by Key
 
 

Chapter 1
Caught
 

Hermione Granger, prefect, intelligent, and if anything, perfectionist, was sneaking down a dark
hallway, Harry’s Invisibility cloak flung close around her body. It was an ironic situation. Who
would think that she would be among the people to break the rules? But, there was no time for
guilt. If she shared anything with Harry and Ron it was the need for a good adventure every once
in a while. Unfortunately, adventures often meant breaking a lot of rules. And when you didn’t
have anyone to see you, why not take the risk?

It’s around here somewhere, Hermione thought, distracted for a moment as the staircase began
to move in mid-air. She patiently waited, then resumed her pace, wishing she wouldn’t have to
face Filch and Mrs. Norris, even behind the safety of the Cloak.

She counted the doors; it was the third door on the left of her, she was sure of it. Glancing behind
her to make sure there wasn’t a soul in sight (dead or alive), Hermione opened the door quietly,
thankful there was no creaking noises. Just as quietly, she walked in steady steps up to the Mirror
of Erised. However, it was not what she was aiming at. She fingered the edge of the ancient mirror,
then attempted to move it. Grunting in effort, she used both hands, and was relieved when it began
inching to the side. There still wasn’t enough comfortable room for her to slide behind it, so she
started pushing it forward, but face faulted when the Mirror’s legs seemed to be caught in a carpet
wrinkle.

Even worse, someone seemed to have entered the room.

Sprinting as silently as she could, Hermione backed against a wall, and bit her lower lip painfully.
Her heart was so loud in her ears, she almost felt the entire castle could hear her. However, the
irrational fear subsided soon enough for Hermione to want to identify the unexpected intruder. She
squinted her eyes, leaning her head forward a bit, but didn’t leave the stability of the wall behind
her. Her eyes widened impossibly as she figured out who exactly this person was.

Draco Malfoy? What the bloody hell is he doing here?

Hermione didn’t get to wonder much, because the Slytherin had stood in front of the Mirror of
Erised, and seemed to automatically put it back into place, much to Hermione’s resentment. He
then pulled what seemed to be a wand out of his robes and muttered “Lumos,” loud enough for
the two of them to hear.

Another irrational wave of fear assaulted Hermione, and she looked back to the half-opened
door, wanting to escape, but in the same time not wanting to. Even in such dire situations, her
curiosity never failed to amaze even herself. What did Malfoy want with the Mirror? So, in a
very bold step, Hermione took light strides towards the blonde boy, and stood at his left where
he wouldn’t turn towards if he chose to leave suddenly.

To Hermione’s amazement, the most unexpected sight awaited her. In the mirror, none other than
Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy stood. Their expressions were pleasant; they were smiling, holding
their hands out to Draco, as if inviting him to join them. Only then did Hermione decide to glance at
Draco’s face. It seemed that this wasn’t the first time he had come here. His expression was calm,
and relaxed, never a face Draco had ever showed her or, come to think of it, any other before.
Hermione felt a slight pang of pity, but quickly chided herself. This ruthless, merciless boy didn’t
deserve an ounce of pity, and he certainly wasn’t going to get any out of her, even unknowingly.

Backing away slowly, Hermione thought the faster she got out of the room, the better. That’s when
the unexpected happened once more. She hadn’t really planned on turning so forcefully, and thus a
rush of air had undoubtedly hit Malfoy’s hand, who in reflex, moved back himself, flailing an arm as
he half-turned, and in the process knocked down a not-so-invisible Hermione to the floor.

For a moment there, silence descended once more. It was almost deafening. But, it didn’t last much.

“If it isn’t the mudblood,” he finally said, his voice eerily quiet. His voice was too quiet, Hermione
thought in panic, as she cursed the Cloak for revealing her. She knew well enough that that tone
could never hold any serenity in it.

Hermione couldn’t help but marvel, even when she was sprawled out on the floor, with Malfoy
towering over her, how he could hold his calm so convincingly. Hermione hated to admit it, but if
he had just sputtered in rage, she couldn’t have blamed him. She had been spying on him, not
intentionally, but then had willingly stayed eventually.
 
 

She let out a small gasp when he swooped down all of a sudden, grasped her arm, and harshly
pulled her up to her feet, which weren’t very reliable at the moment. The sheer terror of what the
Slytherin would do to her now was overwhelming, and her brain reminded her that fleeing was
her best option. Malfoy would have none of it though, as his grasp on her arm only tightened,
confirming that fleeing wasn’t really an option at all.

“So, now you’re running away, are you?” he hissed, gripping her other arm, and then pulled her
against him so she’d have no other choice but to look him in the eye, “Using Potter’s bloody Cloak,
are we? Tsk, tsk, what will he have to say to that.”

“Let me go, Malfoy!” Hermione suddenly found her voice upon hearing her friend’s name. She
struggled again, alarmed at how strong the boy turned out to be. His visage always gave him the
sort of delicate, aristocratic aura, that physical strength never seemed to be appropriate to
associate with Malfoy, but apparently she had been very mistaken.

And if him not letting go wasn’t enough, Draco’s face twisted into a grin. Not the kind of grin he’d
give when taunting her and the others in Hogwarts’ hallways; not the kind of grin he’s give when
Snape would deduct Griffyndor points. No. This smile only reeked of pure evil; it was barely human.

“You do know what I can do with you, don’t you, Granger?” he whispered, his eyes flashing
dangerously. “Of all the things I can do now…”

And then he giggled like a child who had the delight of visiting Hogsmeade for the first time.
Hermione’s heart dropped. This was the worst she had seen Malfoy. It was unbeatable; she could
never see him worse in her eyes than she saw him at that moment. Pitying Malfoy now seemed like
a figment of her imagination.

“It’s not like I’m the only one who was out tonight!” Hermione suddenly sputtered, unblinking, as
she raised her chin haughtily. “If you report me, I’ll just do the same.”

His smirk softened, “Who said I was going to report you? And for a moment I thought you were
smarter than that.”

True confusion settled within Hermione’s head, but she quickly focused her attention to Malfoy.
He’s only trying to unguard you! She thought, not very convincingly, however, as her thoughts
shifted back to bewilderment.

“Well, spill it out already!”

“Giving orders isn’t very becoming of you at the moment,” Malfoy scowled, his jaw set. “First of all,
tell me: what were you doing here?”

“I-I was just, the mirror. I wanted to see the Mirror.”

“Were you? Hmm. I can’t say I’m sorry for disappointing you, because now’s your chance for seeing
your true desire.”

And without another word, Malfoy guided a very unwilling Hermione to the Mirror, and bruisingly
held her shoulders, standing right behind her so she wouldn’t be able to budge.

Frantic, Hermione squirmed in his grasp, if possible more so than she had when he’d lifted her off the
floor, and that only intrigued Malfoy further.

“What do you see?”

“It’s me! I’m older, and I’m a scientist! The greatest witch alive!” Hermione said aloud, aware of her
closed eyes more than the grip Malfoy had on her torso.

“Why won’t you open your eyes?” Malfoy demanded, snaking up a hand to her chin, ruthlessly turning
her to face him. “Open your eyes!”

And just then, to Malfoy’s surprise, hot tears streamed out of her eyes. He was positive, deep in his
mind, that it wasn’t his brutal hold on her, but that her pain seemed to ensue from being forcefully
prompted to look into the Mirror.

A cruel smile tugged at Malfoy’s lips, as he took a glance towards the Mirror. “Potter, is it?”

Hermione’s arched neck clearly showed him her attempt at hiding the bitterness in her throat.

“Poor Mudblood. Your sweet rosy dreams of Potty falling in love with you are too much for you to
bear, aren’t they?” he insisted, his smirk broadening as he watched her hiccup.

He didn’t know what made him do it then; perhaps it was the way the dim light reflected on her pale
skin, or perhaps the close posture in which they stood, or the sweet, clean scent of her hair, or maybe
it was the simple impulse of lust; what he did know for sure that he truly enjoyed the taste of her skin
when he had lowered his lips to her neck, nibbling gently, to then slide his tongue all the way up to the
structure of her jaw. If anything, her struggle to freedom only increased, but he couldn’t let her go; not
when he’d made this sweet a discovery.

However, to Hermione’s fortune (or misfortune) loud footsteps sounded nearby, and Malfoy, in a
desperate urge to not be caught, whirled the girl with him as he scooped the Invisibility Cloak off the
floor to then quickly cover the both of them just in time when Filch had set foot into the room. Malfoy’s
clasped hand on Hermione’s mouth wasn’t really necessary at the moment, for the girl wouldn’t have
made a sound in any case. Being caught by Malfoy was one thing, but being caught by Filch was a
different thing entirely.

Just then did Hermione realize that Malfoy was standing very, very close to her. In fact, his whole
body seemed to press against hers, as they leaned against the wall, Malfoy barely obscuring her
view from taking a peek over his shoulder to see Filch and his cursed cat look around the room in
the suspicious manner that was now second nature to them both. Loud heartbeats echoed in Hermione’s
ears, and to her surprise, she realized that it wasn’t only her own which she was feeling, but Malfoy’s
as well. She couldn’t quite fathom the relief she next felt when she came to that realization; perhaps it
was the fact that fear was a human trait, and that Malfoy couldn’t be so cruelly inhuman after all. Then
again, that smirk he wore only moments ago on his face wasn’t very reassuring.

Filch was taking his bloody sweet time. It seemed he wasn’t convinced that his eyes wouldn’t
show him what he wanted to see, probably thinking the darkness wasn’t helping, so he started using
his hands as well. He began moving clockwise across the room, stubbornly patting the walls, when
Draco decided it was time they moved. Filch was getting dangerously close, as Hermione, for the first
time, allowed herself to be guided by her enemy. They moved in impressive synchronization along the
walls, their footsteps light on the carpeted floor. Hermione stole a reluctant glance back at Filch to see
he was only a threatening four feet away from them. Thus, acting on impulse, Hermione decided to
take the steering wheel in her own hands, as she slid an arm around Malfoy’s waist, and pulled him to
the Mirror, where she pushed him, and then squeezed herself, in the very narrow space behind the
cursed ornament.

This, apparently, had been a wise thing to do, as the ever-stubborn Filch rounded across the room.
But, then, he stopped in front of them. Hermione’s heart caught in her throat. Was the man bewitched?
Oh, wait. The Mirror. She turned to breath a sigh of relief into the cloak to absorb, but managed to
send an electric jolt through Draco’s tingling arm instead. Hermione mentally cursed herself to conscious
oblivion. She was so intent on disbelieving how stupid she could be at the age of sixteen when she felt
cold air hit her face. Knowing she won’t like what she was to see, Hermione looked up to see Draco
smirking down at her. For an odd reason, she didn’t loathe him as she did before Filch’s interruption.
She realized then, that Malfoy didn’t lower the hood off of them unless he knew that Filch had gone.

However, that didn’t stop her from glaring at him. She tried to pull the remainder of the Cloak off
of him, when he took her wrist, and firmly squeezed.

“Is that the thanks I get for my quick thinking?”

“If someone’s going to thank anyone, it’s you thanking me,” Hermione hissed, still fighting his
iron-steel grasp on her hand, even if she knew it was futile, “Without the Cloak, you and I would’ve
been caught.”

“So, in the end it’s Wonder-boy who gets the credit,” Malfoy said, bitter humor in his voice.
“Amazing what the lad can do, even in his sleep.”

“Oh, shut up, Malfoy!” Hermione retorted, to then simply lean back against the wall, and take
a deep breath.

Draco watched her closely, the fresh taste of her skin still lingering on his tongue, even after the
trouble they had just gone through.

“Don’t get any more funny ideas, Malfoy,” then came Hermione’s cutting remark.

To both their surprise, Draco chuckled softly, then grinned wickedly at her, “Amazing how you’ve
managed to read my thoughts.”

“It doesn’t take an idiot to read the thoughts of your like,” Hermione replied, her tone monotonous.

Without thinking much, Draco replied in no more than a whisper, “If that’s what you truly believe,
then you ought to be surprised I haven’t been expelled yet.”

The son of Lucius Malfoy, the notorious Death Eater, just seemed more evil at that moment.
Shuddering, Hermione struggled against him again, and this time he let go of her, watching her
stumble to the ground, the remainder of the cloak hanging off of him. In other circumstances,
Hermione would’ve found a half-visible Malfoy to be a comical sight, but the only thing Hermione
wanted now was to gain the Cloak back from him before he got any second thoughts. However,
Draco wasn’t having any “second” thoughts, because his intent on keeping the cloak was
established as soon as he felt the helpless watcher’s search for themselves begin.

Draco decided that he really, really thought that walking out of the Slytherin House to come here in
the dead of the night was an ingeniously good idea.

“Hand over the Cloak, Malfoy,” Hermione said between gritted teeth, her face flushed in anger.

Malfoy started to step from behind the Mirror, a sly reply on his tongue, when he felt a hard object
hit him in the side. Curious, he felt about himself, and to his amazement found himself holding what
seemed to be an iron handle.

Groaning, Hermione sprung to her feet, and in Malfoy’s daze, savagely pulled the Cloak off of him.
He turned back, his anger evident on his face, but he was too late, for the girl was now invisible to
his eyes. Growling, Malfoy rushed to the closed door, and stood obstinately before it, blocking the
girl’s only exit from reach.

Malfoy laughed evilly, then called, “Now what will you do, Granger?”

There was only silence. The idea that she was going to remain silent was absurd, thus, scuttling to
the side, Malfoy grabbed a long, metal candlestick, then waved it dangerously in front of him.

“Wouldn’t you just like this to crack your head in two? I’m warning you, either you stop this silly
game, or you’ll get too hurt for Pomfrey to heal!”

Again, there was no response.

“You’re leaving me no choice,” Malfoy snarled, as he began frantically waving the candlestick in his
hand like a sword. He moved about the room, right and left, but never quite leaving the area of where
the door stood. The metal made nasty whip-like sounds as it swung in the boy’s hands repeatedly.
“Get out, and I promise I won’t hurt you!”

Hermione knew better than to give in to his desperate deceiving pleas. She backed away from the
enraged boy, and returned to the spot where the two of them had been hiding just a while ago. Too
many things were happening tonight. If Hermione had known any better, she never would have dreamed
of leaving her bed. Getting caught by Malfoy, almost getting caught by Filch, and now she had to worry
about her physical safety as well what with the insane way in which Malfoy thrust the metal candlestick.

Knowing she would regret this, but seeing it as her only choice at the moment, Hermione muttered,
“Alohomora!” to then find, to her great surprise, that the door behind the mirror swung open, causing
the Mirror of Erised to start falling to the floor. But, instead of hearing that inevitable crash, something
seemed to have broken the mirror’s fall, and to her horror (or was it relief?), Hermione realized that it
was Malfoy.

Thinking this really wasn’t the best of times for experiment and adventure, now that another option had
emerged, Hermione slammed the small square-shaped door shut once more, before she ran to the now
unguarded door, and swung it open to find Filch walking briskly towards the room.

She let out a tiny yelp, which made the night watcher stop in his pace, to then start with fury once more
to the room where he found…no one. Growling, he cried, “Don’t let them get away! I know who’s been
sneaking around all night, thinking they’re too clever to be caught!” to which Mrs. Norris started running
along the corridor, Filch close behind her, leaving Draco in a very cold sweat behind the steadied Mirror
of Erised. Whether the Mirror was cursed or blessed, Draco could not quite decide, but what he did
decide was that it was best to get the hell out of that place, head to his dormitory and plan the hard painful
downfall of the Mudblood in what remained of the night.
 
 
 

Chapter 2