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From [livejournal.com profile] dramione_ldws rough 8, challenge 5, part A, which required Hogwarts era (canon allowed to be disregarded), the terms affection and relish, and be 100-499 words.



Disclaimer: No copyright infringement is intended and no profit is made from this work.

Secrets


If they were caught, the penalty would be terrible, but that only made them relish it more.

Seventh year was hell. Hermione had been stunned to receive her Hogwarts owl in August, compelling her to return using veiled threats against her family. Harry and Ron had disappeared in July, leaving her behind since Muggle-borns were Tagged, making her a radar blip for the Ministry to track them. She hoped they would find the Horcruxes before Voldemort succeeded in destroying everything, but she’d heard nothing from them. Her hope started to fade.

Hogwarts was, for all purposes, gone, and the Death Eaters taught little but hatred for Muggles and Mudbloods. That was why she and a handful of other Muggle-borns had been forced back to Hogwarts. House points were given for blackening a Mudblood’s eye, making a Mudblood kneel before a pureblood, or performing the Cruciatus on the Mudblood chosen as the Daily It. This “honor” involved Snape pulling the student’s name from the appalled Sorting Hat and the unfortunate boy or girl being the special target of the day for all purebloods.

But what was surprising wasn’t who was slinging hexes at her but who wasn’t. Malfoy had remained grimly quiet from the first day of term, his patrician features gaunt, his eyes dead.

Then one day that changed. Hermione had been at the top of the stairs, going to the dungeons for Slughorn’s Potions class, one of the few places that was usually a haven as Voldemort gave his old Head of House leeway than all the other professors. Perhaps that was why she was off her guard when Blaise appeared on the landing and silently sent her hurtling downwards at breakneck speed. She’d honestly thought she was going to die.

She had halted an inch from the floor, hovering, unhurt but shaken. From behind her she heard Zabini complaining only to be cut off mid-sentence with a drawled, “Shut it and move on. Now.”

She’d never been thankful to hear Malfoy’s voice before. As he stood next to her, a spark of rebellion was in his eyes.

“He wanted you dead,” he said.

“And what do you want?” she asked, looking him straight in the eyes.

“Not this,” he said, gesturing to include their entire world.

She kept looking at him, then nodded. That moment made them allies.

The Room of Requirement became their base. Draco was certain something in this room held a clue to Voldemort’s downfall. He’d spent countless hours there repairing the Vanishing Cabinet, and he had often felt a pull, like something nearby was alive. They searched through the Room of Hidden Things, finding objects long forgotten, hoping somehow one of them would sense when they came across what they needed.

They weren’t expecting to find that what they needed was each other. In those months, their bond turned to friendship, then affection, then finally on an evening of trembling surrender, into love. They kissed amidst the towering rubble of a different world, safe from the eyes that kept them from even glancing at each other during the day. Hermione felt like she was remembering how to breathe.

Nearby, a battered diadem glinted dully, vibrating with indignation. All sorts of secrets were hidden in that room, but some would take longer to find.
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