” he said. His tone implied she was mad to think he’d do anything at all impulsive or misguided.

“You’d better,” Hermione said, not the least bit convinced. “Ron called me a Death Eater whore and I—Draco! What are you— Expelliarmus!”